Passions Prologue
By Dana Keylits

Chapter Nineteen: Uh-Oh.

(Bette...)

I was starting to get that, "Uh-oh" feeling.

It had started a few days ago, on the beach, I think, when I'd watched you swim out beyond the shore, your head a bobbing brown ball against the blue of the water, and the feelings had just swept over me. But, I'd ignored it, pretended it didn't happen, pretended that it was something else: the unusually warm day, perhaps; the wine that I'd just uncorked and was languidly sipping as I watched you plunge below the water, your shapely legs breaching the surface as you dove; the orgasm that you'd given me not twenty-four hours before.

Anything, but real feelings.

When I'd spied you at that party ten days ago, when I'd caught you staring at me, I could see the hunger on your face, the desire, the curiosity, your adventurous spirit, your obvious erotic energy, and I'd thought we'd have fun together. I'd thought you'd be exactly what I needed to move on with my life, to move on after the disastrous relationship I'd just escaped. I'd thought it would be fun, and free, and sexy, but I'd never imagined it would be more than that, I'd never imagined that you would be more than that.

But here we were, spending the night together at a romantic B&B in San Francisco, drinking wine, eating well, making love, and it was beginning to turn into something more, something deeper, something I couldn't control.

Something I didn't want.

So, as I watched you sleep, watched the measured rise and fall of your chest as you breathed in and out, your perfectly shaped breasts gently moving up and down, your body glistening against the moonlight, your chestnut colored hair splayed across the pillow, it happened. The faintest little voice struggling to be heard, eager to climb from the back of my mind, reminding me, torturing me, scolding me.

'Uh-oh.'

I tamped it down, shut her down, that voice, that wicked, wicked voice. I Just ignored it.

I was not falling. I was not. This was just supposed to be a fun affair, a fling, it wasn't supposed to get serious, it wasn't serious. Hell, you're not even a lesbian!

So, why was I having feelings for you?

Why was I falling in love with you?

Oh, Kate. Why did you have to be so...so...

So fucking extraordinary?

Day Nine

I could feel her watching me. My eyes were still closed, my brain slowly ascending to consciousness, and I could tell by the irregular way she was breathing that she was awake, even though her body was unmoving in the bed beside me, still, warm, silent.

I let a smile creep up my lips, and when I heard her softly chuckle, I opened my eyes to find her staring at me, her eyes dark and dangerous as she gazed at me with an expression that seemed faraway, but also something else, something darker. I couldn't quite figure out what it was.

I rolled onto my stomach, tucking my arms beneath me, and stretched my legs, a yawn rising from my throat as I smashed my face into the soft pillow. Then, I turned to look at her, her lips open and smiling, revealing a row of brilliantly white teeth, her black hair a mass of disorganized curls that partly obscured her face, her eyes open and bright, but hesitant.

Something. Something was there, hidden behind the dark onyx of her pupils.

"Good morning, Bette," I whispered.

She smiled, her eyes reflecting the morning sun as it peeked through the second story window. "Hi."

"How'd you sleep?" I asked, my arms still tucked beneath me.

"Like a cat," she replied, turning to her side and propping her head in her hand.

I grinned, she often reminded me of a cat. "I'm glad."

"What about you?"

"I might have been purring," I replied, finally rolling to my side, slipping my hand inside of hers as it lay on the sheet between us.

She glanced down at our joined hands, then brought them to her lips. She closed her eyes and softly kissed my knuckles. Once, twice, a third time. Pausing, waiting, silent, still, as though processing something so complex she had to squeeze out the rest of the world in order to think about it.

And, then her eyes flew open and she let go of me, snaking her hand around my neck, pulling me roughly into her, catching me off guard, surprised.

Her lips were soft but her kiss was hard, her tongue probing and relentless, and my thoughts turned to chaos, as though a sudden storm had caught us both by surprise. It didn't take long before I could feel the familiar wetness, the wanting, the sharp stabs of pleasure course through me, and before I could breathe or speak or gather my thoughts, she was on top of me, her hands everywhere, her lips and teeth and tongue ravaging me, her legs pushing mine apart as she descended my body.

And, when her tongue parted my inner lips, teasing and coaxing, searching for the hardened pearl that would send me to nirvana, I cried out, my whole body shuddering, on fire, tumultuous and oddly confused by her sudden, almost angry, need for sex.

As quickly as she had been seized by her need for me, I was as quickly rocked by an orgasm so sharp and swift that it literally took my breath away. Gasping, choking, begging for air, I contracted against her mouth, ripples of pleasure coasting through me, and then subsiding, leaving gentle aftershocks in their wake. And, before I could catch my breath, before I could come down from the almost painful pleasure roaring through me, she was moving her flattened palm against me, back and forth, quickly, furious, and within seconds, another orgasm seized me, sending me spiraling into a quivering mass of flesh and blood and ache.

When I opened my eyes, my body still writhing beneath her, I saw that she was pleasuring herself, as well, could tell that she was close, one hand on me, the other on herself, her head thrown back, her lips parted, her eyes closed. I sat up, grabbing her by the shoulders, dragging her on top of me, greedily replacing her hand with mine, and, with barely any coaxing from my nimble fingers, she came.

She collapsed on top of me, her cheek against my chest, she was panting, whimpering, gasping for air.

And, then she was sobbing.

"Hey. Bette. Hey." I said, concern etched on my face. "What is it?"

She shook her head, I could feel her salty tears against my breast. "Nothing," she whispered. "Happens sometimes."

I wrapped my arms around her, coiling my legs too, one hand soothing her hair as she caught her breath, gathered herself, calmed her tears. She palmed my right breast, squeezing and massaging, her lips curling around the nipple, her teeth scraping my sensitive skin; and a flash of pleasure stabbed at my belly.

"I love being with you, Kate," she confessed, her voice strangled and rough, her breath hot against my nipple. "It's crazy how fast. How..." she stopped, evidently searching for the right words. She finally looked up at me, her eyes misty, "...how compatible we are."

I nodded, smiling. "I know."

"It scares me," she blurted, and then immediately bit her bottom lip, a flash of regret skittering across her face, as though she wished she could take the words back.

I frowned, "It scares you?"

She smiled, shaking her head as she lifted herself off of me and then stretched out next to me on the bed. "Never mind, it's just, intense sometimes, you know?"

I searched her face, every line, every shadow, every soft rise and valley. She was keeping something from me, something painful or frightening, but I couldn't tell which, perhaps it was both, and when she reached out to kiss me, her expression smooth and unworried, her lips urgent and lusty, I shoved the disturbing thought aside, deciding there was no reason to borrow trouble.

She laved her tongue over my bottom lip before pulling away and reclining against the pillow, curling up next to me like an indolent cat, one hand still playing with my breast. I smiled, tracing the ghost of her kiss on my lips with my fingertips, which were cool in spite of the heat radiating throughout the rest of me. Changing the subject, I asked, "What do you want to do with our day?"

She laughed, a coy smile playing her lips, and tripped her fingernail over my nipple, rewarded by its immediate rise. "I can think of a few things," she teased.

I smiled, raising my eyebrows.

So could I.