Chapter 18
The words landed somewhere deep in Casey’s chest and stayed there. I don’t want to stop. Three hours earlier she had been sitting at Lola’s with her knee pressed against Stephanie’s under the bar, repeating her own rule like a prayer: straight woman, temporary, unavailable.
Now Stephanie’s mouth was on hers and every careful boundary Casey had spent years building simply dissolved.
She kissed her back without thinking, without the careful distance she’d kept all evening. Her fingers slid from Stephanie’s neck into the dark waves of her hair, threading through the loose layers the humidity had loosened.
She pulled her closer and Stephanie made a small sound against her lips, something between surprise and relief, and Casey felt it travel straight down her spine.
The taste of rum lingered on Stephanie’s tongue, mixed with the faint salt of the night air and something sweeter that was simply her.
Casey’s pulse beat hard and steady between her ears.
She had let herself imagine this, just once, standing in her kitchen after Stephanie left the other night.
The fantasy had been careful, contained.
Reality was not. Reality was the way Stephanie’s fingers curled into the fabric of her black halter top like she was afraid Casey might vanish, the faint tremble in the hand pressed flat against her ribs, the way their breathing had already fallen into the same uneven rhythm.
Casey pulled back just enough to see her face in the low light. Stephanie’s cheeks were flushed, her mouth pink and a little swollen. The sight sent another warm pulse through Casey’s center.
“We should go inside,” she said, voice rougher than she expected.
They were still standing between the loungers, the terracotta tiles cool beneath her bare feet.
The pool filter hummed its steady rhythm behind them and the night air pressed humid against her skin, but none of it compared to the heat coming off Stephanie’s body.
Stephanie nodded, breath still quick, but her hand stayed twisted in the halter top, knuckles brushing the strip of bare skin above Casey’s waistband.
The small contact felt enormous. Casey wanted to press her against the nearest wall and keep kissing her until neither of them could think.
She also wanted to be careful. Careful won, barely.
She took Stephanie’s hand, lacing their fingers together, and led her across the courtyard, past the pool.
Inside, she turned, intending to offer Stephanie water or something else that might slow the current still crackling between them, but she was already moving.
Her hands came up to Casey’s shoulders and pushed with quiet certainty, backing her across the kitchen until her spine met the wall beside the row of cookbooks.
The impact stole Casey’s breath. Stephanie’s body aligned with hers, warm through the thin cotton of her pajamas, and then her mouth was on Casey’s again, harder this time, less tentative.
Stephanie’s fingers slid from Casey’s shoulders to the sides of her neck, thumbs resting over the frantic beat of her pulse.
The possessive certainty of it pulled a low sound from Casey’s throat.
She was supposed to be the one who knew what she was doing.
She was supposed to set the pace. But Stephanie’s hips pressed forward and her mouth moved along the line of Casey’s jaw and every plan Casey had made simply left her head.
“You have no idea,” Stephanie breathed against her throat, lips brushing the hollow above her collarbone, “how much I want you.”
Casey’s hands found the curve of Stephanie’s hips and held on, grounding herself in solid warmth and the faint tremor she could feel running through her. “Tell me.”
“Since the bar.” Stephanie’s mouth returned to hers, softer now but no less urgent. “When you put your arm around me. I thought I was going to come apart right there.”
Casey remembered the exact moment. The way Stephanie had leaned into her side, the wide-eyed look she had given her when Ash approached. She had told herself it was fear. She had been wrong.
“Stephanie,” she managed, her voice cracking on the name. “We should slow down.”
Stephanie pulled back enough to meet her eyes. Her hair had fallen loose around her flushed face and her breathing had gone shallow. “Do you want to slow down?”
The question was honest, direct, the same tone Stephanie had used all night once the rum had loosened her tongue.
Casey’s heart hammered against her ribs. The careful answer sat on her tongue. Stephanie was brand new to this. The last thing Casey wanted was to become another thing she regretted when the courage ran out.
But Stephanie was looking at her with those hazel green eyes gone dark and certain, and the careful answer wouldn’t come.
“No,” Casey admitted quietly. “But I don’t want you to feel rushed.”
“I just want to be with you. If that’s okay.”
It was more than okay. It was the thing Casey had been trying not to let herself want since the morning she had seen Stephanie on the porch next door with her coffee and her book.
“My bedroom’s more comfortable,” Casey said. “No expectations. Just… comfort.”
Stephanie nodded. Casey took her hand again and led her down the short hallway, past the guest room to the door at the end.
The bedroom felt quieter than the rest of the house.
A queen bed with pale linens, a nightstand holding a worn paperback and a half-drunk glass of water, a window facing the side yard where the frangipani dropped pink blossoms in the dark.
The ceiling fan turned lazy circles overhead.
Casey turned to look at her, and Stephanie studied her face for a long moment, as if checking for any sign of hesitation. Then she stepped closer, close enough that their bodies brushed, close enough that Casey could feel the way her breath kept catching.
“I want you to kiss me again,” Stephanie said softly. “And I don’t want to stop.”