Chapter Eight
Faye
Faye gasped into Diana’s mouth as her back hit the door.
Her kiss was bruising yet soft, her fingertips holding Faye’s jaw then threading into her hair.
Faye moved her own hands before her brain could catch up, sliding them around Diana’s waist. Curling into the material of her dress.
Want coiled low in her belly, hot and fierce, intensifying with every movement of Diana’s fingers.
When her warm tongue slipped into Faye’s mouth, she nearly lost it, releasing a groan that rumbled deep in her chest.
The soft, breathy sound that left Diana in response was enough to buckle her knees. She wanted to hear it again. And again.
She let Diana guide her inside the cabin, shutting the door behind them with a flick of her wrist. Faye might have voiced her awe at the ease of the gesture, but the soft lips landing on hers again with a hungry need overrode everything else.
For a few moments, anyway.
Because as Diana’s hand slipped from Faye’s neck to her waist, fear jolted her back to earth like a cold glass of water thrown over her head.
You can’t do this.
She wanted to. The heat pooling between her thighs was more than obvious.
In fact, every cell in Faye’s body had been set alight in a way she hadn’t experienced before.
She wanted nothing more than to give in to her completely.
But as Diana’s fingers brushed against her hip, the urge to push her away set off like a flare.
I can’t do this.
But it was Diana who pulled back, her dark eyes wide and full of something Faye couldn’t name. She took a step away from her, her fingertips flying to her mouth like she could erase the kiss.
All the heat coiling in Faye’s stomach drained out the bottom of her feet. Her heart pounded, making her dizzy.
Is this how Diana felt after I ran away?
“I’m sorry.” Diana shook her head, her fingers still resting on that succulent mouth. “That was wildly inappropriate of me.”
Faye had her own reasons for panicking, but that hadn’t been one of them.
Wildly inappropriate?
“What do you mean?” The words left her mouth before she’d really considered whether she wanted the answer. Judging from the way Diana’s eyebrows pinched together, it could only be bad news.
“I’m forty-one, Faye, and you’re…mid-twenties?” Gravel crunched outside as a buggy flew down the track. “I shouldn’t be here.”
The panic from earlier solidified into a steely resolve. Adrenaline pumped through Faye’s system. “Why not? I’m not one of your students, Diana.”
“But you could be.”
“But I’m not.”
She met Diana’s gaze, cogs turning behind her pupils. Her skin tingled the longer she looked at her.
After what felt like an age, Diana said, “No, you’re not.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry. I’ve been…out of sorts lately. I didn’t mean to make this situation uncomfortable.”
Faye crinkled her nose at her choice of language. So formal and distant, not at all like the woman who had just kissed her against the door and set her body on fire.
She swallowed, trying to gather the courage to look into Diana’s eyes. “Is this about what happened at the bar?”
Diana’s eyes flickered, and then the emotion was squashed, hidden beneath her calm expression. The words hung in the air, Faye’s chest aching with anticipation. But instead of answering, Diana rubbed her temples, gesturing to the bed. “Do you mind if I sit? My feet are killing me.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” She straightened the white duvet, waiting for Diana to sit before taking the seat next to her, the mattress dipping under their weight.
“You’d think the break from heels would be a comfort, but these new sandals are rubbing my feet raw.” Diana smoothed her dress with a smile that felt a little forced, then crossed one leg over the other.
Faye couldn’t help admiring her straight spine and slender neck. Good posture was a secret kink of hers. Yet as Diana turned to face her, she couldn’t help feeling like a student about to be scolded in the headmistress’s office.
Although…that might not be such a bad idea. Diana in a low-cut white blouse and senselessly short skirt, twirling a cane between her fingers… How enthralling it would be to be disciplined by her. A fresh wave of arousal pulsed between her legs.
A cane? Really, Faye? Jesus.
She swallowed, digging her nails into her palms, trying to divert the blood flow someplace else. Focus.
“That night at the bar,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. “I panicked. See, ever since I can remember, I’ve had…issues.”
God. I make it sound so weird.
She blew out a breath. She didn’t want to waste time on the wrong people, but somehow the right words were never easy to find.
“It made me different. Now I’m even more different.
” She grimaced, nails digging into her skin and trying to untangle the knots in her throat.
“I’m not good at saying things,” she said, further proving her point.
Why couldn’t she just speak the words? What was so damn hard about it?
No wonder everyone thought she was a freak. Now Diana would too—
A soft hand steadied hers, and she stopped scratching. The nervous habit often left her with bloody cuticles and sore skin, but the warmth radiating from Diana’s touch gave her pause. She looked up from Diana’s manicured toenails and focused on the white wall instead.
She tried to breathe like Riley had instructed in their yoga classes.
In through the nose…and out through the mouth.
The chaos in her mind sank to lower levels, and when she opened her eyes, she found Diana watching her.
That curious expression assessing while her thumb stroked soft circles on Faye’s wrist.
Just do it.
“I have an ostomy. A stoma,” she blurted, loud enough that it made the woman jump.
So loud that everyone on the island probably heard.
“That’s why I freaked out before. I was—still am—afraid of what people might think.
I mean, it’s not exactly sexy, having a flapping bag of poop attached to my body. ”
A flapping bag of poop? A perfect mental image for the extremely hot and sophisticated woman sitting on your bed.
A puff of laughter escaped her. Then, seeing the surprise on Diana’s face, she laughed again.
If the scarring image didn’t scare her off, Faye’s maniacal laughter surely would.
She tipped her head back, water forming in her eyes.
At this point, she didn’t know if it was from the laughter or from the sheer stupidity of her confession. It might have been a mixture of both.
Only she could have the most beautiful woman in existence kiss her and then immediately drive her away.
But Diana’s mouth cracked into a smile, and a rumble emerged from her throat, unlike one Faye had ever heard. Rich and deep and sexy in a way that it had absolutely no right to be.
When the laughter subsided, Faye’s stomach aching and tears wetting her cheeks, she brushed them away with her free hand, realising that Diana was still holding the other.
Diana didn’t pull away.
That almost made her cry real tears. The ugly, snotty kind that left her skin blotchy and red.
Luckily, Diana spoke first.
“Thank you for telling me. It makes sense now, why you reacted that way.” Her thumb continued to brush Faye’s hand. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you uncomfortable.”
That word again. “You haven’t. I’m the one who kissed you first, remember?”
Diana’s mouth ticked up at one side. “I do.”
The movement of her mouth—that plump, soft mouth—tugged at Faye’s belly, reminding her of the woman’s proximity to her and her bed. She suddenly realised that Diana was in her bedroom. And that she’d kissed her up against the door.
Somehow it felt like a fever dream. But no, that actually happened.
Did that mean… Diana had a crush on her, too?
The word crush felt childish and inadequate. But to call it anything more would be getting ahead of herself. Faye didn’t want to do that again.
But as Diana’s thumb circled her hand, raising the hairs along Faye’s arm and sending a tingle to her sternum, she couldn’t help the feeling swelling in her centre.
“Have you had it long?” Diana’s smooth voice pulled her gaze towards her. Her straight nose, heavenly sharp cheekbones, and her pointed chin, which, Faye just realised, had a small dimple in it. Diana raised an eyebrow when Faye didn’t answer, and added, “Your stoma?”
“Right.” Heat flushed Faye’s neck. Diana had definitely caught her hopelessly checking her out. “It’s been six months and twelve days. Not that I’ve been obsessively counting or anything.”
Diana nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a big lifestyle change.”
“Yep. Especially when I had no time to prepare for it.”
Bright white lights flashed through her vision. The hospital’s monotonous beeps had crawled inside her skull like angry crickets. The pain in her abdomen flared up on instinct, and she put her hand over it, crinkling the plastic weight in its place.
“It was an emergency op,” she said, blinking away the images.
“I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease when I was eleven.
Since then, I’ve been in and out of pain and had loads of different treatments.
It’s weird. Sometimes, it seemed there was nothing wrong.
I’d go weeks, sometimes months, without a flare-up.
I could play with the kids on the street and go to the after-school gardening club.
I remember the other kids talking about watching caterpillars grow until they formed their cocoons, and I thought that was the coolest thing ever.
I didn’t want to miss a thing. I’d cross my fingers and pray, hoping the pain wouldn’t come back. But sooner or later, it always did.”