23. Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Three

Ping!

Rosalie's hand jerked out to grab her phone the second the sound registered, her mouth already twitching with a smile in anticipation. It was a pavlovian response she had now to the chime of a message coming through. Kinsey, on the road.

Most of her texts were just photos, sent without comment. Kinsey's beautiful long fingers (ostensibly a shot of her new black shiny manicure); a selfie of her and Coral pulling sexy duckfaces ; a picture of a giant roadside potato statue as they passed through Idaho.

Then, after nightfall, whenever they both were alone, Kinsey would call and they would talk. Sometimes just for a stolen minute, but sometimes for half an hour, then an hour, then a couple of hours, long into the night, Rosalie pale and tired the next morning like a teenager who couldn't get off the phone.

They talked about almost everything. The meals they'd eaten; the kids at the center; the racist micro-aggressions Kinsey experienced from state to state; Cassidy's propensity for falling dead asleep in weird places; Kinsey's mom's true crime obsession; Rosalie's parents now running their local PFLAG group as they tried desperately to atone; the time Kinsey broke her wrist as a seven-year-old, trying to kick start her cousin's motorbike.

What they didn't talk about was what they were doing. This wasn't sex. It also wasn't dating. Kinsey had made it clear she didn't want a halfway relationship and yet, still she called. And Rosalie? Rosalie lived for the moments in her day she heard from Kinsey, for the sound of her voice and a glimpse into her life.

Kinsey on her end seemed to live to tease her. Her suggestive photos were rare but extremely effective, her subtle but intoxicating dirty talk leaving Rosalie constantly strung along, wanting more but never quite getting it.

Which was why she was almost shocked when one night, lying in bed talking as the night turned to early morning, her voice starting to crack from overuse, when Kinsey spoke up out of nowhere.

"I want to hear you come right now."

Rosalie's breath caught.

"Right now?" she asked, in an almost squeak.

"Yeah," Kinsey said. "Take your pants off."

"That's… a blunt way to try to seduce someone," Rosalie said, though she did what she was told.

"I'm not trying to seduce you," Kinsey denied. "Your pants are just in the way of what I want right now, which is you, touching yourself, while I listen to you."

"Um," Rosalie managed.

"Quit stalling," Kinsey said. "I want to hear your breath get short."

Rosalie did what she was told.

"Mm-" she gasped after a minute.

"Yeah?" Kinsey said softly.

"Aren't you going to help?" Rosalie whispered. "Talk dirty to me?"

"No," Kinsey said. "We're not doing that. All I want is to listen to you. You don't have to perform or anything, I just want to hear what you sound like when you're alone with your fingers."

Rosalie's breath caught. Phone sex was one thing; what Kinsey wanted was far more intimate.

Gripping the phone against her ear with one hand, she did what she was told. She thought of Kinsey - what they'd done, what she wished they could do again, the sound of her quiet breathing in her ear, listening avidly to Rosalie touch herself - that was enough. She didn't try to be loud about it, but when stars sparked behind her eyes and she came with a ragged gasp, she heard Kinsey breathe in sharply.

"God," Kinsey said softly a minute later. "I've never wanted to kiss someone so badly in all my life."

Rosalie heard herself whimper. "I miss you," was what came out of her mouth next. She swallowed. She heard Kinsey breathe in again.

"Yeah. I know you do," she said. "Goodnight Rosalie."

The phone went dead.

The next day things were back to normal: a picture of the Las Vegas skyline, a cat meme, a thirty second phone call where Kinsey held up her phone for her to hear the roar of the crowd just before they went on stage. A week went by, LA and a picture of a ridiculously huge burrito, Cassidy laughing and protesting the camera with sauce all over her face, Arizona, with Kinsey pretending to make out with a giant cactus. There were no more sexy photos, no mentions of sex at all, no expressions of quiet longing, or soft breaths down the line.

Rosalie would have wondered if she'd scared Kinsey off entirely, if it weren't for the fact that, confusingly, she didn't cut the contact. She was still there, letting Rosalie know she was on her mind, but quite clearly holding her at arm's length. Rosalie, for her part, longed and longed and longed. She didn't say it out loud anymore though.

Then, one Friday evening, a little earlier than usual, out of the blue, Rosalie's phone rang.

"Guess who got a record deal?" Kinsey asked, the second Rosalie answered.

Her voice was bright but surprisingly calm.

"Of course you did." Rosalie's smile was out of control. "Congratulations!"

"It's big," Kinsey said. "Universal. Four album deal."

"Well. You always were going to be a star."

"You mean Cassidy was."

"No, I mean you."

"It's almost," Kinsey said, a smile in her tone, "a bit like you like me."

"It is, isn't it?" Rosalie agreed, her own smile growing. "Are you out celebrating?"

"Yeah," said Kinsey. "I figured I'd give you a quick call before I get lost under a pile of groupies."

Rosalie rolled her eyes. Based on the distance this last week she wasn't entirely sure if that was a joke or not and was just about to snap back a response when she heard a knock. She frowned, slightly freaked out. No one ever knocked on her door after dark.

"Hang on a sec," she said, tiptoeing toward the front door.

"Do you need to go?"

"No." She flicked on her porch light and peeked through the peephole of her door.

Her heart stuttered almost to a stop. She pulled open the door, her mouth falling open. Kinsey stood there, her phone still clutched in her hand, beautiful, real, right there on her doorstep after all these months, a bottle of champagne dangling from her fingers. She smiled, but her eyes looked intensely vulnerable.

Rosalie stared at her, her phone slipping out of her fingers and clattering to the floor.

"You asshole," she breathed, gesturing down at herself. Kinsey looked incredible, in skin-tight jeans, a small silky black camisole and a black leather jacket. Rosalie had her hair up in a messy bun and was wearing full-length, stripy flannel pajamas.

Kinsey looked back at her perfectly seriously as Rosalie stepped back in shock to let her in.

"I'm not sure," Kinsey said quietly, "if I've ever seen anyone more beautiful than you."

Rosalie tugged her in by her hips, unable to believe she was really there. Kinsey just watched her, eyes on hers, letting her pull her close. Her eyelashes fluttered closed just as Rosalie kissed her.

"You jerk," Rosalie whispered hotly against her lips and kissed her again. "How dare you do this to me?"

Kinsey smiled against her mouth, kissing her back and Rosalie was lost .

"I like you when you're vulnerable." Kinsey slipped her hands under her pajama top, running her fingers over Rosalie's hip bones. It felt like a bolt of heat straight to her center, Kinsey's hands on her bare skin. Her touch still turned her to liquid. Kinsey pulled back far too soon.

"Do you think you could change your big Friday night plans, to celebrate with me instead?" she asked teasingly, raising the bottle of champagne.

Rosalie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. She took Kinsey's hand and towed her into the kitchen, where she pulled down two champagne glasses. Kinsey popped the cork, filling the glasses until the bubbles ran down the sides.

"Is this really how you wanted to celebrate tonight?" Rosalie asked her. "Here in my kitchen with a woman wearing flannel pajamas?"

Kinsey considered her. When Rosalie reached for one of the glasses, she stopped her hand.

"If you're so embarrassed by them you could just take them off?" she suggested, holding her champagne glass to ransom. Rosalie glared at her and she just raised her eyebrows. "Doesn't celebrating a record deal with a bottle of champagne and a naked woman sound exactly right for me in this moment?"

She sounded so serious that Rosalie found herself laughing. She pulled her hair tie out so her hair fell around her shoulders. Kinsey licked her lips,watching with avid interest. Rosalie sucked in a breath, pulled her pajama top over her head and kicked away her pants. Their eyes met. Kinsey handed over her glass and they clinked them together. They each took a quick, token sip before Kinsey pressed her all the way against the counter and kissed her, hungrily. Then, pulling back and looking her in the eye she very deliberately poured half her champagne over Rosalie's breasts.

"Kinsey!" she cried in shock, the cold champagne streaming over her bare skin. Kinsey smirked, entirely unrepentant, and followed the champagne with her mouth.

"Yeah," she said, kissing her way down Rosalie's body, "this is exactly how I want to celebrate."

She pushed Rosalie back up onto the counter and slipped between her legs. She trickled the last of her glass down Rosalie's thighs making her squeak and shudder. Her hot mouth kissed her way up Rosalie's champagne-splattered skin to take a soft luxurious lick between her thighs, clearly reveling in Rosalie's startled moan of approval.

"I think," Kinsey said, pulling back up to steal Rosalie's glass from her and taking a deep sip, "that this is exactly what I deserve tonight."

She handed her her glass back and knelt, pressing all the way in to slip her tongue slowly against Rosalie. Her every movement was unhurried, working her up leisurely, never changing her pace even as Rosalie began to lose it, bucking her hips against Kinsey's mouth. Still, Kinsey licked lazily, eating her slowly and softly as if she had all night. Arms shaking, Rosalie barely managed to hold herself upright. She came, hard, shuddering and crying out in desperate release. Kinsey pulled back, wiping her mouth, deep satisfaction in her eyes.

"God," she said. "You're so much better than champagne."

Rosalie was still shivering with aftershocks, or perhaps just from being splattered by cold champagne when she was nude on top of a cool kitchen bench, or perhaps just with deep desperate want, she wasn't sure. She slipped off the counter, turning to walk to the bedroom, but paused to smirk over her shoulder.

"You'd better top up your glass."

Kinsey followed her in, putting her glass down on Rosalie's bedside table. She'd already shed her jacket and her shoes and Rosalie wasted no time helping her remove her jeans.

"So this is your bedroom." Kinsey surveyed the space, her dark eyes taking it all in. "I've spent a lot of time imagining you in this bed."

"That's funny," Rosalie said, slipping her hands around her waist. "I've spent a lot of time imagining you in this bed too."

She pulled Kinsey down into the sheets with her, almost overwhelmed at the sensation of her soft skin, her heated body, her silky limbs, her scent.

Kinsey writhed against her, their legs intertwining, pressing together with increasing desperation. Rosalie pulled the camisole off over her head, cupped Kinsey's small breast in her hand. She traced her thumb over her nipples through her sheer black bra feeling them leap up hard at her touch. God, she'd craved this body.

"Do you know," Kinsey murmured, just below her left ear, "exactly how many women are easily impressed by a girl in a band?"

Rosalie's heart kicked and she nipped Kinsey through the lace making her gasp. Kinsey's back arched, pressing her breasts against Rosalie who couldn't help but undo the bra, trailing her fingers over bare skin.

"I presume you have a point to this, Kinsey," she warned her, before unable to resist taking her nipple between her lips and sucking.

"I thought you should know," Kinsey said, between short gasps for breath, "how many offers I got," Rosalie nipped her again, making her buck, "and how many offers I turned down , because it turns out that all I want is you."

Rosalie's heart contracted. This wasn't a booty call. This was so much more.

"Oh shit," she said, her hand sliding down over Kinsey's ass. "I slept with like eight different people while you were away."

Kinsey grabbed Rosalie's chin and forced her gaze to eye level.

"Do you want this pussy or not?" she asked sharply and Rosalie felt herself clench at the words.

She tugged Kinsey's panties down in response and pushed her onto her back, pinning her down with her body. She kissed her with all the heat building inside her until Kinsey was gasping into her mouth. Then, she slipped her fingers between Kinsey's thighs to stroke her.

"Oh," she murmured, "baby, you're so wet."

Kinsey moaned and Rosalie kissed her again, soothing and riling her up with her fingers. She knew what it did to Kinsey when she called her that. It was deliberate and yet helpless all at once, as tenderness and possessiveness grew within her. She wanted Kinsey off the damn market, groupies firmly off the table, her body for Rosalie's hands only.

For now, though, she satisfied herself by making very fucking sure Kinsey thought of no one but her. Rosalie pressed her fingers deep inside her until Kinsey moaned and thrashed helplessly against her, crying out as Rosalie fucked her. Her knees came up around Rosalie's body, feet on the bed for more leverage, then her thighs shaking as she came, her back arching and her body clenching tight around her fingers.

Rosalie held her as Kinsey shuddered in her arms, then kissed her, still unable to believe she was really there, in her bed, achingly soft bare skin pressed against her own.

"How did you know where I lived?" Rosalie asked as Kinsey came down, glistening and perfect on Rosalie's sheets. Kinsey actually giggled, boneless, goofy and sweet, the way she always was after she'd come that hard.

"Savannah flew in and took us out to dinner," she explained, as Rosalie ran her fingers slowly up and down her arm. "She and Cassidy are still out celebrating, I think. I waited until Cassidy was in the bathroom and asked Savannah for your address."

"Which she was so eager to give you," Rosalie shook her head wryly.

"I think she likes me more than you do." Kinsey smirked. Rosalie kissed her hard.

"She better fucking not," she grumbled, nuzzling into Kinsey's neck and tasting her skin. "She's going to get a serious piece of my mind for not at least warning me to put on something slightly less embarrassing."

"She'll cope. What with the giant fruit basket I'm going to send her."

Rosalie laughed.

The sheets rustled and suddenly Kinsey pulled herself up to straddle her. Rosalie's laughter died as she gazed up at her, gorgeous, naked, eyes full of sex.

"God," Rosalie breathed. "You're so fucking beautiful. I can't believe you're here."

Kinsey's eyelashes lowered, just for a moment. "You know, we leave again, on Monday. Another eight weeks on the road."

"Really?" Rosalie's stomach dropped. Kinsey studied her face and Rosalie wondered how clearly her expression was broadcasting her confusing emotions.

"Clear your weekend for me?" Kinsey asked. "I'm going to want to fuck you an impossible amount of times."

"Okay," Rosalie said weakly. "Yes please."

"And," Kinsey added, "I'm going to want to take you out to dinner."

She said it like it was a test, like Rosalie was about to jump up and bolt out of her own bed at the idea. Rosalie cocked her head, considering.

"How much was your record advance?" she asked. Kinsey raised her eyebrows. Then she said a number so absurd, so eye-watering, that Rosalie's jaw dropped. "Right," she said. "Well. You fucking better take me out to dinner then, Kinsey Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is."

Kinsey laughed, but she looked incredibly victorious, like being overnight rich at twenty-six was nothing compared with Rosalie saying yes to a date with her.

"Oh, like I'm giving you that information," she said. "Next minute you'll be google stalking me or showing up without warning at my house."

"Don't confuse me for one of your groupies." Rosalie pulled her down and kissed her.