Page 63 of Saving Graces
“Considering the ravishing was mutual,” Kinsey pressed a kiss to her shoulder, a smile in her tone, “you’ve completely exhausted me. If I don’t leave now I’m going to pass out asleep next to you again.”
“Is that so horrible?”
“You know it’s not,” Kinsey said, glancing away. “That’s the problem.”
“You want to stay.”
“Of course I do.” Kinsey’s fingers trailed her spine again. “But we’re not… lovers, Rosalie.”
“I mean, I think, technically-”
“You know that’s not what I mean. We’re having this… hot fling, like a whole series of one night stands, because we both happen to be taking a break from our real lives at the same time. That’s what’s happening here, right?”
Rosalie wasn’t sure anymore. She was sure she wanted Kinsey to stay. She was sure she wanted to know her more every night they spent together. But despite Savannah’s exasperation with her, she was also still sure that the two of them actually dating would be a disaster. And so after hesitating for far too long, Rosalie nodded.
“Yeah,” she said. “I think that’s what’s happening.”
She felt Kinsey’s fingers pause, though whether it was due to her answer or her hesitation, she wasn’t sure.
“Okay,” Kinsey said after another long minute. “Goodnight then.”
She pressed another kiss to Rosalie’s shoulder and went to move away. Rosalie stopped her, pulling her in to kiss her, full of longing and confusion. It was almost physically painful to let her leave, as if she was doing the wrong thing.
“Goodnight,” she made herself whisper back.
Kinsey looked at her for a beat, then she pressed a quick kiss back and left the bed. Rosalie listened to the sound of her moving around the room, collecting her discarded clothing and getting dressed. Suddenly, clutching the sheet around her body, Rosalie sat bolt upright in the bed. Kinsey’s hand was on the door handle.
“Wait,” she said. Kinsey turned and paused, looking back at her, her eyes a little wistful. “Please come back.”
Kinsey hesitated. Then she let go of the door handle and came back, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Rosalie couldn’t take her eyes off her, but she wasn’t sure how to say what she wanted to say.
“All this hot sex making you feel a little clingy?” Kinsey asked softly, no real sting in her words despite the clear-eyed assessment of the situation. Rosalie swallowed and nodded.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she confessed. Somehow, she wanted Kinsey to tell her and she knew that wasn’t fair either. Shit, Rosalie really was a mess.
Kinsey reached over and toyed with her fingers where they lay in the sheets.
“That sounds confusing,” she observed. “And it kinda makes me want to stay so I can hold you.” Rosalie looked up, a tiny flicker of hope flaring in her chest. “But it also makes me want to hang tight to all my boundaries, so I can keep myself safe.”
Rosalie frowned a little at her words. “I’m not…trying to be a threat.”
“Oh, but you are,” Kinsey told her. “You’re the biggest threat I’ve ever met. I can’t say no to having this time with you,” she said, neatly reaching in to tug the sheet down, baring Rosalie’s body to her eyes. “But since you don’t know what it is you’re doing, then we need to keep this on a level we’re both comfortable with.” Rosalie nodded, tugging the sheet back up to her shoulders with a little huff and Kinsey’s mouth quirked. “Which means no more sleepovers.”
“It’s really very annoying to me how insightful and mature you keep insisting on being,” Rosalie complained, slipping down into her sheets and turning on her side to watch Kinsey from under her lashes.
Kinsey smiled.
“If you wanted someone who was going to fall for your bullshit you really should have gone younger.” she said lightly and Rosalie gaped but quickly found herself being kissed into the pillows before she could complain. “I’m leaving now. Goodnight, Rosalie.”
Chapter Eighteen
Rosalie’s slip-up and Kinsey’s ongoing pushback wasn’t enough to stop either of them in their tracks. Night after night they fell into bed, melting into each other, a non-stop push-pull of desire and heat, the intensity never waning. Kinsey made damn sure though that it was Rosalie’s room she snuck into, rather than the other way around. She could see how much Rosalie was wavering, wanting more, but unless Rosalie herself could articulate exactly what more meant, there was no way Kinsey was going to go down that slippery slope with her, finding herself with real feelings and a lover intent on running the other way. So every night, once they found themselves finally spent, Kinsey kissed her and left.
Rosalie didn’t try to make her stay again, at least not for more than a few more kisses, but Kinsey could feel the longing coming off her in waves. It was confusing and intoxicating, like hope was being dangled in front of her that Rosalie might start to see her as more than just hot in bed. She wasn’t going to fight for a future here though; she knew she’d been more than clear that she wanted more from the first night they’d met. Right now, the only sensible thing to do was to try to keep her head, knowing that in less than a week the vacation would be over and so would the fling.
God, it was hard though. Kinsey tried to remind herself of the intense power of oxytocin, the hormone driving them higher and higher the more they had sex and the closer their bodies became. It could trick you into thinking it was more, that you needed someone, when really it was all biochemistry at work. She’d close the door behind her after dragging herself away from Rosalie’s bed, and lean back against it, her eyes closed, repeating just chemistry, just chemistry, just chemistry under her breath until she could force her feet to take her back to her own cold bed. She wasn’t stupid. She could beat her body at its own game: have Rosalie every night and still keep her heart intact. She had to.
The upside? It made for killer songwriting.
