Never Wake Read online

  “Emma, what’s wrong?” She felt Troy’s hands on her upper arms.

  She turned roughly away from Troy. “I have to stop,” she said as she stood up and stumbled in the direction of the bathroom.

  In the bathroom, Emma splashed water on her face. Troy had tried to hide her embarrassment as Emma had run from her. She had never felt this much emotion coming from one person before. She couldn’t remember ever getting so wound up that it made her sick but she should have seen it coming. She should have left the table sooner so that Troy wouldn’t be out there right now struggling to deal with confusion, shame, and embarrassment.

  A sob coursed through Emma’s body as she sensed Troy getting her emotions under control. Emma could sense her buttoning them up and hiding them behind a wall. By the time Emma put her hand up to push through the door, there was almost no evidence of the sexual tension they had shared.

  “Sorry,” she said when she reached Troy. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Troy. The platters of food had already been removed from the table and Troy stood up.

  “Rain’s stopped. We should get back,” she said and offered Emma her arm, much as she would have with an old woman she was helping cross the street. The walk home was quiet. Emma could feel Troy’s embarrassment grow into anger and by the time she swiped her access key to open the lobby door and they were riding the elevator up to the condo, it felt as if they were two strangers who couldn’t wait to get out of each other’s personal space.

  *

  Her head hurt and the room felt funny, like someone had forgotten to turn off the AC before they cranked up the heater. And what was that sound? The wind chimes, of course. Troy frowned. Patricia wouldn’t have left the window open at night, though. How could she be hearing the wind chimes? The sound was rhythmic and slow. No, it wasn’t wind chimes; it was water, dripping water. Spider webs brushed against her arms and then over her face. She opened her eyes, but a dark cloud blinded her, and something cold and soft lapped at her ear lobe.

  She tried to call out and struggle, but her arms felt weighed down; something was holding her in place. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of its cage, and then something breathed life into her. She struggled against it at first. She had forgotten something, left it behind. But the lips—soft, moist, and needful—opened on hers, welcomed her hunger, took what she had to give. So she gave in, allowed herself the pleasure, just for a moment. Patricia never let her control things like this, and it felt wonderful. Something tugged at her memory, tugged at her conscience, but she pushed it away. She didn’t want to focus. Not yet.

  For a few moments she was in heaven. She pulled the slight body atop hers closer. Moving her hips against her, feeling the arousal build quicker than it ever had. She thought she heard her moan.

  She opened her eyes. Blue eyes, not brown, stared down at her. She watched them change from aroused to something else. Hurt? Embarrassment? Troy drew her arms away from Emma as if a button had been pushed to release a vise.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed and stopped. “Oh, I am so…” Troy couldn’t find the right words.

  Emma scrambled to her feet, not looking at Troy. She didn’t say anything, just shook her head. Her fingers went to her mouth as if to wipe it.

  Troy covered her embarrassment with anger, “What the hell were you doing out here anyway?”

  Emma could have responded with, “This is my place and you’re sleeping on my couch,” but instead she said, “You were calling out in your sleep.”

  Troy’s face softened. “I’m sorry if I woke you up. I have bad dreams sometimes. I don’t make a habit of grabbing people.” She stopped speaking and looked down at Emma’s knee. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  “No, and you didn’t wake me. I was already up. I need to explain what happened in the restaurant.”

  “There’s nothing to explain. It’s late. We both should get some sleep.”

  “I can’t imagine you’ll be going back to sleep anytime soon, not with the way you were screaming. Who’s Patricia?”

  Troy looked startled. “I was calling for Patricia?”

  “Yeah, you were crying out for her when I walked in.”

  Troy looked pensive. “I think you should go to your room. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

  “Why are you saying this when it’s not what you want?”

  “Because I need time to think, okay?”

  “No, you don’t.” Emma touched her shoulder. Who the hell do I think I am? I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never known how to do this.

  Troy reared back. “I don’t need a charity fuck if that’s what you’re trying to do.”

  Emma paused before replying. “No, what I’m trying to do is get myself laid by the one person capable of helping me out these days.”

  “Emma, I—” Troy closed her eyes, ashamed at how aroused she was.

  “I need to tell you something first. Remember, you said that you wouldn’t lie to me?” Troy didn’t answer so Emma rushed on. “It wouldn’t matter if you did. I’d probably know if you were lying.”

  “What are you talking about? Are you saying I lied about something?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. God, I hate this. Hear me out, okay? I’m trying to tell you that I sense things. I always have.”

  “If you could read my mind, you’d know that I want you to leave me alone.”

  “I can’t read your mind. And I hear you telling me to go away, but your body doesn’t lie, and I can feel that you want me to stay.”

  “Not you,” Troy said, and regretted the words the moment they were past her lips.

  “Now you are lying. Is it just to me, or are you lying to yourself, too?”

  “Go to bed, Emma.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I might be the one that needs a charity fuck? That I might want to be close to someone?”

  “Do you always get sick after kissing the person you want to get close to?”

  Emma closed her eyes and spoke softly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It gets overwhelming. I wasn’t sick because you kissed me. I did something today that I haven’t done in a long time and, for the most part, I wasn’t afraid. It was exhilarating, and I felt powerful and sexual and desirable. It was a lot to deal with emotionally. So I got sick. It happened on my first…”

  “Stop. I’m not angry at you. It was probably good that it happened. I can’t just have sex with you.” Troy’s voice was cold and tight and her stomach was quailing. She had been right; Emma was a fucking nut case. She should get her shit, hop on Dite, and ride home. Even as she thought this, her crotch tightened and desire swept through her body.

  Emma inhaled. Troy turned to look at her. That was it. The moments when Emma would look at her oddly, would somehow know what she was thinking. It was because, if she were to be believed, she had known exactly what Troy was feeling. Dread flooded through her body. She clinched her fists and turned toward Emma.

  “You bitch,” she said, but there was a look of calm surprise on her face. “This whole time you’ve been eavesdropping on me?” Troy lurched up from the couch and almost slipped on the quilt that had fallen to the floor during her nightmare. Emma reached out to steady her but she pushed her hand away.

  “Listen to me, please. I don’t eavesdrop; it’s more like you broadcast.”

  “Oh, so this is my fault?”

  “No. I shouldn’t have said…I don’t mean just you. It’s like this with everyone. This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you wouldn’t listen. I don’t pick brains. I just sense feelings, not even all feelings. Just the strong ones. Those are hardest for people to control. Most of the time it’s no secret anyway. Anyone would know it by body language or the look on their face. I can also sense it. Sometimes I don’t even know if they’re my feelings or someone else’s.” Emma stopped speaking, because Troy had stepped around her as if she were a cactus and was walking toward her bike.

  “Don’t leave like this. It’s
dark, not to mention it sounds like it’s pouring out there. I’ll go to my room, okay?” Troy felt Emma’s hand on her bare shoulder and she reacted without thinking. She grabbed Emma’s wrist and pulled her toward her. She hadn’t meant the kiss to be a punishment, but her lips stung from the violence of the kiss.

  Emma’s body had grown tense and Troy forced herself to loosen her embrace. Emma was right. She didn’t want her to leave her alone. She had been thinking about this all day. Her anger was because Emma had known all along.

  Troy tore her mouth away and they leaned against each other, breathing hard.

  “Couch.”

  “Too narrow.” She wanted to suggest they go to her room and would have, in her dreams. But that was too forward and she was still afraid that Troy would walk out the door.

  The back of her knees hit the frame of the window seat. She hadn’t felt herself being moved backward. Her hands went to the muscles in Troy’s back and dug in, as if it were possible to be any closer. Troy kissed her again as they fell onto the narrow window seat. Emma was amazed at how well they fit. Troy opened her legs, stretching Emma’s wide and then even wider. Without breaking contact with her lips, Troy raised herself up on her elbows and arched her body into Emma’s center.

  Emma pressed her hand into Troy’s lower back and then, without hesitation, Emma allowed her hands to cover Troy’s ass and squeeze. Troy’s chest heaved and Emma squeezed harder, pulling Troy to her with all of her strength.

  Troy began to rock into Emma’s body, each movement becoming stronger than the last, until the seam of Emma’s jeans was pressing hard into Emma’s crotch. Emma arched her body to meet Troy, and one of them moaned, deep, low, and guttural. Emma’s hands went to Troy’s upper arm. Her fingers tingled where she felt the outline of Troy’s tattoo.

  Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to tolerate any more friction, Troy shifted, arching her body, increasing the pressure until Emma could barely move. The orgasm shot up the center of Emma’s body and sent ripping shock waves from her toes and up her back. Troy’s steady rhythmic grinding began to slow down. Her heart was pounding so hard that Emma couldn’t tell where her heart began and Troy’s ended. Troy’s body quieted and she whimpered in her ear.

  Emma sank her fingers into Troy’s curls and held her close. Troy buried her face in Emma’s neck. Troy sucked in and Emma could feel every rib in her body as the orgasm slammed through her leaving them both breathless.

  *

  “We should move into the bedroom.” Troy’s voice was hoarse and distant.

  The perspiration on Emma’s body cooled at the words. Troy’s arousal, now appeased, had been replaced by another strong emotion. Sadness. She’s sad about what we did.

  Troy lifted her body and rested most of her weight on her elbows. Emma couldn’t see her face, but the sadness deepened along with another emotion. Shame.

  She intended to order Troy off of her, but choked on the words.

  Troy spoke first. “It should have been better than this.”

  “Better than this?” Emma repeated.

  “I didn’t want it to be so rushed,” Troy said, and the shame was so strong that Emma was no longer sure if it was Troy’s alone.

  Troy moved herself off of Emma and sat on the floor, her knees drawn into her chest, her shoulders hunched. Emma lay there trying to understand what had just happened. She felt like a sixteen-year-old boy who had gotten a girl drunk so he could cop a feel.

  Tears warmed her temples. She was so caught up in how horrible she felt that it took her a moment to realize that Troy was holding her hand. Her thumb was rubbing back and forth over Emma’s wrist. Emma shivered and tried to swallow down the instant bloom of desire. She felt like she was being toyed with. One moment Troy regretted being with her, and the next she wanted her again. But damned if she was going to complain right now.

  “Can we try this again, please?”

  Emma marveled at the pleading quality of Troy’s voice. She thinks I might turn her down.

  “Come here,” Emma said.

  Troy knelt at Emma’s side. “I’m right here.”

  “No, come back up here,” Emma whispered.

  “I’m not getting on top of you again. This thing is too hard. We should go in the bedroom.”

  Troy held Emma’s chin gently, leaned over and kissed her lips. Emma reached up and tried to pull Troy onto her. Troy inhaled deeply and pulled away. Emma turned her head and captured Troy’s finger in her mouth.

  If she had thought about it, even for a split second she wouldn’t have done it. But based on Troy’s reaction, she liked to have her fingers sucked. Suddenly the finger was replaced with Troy’s tongue, and Troy’s knees were bracketing her hips. The kiss was no gentler than their first, though it was less desperate.

  Troy lifted her head, “Damn it, Emma. We should be in your bed.”

  “I can’t wait that long,” she gasped as Troy’s nimble fingers began unbuttoning her pants and were inside her panties before she could finish her sentence. She closed her eyes.

  Once again, she found herself giving Troy complete access to her body, trusting that she would not go too far, but she was shocked at how far she could go without causing her discomfort.

  Emma stuck her hands beneath Troy’s shirt and slipped beneath her sports bra. She groaned when she was able to feel Troy’s breasts. They were warm and soft and fit easily in her hand. She could feel Troy’s heart pounding beneath them.

  Troy broke the kiss again, and Emma growled out a protest.

  “Sit up,” Troy directed.

  Emma did so and allowed Troy to slip her pants and underwear off. She expected Troy to let her lie back down, but she didn’t. She pulled Emma forward with her hands at her buttocks, holding her so close that Emma could feel every muscle in Troy’s abdomen press against her clitoris as she breathed. She moaned. Troy was right; they should have gone into the bedroom. The moment she had enough air in her lungs to speak, she would suggest that they head that way. But Troy’s mouth wasn’t allowing her any breathing room. Troy’s hands had made quick work of her t-shirt, and the bra went with it. Her mouth was moving from Emma’s neck to her breast and any thought of actually walking was wiped from Emma’s plans as Troy’s tongue dipped into her navel. She leaned back against the pillows. “Hurry,” she pleaded.

  Inappropriately, in Emma’s opinion, Troy seemed to regain some of her will when she realized how close Emma was to climaxing. Her mouth became torturous and teasing and her hands were firm, restricting Emma’s movements. And if she sensed Emma was closer to climaxing than she wanted her to be, she slowed her down further, but never once did she increase the pressure.

  It was the most frustratingly pleasurable thing Emma had ever experienced. She was determined not to beg. In the end, she not only begged, she grabbed Troy’s head and held her exactly where she needed her to be. Moments later she called out Troy’s name in a voice that would have been embarrassing if she had really given a damn. Which she didn’t.

  *

  Emma groaned her protest when Troy left her lying on the window seat, her legs and arms akimbo. She looked, she was sure, like a ready-rolled hooker, and she didn’t really give a damn. She jumped when a light touch to her stomach signified Troy’s return.

  “Can you turn over for me?” The question was barely audible over the sound of the wind blowing through the blinds. Emma hesitated and shyness took the opportunity to creep back in. She turned over so that she could see Troy’s hand glistening in the moonlight. The scent of coconut drifted over her and she turned over to let Troy rub the liniment into her skin. She wished she had taken better care of her body. There wasn’t a memory of fat anywhere on Troy’s body. She would probably always look like a college athlete, thanks to the riding. The thought made Emma feel flabby, feeble and—

  “You are so beautiful,” Troy whispered.

  Beautiful? Yes, damn it, she felt beautiful. The only other person awake in the world thought so. So it mus
t be true. She reached up and put her hands in Troy’s lovely hair and stroked the side of her face.

  “Why do you sound so sad, then?” she asked.

  “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. I feel fine.”

  “I should have been more careful.” Troy moved her hand slowly, sensuously, without really being sensual, touched her hip and rubbed and kneaded some imagined ache.

  “It wasn’t the time for careful. I’ll be fine. You don’t need to do this, although I certainly won’t stop you if you want to continue.”

  “Good, ’cause I’m going to. This stuff is awesome for sore muscles. I buy it down at Saturday market. The walk we took and then me lying on you like that—it’s bound to make you sore tomorrow. I have to do this for myself sometimes after I ride.”

  “I wondered what it was when I smelled it on you. Does the coconut help in some way?”

  Emma could see the flash of white that meant Troy was smiling. “No, I just like the way it smells.”

  “This feels wonderful, but you don’t have to treat me with kid gloves. The limp is from nerve damage. I don’t baby it any more than anything else.”

  Troy kept rubbing, her hands gentle but insistent, until Emma’s body became as pliant as warm taffy. “I don’t want you to pay for this tomorrow. So let me do this, okay?”

  Her answering moan made Troy chuckle. Her figure was a shadow in the relative darkness—touching Emma, pressing into her flesh, working out soreness that didn’t exist. Coconut and Burt’s Beeswax lip balm drifted over Emma. Air from the ceiling fan cooled her skin for a second before Troy’s calloused hands passed over her body, warming it again. Arousal had long been forgotten, and she allowed herself to be cared for in ways she had run from.

  “I have dreams, too,” she said as sleep pulled and Troy’s hands pushed.

  “Are they about me?” Troy sounded amused.

  “No. Bad dreams about someone standing over me in the dark.”