Chapter 30
Lizzie
Sarah's hotel room was on the eighth floor. They rode the elevator in silence, hands clasped. Lizzie watched the numbers climb and tried to remember how to breathe normally.
The door clicked shut behind them. Sarah set her purse on the desk and turned around. They looked at each other across the small space.
“I don't know where to start,” Sarah said.
“Neither do I.”
Sarah crossed the room and stopped a foot away. “I’m sorry. I blamed you when none of this was your fault. I pushed you away when you were trying to help.”
“I should have told you about the reporter right away. I texted that everything was fine when it wasn’t.”
“We both screwed up.”
“Yeah.” Lizzie reached up and touched Sarah’s face. “But I’m here now.”
Sarah kissed her. Tentative at first, like she was afraid Lizzie might pull away. Lizzie didn’t. She wrapped her arms around Sarah’s neck and kissed her back with four weeks of want behind it.
Sarah’s hands found her waist and pulled her closer. The kiss deepened and something unlocked in Lizzie’s chest, that tight, heavy thing she’d been carrying since the night everything fell apart. She groaned against Sarah’s mouth that she couldn’t have held back if she’d tried.
“I missed you,” Sarah whispered against her lips. “God, I missed you.”
“Show me.”
They moved toward the bed without breaking apart.
Sarah’s blazer hit the floor. Lizzie pulled at her own shirt and got it tangled in her hair, and Sarah laughed—low, warm—and helped her free.
The small clumsiness of it cracked something open between them.
This wasn’t a performance. This was just them.
They fell onto the mattress together and Sarah’s weight settled over her, familiar and grounding.
Lizzie had missed this—not just the want, but the specific feel of Sarah.
Her hair falling forward. The way she braced herself on one arm.
The careful way she watched Lizzie’s face like she was reading a language only they spoke.
Sarah kissed down her throat, slow and open-mouthed. Her hand slid under Lizzie’s bra and Lizzie arched into the touch.
“Take it off.”
Sarah reached around and unhooked it. Her mouth went to Lizzie’s breast and Lizzie’s back left the bed. She grabbed a fistful of the sheets and let her eyes close. When Sarah’s teeth grazed her nipple, Lizzie’s hips jerked up against nothing and the ache of that empty contact made her groan.
“I can feel how much you want this,” Sarah murmured against her skin.
“Then stop making me wait.”
Sarah’s mouth trailed down her stomach, unhurried, tasting as she went.
She unbuttoned Lizzie’s jeans and pulled them off along with her underwear, and then she was between Lizzie’s legs, her lips pressed to the inside of her thigh.
Lizzie could feel Sarah’s breath, warm and close, and the anticipation was almost worse than the four weeks of distance had been.
“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” Sarah said against her skin.
“Then stop thinking.”
Sarah looked up at her and smiled. Then she lowered her mouth and Lizzie forgot every coherent thought she’d ever had.
Sarah was unhurried and deliberate, her tongue tracing long, teasing strokes that circled close to Lizzie’s clit without quite landing. Lizzie’s thighs were already shaking.
“Sarah. Please.”
Sarah’s tongue found her clit and stayed. She worked slowly at first, reading Lizzie’s body, learning what made her gasp, what made her hips lift off the bed. Then she sucked gently and Lizzie cried out before she could stop herself.
“The walls are thin,” Sarah murmured.
“Then don’t tease me.”
Sarah laughed against her and the vibration of it sent a jolt straight through Lizzie’s center.
She went back with more purpose now, her mouth building a steady rhythm while her hands gripped Lizzie’s thighs.
Then her hand was between Lizzie’s legs too, and the added fullness on top of everything else made Lizzie’s whole body clench.
Sarah’s mouth and her hand worked together, finding the angle that turned Lizzie’s breathing ragged and holding her there, not speeding up, not slowing down, just keeping Lizzie exactly where she needed to be until the tension wound so tight that Lizzie couldn’t tell where one sensation ended and the other began.
She bit down on her own hand to keep quiet.
“Look at me,” Sarah said.
Lizzie opened her eyes. Sarah was watching her with an intensity that made the whole thing feel unbearably intimate—not performing, not showing off, just seeing her. All the way through. Like she wanted to memorize the way Lizzie came apart as much as she wanted to cause it.
“Right there. Don’t stop.”
Sarah didn’t. She kept the same pressure, the same angle, the same maddening rhythm until Lizzie came hard, her back arching, her whole body drawn tight as a wire, her hand pressed over her mouth to muffle the sound.
Sarah eased her through it, gentling her touch, slowing until Lizzie pushed her away.
“Too much.”
Sarah crawled up and kissed her. Lizzie could taste herself on Sarah’s mouth and she kissed her harder for it.
They lay there for a minute, Lizzie’s pulse still hammering, her body humming.
Sarah’s hand traced idle shapes on her hip, patient, unhurried, like she could have stayed in that exact spot for the rest of the evening and been perfectly content.
“Your turn,” Lizzie said when she trusted her voice again.
She sat up and pushed Sarah back against the pillows. Her hands were less steady than she wanted them to be. She stripped Sarah out of her slacks, her bra, and then just stopped.
Sarah in the late afternoon light coming through the window. The warm brown of her skin, the slope of her shoulders, the dark hair between her legs. Four weeks since Lizzie had seen this. She wanted to press it into her memory like a flower between the pages of a book.
“Stop staring and touch me.”
Lizzie leaned down and kissed her, deep and slow, her tongue sliding against Sarah’s while her hand moved down between Sarah’s legs. She was already soaked, and when Lizzie touched her, Sarah’s whole body registered it before her mind did.
“God, you’re so wet.”
“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Sarah’s voice was rough, stripped of its usual composure. Lizzie loved that—loved being the one who could undo her, who could take the woman who ran boardrooms and negotiated settlements and turn her into someone breathless and wanting.
Lizzie circled Sarah’s clit and Sarah’s hips came off the bed. Lizzie watched her face because this was the part she loved most—not the mechanics but the unraveling. The way Sarah’s jaw went slack, the way her brow creased, the way her hand found Lizzie’s arm and gripped it like an anchor.
“Inside,” Sarah managed. “I need to feel you.”
Lizzie gave her what she wanted and Sarah gasped—a sharp, unguarded sound that sent heat flooding through Lizzie’s entire body.
Sarah was tight and hot and so wet that Lizzie could hear it when she started to move, and the sound was obscene and beautiful and it made Lizzie want to take her apart piece by piece.
She found the angle that made Sarah’s whole body jerk and her eyes squeeze shut, and she stayed right there, relentless, her thumb working Sarah’s clit in time with each movement.
“More.”
Lizzie gave her more, deeper, harder, and Sarah made a broken sound that went straight to Lizzie’s core.
Her free hand went to Sarah’s breast, rolling her nipple, and Sarah fisted the pillow above her head and arched off the bed.
Her composure was gone. The polished GM, the woman who kept her voice level through every crisis—she was shaking apart under Lizzie’s hands, and the raw, open need on her face was the most beautiful thing Lizzie had ever seen.
“I’m going to come.”
“Let me see it.”
Lizzie didn’t let up. She kept the rhythm, kept the pressure, and Sarah came apart with a cry she didn’t bother to muffle, her body tensing in long, shuddering waves. Lizzie eased her down gradually, gentling her movements until Sarah grabbed her wrist.
“Stop. I can’t.”
Lizzie withdrew and collapsed beside her. They lay there breathing hard, skin damp with sweat, the room golden and quiet around them.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Lizzie listened to Sarah’s breathing slow and felt the knot in her own chest—the one she’d carried all the way from New York—finally dissolve.
“I’m going to fight.” Sarah said it like she was making a decision in real time.
Lizzie turned her head. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll talk to Stavros. See if we can get the Gazette to print a retraction or at least publish my side. Maybe do a local TV interview.” Sarah propped herself up on one elbow. “Thank you. The evidence, the witnesses, all of it. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You don’t need to repay me. I did it because I love you.”
Sarah kissed her. “I love you too.”
They were quiet for a moment. Outside, traffic hummed. Inside, the light was turning amber.
“We need to talk about the future,” Lizzie said.
“I know.”
“I thought about how to make it work.” Lizzie traced Sarah’s collarbone. “I think Jasper and my mom are getting back together.”
Sarah’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”
“He’s been in New York a lot the past few weeks.
Coming over for dinner, helping my mom with things around the apartment.
My brothers love having him around again.
” Lizzie smiled. “I had this whole daydream where they’d get married again and my mom would move to Miami with the boys.
Then I could drive down to Key West on weekends to see you.
” She paused. “If you’re even staying in Key West. If everything goes your way, would you really want to be there? ”
Sarah was quiet for a long moment, her hand resting on Lizzie’s hip.
“I’ve always had a dream. To own a small bed and breakfast where I could do things my way. No corporate board, no shareholders, no Derek Mitchell undermining me at every turn. Just a small place where I could take care of people the way I want to.”
Lizzie’s pulse quickened. “Yeah?”
“These past few weeks I’ve been thinking about it more seriously.
I have money. Billy left me well provided for, regardless of how the lawsuit turns out.
I could buy a property, fix it up, make it mine.
” Sarah looked at her. “I’d want to bring Carlos and Esmeralda with me.
Chrisla too, if she’d come. People I trust.”
“I love that idea.”
“It might not be in Key West. Could be anywhere.”
“Anywhere works. As long as you’re there.”
Sarah kissed her. Lizzie kissed back, then pulled away just enough to speak. “What would you call it?”
Sarah met her eyes. “The Writers Inn. After a certain writer who stole my heart.”
Tears pricked Lizzie’s eyes. “You’re naming your bed and breakfast after me?”
“If you’ll let me.”
“Yes.” Lizzie kissed her hard. “Yes. I’ll help you find the perfect place. I’ll come down every weekend while I finish school. We’ll make it beautiful.”
“And after you graduate?”
“After I graduate, I’m all yours. Wherever you are, whatever you’re building, I’m in.”
Sarah’s smile was radiant. “We’re really doing this.”
“We’re really doing this.”
They kissed again, slower this time, savoring it. Outside, Miami hummed with evening traffic. Inside, they mapped out their future in whispers and touches and promises.
Lizzie had come to Miami to give Sarah the tools to fight back. She hadn’t expected to leave with a plan for the rest of her life. But here she was, wrapped around the woman she loved, talking about bed and breakfasts and new beginnings.
It wasn’t the ending she’d imagined when she left Key West.
It was better.