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Black skirt. Black slacks. And always those heels that made
her so much taller. That’s why she’d fallen and had to steady
herself. She was still searching, breathing hard. Claire was a
statue, a warm, living statue in front of her. She didn’t pull
away. Didn’t lean forward.
The kiss was all Haley. The second her mouth was on
Claire’s, she regretted her rash decision, but it was too late.
She was kissing her, and she couldn’t stop.
She couldn’t take it back.
Chapter 9
Claire
Haley kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm, so
uncertain and unsure. They warmed up, sending painful
tendrils of white-hot pleasure scorching through Claire like
knife blades. The pressure inside her built until she was
throbbing between her legs. Oh, the dirty, filthy things she
would like to do with Haley. Not to her. With her. There was a
difference, just like there was a difference in how she should
be kissing her if she meant it.
She didn’t. This was a ploy. A game. A distraction. Never
mind that the sweetness of those lips, moving in a blatant
invitation against hers, nearly brought her to her knees. She
remained utterly unmoved on the outside. She betrayed
nothing. After a minute, when Haley started to flag and
fumble, Claire grasped her arms and set her back.
Haley stumbled back a step, but Claire did nothing to steady
her, even though a feral-sounding little voice shredded her
brain, demanding that she do so. She was fine on her own. She
set a trembling finger to her lips and stared up at Claire with
huge eyes sparkling with a liquid sheen. Unshed tears.
