Chapter 24

On the lastday in March, the skies opened up and dumped every drop of water that had ever been collected for all time. And all of it was apparently aimed anywhere Natalia was driving.

Behind the wheel of the Jaguar she’d had detailed that morning when she should have just flushed the money down the toilet, Natalia screamed at the moron in front of her who didn’t know how to treat the broken streetlight like a stop sign.

“It’s your turn to go!” Natalia shouted uselessly. Even if the dumbass couldn’t hear her from her car, the rain landing around them like mortar shells would certainly drown her out.

Laying on the horn, Natalia honked and cursed until the person who’d learned to drive on some distant planet finally moved. A little rain on the road and power outages and felled trees and people absolutely forgot how to drive.

She checked the time on her dashboard when she pulled onto the highway, which was at a dead stop. Cursing, she hit the contact for the beauty salon to tell them she’d be late to her hair, nail, and body wax appointments. They knew she’d tip very well for the inconvenience of holding her appointment, but she could have done without the receptionist’s comment about scheduling the appointment at four in the afternoon on a Friday. As if Natalia hadn’t lived in Miami her entire life and missed the flaw in her own plan.

As soon as she arrived at the salon, she was whisked away and descended upon. She’d have to have multiple services going on at once if she had any hope of being on time.

Usually, the worst part of getting an annoyingly named Hollywood wax — which left nothing behind — was the indignity of spreading her cheeks for a sixty-year-old grandmother named America. This time, she didn’t only have America in her business, she had a terrified looking manicurist holding up two equally hideous dresses.

“When you look at me, darling, do I scream I’m at this belorio for the long haul?” Natalia slipped her hand under her knee and pulled it close to her chest so America could get in either a nook or a cranny — she couldn’t tell. “I’m going to dinner. Not a funeral.”

The girl stared back at her with panic-stricken eyes, dresses still held up to her face. “Well, the lady at the boutique asked me your age, so she could pull some?—”

When America stopped mid-rip, her head snapping toward the girl, she halted. It was obvious she had no idea where she’d taken a misstep. Useless tears welled up in her eyes, forcing Natalia to take a deep breath while America yanked off another strip of wax.

“Take the woman my dress.” Natalia pointed to the rain-soaked garment hanging behind the closed door in the small room. “Ask her to find something like that,” she explained the obvious through gritted teeth. “And remember, I’m going for elegant. Not mother of the bride.”

The girl nodded emphatically. Tossing the horrendous options over her shoulder before lunging for Natalia’s dress, grubby hands outstretched.

“Gentle with the Balenciaga,” Natalia warned before the girl could grab the dress with her teeth and run back to join her feral pack in the woods.

It took three more attempts, but she finally returned with something suitable. Natalia wouldn’t usually wear such a simple black dress, but the cut was rather elegant upon closer inspection, and the fabric was of acceptable quality. The fact that she had reservations to meet Samantha at eight after not having seen her for two weeks and had no choice but to find something near the salon, or wear her ruined clothes, definitely did not influence her acceptance of the dress.

After slipping the girl a hundred-dollar bill for her trouble, Natalia stepped into the salon’s shower — usually reserved for use after full body treatments — and slipped into a robe so a team could descend upon her and do hair, nails, toes, and makeup all at once.

She emerged from the salon with ten minutes to get to the restaurant and congratulated herself on choosing a place on Miracle Mile only a few doors down. In the lethal stilettos she’d luckily left in the trunk of her car after her last pedicure, Natalia strolled toward the restaurant, grateful that the rain had finally stopped.

Meeting for dinner only hours after Samantha returned from her lecture tour was too soon. Natalia knew it, but it was part of her plan. Samantha was a song stuck in her head, and the only way to shake the intrusive snippets was to listen to the entire thing. All she had to do was have sex with Samantha again. That would cure her and she could go on with her regularly programmed life. She had no time to waste.

It was a solution that appeared to Natalia on a sleepless night last week. Her focus had been compromised, and she vowed to correct it. If indulging one last time is what it took, then so be it.

The restaurant was a bog-standard American place with too much dark wood, not enough light, and a bar that took up half the sprawling space. Even though she preferred establishments that didn’t need to use happy hour specials to lure in bankers and lawyers, the food was adequate and the drinks were strong.

She opted for a spot at the bar so that Samantha wouldn’t mistake their meeting for a date. Despite her constant jokes to the contrary, Natalia was sure that Samantha understood the limitations of their… partnership.

Taking the liberty, Natalia ordered them both Manhattans and a few small plates to share. If Samantha had any lingering doubts that this was not a date, the clear signal that Natalia was not ordering dinner would dispel them.

Natalia was responding to a client’s message when she felt Samantha enter the restaurant. That alone should have clued her into the fact that she’d miscalculated, but she was still secure in her plan when she looked up from her phone. Still convinced that she’d designed the perfect solution.

Striding toward her in a black sweater — with the sleeves pushed up so she wouldn’t miss her tattoos — and jeans, Samantha had also obviously left the hairdresser. Cut super low on the sides, her quaff was more dirty blonde than platinum and combined with new black-rimmed glasses, made her look heart-stoppingly good.

That’s okay. The fact that seeing Samantha caused a thousand volts to run through her was to be expected. It was down to the sexual attraction and time apart. That’s all it was. No reason to read more into it. Definitely no reason to panic or second-guess the plan.

“My God,” Samantha sighed, bright eyes locked on hers as she neared. Natalia considered getting up, but her legs had somehow gone numb. “You look incredible.” Running her palm over the small of Natalia’s back, Samantha enveloped her in warmth and the addictive scent of her cologne before shocking the thoughts out of her head and kissing her.

It wasn’t a kiss on the cheek, or even a chaste peck on the lips appropriate for a public setting. It was the kind of kiss often accompanied by a dramatic dip. A kiss suited for greeting a soldier returning from war, or meeting a long-distance love for the first time.

With one hand on Natalia’s jaw holding her too gently, Samantha kissed her like she was handling something precious. The kiss wasn’t meant to claim or overpower. It did something much worse than that. It gave Natalia the foreign sensation of coming home. Samantha kissed her not to take, but to give — to pour every drop of affection she’d been storing up during their measly thirteen days apart.

“Hi,” Samantha whispered against her lips before plopping down next to her.

The ambient noise came rushing back all at once like the tide leaving miles of beach dry during a hurricane, only to return with punishing intensity later. It was jarring and added to the lump developing in her throat.

“Calamari,” a server said before stretching her hand between them. The sound of the plate hitting the bar top acted like fingers snapping to break hypnosis. Natalia was back in her body. The kiss still lingered on her lips, but she refused to touch them. Refused to show Samantha that she’d guessed her move incorrectly yet again.

“You ordered without me,” Samantha said while picking up her glass, eyes brimming with excitement and happiness like she had no intention of concealing her feelings. “How forward.” She smiled. “I hope you didn’t toast on your own.”

Natalia rolled her eyes because she was still trying to figure out how they’d gone from combustible to heat to… sweet. Natalia wasn’t sweet, and it was insulting for Samantha to think so.

Undeterred, like usual, Samantha held up her glass. Her warm eyes searched Natalia’s, a hint of uncertainty flickering through her playful confidence. She was waiting for Natalia’s reaction, gauging whether she’d crossed some unspoken boundary.

Natalia straightened in her seat, gathering the shattered pieces of her unapproachable facade. “Well, you’re certainly eager this evening,” she said coolly, hoping her tone betrayed nothing of the turmoil within.

“Why don’t you do the honors tonight?” Samantha watched her expectantly.

Natalia reached for her Manhattan, hoping the burn of whiskey would scorch away the lingering ghost of Samantha’s kiss. The one that had felt dangerously close to a promise. A question. “To drinking alcohol and eating food.”

“And here I thought you’d celebrate my academic exploits across many an Ivy League campus.” Samantha laughed, eyes disappearing. “Or maybe toss me a welcome home, babe.”

Glasses clinking, Natalia kept her attention trained on Samantha. Did anything ever faze her? Did she practice cute quips in the shower? An ill-timed image of Samantha with her head tossed back and rinsing shampoo out of her hair crashed into an unprepared Natalia.

“So needy,” Natalia said before taking refuge in her drink.

Samantha took a hearty gulp and set her glass down. She focused on Natalia like she’d set every sense to the task. “Why don’t we stop playing, Natalia?”

Not expecting Samantha’s suddenly sober tone, Natalia furrowed her brow before catching herself and relaxing her face. “What has given you the false impression that I play, Professor?”

“I missed you. You missed me,” Samantha said with complete conviction. “Why is that so hard to admit?”

The question was a presumptuous affront. “And you think what, Dr. Reyes? That I’m so?—”

“I think you think wanting to spend time with someone makes you vulnerable.” Samantha leaned in closer while interrupting her. “And admitting it...” She made a face like it pained her to reveal her thoughts, despite Natalia knowing she loved it. Samantha loved to shock her with sincerity. “Well, that’s tantamount to flipping onto your back and showing me your soft, fluffy tummy.”

Natalia’s body thrummed with an electric tension she shouldn’t name. It was angry and hot and exciting and dangerous. Pinning Samantha down with her gaze, Natalia was locked in. “I can assure you, Samantha, there is nothing fluffy about me.”

Color rushed over Samantha’s face at the strategic use of her name. She made no effort at hiding her delight as she stretched out her leg, propping her foot on the bottom rung of Natalia’s bar stool and leaning forward.

“I don’t know about that…” she said like a physician reviewing test results. “Middle of the night texts… and I’m willing to bet that you haven’t slept with anyone else since you met me. Tell me that’s not a little fluff.”

Natalia refused to react to the facts. “And you think me, what? A sex addict?”

Samantha’s eyes turned incandescent. “You don’t want to know what I think.”

“I’m not in the habit of wasting words,” she said dryly, which only triggered a smile on Samantha’s perfect fucking lips.

“Alright.” Samantha drained the rest of her drink and pushed aside the plate of untouched calamari and the flatbread that followed it. “I think you crave intimacy, but don’t know how to get it. You want to connect without giving up an ounce of yourself, which is impossible. So that leaves you with the raw, intense, overwhelming power of pure physical intimacy.” Her cologne was invading Natalia’s senses again, the temptation of her lips inches from hers as Samantha bored into her with an unwavering gaze and disquieting theories. “And it gets you so close, doesn’t it? So close to recreating that connection we need from other people…” Samantha’s palm was scorching as it slid over the outside of Natalia’s bare thigh and up the fabric of her dress. “But it’s not quite right, so you keep looking for it somewhere else. With someone else. Someone who can give without taking.” She was so close Natalia couldn’t tell whose breath was in her lungs. “And then you met me.”

When Samantha’s lips brushed her own, Natalia closed her eyes for a single indulgent second. The relief of being seen was a drug that made her weightless for a fleeting breath. And then gravity took hold and Natalia opened her eyes.

“You think you know so much. So overconfident.” Natalia rose like a tide stretching to scrape the sky. To show it wasn’t the only majestic, unknowable thing. “You think you have me all figured out?—”

“Not in the least,” Samantha confessed, brown eyes intent and bleeding with sincerity. “You give so little, and all I want is more. All I want is more of you. Because I don’t need to hear it back, but I do want you to hear me when I say that I missed you, and all I thought about when I was traipsing from one campus to the next was seeing you again. Dreaming about you giving me just another sliver of you.”

Natalia allowed an unfamiliar warmth to drip over her skin and seep into her marrow. She allowed herself to believe. They were nearing the end of their affair, Natalia was sure. What harm could there be in a little make-believe? A little illusion.

“Is that what you want, Samantha?” Natalia hooked her finger in the loop of her jeans. “Just a little taste?”

Dragging her teeth over her own bottom lip, Samantha was vibrating with want, with need, with hunger. “I want a great deal more than a taste.”

Natalia wanted too. Wanted more than she could have. Wanted more than was safe to handle. Wanted and wanted and wanted.

“Let me take you home.” Samantha’s voice was low and soft and speaking directly to the ache between Natalia’s thighs. “And don’t leave me panting and alone in bed while you walk away.”

Natalia gave into recklessness. Gave in to risk and danger and uncertainty. “I’m not going to leave you alone in bed, Dr. Reyes.” Her lips twitched to the beat of something wicked. “But that’s because I wouldn’t leave you in my house unattended,” she whispered.

When understanding brightened Samantha’s half-lidded eyes, Natalia called for the check.