Juniper fumbling with the zipper on the back of her skirt broke her from her thoughts.
“Who the fuck was Claire, Rowan?”
No one. A mistake.Rowan wanted to say. “A friend,” she said instead.
“A friend.”
Irritation was plastered all over Juniper’s face. She attempted to stumble out of her skirt without taking off her boots first. Rowan caught her before she completely fellover. Juniper balanced her hands against Rowan’s forearms and waited until what Rowan assumed were the spins slightly abated.
“Will you please let me help you?”
“Fine.”
Rowan walked her back slowly to her bed and encouraged her to sit down. She knelt down onto her knees and slid Juniper’s skirt the rest of the way down her legs and over her boots. She untied each boot and took off each sock.
Aside from all of the other reasons she enjoyed thick thighs, Rowan especially appreciated how thick and soft Juniper’s were in this moment. There was no chance she would accidentally catch a moreintenseglimpse of Juniper’s underwear. And for that, she was uncharacteristically, self-betrayingly thankful.
No, she was going to be better. She was going to protect–
But just as quickly as her warrior with drawn bow and arrow thoughts reappeared, Juniper was taking off her sweater. Her full breasts almost spilled over the top of the lacy purple bra underneath, the type of bra that served no function other than to be drooled over and then taken off. Which was apparently exactly what was happening. Juniper was sliding the straps off her shoulders before Rowan could tear her eyes away.
“I’m not sleeping in this bra, Birdsong. For fuck’s sake, it has underwire.”
Rowan looked toward the sky and cursed at it. Of course, she had absolutely no desire to do anything about what she was seeing; it was just that the images would be seared onto her brain for the rest of her life.
She leaned around Juniper’s side and unclipped her bra. She wasn’t going to help her take it off. She could figure that out on her own.
“They’re just boobs.” Juniper smirked.
Ignoring that utterly false assessment of the way Rowan felt about Juniper’s tits, she asked, “Where are your hair ties?”
“Why?”
Defying her verbal stubbornness, Juniper pointed at the nightstand drawer beside her bed.
“You’ll thank me in the morning.”
Rowan leaned over Juniper’s lap, and she closed her eyes at the softness of feeling of Juniper resting her forehead against her shoulder. She opened her eyes so she could pull the nightstand drawer open. She swallowed despite the dryness overtaking her mouth.
Rifling through Juniper’s sex toys was not where she expected this night to go.
“You casually keep a strap on in your nightstand?” She couldn’t help herself from asking.
“Where else would I keep it?” Juniper pouted. “Why, you want me to use it on you?”
“Nope,” Rowan responded flatly. In an alternate timeline, where Juniper was completely sober and coming onto her like this, where she had earned Juniper’s trust again, she wondered what it might be like to use it onher.
“Because I’ve only ever had it used on me.” Juniper pouted again, and her breath wassowarm against Rowan’s neck. “But I could learn.”
Unlike the slight tinge of jealousy she felt earlier about who Juniper wore lingerie for – after she caught how Wren so blatantly advertised this fact directly to her – this was a tumult of jealousy. No one in the world deserved to touch Juniper. Maybe she should have gotten a punch in at the bar.
Juniper laid back against her bed, and Rowan, from her position unwittingly still kneeling between Juniper’s legs, watched her plump breasts bounce as she hit the mattress. Rowan pressed her fingers into her eyes.
“Nope.” She exhaled. “Need you sitting back up.”
Rowan, herself, needed to get the hell out of there. Way too many mental images. She would never again be able to conjure up a Juniper-free fantasy in her mind to masturbate to. Ever again.
Juniper lazily drifted a hand into the air, expectant forRowan to help her sit back up.
