Page 44 of Rumor Has It

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Your job? You slid from behind,” Wren’s voice lifted several decibels. She even poked the tip of her pointer finger into Becky’s sternum for emphasis.

Becky really wished she’d go back to talking about the vibes. “And I’m sorry.”

They stood there, way too close for comfort, staring at each other. The tension of Wren’s rage and Becky’s remorse filled the narrow gap between them in the entryway. Becky didn’t know how to navigate them from here, how to move them past her behavior tonight and back into those uncertain vibes. Her eyes flashed to Wren’s jaw, watching as the shorter woman finally unclenched it. Her gaze caught on Wren’s lips, on the way they were slightly parted, her breathing slightly elevated from all her near yelling.

When Becky’s eyes finally made it back to Wren’s, her heart leapt. All of Wren’s attention was focused rather intently on Becky’s mouth.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

WREN

Wren should leave. She should absolutely turn on her heels and march out Rebecca’s door—and slam it for good measure. But Rebecca had apologized several times without excuses or shifting any of the blame, and she had meant it. And the thing was, she had made strategically sound plays. Wren was faster than her. And while Rebecca was by far the dirtiest defender she’d ever played against, she was also the only one who had managed to stick with her for an entire game—even if she’d had to resort to literal violence to do so.

But there was also this thing, this palpable tension simmering between them. It had been since they met, honestly. Only recently, it was like the dial on the stove kept being turned up and up, the simmering ratcheting up to a boil. Wren might have been able to walk away, if only Rebecca hadn’t licked her lips. She hadn’t been seductive about it. This wasn’t some exaggerated, modeled, tongue swipe. It was a nervous reaction to Wren’s fixed gaze, and it broke the last shred of resolve Wren possessed.

Less than gracefully, Wren launched herself forward. Their lips crashed together in a way that was absolutely not romantic in the least. Rebecca was so surprised she even squeaked into Wren’s mouth. Wren pulled back equally as fast.

“Shit,” she whispered. Her eyes found Rebecca’s, confused, maybe, but not in a bad way. Rebecca’s lips were a little pinker than normal from the sudden impact, her full lips a little swollen.

Rebecca grabbed Wren’s shirt—for the second time that day—and pulled her forward. This kiss was less of a collision, but even more of a surprise. Their lips moved together this time at least. If Wren was honest with herself, she’d admit that she’d never had a kiss this passionate or desperate. Without overthinking it or second guessing herself, Wren pushed Rebecca backwards until her back made a soft thud against a wall.

Wren’s heart felt like it was going to pound through her chest. This felt too good. The way Rebecca’s lips felt against her own. The way they were working together now to create the perfect kiss. Wren’s tongue trailed across Rebecca’s bottom lip, begging for permission to enter. Rebecca’s lips parted with a hum, letting Wren dip inside.

The grip on Wren’s shirt tightened, tugging her even closer. It stretched the fabric of Wren’s shirt almost to the point of ripping. Wren tangled her fingers in Rebecca’s honey blonde hair and tugged, more gently than she had in the game earlier that day, but not by much. She leaned in, nipping at Rebecca’s pulse before murmuring, “Do you have a vendetta against my shirts, Rebecca? Or did you just want me to pull your hair again?”

“Shut up,” Rebecca gasped. She tugged Wren’s shirt just a little harder before she spun them, pinning Wren to the wall. But that wouldn’t do. Wren was never one to need to be super dominant in the bedroom. But this moment with Rebecca, carrying all the heat and fire from today’s game, made this turn feel like a challenge. Wren pushed back, flipping them right back into place. Her hands left Rebecca’s hair to bracket her against the wall. She surged forward with her whole body, letting their fronts meld together.

“Make me,” Wren challenged, grinning mischievously.

Rebecca surged forward to capture Wren’s lips with her own, effectively silencing her as a response.

Thankfully—for the sake of Wren’s shirt—Rebecca’s hands started to wander. They drifted up, under the fabric she had just come so close to ripping, settling on Wren’s lower back. Wren moaned as short, well trimmed nails scraped sharply down her back. Wren broke their kiss, needing desperately to taste every inch of Rebecca. She kissed down Rebecca’s neck, mapping the star chart of freckles scattered over every inch of her. She retraced her path with her tongue and her teeth, enjoying the hell out of how wet that left Rebecca’s throat.

The sexiest whine that Wren had ever heard clawed itself free from Rebecca’s lips. That same needy sound that had haunted Wren for six years. Wren could feel Rebecca’s ragged breathing from the rise and fall of her chest, each shaky inhale expanding against her own.

Their next kiss was all consuming. Wren could run a five minute mile, but she felt like she couldn’t get enough air. She should have spent the past six years training for this. Her hands left the wall behind Rebecca and tangled back in her hair, not tugging this time but holding her closer.

Rebecca’s nails dug in again, dragging farther down Wren’s back. Wren could feel them from her head to her toes. She needed to feel the rest of Rebecca everywhere. One of her hands untangled itself from Rebecca’s hair to trail down her body, pausing to cup her breasts, squeezing, Wren’s pressure just past gentle. Exactly how she knew Rebecca liked it. Wren’s hands remembered Rebecca’s body like they had done this yesterday, not six years ago. The way Rebecca still reacted to every touch, every kiss, and the breathy gasp she made every time Wren sucked on her pulse point.

Wren had forgotten how vocal Rebecca was, how concerned she’d once been that they’d be discovered at camp. How very quickly she’d decided she didn’t care and that it would absolutely have been worth it. She didn’t have to worry about that this time, she thought as she sucked a bruise into Rebecca’s neck, just under her ear.

The path her hands were on was slow and ambling, reminding herself of every single spot on Rebecca’s body that could elicit a response. She traced the waistband of Rebecca’s sweatpants, debating when she should break their kiss to ask if she was allowed to take this farther, when Rebecca answered that question for her by quite roughly grabbing Wren’s wrist and shoving Wren’s hand down her pants.

It was only after Wren had fully cupped Rebecca, feeling the slick heat of her desire dripping down her thighs that Rebecca broke their kiss, almost as forcefully as she had been with Wren’s hand. “Shit, was that okay?”

Wren could have come from Rebecca’s voice, that rough timbre laced with her Carolina twang. She knew her smile had to be goofy as she nodded. “I was working myself up to ask you,” she said, nearly panting. “No one was surprised you were rough about it, though.” She lifted her eyebrow, teasing. She was living for the moment that Rebecca’s sarcastic fake laugh was cut off by her fingers dipping deeper, tracing Rebecca’s clit.

“Fuck,” Rebecca moaned in pleasure. She let her head fall back against her apartment wall.

“I will if you’re nice about it,” Wren whispered, her lips close enough to brush the shell of Rebecca’s ear.

Rebecca released a delightfully needy sound from deep in her throat. Wren stilled her movements, cupping Rebecca’s cunt, in a deliberate way to keep her from being able to find any friction. Wren leaned back just far enough that she could search Rebecca’s eyes with her own and shook her head, no. She was just enough of a cocky little shit that she wouldn’t continue until Rebecca genuinely asked nicely.

“Please?” Rebecca begged. Her hazel eyes looked ravenous. Her hair was a disheveled mess of tangles from Wren’s hands.

And oh, fuck. Wren really thought it was going to take more teasing than that. A current of desire coursed through her, all too aware of how desperately she, too, wanted this. She wasn’t going to make Rebecca ask twice. She eased into her with her middle finger, gasping at just how wet Rebecca was. Her body moved instinctually, kissing Rebecca fiercely. Kissing her with all of the pent up energy from their match, hell from the past six years. Knowing that Rebecca was this desperately turned on for her made Wren want to devour her whole. She wanted to bask in the way that Rebecca’s entire body flexed around her finger. The way that her grip on Wren’s back stayed as sharp as ever, nearly clinging to her.