Page 105 of Touch of Class

“I’m going to take care of you,” Gillian whispered in her ear. “I’m going to make you as insane as you make me, but I won’t let you fall.”

Daphne released a shuddering breath.

“Let go.” Gillian slid the hand on her hip around to the front. “I’ll hold you up.”

Daphne rested her arms on the table and her head atop them.

“Good,” Gillian whispered as she found her clit.

A jolt of electricity ran through Daphne, and she jumped at the contact.

“I’ve got you.” Gillian moved in tight, concentric circles, her hips and fingers working in tandem to do the most amazing things to Daphne. “Trust me.”

And she did.

The simplicity of that realization did little to lessen the shock of it. She trusted Gillian. Totally. Completely. In her home and in her body. She was safe with her. She knew that now as surely as she knew her own name.

The emotions and the raw physicality of it all collided and ripped through her, searing hot and fast. It was more than an orgasm. It was an awakening, shaking her core and her limbs, but also firing through her brain and then into her heart.

Twenty-Two

Gillian awoke slowly, brain still foggy, limbs heavy and her chest weighed down. It took a while to realize the pressure wasn’t metaphorical or existential as she’d grown used to, but rather the press of a person. Taking a deep, slow breath, she registered the scent of Daphne, and her senses stirred fully. Every synapse fired to life as awareness, or at least something close to it, overtook her. She had no concrete memory of getting into bed, but she knew she didn’t want to move.

Daphne had wrapped around her, her head resting on her shoulder and one hand lightly at the center of Gillian’s chest. Her warmth seeped into Gillian’s skin, surrounding her like a protective force field, infusing her with peace and comfort. It was a strange feeling. She wasn’t one to lie around, even in the wee hours of the morning. If she was awake, she was ready to go, to move forward, to face the next thing. Anticipatory thinking was her constant companion any moment her eyes were open, but she wanted nothing more than to sink into this total tranquility.

A memory rushed back, or rather, several of them, Daphne talking about the benefits of cuddle therapy to the brain, to the body, to the nervous system, and a new emotion threatened to shatter her.

Shame.

It wasn’t nearly as unfamiliar as the soothing sensation, but at least she’d had enough practice with recognizing its onset and pushing it back into place with open honesty. She’d been wrong. It happened from time to time, seemingly more lately, but she could admit when she’d missed the mark, and clearly, she’d missed several of them with Daphne, going back decades.

This one may’ve stung more if she weren’t currently reaping the benefits of eating her words. Allowing this woman to cuddle her felt good enough to mostly override her embarrassment for turning up her nose at how amazing it would feel to accept such a gift.

Everyone deserved to feel this safe and warm and cozy. The world would undoubtedly be a better place if everyone experienced this kind of comfort on a regular basis. The logical side of her remained present enough to suggest none of this would offer the same kind of ease and complete relaxation without the other things she experienced in Daphne’s arms, but she would no longer deny a similar sense of closeness to anyone any more than she wanted to deny herself in this moment … or any moment going forward.

“Why did you tense up?” Daphne whispered in the darkness.

Gillian rested her chin atop her head. “You felt that?”

“I feel everything.”

The sentiment caused another surge of emotion to clog her throat, so she could barely manage to say, “I’m sorry.”

Daphne lifted her head. “For what? For tonight?”

“No.” She hugged her tighter. “Not for anything tonight or the things that got us to this point, but for the attitudes that held me back for so long. I’m sorry I couldn’t accept your work. I’m sorry I didn’t bring forth the right attitude or curiosity. I’m sorry I was scared and let my fear make me judgmental.”

“Wow,” Daphne whispered.

“What you do is beyond me, but you’re clearly good at it. Who am I to tell anyone else they don’t deserve to be held in whatever ways make them feel safe and calm? You’re obviously good at helping facilitate that for so many people, or you wouldn’t have a job.” Gillian paused, then corrected herself. “A career. You’re a professional who cares as deeply as I do, and who holds the same ethics and professionalism I do, but you don’t get half the respect. I hate that I didn’t give you your due.”

“Thank you.” Daphne sighed. “I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that.”

“And?” She kissed her forehead. “How’s it feel?”

“Kind of awful.”

Gillian pulled back. “What?”