Fugitives of Love Read online

  She wanted Brenna’s hands all over her, rubbing and grabbing and searching, and her deliberateness and slow pace were driving her crazy. When Brenna gently bit her lip, Sinclair’s skin tingled and she groaned. She caressed Brenna’s side, along her arm. A rush of excitement raced through her as Brenna shifted, exposing her breast to Sinclair’s touch.

  Sinclair inched her hand up until her fingers brushed over a hard nipple. Brenna shuddered in response and kissed her harder.

  Heat seared between Sinclair’s legs, and the thought of going slowly and gently flew out of her brain. She sucked Brenna’s tongue, drawing her deeper inside.

  Her body ignited under Brenna’s. She felt the hardness of Brenna’s thighs, tasted the sweet saltiness of her neck, and heard the rapid breathing of their arousal. Her own thighs ached to engulf Brenna so she opened them and wrapped them around her.

  Sinclair broke the kiss after what seemed like forever. Brenna was letting her take the lead, letting her set the pace. Her stomach tightened as the lust that raged inside her and every touch from Brenna became sweet agony.

  The need to feed that lust sent her hands to Brenna’s ass and she opened her legs and pulled her closer, driving Brenna’s hips between her open legs. Brenna broke their kiss and dropped her head into Sinclair’s neck, moaning loudly.

  In that moment, everything felt right. She wouldn’t think about the short time she’d known Brenna or whether things were advancing too quickly. Right then she wanted to be close to her, to feel her and move with her. She wanted to hear more of the intimate sounds she made when she was aroused.

  “Sin…clair,” she said, gasping. “Don’t do that.”

  The plea seemed to be less of a warning than a revelation of Brenna’s own desperate hold on her control.

  She didn’t stop. “I need to feel you.”

  Brenna moaned again, pressing harder against Sinclair. When she raised up on her hands, her hair fell softly over Sinclair’s face. Brenna rocked side to side between her legs, and when her eyebrows rose slightly, the look of ecstasy signaled she had located the spot where her clit had the best contact. And when she found it, she began to glide up and down in unhurried strokes.

  Sinclair whispered, “Yes.”

  *

  Brenna wanted her desperately. When Sinclair spread her legs and pulled her down on top of her, hot tremors of arousal slammed into her, shredding her willpower. Now she couldn’t control her need. She had to come soon or she’d go crazy.

  Her clit fit between Sinclair’s legs perfectly, and even with the barrier of her boxers, she was amazingly hard.

  The slow thrusts against Sinclair’s pelvic bone sent a roiling torrent through her body, and she went with the delirious sensation and relinquished all reason. She brushed her mouth over Sinclair’s ear. “I can’t go slowly any more.”

  “Good.”

  “Oh, God, are you sure?” She was so close to climaxing, she could hardly think.

  “Yes. Just don’t stop.”

  “We…” It was so hard to talk. “We…still have…our clothes on.”

  “Don’t stop.”

  Brenna could only gulp air in quick gasps as her heart hammered and her clit burned for release. Wetness soaked her underwear and thighs.

  “Oh, God,” she whimpered, unable to stop even if the building had collapsed around them.

  Sinclair clutched her ass, guiding her.

  Brenna arched up, trying to prolong the feeling of Sinclair under her and to keep her orgasm at bay, but Sinclair’s lips found her breast, sucking gently but firmly on her nipple.

  “Sinclair…” She wanted to plead for mercy or apologize for losing control, not sure which Sinclair needed most. “I’m sorr—”

  Sinclair grabbed her head, pulling her back down. “I want you to come for me.”

  Brenna fell off the edge she’d been desperately clinging to and came hard. She cried out and held on to Sinclair’s shoulders as the waves kept rolling through her.

  “Come for me,” Sinclair whispered. “Don’t stop.”

  Brenna surrendered to the glorious ride, the spasms lasting even longer as she pressed herself to Sinclair’s body.

  When the contractions stopped, she pushed her clit firmly against Sinclair. All she could think about was Sinclair’s body and her mouth and the things she’d said. The memory of Sinclair asking her to come for her caused another slightly less intense wave to pulse fervently between her legs. The new ripples surprised her and she groaned loudly.

  When her second orgasm subsided, she tried to shift away but Sinclair held her there.

  “Stay,” she said.

  Brenna relaxed, her whole body settling into mush as Sinclair stroked and kissed her hair.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brenna awoke alone in bed. She was still in her T-shirt and boxer shorts, which made her chuckle. Throwing off the covers, she made contact with the cool, slate floor and walked to the living room. Sinclair stood at the window, staring out over the city. Dawn had come recently and the buildings glowed with the first emergence of the sun.

  “Good morning,” Brenna said as she wrapped her arms around Sinclair from behind.

  “Hi.”

  “If you look down there to the right of the green awning on the corner, you’ll be able to see a line forming at one of the best coffee houses in the city.”

  When Sinclair didn’t respond, Brenna said, “Are you all right?”

  “Do you sometimes wonder what would happen if everything changed?”

  “Everything? Like in a good way?” She hugged her tighter.

  “No. If everything came crashing down.”

  Puzzled, Brenna said, “What do you mean?”

  Sinclair turned to face her. “Nothing.”

  “No, really, what do you mean?”

  “It must be the view from this high. Seriously, it was nothing.”

  It was a strange question but Sinclair seemed to shrug it off as inconsequential.

  “Do you have any coffee?”

  “I do! It’s from that corner place. Let me make some.”

  From the kitchen, Brenna watched Sinclair step back and sit on the couch, still taking in the view out the window. She didn’t seem to want to talk so Brenna busied herself with the coffee press.

  She’d gotten quiet at dinner, too. Maybe she was just a little overwhelmed. She probably wasn’t used to being around a chatty family.

  But as lighthearted as the family was, Brenna’s mother had still found a way to give her the eye. It was that familiar look that meant, “Are you getting into another relationship with someone that will take you away from your business?” Brenna’s Pavlovian response to take heed, like she had so many times before, was strong. She knew she’d have to face a stern discussion with her parental unit at some point, but right now, she just wanted to be with Sinclair.

  *

  Brenna took her to Balthazar in SoHo. Sinclair had never been to a French bistro and was delighted to absorb the atmosphere. They sat in a red leather banquette under an antique yellow ceiling. The retro stained mirrors multiplied the movements of the diners, creating a bold, loud, and exhilarating ambience.

  “Try this.” Brenna held out her fork, laden with sour cream and hazelnut waffles and warm berries.

  The sensation was nothing short of exquisite. Sinclair shared her buckwheat crepe, making sure Brenna had a large forkful of eggs, ham, and Gruyère cheese.

  She smiled as broadly as Brenna, enjoying a sunny morning in the city. They had slept in, though Sinclair’s body clock woke her briefly at four. Today she would do no low-tide scavenging and enjoy nothing but Brenna’s company.

  Sharing Brenna’s bed hadn’t been uncomfortable or strange. They cuddled through the night and Sinclair felt protected in her arms.

  “May I admit something?” Brenna held her coffee cup and looked completely edible.

  “Sure.”

  Lowering her voice, she said, “I’ve never come with my clothes on
.”

  Sinclair looked up at the ceiling, not sure whether to be embarrassed. “Was that a bad thing?”

  Brenna reached for her hand. “No. Not at all. It surprised me but I loved it.”

  “So did I.”

  “I wish I could have…returned the favor.”

  Sinclair pushed the last of her crepe around on the plate. “I just wanted to hold you after that.”

  “And that was perfect,” Brenna said. “But did we go a little too far?”

  “No. I couldn’t have stopped if I’d tried, which I didn’t. Part of me wanted to take it slow and the rest of me was going nuts. I think what happened was amazing. And sexy.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Brenna smiled and took a sip of coffee. “Having so little skin contact was somehow really hot. I never thought I’d say that, but with you, it rocked me senseless.”

  “I was pretty turned on, too.” Sinclair felt more alive than she’d ever known. Her spirit soared with possibilities.

  “It just makes me want you more.”

  “Well, it’s decided, then.”

  “More?”

  “Yes, more.”

  *

  They walked through the Canal Street neighborhood, talking and browsing the wares of the open storefronts and street vendors.

  “This neighborhood was once called Hell’s Hundred Acres. This was where the sweatshops and small industrial factories used to be.” Brenna pointed as she talked. “Sometime around the mid-1900s artists began to move into these abandoned buildings and took up residence in the upper stories. They called them lofts, and the artists loved them because they were cheap, large areas with high ceilings and lots of natural light.”

  Sinclair could see why artists wanted to live in the neighborhood. The architecture and signage were eclectic and fostered imaginative thinking.

  “There’s a place I think you’d like.” They walked the few blocks up West Broadway and turned down Price Street. Halfway down the block, Brenna stopped her and turned her toward a building across the street.

  “Look up,” she said.

  There, in a large window, hung one of her sea-glass pieces.

  “My God,” she said, astonished to see her work already in New York.

  “That’s how I found you. I know the artist who lives there.”

  From behind, Brenna wrapped her arms around her and Sinclair reached down to hold her wrists.

  “That’s so cool.” She felt the giddiness of a child being told she was going to Disneyland.

  “It is. And I’m glad I went by and saw it. It led me to you.”

  Sinclair leaned her head back and felt Brenna’s face snuggling close to her ear. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Brenna said.

  Sinclair turned around and kissed her. She was, too.

  *

  They walked down 6th Avenue and down 4th Street to Washington Square Park.

  There, Brenna pointed out the Washington Arch and a large fountain populated by lunch eaters and mothers with children while a fire eater competed for “loose change” with a couple on unicycles. There were also children’s play areas full of blurred little ones running about and a chess and Scrabble area with players of every type and age.

  They came out of the park and onto University Place, where they walked a number of blocks to the Union Square Park and entered a vast place called the Greenmarket.

  The farmers’ market was busy with vendors and customers buying everything from organic fruit and vegetables to meats and cheeses. Cut flowers, jams, and artisan bread vendors rubbed elbows with chef demonstrations and recycling organizations.

  They ate a light lunch there and then Brenna bought ice-cream cones. They found a bench and sat down, enjoying the sun and watching the passersby.

  “How do you like New York so far?” Brenna said.

  Sinclair licked a drip of chocolate that was making its way down her cone, trying to reach her hand. “This is great. I have a wonderful tour guide.”

  “Are you tired from walking?”

  “No, not yet. But if you plan to walk back to your place, I have no idea if we’re a block away or five miles.”

  “We can take a taxi any time you’d like. But I want you to see one more place before we get back. And I hope it’s okay that we’re having dinner with Beanie and Pete, her boyfriend.”

  “I’d like that.” How refreshing it was to see siblings interact with love and respect. She’d never experienced the same with her stepbrother. The loving interaction of the Wright family seemed a bit surreal, but it was her own upbringing that had been strange. Horrible, actually.

  She wanted to spend time with the people who loved Brenna and knew her well. She wanted to know all about how healthy relationships worked.

  *

  They stayed in Union Square Park until the sun started to set. A chilly breeze enveloped them so Brenna hailed a taxi to their next destination. It was Sinclair’s first taxi ride, and Brenna held her hand as the driver swerved in and out of traffic, barely avoiding a few accidents, or so Sinclair was convinced.

  They finally arrived at 30 Rockefeller Plaza, an extremely tall building on 50th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues. Brenna retrieved some tickets from her pocket and they boarded an elevator to the 70th floor, which turned out to be the top level.

  An open-air terrace encircled the building, providing a breathtaking and unobstructed 360-degree view of New York City and beyond.

  As they walked around each side, Brenna pointed out stunning views of Brooklyn, New Jersey, and Liberty Island. “There’s Central Park,” Brenna said, indicating the largest park Sinclair had ever seen. And when she showed her the Empire State Building, Brenna said, “Most people go there for the view, but I think this one far exceeds it.”

  The panorama far exceeded anything Sinclair had ever experienced, that was for sure. She was on top of the world, with a sexy woman offering her the grandeur of the Big Apple.

  “John D. Rockefeller built all this as a gift to the people of New York. When the Great Depression hit and so many people were unemployed, he decided to move forward with his plans anyway and gave thousands of men and women jobs. For the next nine years, those people had food on their table because of his love for the city.”

  As a chilly wind whipped up over the edge of the observation terrace, Sinclair took her hand and they continued gazing out over the awe-inspiring vista.

  “What are you thinking about?” Brenna said.

  “How I might have never seen New York if I hadn’t met you. I was thinking about our morning, just walking around, and how great it feels to be with you.”

  Brenna turned toward her and wrapped her arms around her. “Kiss me before I wake up and realize you’re just a fantastic dream.”

  Sinclair could never tire of Brenna’s soft lips. The swirly little flutters that erupted inside her each time their lips met came again, and she almost smiled in the middle of the kiss.

  “This is no dream.”

  “Good,” Brenna said. “Because I’m never able to yell when I’m asleep.” She turned toward the Empire State building and let out a whoop that made Sinclair laugh.

  “Yup, this is really happening.” Brenna kissed her again. “I’ve got the most insane crush on you. All I can think about is that I’ll go mad when you leave to go back to Maine.”

  There was that, Sinclair thought, her joy deflating slightly. She would return home and then come back for the exhibition, but where could this relationship really go?

  “I guess there are some tricky logistics.”

  “Like how I’m going to wear my tires out driving up to see you continuously? Or racking up enough frequent-flier miles to redeem them for expensive luggage or whatever they offer?”

  “Maybe it’s too soon to talk about it.”

  Brenna lowered her head a couple of inches so her eyes were level with Sinclair’s. “I don’t think it is, but if you’re feeling pressured, just let me know and I’ll back off.”

 
“It’s just that I hadn’t even considered dating anyone for a long time, let alone someone who lives in another state.”

  “You’re right. Let’s just take things one at a time, then. I mean, you don’t even know any of my character flaws yet.”

  “What are they?”

  “The Top of the Rock will close long before I could get them all out.”

  “Okay. Just name two.”

  Brenna looked out over the view and her mouth curled into a smile. “Other than being a type A?”

  “Yes. We’ve already established that so it doesn’t count.”

  “Well, maybe this is a subset of that, but sometimes I’m like a bull in a china shop.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t take time to consider the whole picture. When I want something, I usually just charge in. And that can cause problems.”

  “Like what?”

  “I can offend people or make them feel rushed into a decision.”

  “And then what happens?”

  “I can usually work through things. Like I said before, I don’t think I’ve really struggled for anything.”

  “Okay. So, what’s the other character flaw?”

  Brenna seemed to get a little more serious. Her smile drooped and then stretched into pursed lips. “Just what I said. That I’ve never really struggled for anything.” A gust of wind blew in behind Sinclair, and Brenna reached up to move a lock of hair from her eyes. Sinclair loved how her fingers felt against her skin. “I don’t think I’m a very strong person. You can’t look at someone’s accomplishments to make that determination. You have to look at their hardships and the times they’ve had to grapple and tussle for something they believed in. I haven’t lived through anything like that.”

  “Maybe that’s fortunate.”

  “I don’t know how I’d do with a really big problem in life, you know? I feel as if I’ve been skating along on thick, smooth ice with nothing in my way. But I don’t know what’s ahead and how I’d do if it really got rough.”

  “I wouldn’t say that’s a character flaw.”

  “Flaws aren’t always known. They can be unknown.”