Our Secret Summer

Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

After Dylan’s impromptu visit, Raffo poured herself a large glass of water and slowly sipped it while hoping the bell would ring again. But it didn’t. Dylan had barely been able look at her. Then, she couldn’t leave quick enough, as though Connor was waiting somewhere cold and naked for his suit.

Raffo dragged herself up the stairs to get dressed, the brief but intense encounter leaving her shaken. Just as she made it to the top of the stairs, she heard a noise below. It wasn’t the bell. It was someone letting themselves in. It couldn’t be Connor because, apparently, he was so busy he’d had to dispatch his mother to pick up his dry-cleaning.

She thundered downstairs, deliberately heavy-footed to warn off any potential intruder. But the person standing in the middle of the living room was hardly an intruder. It was Dylan.

“Did you forget something?” Raffo asked. Her robe had fallen open—she knew because Dylan’s gaze had dropped to her chest, lingering there instead of meeting her eyes.

“I did,” Dylan said, her breath ragged, as though she had jogged back here instead of driving. She took a step closer, grabbed the side of Raffo’s robe, and pulled her close. “I forgot this,” Dylan said, then kissed Raffo full on the lips.

Raffo’s knees went weak instantly. Because the very thing she’d been too afraid to dream of—to hope for—was exactly what was happening. Dylan’s soft lips against hers. Dylan’s hand letting go of Raffo’s robe and slipping inside it. So, of course, Raffo kissed Dylan back, despite the fact that they were in Connor’s house and despite Raffo believing, to her very core, that she’d rather give up painting forever than come between Connor and his mother.

Apparently, Raffo’s core was not to be trusted when it came to Dylan. Nor was her common sense. Dylan’s touch was too powerful. She’d gone without it for too long because despite what Raffo wanted to believe, and what she’d been telling herself—tried to convince herself of—Dylan’s hands were exactly where they belonged right now. On Raffo’s skin. Driving her crazy at lightning speed. Deactivating whatever flimsy amount of rational thought Raffo had left. But she was only human and, like most humans, she was ruled by her emotions more than anything.

“For the life of me,” Dylan breathed into Raffo’s ear. “I can’t forget you. I think about you all the time.”

Raffo pushed her hands into Dylan’s hair and pulled her closer so she could kiss her again. So her tongue could dart in and out of Dylan’s delicious mouth and Raffo, just for one minute—or maybe five—could take everything she’d denied herself for Connor’s sake. It was just a kiss. Just a moment of temporary insanity. They’d come to their senses soon enough, after a few more of Dylan’s divine kisses.

They stumbled backward until Raffo stood with her back against the door Dylan had just walked through for the second time in half an hour.

Dylan’s hand sneaked up Raffo’s belly and, softly, landed on her breast.

For five endless weeks, Raffo had tried so hard to push thoughts like this away as soon as they surfaced. She knew giving in wasn’t an option, that she shouldn’t try to keep the memories from Big Bear alive. But now it was actually happening, Raffo had no defense. Dylan had driven herself back here. She had instigated this, and it didn’t look as though she was going to put a stop to it any time soon. Raffo had to be the wiser one, although she had no clue how. Not yet. She would in a minute. Just one more minute of Dylan’s soft hands on her breast and her tongue in her mouth.

Dylan’s hand grew bolder, her touch more insistent as she broke their kiss.

Fuck, she was so gorgeous, so utterly beautiful, so everything Raffo had denied herself.

“I want to make you come,” Dylan said, her words so breathtakingly sexy, they almost made Raffo come there and then simply because it was Dylan who said them. “God, I want to,” Dylan groaned. “Is that okay?”

Dylan was still fully dressed whereas Raffo’s robe was barely still covering her. Raffo nodded because it was all she wanted. Just for another few minutes. Saying no was not an option in the state she was in. In this dream that she hadn’t allowed herself to have that had, somehow, become reality.

“I’m going to lick you,” Dylan whispered, her eyes blazing pure lust. She kissed Raffo again, her lips hot on Raffo’s mouth, while her hand trailed down. Then, she broke the kiss and kneeled between Raffo’s legs.

Through half-closed eyes, Raffo glimpsed the strange little statue Dylan had put on the table when she’d arrived earlier, reminding her why Dylan had come here in the first place—for Connor—but then Dylan’s hot tongue swept along Raffo’s clit and all thoughts were instantly erased from her brain.

Raffo forgot about the reasons this shouldn’t be happening and tuned into her biggest desire. She wanted Dylan. Her body surely wanted Dylan. Raffo had been afraid to touch herself since Dylan had left Big Bear. Afraid of what she might feel, of what it might unleash in her. Afraid of what it might turn her into—a person living in her best friend’s house while lusting after his mother. A person she didn’t want to be. But oh, how she was that person now. And she was doing a whole lot more than just lusting. Dylan’s tongue licked her to ever greater heights, awakening every nerve in her body, her clit surging to life.

The orgasm that seized Raffo brought her to her knees, and not just metaphorically. Her body as exhausted as her mind—both worn out from weeks of trying to forget what they desperately wanted to remember—Raffo collapsed beside Dylan. She reached for Dylan blindly, pulling her close.

“After I saw you,” Dylan muttered under her breath, “I couldn’t stay away.”

Raffo maneuvered into a sitting position and tugged Dylan close. It was a warm day and she was only wearing a light blouse, but she still felt way too dressed next to Raffo.

Raffo didn’t know what to say. Nothing had changed and everything had changed—again. So instead of talking, she started to unbutton Dylan’s blouse. Dylan stopped her by putting a hand on hers.

“I can’t have you touch me,” Dylan said. “I won’t know how to recover from that again.”

That was rich. “And how am I supposed to recover from that orgasm you just gave me?” Raffo tried to inject some gravitas into her voice, but failed miserably.

“You will,” Dylan said flatly. As though she suddenly came to her senses, her body went rigid and she put some distance between them. “I’d better go.”

“Shouldn’t we talk about this?” Raffo asked. “At least a little bit?”

To Raffo’s surprise, Dylan’s eyes moistened. “What’s there to say? We can’t be together.”

“We have to tell Con. We can’t lie to him again.” The rush of Raffo’s climax was quickly replaced with a crushing sadness.

“I’m sorry for coming back. I shouldn’t have done that, Raffo. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

Raffo shook her head. “I’m not sorry, but… it shouldn’t happen again. We can’t do that to Connor or ourselves.”

Dylan closed her eyes when she spoke, as though what she was about to say couldn’t be said while looking at Raffo. “I miss you so much. I don’t know how it’s possible. I don’t know why I can’t seem to get over you.”

“Maybe you just need a little more time,” Raffo offered. She and Dylan both.

“Time?” Dylan opened her eyes. “I’ll be sixty in a few months. When am I going to feel like this again? I may never feel like this in my life again.”

It was high time for Raffo to be the wiser one, although she was, by almost three decades, the younger one.

“You have to think of Connor. It’s the only way.” Raffo made to get up.

“Yeah.” Dylan pressed her thumbs against her eyes and then pushed herself up. “It would be a whole lot easier if I wasn’t so damned in love with you.”

Raffo did a double take. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Raffo. Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you. I think you are so fucking amazing. I wish I could watch you paint again. I wish I could make you a meal. I wish I could take you out. I wish I could just sit with you and chat. I wish I could?—”

“Not much painting to watch,” Raffo said stupidly, because all the things Dylan had just said, Raffo wanted as well.

“I so want for you to get your mojo back. I really do.” Dylan stepped closer and Raffo could smell herself on her skin. Dylan stroked Raffo’s cheek.

“I think for that to happen you’re going to have to show me your breasts again,” Raffo said, even more stupidly.

Dylan smiled and her smile soon turned into a giggle and it removed a whole lot of tension from the heavy air between them.

“I’d love to come by your studio and make that happen, but...” Dylan grabbed Raffo’s hand and squeezed it. “For my own sanity, I need to stay far away from you.”

Raffo wrapped her arms around Dylan and prepared for another last goodbye. Then they both froze as a key turned in the front door lock.

“Oh, fuck.” Raffo pulled her robe tightly around her. “Connor isn’t supposed to be home for hours.”

“Hello?” A familiar male voice came from the hallway. “Anyone home?”

“Oh, thank fuck.” Raffo exhaled sharply. “It’s Murray.” She moved toward the lounge door.

Dylan put a hand on Raffo’s forearm. “He shouldn’t see us together.” Dylan frantically rubbed her fingers along her chin.

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to him.” Raffo opened the door.

“I wanted to surprise my boo,” Murray said. “Con has no idea I’m coming.” His eyes widened. “Oh, hello, Dylan.”

“Hi, Murray. How lovely to see you.” As though a massive stick had lodged itself up her backside, Dylan strutted toward Murray and stiffly kissed him on the cheek. “I was just dropping something off for Connor.”

Murray tilted his head, and his gaze skittered from Dylan to Raffo and back.

“Sure,” he said, because he wasn’t stupid, but he was kind.

“How long are you in town for?” Dylan asked. “You and Con should come to dinner.”

“I’d love to.” Murray painted on an innocent smile. “I’m here until Sunday night, if his Connor-ship will have me.”

“He’ll be delighted.” Dylan turned around and looked at Raffo. “I have to go. Have fun.” She suddenly looked as though she couldn’t be out the door fast enough.

Murray put his hands on his hips and stared straight into Raffo’s eyes, clearly conveying that he most certainly wasn’t born yesterday. Raffo only wearing a robe probably wasn’t helping.

“It’s not what you think,” Raffo said, although it was. “I mean, not really.”

“Would you like to tell me what it is?” Murray opened his arms to Raffo and she rushed into them. Then she cried on his shoulder until she could find the words to tell him the reason for her tears.