Honesty - SF8 (6 page)

"You cold?" Ryan asked after emerging from the bath late that night.

"A little," Jamie admitted. The mid-August chill had firmly settled on the house, and the basement room was clearly the coldest space.

Grabbing two T-shirts, Ryan tossed one to her partner, and slipped into bed beside her. "I’m freezing!" she shivered, feeling the cold in her bones.

"I’ll warm you up," Jamie offered, wrapping her body around her partner, briskly rubbing her back to increase her body temperature.

After a few minutes of the enthusiastic rubdown Ryan sighed and murmured, "Feels good. G’night." She paused awkwardly, not knowing how familiar she should be. Tilting her head up, she placed a soft kiss on Jamie’s lips and rolled over, presenting her surprised lover with a view of her broad back.

Well, I guess it going to take a little while longer until we’re comfortable with each other’s bodies
, Jamie mused. Her hand paused above her shoulder, but she drew it back after a second. With a frustrated sigh of her own, she snuggled up against Ryan’s back, resting her head against the softly muscled surface.
We’ll get there
, she assured herself.
It will just take time.

With all of the events of the weekend, they had barely spent a moment celebrating Jamie’s success at making the golf team. Deciding to surprise her, Ryan made reservations at Oliveto in Oakland. The relatively expensive eatery was well beyond her comfort level, but she knew that they needed a special meal to commemorate the accomplishment for her partner.

They had a nice dinner, relaxing at the small table for a long while as they slowly drained a bottle of Pinot Grigio. Ryan had noticed the pensive look on her partner’s face but had consciously avoided asking what was on her mind. Eventually, however, conversation was at a standstill and she asked, "What’s going on in that pretty little head?"

A small, wry laugh was Jamie’s reply, and she shook her head for a moment, trying to decide whether to reveal her thoughts. Looking up at Ryan with a curious expression she asked, "You know what still preys on my mind?"

Reaching across the table to entwine their fingers, Ryan shook her head. "No. Tell me."

"It’s the thought that you will keep things from me in the future. I mean, I understand your reasoning about keeping confidences—really I do, Ryan. But I worry about having you keep things from me. It’s hard for me to trust you when I know that you might do that."

Ryan looked at her intently, tilting her head a little as she seemingly switched topics and said, "Da’s going to be very hurt that Brendan has fallen in love and not told him about it. You know about it. Why haven’t you told him?"

"Well…I uh…"

Continuing on her path, Ryan said, "The boys will be very upset that I know about Da and Aunt Maeve. They’re gonna feel like Da’s playing favorites by telling me. You know the truth. Why haven’t you told them?"

"That’s not my business," Jamie began, immediately seeing Ryan’s point. Taking a breath, she saw the flaw in her partner’s logic. "The situation isn’t analogous, Ryan. You owe a greater duty to your partner. We’ve pledged to be completely honest with each other…"

"I am completely honest with you, Jamie. I am completely forthright about everything that
I do
. I will continue to always be honest about my behavior. But that’s all that I can promise."

Sighing heavily, Jamie nodded, obviously not satisfied. "I guess I have to take your word on that."

Ryan gave her a puzzled look. "My word? Why not look at my actions? I have been so painfully honest with you about everything that happened with Sara—sometimes I thought I was actually digging my own grave! But I had participated in something that I knew was wrong, Jamie, and I told you about it—in detail—immediately! I told you that I still had love in my heart for Sara—do you think it was easy to tell you that and see the hurt in your eyes! Jesus!" She lifted her hand and rubbed the bridge of her nose, a long-standing habit that indicated stress.

Jamie was speechless, not realizing until that second how hard it had been for Ryan to tell her about those incidents. The dark woman continued, "I didn’t need to tell you that I went to Mass with her on the day you returned. I didn’t need to tell you we had lunch together. But I did tell you, because it was something that I participated in, and I thought you should know. I will always, ALWAYS, tell you the truth about anything that I DO." She was speaking with quiet fervor, her voice not rising above the muted sounds of the busy restaurant. "That’s the best that I can do, Jamie. I’m very sorry if you need more, but I can’t give it to you."

It took a minute for the blonde woman to let these words reach her heart, but she finally allowed them in, realizing that Ryan’s fortitude was one of her most appealing qualities. Smiling gently, Jamie grasped Ryan’s hand once again, locking eyes with the lovely woman. "I don’t need more," she said quietly. "I just need you."

When they returned home from the restaurant, they nearly collided with a messenger who was just coming down the porch. "Jamie Evans?"

"Yes," she said wearily, knowing she was in for more bad news.

"Delivery. You have to sign for it."

She did so, then went into the house to take a look at the missive. It was a long handwritten letter from her father, explaining his version of the events and begging her to contact him as soon as she received the letter. Jamie was not impressed, tearing the letter into small pieces and throwing them into the trash. She didn’t read the letter to Ryan, and didn’t offer to let her read it. Her entire summary consisted of two words, "Yeah, right!"

By Wednesday afternoon, Jim Evans was nearly out of ideas. He had tried every possible means of communicating with his daughter, but Jamie steadfastly refused to take his calls or respond to his letters. Feeling like his connection to her was nearly severed, he tried the only thing he could think of, even though he knew it was a long shot and might backfire even if it did prove to be productive.

The investigator crisply answered his private line, "Dick Williams."

"Jim Evans," he announced. "How’s the investigation going, Dick?"

"Not bad," he said, stalling for time. So far he had expended much more money than he thought wise to obtain absolutely nothing of interest on the young woman he had been hired to investigate.

"Good, good," Jim said. "Keep on it until you have something major. I do have one more job for you," he added. "I need for you to expand your investigation. You do have international contacts, don’t you?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "We’re a little thin in the Far East, but…"

"Not a problem. My concern is Western Europe. Specifically, Italy."

That night, they lay in bed together, Jamie’s hand idly drawing patterns on the soft cotton of Ryan’s T-shirt. The larger woman had worn a shirt to bed every night since their fight, and Jamie was beginning to wonder if their easy familiarity with each other would ever be restored. The letter from her father had affected her deeply, even though she had tried to shrug it off, and she felt the distance between herself and her lover like a physical presence that was pulling them apart.

"Ryan?" she said, her voice soft and wistful.

"Yeah?" Ryan had almost been asleep, the soft touch of her partner always an effective sleep aid.

"Will we ever get back to where we were?"

The dark woman shot up into a sitting position, startling Jamie. "What?" she blinked, trying to make sure she understood the question.

Tears sprang to Jamie’s soft green eyes as she said, "I just feel so distant from you. It’s like you don’t want to touch me or be close to me any more. Will it ever be like it was?"

She looked so fragile, so wounded that Ryan’s heart nearly broke. Wrapping her strong arms around the heaving chest, Ryan whispered fervently, "Of course it will be. We’ll get back to where we were, and then we’ll just keep going. We’ll always keep trying to be closer."

"But how do we get there?" Jamie sobbed, feeling that her very tentative overtures at physical intimacy had been rejected every evening since their fight.

"It will just take a little time, Jamie. We had a very, very tough spell there, but it’s getting better day by day."

With a shuddering breath, the smaller woman asked the question that had been on her mind since Sunday. "Will we ever make love again?"

Sitting up once more, Ryan’s wide-eyed look bespoke her shock. "God yes, Jamie! Of course we will! I was just waiting to get a sign that you wanted to…"

"I was waiting for a sign that you wanted to…" the smaller woman murmured, realizing that they could have been in this standoff for years.

"I felt that I should stay away since I was the one who hurt you so badly," Ryan offered, shaking her head at her obviously erroneous thought process. "I just assumed you wouldn’t want me touching you that way for a while."

"I thought you were still too hurt to want me to touch you," Jamie said, her voice soft and full of regret. She sighed heavily and said, "It’s not the sex, Ryan. We’ve gone this long without sex before. It’s the emotional distance that’s tearing me up inside. It’s feeling like I have to think about it and even ask permission before I touch you," she said softly, her voice a little rough with emotion.

Ryan’s features gentled, and she gave her partner a smile filled with love. "Your touch heals me," she whispered. "You never have to ask for permission to touch me, Jamie. Your touch makes me feel whole and safe and secure. It’s a balm for my spirit."

Jamie fell into her arms, sighing gratefully as she felt her lover’s embrace surround her. "Will you touch me tonight?" she asked, finally confident that she would not be rejected.

"I’ve been waiting to hear those words," Ryan sighed, her hands slipping under the T-shirt that covered her partner’s body. As her hands moved under the soft cotton, she felt the goose bumps that covered Jamie’s torso, and shivered in response. "God, I’ve missed this," she moaned, her heart filled with the emotion of the touch long denied.

"Welcome back, Ryan," the relieved blonde whispered as the shirt was whisked from her body, revealing a wide expanse of skin that craved her lover’s gentle touch.

"I never left," the dark woman vowed. She tugged her partner into a warm embrace, holding her close for a long while, just letting their bare skin acclimate to the contact. Trailing her hands down her partner’s shivering body, Ryan felt hesitant, even shy, in her overtures. The easy familiarity with each other's bodies was absent, and even though she knew it would return with time and patience, she wasn’t quite sure how to get past the uneasiness. She moved at an almost glacial pace, her hands roaming over Jamie’s body while her face was pressed hard against her neck, breathing in her scent to help her recall the path to her lover’s pleasure.

The smaller woman nuzzled against her, every part of herself moving gently against Ryan, letting the dark heat that flowed from her body thaw the chill that had settled between them. The minutes dragged on with Ryan failing to move them forward, obviously shy and hesitant to lead the dance. Jamie continued to cling to her, her desire building slowly, but steadily. The strong, warm body gliding against her was maddening, the constant stimulation thrumming deep inside, neither increasing nor varying the pace.

Finally, frustration overtook her, and the smaller woman grasped Ryan roughly, focusing all of her strength to throw her onto her back. With a growl, she covered her, blinking as her eyes encountered the wide-open orbs of her lover. "You can’t tease me like this," she moaned. "I’ve waited too long to touch you." Her head dropped and claimed Ryan’s slightly open lips with a passion that she rarely revealed, her mouth grinding against her lover’s.

A strangled moan was caught by Jamie’s open mouth, and she smiled in satisfaction as Ryan’s arms flew around her neck, holding on so convulsively that soon her elbows were locked around Jamie’s neck. The larger woman clung desperately to her, giving up all pretense of control, surrendering to her partner’s greater need.

Fierce, bruising kisses rained down on her mouth, her lips swelling slightly from the combination of arousal and constant, unyielding pressure. The small, warm hands were everywhere, touching Ryan so possessively, with such unerring accuracy, that her body felt as though it were being branded by the heat that radiated from them.

The kisses continued to fall, moving from her tender mouth onto her neck, her shoulders, finally progressing to her aching breasts. As the first gentle nip caused the dark woman to cry out, a smooth, firm thigh wedged between Ryan’s legs, making her gasp in surprise at the sensation. So many signals flooded her brain that she could no longer tell pleasure from pain, pressure from caress. All she knew--and she knew this with every thread of consciousness--was that she had to thrust her hips against that firm column of thigh.

Her own thigh lifted in response, the action unconscious but instinctive. Ryan’s hips began to pump--harder, more forcefully--giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously. Soft cries pervaded the room, but neither was sure whose voice cried out; both women's focus was solely on the building pressure between their legs.

The way was smoothed with the flood of moisture that flowed from each woman, the slick lubrication nearly causing them to slide from each other. Grasping Jamie desperately around the hips, Ryan’s fingers dug in hard, holding her in place with an iron grip. Her natural dominance flared, and they briefly fought for control, finally reaching an unspoken truce as their bodies settled into a deeply satisfying rhythm.