Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
T he Knowles house sat on a quiet, curved street in Forest Hills Gardens, with a steep gabled roof and a mix of brick and timber framing the facade.
Ivy grew along one wall, and the front door was a heavy arched wood set into a small stone entryway.
Leaded glass windows lined the front, and a narrow path led through a neatly kept garden to a detached garage in the back.
It was solid, private, and quietly expensive.
Kathleen pulled into the driveway and cut the engine. For a moment she sat in silence, her fingers curled around the steering wheel. She’d pinned her hair back loosely, and worn the pink silk blouse her father liked.
Rhonda Knowles opened the front door at the first ring, elegant as always, in a linen blouse and cream slacks.
“Hello, dear,” she said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “I’ve been waiting to show you my new painting.”
“I brought muffins, Mom,” Kathleen said, holding up the small paper bag. “And I’d love a cup of your lemon tea.”
Her mother stepped aside, waving her in. “I’ll get Ellen to put on the kettle. We’ll have it in the sunroom. I’ve hung the painting there.”
Kathleen studied the canvas while her mother went off to organize the morning tea. It was a vibrant landscape, with rolling meadows of wildflowers painted in the French Impressionist style.
“What do you think,” her mother asked, appearing at her elbow.
“It’s great. Suits the room.”
Her mother tilted her head to look at it. “I think so. I picked it up in that little gallery in Soho. Come…sit down.”
Once they settled into the cane chairs, Rhonda poured the tea herself, arranging napkins and china like she was hosting a guest, not her daughter. “You look radiant,” she said after a few sips, narrowing her eyes in a way that made Kathleen shift in her seat. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Kathleen said quickly.
“Oh, come on. You’re practically blooming. Did something happen at the lab? Did you publish your paper?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
Rhonda eyed her closely. “Then it’s someone.”
Kathleen hesitated, caught. She didn’t want to lie, not really. But the memory of Darlene chatting away at that dinner with Veronica’s hand resting lightly on the back of her chair refused to go away.
“It’s... complicated,” she said carefully.
Her mother’s expression softened. “Complicated is fine. Is he kind?”
Kathleen blurted out before she could stop herself. “It’s not a he, it’s a she.”
Her mother’s eyes widened, and she was silent for a moment before she smiled fondly at her. “I think that’s wonderful.”
“You’re not upset?”
Her mother reached across the table and touched her hand. “No. You deserve someone to care for you and a woman would suit you much better.”
“I don’t know where it’s going,” Kathleen admitted. “It’s early days.”
“You’ve always known your own pace,” her mother said gently. “Promise me one thing?”
Kathleen looked up.
“Don’t close yourself off because something doesn’t fit someone else’s idea of ‘proper.’”
Kathleen blinked back a sting of tears. “Even if she’s... not what you expected?”
Her mother squeezed her hand. “Sweetheart, I’ve learned not to expect anything. You surprise me. Often.”
They sat in silence for a moment, tea cooling between them. Outside, a pair of birds flitted across the lawn.
Kathleen glanced down at her lap, then smiled faintly. “I think I really like her,” she said softly.
Her mother smiled back. “Then I already do.”
K athleen stood in front of her wardrobe, barefoot, staring blankly at the hangers. Half her clothes were too formal, the other half too juvenile. Nothing seemed right for a quiet night at someone else’s place—not someone, but Veronica .
It wasn’t a date, not technically. It wasn’t anything simple either.
She finally settled on a soft-knit green top and her favourite jeans, worn but neat. Casual, not careless. She left her hair down and brushed it until it lay in soft waves, remembering the way Veronica had touched it. She paused at the mirror. She looked like herself—but a better version.
Her phone buzzed before six. A text.
Veronica : Lobby’s clear. Come up when you’re ready. Door’s unlocked.
Kathleen stared at the message. It wasn’t flirtatious, wasn’t even suggestive, but it made her heart skip all the same.
She tucked her phone in her pocket, grabbed a bottle of wine she’d picked up from a boutique shop near campus, and made her way down to her car.
The elevator ride to the thirty-third floor felt slower than usual.
When the doors opened, the softly-lit hallway was quiet.
She hesitated outside the door, then knocked once.
Veronica opened it almost immediately. She was barefoot, wearing loose linen trousers and a black camisole.
Her hair was pulled back in a low twist, a few strands escaping near her neck.
She looked relaxed, natural and utterly breathtaking.
“You came,” Veronica said softly.
Kathleen nodded, holding out the wine like a peace offering. “I thought... we could try this.”
Veronica smiled, stepping back to let her in. “Perfect.”
The apartment smelled faintly of rosemary and something savoury. Music played low from a speaker in the corner—a mellow, instrumental tune. The curtains were half-drawn, the lights dim. It felt a warm, cocooned sanctuary.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Veronica said, padding toward the kitchen. “I made pasta. Nothing fancy but edible.”
Kathleen stepped out of her shoes and followed her. “You cook?”
“I survive. There’s a difference.” Veronica handed her a glass of wine and gestured to the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”
They ate together at the small kitchen bench, perched side by side, elbows brushing now and then. The food was simple— garlic, olive oil, a hint of chili—but good. Somehow, that made it more intimate than anything lavish.
Afterward, they settled on the couch. Kathleen curled one leg under her, facing Veronica. “So, lesson two?”
Veronica took a sip of wine. “You still want to go ahead with it?”
“I do,” Kathleen said. “I need to stop being afraid of someone touching me.”
Veronica nodded slowly, setting her glass down. “Okay. Then let’s start somewhere easy. Take off your top and I’ll take off mine.”
Kathleen fumbled with the buttons, feeling the walls closing in on her. She wet her lips and said, “I’m not used to this.”
When Veronica’s response was the raise of an eyebrow, she pulled off the soft-knit top, exposing her flesh-coloured bra. She stared at the wall, thinking she should have worn a lace one instead of opting for the more functional cotton.
“Now the bra,” murmured Veronica.
As she undid the clips, her pulse thumped in her ears. After she tugged it off, she shivered, feeling the weight of Veronica’s eyes on her breasts.
“Lovely,” Veronica murmured.
When she quickly took off her own top and bra, Kathleen swallowed hard. Her breasts were more than a handful, with brown, upright nipples. Completely overwhelmed by the unexpected intensity of her physical response, she whispered. “You’re so beautiful.”
Veronica wriggled closer. “Touch my breasts.”
Kathleen reached out with her fingers, tentatively stroking the curve, then moving to circle a nipple. When Veronica let out a little moan, she looked at her in surprise. “You like that?”
Veronica hissed out a breath and said, “Now the other breast. Do whatever you like.”
Kathleen became bolder, stroking and lightly squeezing, fascinated by how the nipples hardened. Unable to help herself, she lowered her head to take one into her mouth, loving how Veronica responded with quiet groans.
“Can I touch you?” Veronica whispered.
She nodded mutely, then shivered with pleasure when Veronica feathered her lips up her neck and brushed her lips over her mouth.
A shock of electricity ran through her when Veronica deepened the kiss and pulled her into her.
The feel of her breasts against hers felt so good that her own nipples stiffened in response.
Closing her eyes, she let the pleasure wash over her.
They stayed for a while exploring each other’s mouths.
When Veronica slipped her tongue into her mouth and swirled it around, she felt the heat rush to her groin.
Then Veronica grasped her bottom and squeezed as she kissed her.
Kathleen swallowed her disappointment when Veronica pulled away and said softly with a note of vulnerability, “Do you want me to continue?”
“I want you to keep going more than anything ,” she managed to gasp out.
After looking deeply into her eyes, Veronica started the slow trail with her lips down her neck until she came to her breasts. Kathleen groaned and arched into her as she lavished her nipples with her mouth and tongue. “Oh, God.”
Somehow, Veronica had manoeuvred her around until she was under her, but she didn’t care.
Her body was on fire and there was a burning need building up between her legs.
She’d never felt anything like it. It consumed her.
Veronica’s hand was on her stomach, massaging the soft flesh.
She undid the top button of her jeans and slid down the zip, Kathleen arched her hips up to allow her to slide them down and pull them over her knees.
She had no control over her body now, not when Veronica was sucking and nibbling her breasts like that.
Then when Veronica slipped her fingers lightly into the warmth between her legs and hit her clit, Kathleen moaned loudly. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to be consumed by her. Veronica began to stroke in small circles.
She placed her hands on Veronica’s shoulders and rocked her hips for more friction. “Oh, don’t stop…that feels wonderful.”
A groan escaped from Veronica’s throat. “You’re so wet,” she whispered and increased the speed, pressing down where Kathleen wanted her the most.
She whimpered as something inside of her began to grow, building gradually into a burning force as Veronica increased her pace.
Kathleen pumped her hips, frantically striving for something…
she hadn’t a clue what. All she knew was that if Veronica stopped, she would die.
And then the building pressure broke into a wave of intense pleasure.
It surged through her like a tidal wave, reaching every nerve in her body.
She screamed out Veronica’s name as her body convulsed.
Veronica slowly removed her fingers as she gradually came off the high and the pleasure slowly ebbed away.
She’d never felt anything so wonderful, and she sagged back on the couch unable to move.
Veronica slid off her and took her in her arms. “Are you all right, Kathleen,” she asked a little anxiously.
Kathleen cracked an eye open. “Are you kidding me. That was incredible.”
Veronica stroked her hair. “I didn’t mean to go so far. I couldn’t stop myself.”
Kathleen snuggled into her, loving her smell, her touch. “I’ve never orgasmed with anyone before,” she said frankly.
Veronica pulled her closer. “Then I’m privileged I was the first.”
“Can I touch you?”
“Not tonight. That’s the next lesson,” said Veronica. “Now let’s go to bed. You will stay with me tonight?”
“If you want me to,” she said shyly.
“I do. Intimacy is not only about sex; it’s sharing a bed with the person you want to be with. There’re PJs in the walk-in wardrobe and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom cupboard.”
Kathleen returned in the soft cotton pyjamas and slid into the bed. She curled into the warmth beside Veronica, who was already under the covers, arms open.
They didn’t speak.
Veronica pulled her close and Kathleen pressed her forehead to her shoulder. Their bodies fit easily, legs tangled beneath the sheet, skin brushing skin.
Kathleen lay there for a long time in silence, trying to process what had happened.
She had let someone touch her. Completely.
And it hadn’t felt terrifying or invasive—it had felt good.
Exhilarating . Her mind still hadn’t caught up to her body.
She tried to replay it, moment by moment, wondering where her fear had gone.
It hadn’t disappeared, exactly. It hadn’t been there when Veronica had started touching her.
She had made her feel safe and wanted in a deeply physical way. It was difficult to explain why her touch had been different, hadn’t seemed obtrusive.
She sighed softly against Veronica’s collarbone, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest.
Why was this elegant, composed woman, becoming the only thing she wanted to reach for?
Kathleen drifted into sleep, the thoughts trailing off into dreams.
S he woke to find she was wrapped around Veronica.
Her thigh was hooked over hers, an arm snug around her waist, and her face buried in the curve of her neck. Veronica was still asleep, her skin was warm, her breathing slow and even.
Kathleen didn’t move. She didn’t want to move.
She lay there, listening to the gentle rhythm of Veronica’s breath until she stirred beneath her. She turned slightly, eyes still heavy with sleep, and smiled at Kathleen. “Morning.”
“Hello,” Kathleen whispered back.
Veronica leaned in and kissed her with soft lips—slow, unhurried. Then she rolled out of bed, padded to the kitchen, and started breakfast while Kathleen went to the bathroom, then pulled on her clothes.
It wasn’t awkward or rushed.
Veronica made scrambled eggs and toast with butter, handed her a mug of coffee and a plate. Kathleen sat at the counter, watching her eat, and let herself imagine what it would be like to do this often. To belong to someone like this.
When she finally stood to go, Veronica walked her to the door. “I’ll see you Wednesday night,” she said, planting a kiss on her cheek.
Kathleen nodded. “At my place this time. I’d like to cook you a meal.”
Veronica smiled and opened the door. “I’ll be ready.”
Outside, the air was brisk, the city beginning to stir. As she walked to her car, the warmth of the morning began to fade, replaced by confusion and questions she didn’t yet have the language for.
She had no idea what was happening between them.
But she knew she wanted more.