Rooke opened her eyes to silence. She found a pair of sweatpants

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draped over a chair by her bed and pulled them on. Holding her breath, she crossed quickly and quietly to the bedroom doorway. The lamp by the sofa was on and Adrian sat propped up in one corner, the notepad open on her knees, frowning as she wrote something. She looked rumpled and tired and absolutely gorgeous. A golden tendril of hair teased around the corner of her mouth and Rooke thought about skating her tongue over Adrian’s, of dipping into the furnace of her mouth and coming away stripped to the bone. Her hands tingled at the remembered touch of smooth skin and taut nipples, and her stomach tensed with the memory of Adrian’s thighs clasping hers. Adrian’s body was steel beneath satin and her strength called to Rooke.

Rooke smelled pizza and was glad for the diversion. Her imaginings were stirring her up fast and hard. “I hope you didn’t wait for me to eat.”

Adrian’s heart gave a little jump at the sound of Rooke’s voice, and when she swiveled on the couch and got a look at her, her stomach took a nosedive. Rooke leaned leisurely in the doorway, one arm stretched out along the frame. Her gray sweatpants hung low on her hips, exposing the curving arches of her hipbones and a palm’s breadth of tight skin and etched abdominal muscles beneath the lower edge of her T-shirt. Adrian had a second to imagine the similar sharply carved muscles in her chest before she remembered the demanding thrust of those lean hips between her thighs. And then the three hours she’d had to settle her body and regain some semblance of control over her runaway libido might just as well have never passed. She was immediately, excruciatingly aroused. Her response not only annoyed and embarrassed her, it frightened her more than a little.

All her life she’d shielded herself from the unwanted sensations and emotions that assaulted her at the slightest touch. Sometimes those feelings were just errant glimpses of other people’s lives, brushed off on her in passing, accidental intimacies neither sought nor embraced.

Sometimes the emotions she blocked out were her own—the pain of being the disappointing daughter, the horror of human tragedies she’d witnessed, the loneliness of guarding the only thing she could call her own. Her independence. Now and then people slipped through those barriers—Jude had, with her easy friendship and uncanny perceptiveness. Adrian loved Jude the way she had never been able to love her own sister, but she’d never once felt a spark of attraction.

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She’d convinced herself that casual relationships with women were all she needed or had time for, and hadn’t bothered to ask herself why even her fleeting encounters had become more and more unusual in the last few years. Now, in the space of a few weeks, two women had stepped inside her most defended circle and unleashed chaos in her mind and body.

She gazed at Rooke and grew breathless at the memory of Rooke’s seeking mouth, the weight of her hard, hot body, the demanding tug of her fingers on her breasts. What had truly changed, she realized, was that she wanted Rooke to breach the barriers. She welcomed the fury and fire of Rooke’s touch, even knowing she might never be able to put those walls back up again. And that realization shook her to her very foundation.

“Pops just brought the pizza,” Adrian said, her throat dry. The pen quivered between her fingers and she closed it in her fist so that Rooke wouldn’t see. “Did you sleep?”

“Some. I guess you didn’t.” Rooke pushed away from the door and walked into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator. “Beer? Soda?”

“Soda’s fine. No beer for you, remember.” Adrian wasn’t sure she would ever sleep again, not the way her body was behaving. When Rooke had gone into the bedroom earlier, she’d curled up on the sofa and waited for her body to calm down. Ordinarily if she’d been that agitated and aroused, she would’ve gone for a run or to the gym or taken a long shower. None of those options had been available to her and although she’d desperately wanted to come, she knew if she masturbated and managed to climax at all, she would only need to do it again, because it wouldn’t be enough. She wanted Rooke’s hand, Rooke’s mouth, Rooke’s fingers to deliver her from her agony. Reality check, reality check! her logical mind screamed. That line of thinking was dangerous and she needed to get some perspective. Like yesterday.

“Can I ask you something personal?” Adrian said as Rooke stacked plates and napkins on top of the pizza box and carried those along with two cans of soda into the living room. She hastily moved papers aside to make room on the coffee table.

“Yes.” Rooke placed the food in the space Adrian had cleared and settled onto the couch, leaving space between her body and Adrian’s.

“Are you… Hell, this is awkward.” Adrian leaned back and stared at the ceiling, which she now realized was an intricate pattern of stamped

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tin. She could make out interconnected designs reminiscent of Rooke’s carvings on the gravestones—and also near replicas of the scars on the surface of her hands. Beautiful. Rooke’s world was the physical, metal and stone, and now Adrian’s body seemed to have become a part of Rooke’s domain.

“Just ask, Adrian.”

Adrian straightened. Rooke’s voice was carefully neutral, her expression resigned, as if she were used to people not understanding her. As if she were used to being someone others couldn’t comprehend.

And that wasn’t the case at all—Adrian was the one at sea here. “Have you ever been with a woman? I mean, all the way with a woman.

Jesus—that sounds so adolescent.”

“I understand what you’re asking,” Rooke said quietly. She stared at her loosely clasped hands resting on her thighs. “I’ve pleasured a woman, but we didn’t share ourselves completely.” She met Adrian’s inquisitive stare. “I’ve never been naked with anyone. I’ve never had an orgasm with anyone.”

Adrian’s breath escaped on a short gasp of shock. “Oh God.”

Rooke stood abruptly and strode to the kitchen. She gripped the edge of the counter and stared out the window over the sink. The crystal-clear day had been followed by an equally brilliant night, and moonlight flooded the cemetery. Gravestones jutted from the icy surface like darkened doors hanging ajar in deserted houses. So many souls, so many stories, so many secrets. She knew exactly where her parents’ graves were. When she’d been younger, she would stare at the indecipherable markings on their gravestones, hoping to find some place inside herself to preserve their names, but she couldn’t. She worried that the relentless assault of the elements would erase their names, like it had on so many of the other stones. When she’d asked her grandfather about it, he’d assured her it was the nature of things to ultimately be absorbed by the world that created them, but that the stones would hold their memories for many lifetimes. It was then she realized that if life returned to the stone, it could emerge from it as well, and she had begun to seek her satisfaction in setting that life free.

All the while, she’d clung to the belief that one day there would be a woman to set her free.

“Are you worried I won’t know what to do?” Rooke asked, her back to Adrian.

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“You’re kidding, right?” Adrian hurried to her, and against her better judgment, wrapped her arms around Rooke’s waist from behind.

She rested her chin lightly between Rooke’s shoulder blades, breathing in her tangy, tantalizing scent. “If you’ll recall, I was two seconds away from coming just from kissing you. Believe me, I’m not worried about your technique.”

“Why didn’t you let yourself come?” Rooke asked, running her fingertips over Adrian’s arms. “I would have liked that. I would have liked to feel you tighten when you got close, and then feel you shudder when you let go. I would have liked to hear you while the pleasure took you.”

A fresh jolt of excitement struck directly between Adrian’s legs, making her tremble. She whimpered softly and shut her eyes tightly.

“Be careful or you’ll talk me into coming.”

Rooke loosened Adrian’s grip and turned, putting her back to the counter and tugging Adrian against her. She wanted to touch her, wanted to please her. She wanted to be the one to give her that. “You’re still so excited, I can feel you shaking. Could you do that—come from me telling you how much I want you?”

“I never have before,” Adrian murmured, sinking into Rooke’s arms, wondering how much more she could stand before she just lost it. “But you aren’t like anyone I’ve ever met before. You do things to me…”

“Bad things?”

Adrian kissed Rooke’s throat, then rubbed her cheek against Rooke’s shoulder. “No. Wonderful things.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Rooke rested her chin on top of Adrian’s head and stroked up and down Adrian’s back, imprinting the contours of her muscles and bone. Adrian burrowed into her, giving a small mewl of pleasure, and hunger rose up in Rooke’s belly like a great beast scenting its prey. She pressed one thigh between Adrian’s legs and Adrian immediately opened for her. Reaching down, she cupped Adrian’s rear and worked her leg more tightly into Adrian’s center.

“I can’t remember right now.” Adrian’s head reeled. She might have held on to reason a little while longer if Rooke hadn’t handled her like she owned her. Adrian dropped her head back, her hazy eyes half closed, her lips parted sensuously. “You make me feel so damn good.”

Rooke rocked her thigh between Adrian’s legs and watched her

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