Honeyfires #2
Friday afternoon, I went to pick Vera up from work.
I'd been doing it every day since the reporters first ambushed her. I parked where I could see the entrance and waited.
She emerged at five, and something was off.
Shoulders tight, movements stiff. Behind her, through the glass doors, I could see Sarah, her coworker who'd been cold since the book club event, turning away.
Helen came out next, spotted my truck, and touched Vera's arm briefly before heading to her own car.
Becca appeared in the doorway and gave an exaggerated thumbs up in my direction before disappearing back inside.
Vera climbed into the truck, looking exhausted. "Hi."
"Hi." I took her hand. "How bad?"
"Sarah's not speaking to me." She leaned her head back. "And Henry pulled me aside. Suggested I consider a leave of absence until things calm down."
Fury moved through me fast and hot. "For writing an article?"
"For the controversy surrounding the article. For bringing negative attention to the library." She opened her eyes, turned to look at me. "The board received complaints from patrons who are uncomfortable with my association with what they called criminal activity."
"Diana approved that piece," I said. "It named no one. It—"
"I know. But the internet connected the dots, and the board doesn't care about legal semantics.
" She squeezed my hand. "I told Henry no.
I'm not taking leave for exercising my First Amendment rights on my own time.
And if the board wants to fire me for it, they're welcome to deal with the wrongful termination lawsuit. "
Pride and fear passed through me simultaneously. "What did he say?"
"He backed down. But he wasn't happy." She looked out the window. "Sarah thinks I've compromised the library's neutrality. Helen told her to mind her business. James and Marcus sent me a muffin basket, which I think was meant to be supportive, but mostly just made Becca eat four muffins."
Despite everything, I almost laughed. "Diana said this might happen."
"Diana also said the piece did exactly what she wanted it to do.
" Vera glanced at me. "She called this morning.
The district administrator's office has received several letters from firefighter families and fire behavior experts in support of your position.
She thinks it shifted something. Not enough to guarantee anything, but something. "
I absorbed that. Something.
"Tuesday," I said.
"Tuesday," she agreed.
I pulled out of the parking lot, heading home. The desert spread out around San Jacinto in every direction, vast and patient and entirely indifferent to all of it.
"I'm so proud of you," I said. "And so scared for you."
"I know." She brought my hand to her lips. "But I'd do it again. Diana gave me a lane, and I drove in it. That's not reckless. That's fighting."
I couldn't argue with that. I'd never been able to argue with her when she was right, and she was right more often than I was comfortable admitting.
"Thank you," I said. "For fighting."
"Always," she said. "Now take me home. I've been stress-eating Becca's sympathy muffins all day, and I need actual food."
That night I couldn't sleep.
I lay staring at the ceiling, turning Tuesday over in my mind, running every possible outcome, every piece of evidence Diana had assembled, every crew statement that might go for me or against me.
"You're overthinking again," Vera murmured without opening her eyes. "I can feel it from here."
"Sorry," I whispered. "Go back to sleep."
"Not until you stop spiraling." She rolled onto her side, propped herself up on one elbow. "What's going on in that beautiful, catastrophizing brain of yours?"
"Everything. The hearing. Your job. Sarah not speaking to you. Henry. The board. Whether the article actually helped or just made everything louder—"
"Diana thinks it helped." She pressed a finger to my lips. "And Diana is terrifying and competent and right about most things. So we trust that."
"What if the board doesn't—"
"Breathe," she said simply.
I took a breath. Then another. She watched me with those blue eyes, her hand coming up to stroke my cheek.
"We're going to be okay," she said. "I don't know how yet. But we will be."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because we have each other." She smiled a small, beautiful smile that made my heart clench. "And that's enough to build everything else on."
Something about the absolute simplicity of it, the way she said it like it was just true, the way the desert was hot and the sky was full of stars—made something loosen in me. Before I knew what I was doing I was laughing. Actually laughing, for the first time in weeks.
Vera lifted her head. "What's so funny?"
"You." I laughed harder. "You're so certain we'll be okay, and I love you for it, even though I think you might be slightly crazy."
She started laughing too, a bright giggle that made her nose scrunch up adorably. "I'm definitely crazy. Crazy about you."
"That was terrible."
"I know." She was grinning now, that full, unguarded smile that made my heart stutter. "But you're laughing, so it worked."
Our laughter tangled together in the darkness, two people finding joy in the middle of chaos, finding each other when everything else was falling apart. And then, because I couldn't help myself, because she was so beautiful when she laughed, I reached out and tickled her sides.
"No!" She shrieked, trying to twist away. "Petra, don't you dare—"
But I was already tickling her mercilessly, my fingers finding every sensitive spot I'd learned over all these last months together. She shrieked again, dissolving into helpless laughter, tears streaming down her face as she tried to fight me off.
"Stop! Stop, I can't—I can't breathe—"
"Say I'm the best lover you've ever had."
"Never!" She was laughing so hard she could barely form words. "You're—you're evil—"
"Say it."
"Fine! Fine! You're the best—" She dissolved into giggles again. "The best lover—stop, please—"
I stopped tickling, but kept her pinned beneath me, both of us breathing hard, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling with laughter and mischief. The moment shifted, the playfulness giving way to something deeper, hotter. I could see it in her eyes, the same realization I was having.
We hadn't been intimate in weeks. Hadn't had the energy or the emotional space for it, both of us too consumed by the crisis to think about anything beyond survival. But now, looking down at her flushed face and the way her chest was heaving, I felt desire surge through me like wildfire.
"Petra," she breathed, and her voice had gone low and wanting. "It's been so long."
"I know." I kissed her softly, then deeper, tasting the remnants of laughter on her tongue. "Too long."
Her hands slid up my sides, under my sleep shirt, her touch leaving trails of heat on my skin as she found my bare breasts, making me hiss. "I need you," she whispered against my mouth. "I need to feel you, need to remember what this is when everything else is falling apart."
"Tell me what you want." My hands found her waist, fingers splaying across her ribs. "Tell me exactly what you need, baby."
"You." Her eyes had gone dark, pupils blown wide. "Just you. Your hands, your mouth, your—"
I kissed her again, swallowing the rest of her words. "Be specific."
She shivered, her small hands gripping my shoulders. "I want your mouth on me. Want to feel your tongue, want to come apart for you. Want—" She bit her lip, suddenly shy despite everything.
"What else?" I encouraged, kissing along her jaw. "Don't hold back. Tell me."
“I want… to ride your face," she admitted in a rush, her cheeks flushing deeper. “I want to watch you take me apart with just your mouth. I want to feel powerful for once after weeks of feeling helpless."
Heat coiled tight in my belly at her words. "Fuck, Vera."
"Is that okay?" She looked suddenly uncertain. "We don't have to—"
"Oh, we're definitely doing that." I sat up, pulling her with me. "But first, lose the clothes."
We stripped frantically, all the slow seduction of our earlier encounters abandoned in favor of desperate need. When we were both naked, I lay back against the pillows, pulling her up my body.
"Come here," I said huskily. "Take what you need."
She straddled my chest, her breathing already ragged, her arousal evident in the flush spreading down her neck and chest. "You're sure?"
"Very sure." I gripped her thighs, urging her forward. "Now stop asking questions and sit on my face."
She laughed breathlessly, but obeyed, positioning herself over my mouth. I could see her trembling slightly, could smell her arousal, could feel the heat radiating from her core.
"So beautiful," I murmured, then pulled her down onto my waiting mouth.
She gasped as my tongue found her clit, her hands flying to the headboard for balance. I took my time, exploring her with long, slow licks, relearning the taste and feel of her after weeks apart. She was already so wet, so ready, her body responding to every movement of my tongue.
"Petra," she moaned, her hips starting to move. "Oh god."
I gripped her thighs harder, encouraging the movement, letting her set the pace while I worked her with my mouth. My tongue circled her clit, then dipped lower to taste her fully, then back up to focus on that sensitive bundle of nerves that made her whole body shudder.
She was riding my face now, properly riding it, her inhibitions lost to pleasure.
One hand stayed on the headboard for balance while the other moved to her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple.
The sight of her above me, her head thrown back, golden hair cascading down her back, her body moving with desperate rhythm, was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen.
"Don't stop," she panted. "Please don't stop, I'm so close.”
I doubled my efforts, my tongue working faster, harder, relentless. Her thighs began to shake around my head, her movements becoming erratic as she climbed higher.
"Petra, fuck—I'm—"