When Tristan came to, she was in bed and naked. And she was alone. She felt nearly bereft, as if her endless orgasm had hollowed her out and left her empty. The isolation was so devastating she literally sensed her heart about to stop.

“Jett,” Tristan whispered brokenly.

“I’m here, Tris,” Jett said out of the darkness.

The bed dipped and then Jett was beside her. Desperately, Tristan pressed her face against Jett’s neck. “I thought…”

“I know. I know what you thought,” Jett murmured, stroking Tristan’s hair. Despite Tristan’s half-conscious protests when they’d stumbled into the bedroom earlier, Jett wouldn’t lie down with Tristan after she’d gotten her undressed and into bed. She knew if she did she would want her again, and Tristan was in no shape for it. They’d both worked all night the night before, and Tristan had been through hell losing that baby. She didn’t need Jett making even more demands of her than she already had. But Jett hadn’t left her, and wouldn’t have, even if she had been able to find her way in the dark to some semblance of civilization. She’d left plenty of women in the middle of the night to awaken alone in the morning, but this was Tristan. No matter how Tristan might feel about her after what happened, Jett was going to stay and face her.

So she’d pulled a chair over to the window and watched the night sky. She’d forgotten how pure and unsullied it could be when it wasn’t lit up by fire and bombs. With Tristan’s soft breathing in the background, she felt unexpectedly content, not the cranked-up, agitated way she often felt when she’d had some sex, but not enough sex. The pulse of arousal was a low-level hum in the background of her body and mind, but she didn’t feel the usual frantic need for more. As long as she kept some distance between them, she’d be all right.

“Try to go back to sleep,” Jett said.

“What the fuck did you do?” Tristan groaned.

Jett felt just a little bit sick. “I’m sorry. I’m sorr—”

“Sorry?” Tristan laughed weakly. “Jesus. I think I might have crossed over into another dimension.”

Jett stilled. Tristan didn’t sound upset, but Jett was still prepared for the accusations. She hadn’t meant to take her so hard and for so long. She’d just wanted her so badly, she’d lost herself in the powerful currents of Tristan’s excitement. She should’ve known that would happen, because she’d been wanting her more and more every day. “I didn’t realize you believed in that out-of-body sort of thing.”

“I didn’t, before tonight. I didn’t even have a clue how much I wanted that.” Tristan tried to sit up but found that her arms and legs still weren’t working. She slowly began to sort out her surroundings as she got her mind and body back together again. “You still have your clothes on.”

“It’s cooler up here than in the city, and I couldn’t find any wood for the fire.”

“I take it I more or less conked out on you.”

“You were a little tired.”

Tristan snorted. “I can’t even remember getting in here, and it wasn’t because I was tired. I’ve never come like that before. I thought my flesh was going to peel off my bones.” She frowned. “Fuck. I left you hanging, didn’t I? Hell.”

Tristan started to sit up and Jett stopped her.

“Believe me,” Jett said, “if it was good for you, it was better for me. You didn’t leave me hanging.”

Tristan didn’t look convinced. “Did you…you know? Handle things?”

Jett smiled. Tristan talked so easily about things Jett had always kept secret. “Yeah. I did. It was about a five-second flash bang.”

“Then I owe you big.”

“No,” Jett said softly. “You don’t owe me anything at all.”

“Why didn’t you get under the covers with me?” After a moment of silence, Tristan asked, “Jett?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d want me to.”

“Turn on the light.”

“What?” Jett asked.

“Turn on the light next to you, because I can’t reach it. In fact, I still can’t move,” Tristan said.

Jett rolled over and fumbled on the bedside table until she found the pull chain for the old-fashioned brass lamp. The fabric shade with thin tassels along the edges cast a pale yellow glow over half the room and a portion of the bed. Cautiously, Jett eased back against the pillows, still mostly on top of the covers. She was barefoot but still wore her pants and shirt.

Tristan propped herself up and began to open the buttons on Jett’s shirt with one hand. “In case you’ve forgotten,” she said conversationally, “I told you I wanted you to make love to me. If you thought I meant I wanted you to service me and then be on your way, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression.”

“I didn’t think that.”

“Then I’m confused as to why you’re not in bed with me.” Tristan opened Jett’s shirt and felt suddenly dizzy again. “Jesus, you have an amazing body.” She kissed Jett swiftly, then watched Jett’s face as she caressed her breasts. She smiled when Jett trembled. “You like that?”

“Yes,” Jett whispered.

Tristan bent her head and licked a nipple. “Just yes?”

“Yes. A lot.”

Tristan cupped Jett’s breast but no longer caressed her. She searched Jett’s eyes. They were murky and dark, troubled. “What do you think you might have done that I wouldn’t have wanted?”

“You said I hurt you.”

“No. I don’t remember exactly what I said, considering that I was losing my mind. But I think I said it hurts. It did.” Tristan grinned crookedly. “It hurt so fucking good I about came all over your hand a dozen times. Tell me you didn’t know that.”

“I know what I made you do,” Jett said quietly. “That doesn’t mean you wanted it.”

“Of course I wanted it. Did you hear me say no? Jesus Christ. Who fucked with your head like this?”

Jett stiffened. “No one.”

“Bullshit. Bullshit.” Tristan shook her head vehemently. “One of these days, one of these days, you’ll tell me. But not tonight.” She smoothed her hand down the middle of Jett’s belly and opened her pants. “Lift up, take these off.”

Jett gripped Tristan’s wrist. “Tristan, it’s late. We should get some sleep.”

“You think I’m going to leave it like this?” Tristan said sharply. “Without touching you? Without tasting you? You think all I wanted was to get off?”

Jett knew once they started again she would need more, would end up taking more, and they wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the night. She was certain that Tristan would never let her own exhaustion prevent her from satisfying Jett, if she thought Jett needed it. “I’ve got to fly tomorrow night, Tristan.”

“Fuck,” Tristan muttered. “I’m not on call again until Monday. I can go the rest of the night without sleep.” She brushed her fingers through Jett’s hair. “But you can’t. You have to be safe.” She rested her forehead against Jett’s. “Ah but Jesus, I want you so much.”

Even in the soft light the deep circles beneath Tristan’s eyes were obvious, and despite her protests that she didn’t need sleep, her hands were shaking. Jett curled her arm around Tristan’s shoulder and pulled her down. “Would you mind if we just held each other?”

“If that’s what you need, you got it.” Tristan rested her hand on Jett’s stomach and settled her head on Jett’s shoulder. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Jett said, amazed and perplexed because it was true.

“Absolutely okay.”

Chapter Twenty

Jett woke with the dawn, as she did every day. This morning was completely different from any she could ever remember, because this morning she held Tristan in her arms. She lay on her side with Tristan curled in the curve of her body, her arm around Tristan’s waist and Tristan’s ass nestled against her pelvis.

Tristan seemed so vulnerable in her sleep, and Jett wondered how she could be so trusting. She was humbled by Tristan’s trust, humbled and in awe. She didn’t think she could ever give up that much control, surrender so completely to the care of another. That Tristan did made Jett feel fiercely protective, and she held very still, not wanting to wake her. What she wanted was to absorb the feel of her, the scent of her, the taste of her. Carefully, she moved her lips to the back of Tristan’s neck and kissed the skin below her hairline, tasting salt and a surprising sweetness, like sun-warmed strawberries fresh off the vine.

When Tristan sighed and caught Jett’s hand, drawing it to her breast, a shaft of pleasure hit Jett so hard she groaned. Then Tristan’s breathing deepened again, and Jett realized she had made the movement in her sleep.

Nothing about being with Tristan was what she expected. She’d had women tease and taunt her until she made the first move, bearing responsibility for what they both wanted. She’d had women force her hands to the places that craved her touch and had women rake her flesh in the throes of orgasm until they drew blood, but she’d never had a woman reach for her in her sleep. Jett’s chest tightened as she softly, cautiously caressed Tristan’s breast, feeling Tristan’s nipple harden even as Tristan shifted restlessly and murmured under her breath. Jett abruptly stilled.

Tristan turned onto her back, her gaze already eclipsed by desire. She hooked an arm around Jett’s neck, pulling her down for a kiss.

“Why did you stop?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

Tristan raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“You were sleeping,” Jett replied.

“There’s a non sequitur in there,” Tristan muttered, rolling over onto Jett. She slid her leg between Jett’s and braced herself on her elbows, a hand on either side of Jett’s head. She combed her fingers through Jett’s hair. “But I don’t feel like figuring it out right now.” She kissed her again, longer this time, exploring in a way she hadn’t been able to the night before when Jett had taken her so completely. Jett tensed beneath her, hard muscles quivering, and Tristan feasted on the power of exciting her. “You’re so fucking sexy.”