Second Chances (22 page)

“Whoa,” Reagan panted, pushing Allison’s han
ds away from her zipper.  “What…what are you doing?”

Allison took a step backward and her lower lip quivered. “Am I doing it wrong?”

Reagan’s lips twitched.  “No, you’re doing
everything
right,” she observed.  “I’m just confused about what this is.  One minute you won’t even sit next to me, the next you’re trying to take off my pants.”

Allison’s face grew grave. “I just want to show you how much you mean to me.”

Reagan’s eyebrows rose up to her hairline as if the words didn’t make any sense. “
Show
me?”

Allison dipped her tongue into the cleft of her bottom lip.  “I know I was a jerk tonight,” she said quietly. “And after all I’ve put you through
this past year, I know I don’t deserve you.” Her hazel eyes slowly trailed over Reagan’s figure. “But I really need you to stay with me tonight.”

Reagan felt conflicted.  Allison’s
actions had been confusing since they’d met up that morning.  One minute they were holding hands, the next Allison was ignoring her. But that wasn’t anything new; Allison’s actions were generally confusing. Ever since they’d reconnected, she’d been nothing but hot and cold. 

Allison brought a hand to the side of Reagan’s face.  Reagan’s eyes shut and she breathed out through her nose.  She cursed her betraying body.  She wanted to be stronger and not give in so easily.  But it seemed as if all Allison had to do lately was touch her in a familiar, intimate way, and her resolve fell apart.

“You know I have a hard time verbally expressing myself.” Allison’s hand dropped down to Reagan’s hip.

Reagan opened her eyes. “Why don’t you write me a letter?”

“Right now?”

“It would save you the postage,” Reagan uncomfortably joked.  When Allison flicked on her ‘serious’ persona, it could be overwhelmingly heavy.  She felt like there was an elephant sitting on her chest.

Allison’s teeth tugged at her bottom lip. “And you’ll stay?”

“If it’s a good enough letter.”

“No pressure or anything, huh?” Allison sighed.  She took Reagan’s hand and led her to her bed.  The double-sized mattress was still covered by the quilt she had had on her bed since adolescence.  Her grandma had made it for her on her 12
th
birthday.  Reagan sat down on the bed while Allison sat at her childhood desk.  She opened a drawer and pulled out a piece of blank computer paper and found a pen.

“No peeking,” Allison admonished.  She moved her arm to cover up her writing like a school kid protecting her test answers from prying eyes one desk over.

Reagan shook her head. “Never.  I like surprises.”

“Shh…I need to concentrate.”

“Right.  Shutting up now.” Reagan scooted back on the bed until her head propped up against the wooden headboard.  She watched Allison stare at the sheet of paper for a moment longer before she continued writing.

Allison sighed and sat up straighter.  She set her pen back on the desk. “I think it’s done.”  Her eyes trailed over the words, giving them a second estimate.  She carefully folded the piece of paper in half and handed it to Reagan. “I hope you’re not expecting Shakespeare.  This was on short notice.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind when I make my final assessment,” Reagan noted matter-of-factly.

“Great,” Allison grumbled. “Now I feel like I’m getting a grade for this.”

Reagan laughed. “Got any red pens?”

Allison swiped at the piece of paper Reagan held, trying to take back the note. “If you’re not going to take this seriously,” she growled, “then forget the whole thing.”

Reagan pulled the paper away and pressed it against her chest and out of Allison’s reach.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll be serious.”

Reagan’s eyebrows knit together as she read the carefully scrawled handwriting. 

Dear
Reagan,

These past few months have been one of the most fun-filled yet also the most confusing times in my life, and I have you to blame for all of that. We have so much fun together and my mom was right about you – you do get me to loosen up (get your head out of the gutter, Murphy); when I'm with you, I can't help but be happy. And believe me, I've tried to stop it from happening. Because the way I feel for you scares me – and not just because you're a girl (although that certainly does play a part). It's scary because I've worked hard all my life to be in control. To keep a check on my emotions. To not let anyone get too close for fear of becoming vulnerable.  I don't want to get hurt and I don't want to hurt you anymore either, but I just can't stay away. I don't
want
to stay away.  I hope you’ll spend the night with me.  I hope you can’t stay away either.

Yours,

Allison Anne Hoge

Allison chewed on her thumbnail. She’d always been good with words. But that didn’t mean she knew how to communicate. She looked expectantly at Reagan, trying to decipher the emotions on her face as she read over the impromptu letter. She felt nervous, like waiting on the results of some medical test. “So?”

Reagan refolded the letter. “You’re a good writer, Allie.  It started out slow, but really picked up by the end.”

“Thanks for that evaluation,” Allison said crossly. She felt disappointed.  She felt like she’d just poured out her heart, albeit in a hastily written letter, and she’d expected a different response.

Reagan patted at the space on the mattress beside her.  Allison rose from her seat at the desk and resettled next to Reagan on the bed.  Reagan took one of Allison’s hands in her own and brought it to her lips. “I’ve never…I mean…not with a girl.”  Her piercing blue eyes seemed to waver as she took in Allison’s angelic face.

Allison wanted to look away, but found herself unable. “I’m not exactly an expert either.” The words got stuck in her throat temporarily.

“Well, no. I didn
’t think you’d ever slept with a girl before,” Reagan quietly chuckled. “But I imagine you’ve had, um, experience with guys?”

“Well, even in that department I don’t have a lot of experience.” Allison felt her face flush warm with embarrassment. “
Like I said in the letter, I don’t let a lot of people get that close.”

“What about in high school. I thought you’d—”

“Rumors,” Allison interrupted, trying not to let her past annoy her and ruin this moment. “Hearsay.”

“Oh, good,” Reagan gushed in relief. “Because I’m so worried that I’ll do something wrong and totally turn you off, or not know how to do something, and you’ll laugh at me, or I’ll do it and it wouldn’t be good and you’ll–,”

Allison silenced Reagan’s anxious ramblings by pressing her lips solidly against her moving mouth. Reagan’s hand ran up the side of Allison’s face and experimentally slid through her silken hair. Allison tensed slightly before her body relaxed, and she gave in to the gentle pressure Reagan exerted on her lips. Although they’d kissed before, they’d never been with each other like this.  It felt like for the first time they were on the same page – if not emotionally, at least physically.

Allison’s hands snaked under
Reagan’s shirt and hesitantly found their way to her naked midriff.  Her fingers glided along the warm, smooth skin there, marveling at the tautness of her abdomen.  Reagan jumped slightly, feeling Allison’s chilly fingers come in contact with her naked flesh.

“
We don’t have to,” Allison breathed, feeling Reagan’s stomach muscles tense under her touch.  In truth, the pep talk was for herself just as much as it was for Reagan. 

Reagan stared up
at Allison beneath heavy eyelashes.  The concern and warmth she saw in Allison’s slightly squinted eyes took her by surprise. “I want to,” she whispered. 

“We’ll go slow,” Allison
murmured, stroking her fingers along the side of Reagan’s face.  “And we can stop at any time, okay?”

Reagan nodded.  “Okay.”

Allison toyed with the bottom hem of Reagan's shirt. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking permission. When Reagan raised her arms above her head, it was all the consent she needed.  Allison slipped the garment up, revealing the tan and toned torso she'd come to admire weeks ago in a Providence hotel room.  She dragged the shirt further up and her fingers brushed along a slightly visible ribcage until she succeed in removing Reagan's shirt altogether.

She took in the sight of Reagan's slender upper body, the thin and feminine arms, the visible clavicle, and the way Reagan's chest heaved and swelled with every deep breath.
 Allison licked her suddenly dry lips.  She ran her fingertips down the sides of Reagan's bare arms and watched how the simple action caused Reagan's eyes to shut and her breath to come in ragged bursts.

She traced her fingers along Reagan's breastplate. She watched each deliberate movement, intent to etch this moment in her mind in case it never happened again. She dipped her head and peppered light kisses along Reagan's clavicle.
 She heard the content sigh and observed how Reagan's head fell back to give her more room to work.

While her mouth remained busy with its task, her idle hands slid up the flat plane of Reagan's stomach and hovered just above the sheer material of her bra.
 When her palms finally made contact and her fingers curled to cup their weight, Allison's eyes slammed shut and she breathed out hard through her nose. She was touching another woman's breasts. She was touching Reagan Murphy's breasts. The recognition made her a little light headed.

Her fingers curled over the bra's flimsy edge and her fingertips made contact with the softest skin she had ever touched. She bit back a telling groan. She was inexperienced to be certain, but she didn't want to sound like a high school boy who'd just rounded Second Base for the first time. It was hard to keep herself tempered, however; Reagan's breasts were a revelation.

She looked up at Reagan. Her eyes were still shut and her lips were parted. "Is this still okay?" she asked.

Reagan's eyes snapped back open. "Of course."

"You just look a little...I don't know...scared?" Allison dropped her hands to her lap.

"Well of course I'm scared," Reagan responded honestly. "But that doesn't mean I want you to stop." She grabbed Allison's hands and moved them back to her breasts.

This time Allison couldn't curb the noise that rumbled out of her throat. She squeezed the firm flesh and roughly palmed Reagan's breasts. She pressed her mouth where neck meets shoulder and lightly bit down.  Reagan whimpered, but made no attempt to stop her.

Hands left the cups of Reagan's bra and traveled up to her shoulders. Allison ran her fingers underneath the two bra straps and along more warm skin.
 She slid the straps down Reagan's shoulders and ran her palms the full length of her arms.

Reagan reached behind her back and unfastened the eyelet catch, the only thing keeping her bra still in place. She brought her arm up pinning the hanging garment between her forearm and her naked breasts.

"Please," Allison whispered. Her eyes went from Reagan's chest to her eyes. "Let me see you."

Reagan took a quick breath before dropping her arm to the side. No longer fastened or held up by its straps, her bra fell into her lap, exposing her breasts to Allison's hungry gaze.

"You're so beautiful, Rea," Allison breathed.  She tentatively reached out a hand and ran her fingertips along the now exposed flesh of Reagan's breast.

Reagan audibly swallowed. She watched and felt Allison's light but purposeful touch.
 She watched pale fingers experimentally circle the rosy nipple, making it harden and pebble. Reagan bit down on her lower lip. These slow tactics were
killing
her. "I want to see you, too," she managed to choke out.

Allison's eyebrows furrowed together. More so than stripping Reagan and all of the intimacies that would follow, this is what she feared the most – letting herself become vulnerable. She knew they couldn't share this moment very well if she remained clothed, but that didn't make this any easier on her.

She reached for the bottom hem of her own shirt and cast a furtive glance in the direction of her bedroom door.  The door was unlocked, but she feared that standing up to lock the door would disrupt the moment too much.  Why did she never remember to lock doors behind her?  Despite the nervous rumbling in the pit of her gut, Allison took off her shirt and cast it to the side.  

Reagan immediately reached for the back clasp of her bra, the final barrier between she and Allison being topless together.  Allison grabbed onto Reagan’s wrists, stopping her.  Reagan’s face revealed her confusion and concern.

“Slow,” Allison gently reminded her.  She released her tight grip on Reagan’s wrists.

Reagan nodded wordlessly.  With more care this time, she slowed her movements.  Allison could feel Reagan’s fingers tremble as she unfastened the garment and slipped it from her body.  It pacified her own anxieties to know that Reagan was just as nervous, if not more.

Allison placed a hand on Reagan’s shoulder and gently pushed her onto her back. She crawled on top of Reagan’s body, working hard to stifle the groan that came to her lips upon feeling bare breasts brush against her own. She shifted her weight, careful to not squish Reagan beneath her. She parted Reagan’s thighs and nestled a knee between them. The warmth she discovered there, even radiating through the layers of their pants, made her inwardly groan.