Chapter 20 Marianne #2
Marianne pinned Isla to the mattress, her body covering the woman she had missed with an ache that had never faded. "Let me show you," she whispered. "Let me prove that I'm here. That I'm not going anywhere."
"Marianne—"
"Please." She kissed along Isla's jaw, down her throat, across the collarbone she had memorized weeks ago. "Let me worship you. Let me show you what you mean to me."
Isla's breath caught as Marianne's mouth found her breast, tongue circling the sensitive peak. Her hands tangled in Marianne's hair, pulling her closer, urging her on.
Marianne took her time. Moved down Isla's body with deliberate attention, learning her again like a map she had been forced to put away.
She kissed the curve of her ribs, the plane of her stomach, the sharp angle of her hip.
She pressed her lips to the inside of Isla's thigh and felt the muscle tremble beneath her touch.
"I missed you." The words came out muffled against Isla's skin. "Every night. Every moment. I missed you."
"Then prove it."
Marianne's mouth found her center, and Isla's hips arched off the bed.
She licked and sucked with a focus that bordered on worship, every stroke of her tongue an apology, every press of her lips a promise. Isla's hands gripped the sheets, her body writhing beneath Marianne's attention, sounds of pleasure escaping her throat in gasps and moans.
"Marianne—" Isla's voice was desperate. "Please—"
Marianne added her fingers, sliding two inside with the easy familiarity of a lover who remembered exactly what Isla needed. Isla was wet and ready, her inner walls clenching around the intrusion, welcoming Marianne back into the intimate space she had thought she might never touch again.
"More," Isla gasped. "I need more."
Marianne added a third finger, stretching her, filling her.
She curled them against the spot that made Isla see stars, her mouth never stopping its work on her clit.
She could feel Isla's pleasure building, could feel the way her body tensed and trembled, could feel the desperation in the hands that gripped her hair.
"That's it," Marianne murmured against her flesh. "Let go. I've got you."
Isla came with a cry that echoed through the apartment, her body tensing and releasing in waves of pleasure that went on and on.
Her walls clenched around Marianne's fingers, her hips lifting off the bed, her whole body shaking with the force of her release.
Marianne gentled her through it, her touches becoming softer, slower, until Isla was gasping and spent beneath her.
Then she crawled up Isla's body and kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on Marianne's lips.
"Your turn." Isla's voice was rough with satisfaction. "I need to feel you."
She rolled them over, pinning Marianne to the mattress, and began her own exploration.
Her hands were rougher than Marianne's had been, her mouth more demanding.
She bit and sucked, leaving marks that would be visible for days, claiming Marianne's body with a possessiveness that felt like redemption.
"You're mine." Isla's voice was fierce against Marianne's throat. "Say it."
"I'm yours."
"You don't get to walk away again." Isla's hand slid between Marianne's thighs, fingers finding her wet and ready. "You don't get to choose safety over us."
"I won't." Marianne gasped as Isla's fingers entered her. "I promise."
Isla fucked her with a rhythm that started slow and built to something almost brutal. Her thumb found Marianne's clit, pressing and circling with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to take her apart. Her mouth moved from breast to throat to lips, kisses punctuated by the occasional bite.
Three fingers became four, the stretch and fullness exactly what Marianne needed. She felt herself opening, felt Isla's hand claiming her with an intensity that bordered on possession.
"I was so angry." Isla's voice was raw. "I wanted to hate you. I tried to hate you."
"And now?"
"Now I just want you to never leave me again." Isla's fingers curled, hitting the spot that made Marianne's vision blur. "Promise me."
"I promise." The words came out broken as the orgasm built in Marianne's center. "I promise. I promise."
Isla's hand moved faster, her thumb pressing harder, her whole body driving into the motion. Marianne felt herself climbing toward the edge, felt the pleasure building in waves that crested and receded and crested again.
"Come for me." Isla's voice was fierce against her ear. "Show me you're mine."
She shattered with Isla's name on her lips, her body convulsing around the fingers still working inside her.
The orgasm tore through her like a storm, pleasure and pain tangling together until she couldn't tell them apart.
Isla held her through it, her free hand stroking Marianne's hair, her mouth pressing gentle kisses to her temple.
When the tremors finally subsided, they lay tangled together, breathing hard, their bodies slick with sweat and release.
"I'm still scared," Marianne admitted into the silence. "I'm still afraid that I'll mess this up. That my fear will take over again."
"I know." Isla pulled her closer. "I'm scared too."
"You are?"
"I trusted you once, and you hurt me. Trusting you again feels like the riskiest thing I've ever done." Isla pressed her forehead against Marianne's. "But I want to try. I want to believe we can figure this out together."
"We can." Marianne's voice was fierce. "I won't let fear control me anymore. I won't let anything come between us."
"Don't make promises you might not be able to keep."
"I'm not promising perfection." Marianne cupped Isla's face in her hands. "I'm promising effort. Commitment. The willingness to fight for us even when it's hard. Especially when it's hard."
Isla studied her. Then, slowly, a smile broke across her face. The first real smile Marianne had seen since that night in her apartment when everything fell apart.
"That's a promise I can believe in."
They made love again, slower this time. Bodies moving together with a tenderness that spoke of second chances and hard-won trust.
Marianne took the lead, guiding Isla onto her stomach and straddling her hips. She kissed a path down Isla's spine, each vertebra receiving individual attention, while her hands kneaded the tension from shoulders that had carried too much grief.
"I'm going to take care of you," she murmured against Isla's skin. "The way I should have been taking care of you all along."
Her fingers found the space between Isla's thighs from behind, sliding through wetness to the sensitive bundle of nerves. She worked her with slow, deliberate strokes while her mouth continued its journey down her back.
Isla's moans were muffled against the pillow, her hips pushing back against Marianne's hand, seeking more contact, more pressure. Marianne gave her what she needed, fingers sliding inside while her thumb continued its work on her clit.
"I love you." The words came easily now, freed from the cage of fear that had held them for so long. "I love you, and I'm never letting you go again."
Isla came with a shuddering cry, her body trembling through an orgasm that left her limp and breathless. Marianne held her through it, then gathered her close and let herself be held in return.
When they finally lay still, exhausted and satisfied, the afternoon sun was slanting through the windows and casting golden light across the tangled sheets.
"What happens now?" Marianne asked.
"Now we figure out how to do this differently. How to be together without hiding. How to build something sustainable instead of something desperate." Isla traced patterns on Marianne's arm. "It won't be easy. We're both intense and driven and terrible at compromising."
"I know."
"But I think we can make it work." Isla's voice was soft. "If we're both willing to try."
"I'm willing." Marianne pulled her closer. "I'm more than willing. I'm committed."
They lay together as the sun moved across the sky, talking about the future for the first time. Real plans. Real possibilities. A life that included both their fierce independence and their deep connection.
"What are you going to do now?" Isla asked. "Without Oakridge?"
"I don't know yet." Marianne's fingers drifted along Isla's shoulder. "I have savings. Enough to take some time figuring out what I actually want instead of just surviving."
"Any ideas?"
"A few. Consulting, maybe. Something where I can actually help institutions improve instead of just documenting their failures." She pressed a kiss to Isla's temple. "What about you? Now that the investigation is suspended?"
"I don't know if I want to go back to Oakridge." Isla's voice was thoughtful. "Even if they offer. The trust is broken. The institution that was supposed to support me tried to destroy me instead."
"There are other hospitals. Other opportunities."
"There are." Isla turned to face her. "Maybe we could figure out our next steps together. Start fresh somewhere. Build something that works for both of us."
"You'd want that? After everything?"
"I'd want to try." Isla's smile was gentle. "I'm not naive enough to think we won't have problems. We're both difficult people who are terrible at compromise. But I'd rather struggle with you than settle for something easy with someone else."
"That's the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."
"Get used to it. I'm not good at sweet nothings. You get the unvarnished truth or nothing at all."
Marianne laughed, the sound surprising her. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed like that, without calculation or restraint. "I can work with that."
They fell silent again, but it was a comfortable silence now. The kind that came from understanding rather than avoidance.
It wouldn't be easy. Nothing about their relationship had ever been easy. But for the first time since she had walked out of Isla's apartment that terrible night, Marianne believed it was possible.
More than possible. Necessary.
Because a life without Isla wasn't a life worth protecting. It was just survival. And Marianne was finally ready for something more.