At the sound of the restroom door swinging open behind her, she’d hoped…and when she caught sight of the reflection in the mirror, she’d seen it was true. The expression of smoldering desire in those dark eyes was everything she wanted. And feared. Over the objection of her wildly beating heart, she whispered, “We can’t. We both have someone else.”
“All I know is, I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you,” the low voice murmured in response, the words dancing across the bare skin of her neck as the tall form moved in close behind her. “And I’m tired of waiting.”
She wanted this woman too, a fact she’d been unable to hide as they’d gazed at each other during dinner. While her seat at the restaurant table had concealed the racing pulsations between her thighs, she hadn’t been able to hide her trembling hands and the heartbeat in her throat each time their eyes had met. Now she turned, needing to face her, although her eyes were drawn to a wide, sensuous mouth. Unconsciously, she moistened her own lips.
Pleasantly roughened fingertips brushed her face, their warmth radiating directly to her nipples, which had already grown almost painfully hard. A last step and now their thighs were touching, the caress on her cheek a tender contrast to the fury of need racing through her. She’d been bracing herself against the sink, but now her arms were reaching and she was desperate to caress the muscles in that strong back even as she envisioned sliding her hands down to pull harder, kneading her palms into that exquisitely firm posterior.
She could feel her own arousal even as she lifted her face to meet the piercing gaze—that slick heat begging to be touched. She didn’t think she’d ever been ready so quickly. “Please,” she whispered, that one word a jagged sound matching the ache inside, though she couldn’t have said what she was really asking. Hurry? Wait? Tell me you love me?
Their mouths moved toward each other almost in slow motion as the last of her concerns skittered through her mind—someone else might come in…what about their respective partners…and how long could she hold out after a large hand moved to clench in her hair and their kiss became a bruising, hungry promise of pleasures to come?
The uneven sound of one more quick breath matched the expanding edge of want inside, and she shivered with the unbidden awareness that the consummation of this burning lust between them would be everything, and it would never be enough. In the second before their lips met, she felt, rather than actually heard, the vibration of a groan and she understood this woman knew it all—knew the dirty secrets of her desire, knew exactly how she needed to be taken, knew how she would cry or beg or do whatever it took to convince her not to stop, to make each delicious moment last a little longer, even as they would move faster, harder, together—
Jumping slightly at the sharp bang of a cabinet door closing in the other room, Captain Kathleen Hartley, protocol and publicity officer of the Women’s Army Corps at Fort Des Moines, Iowa, put her hairbrush back on the dressing table. Normally she was calmed by her nightly routine, but tonight her mind had strayed and she knew why. Running a hand lightly over her face, she could feel the blush of shame that always accompanied such arousing fantasies. Her mother’s voice started up in her mind, that shrill screech that would begin with an extended version of her name…Kathleeeen…and then continue with a lengthy scolding for her latest faults—and these days she didn’t know the half of it.
She closed her eyes for a few seconds as her thoughts retreated to the first woman she’d had a crush on—one of her elementary school teachers, Mrs. Ford. She still retained the memory of Mrs. Ford’s willowy figure standing over her, eyes twinkling at some clever thing Kathleen had said or done. Kathleen also identified this as the moment she’d first understood about guilt, as she’d caught herself harboring a secret wish that Mrs. Ford could be her mother. She’d imagined Mrs. Ford doing all the things her own mother never did—talking with her about the lessons to come over some delicious breakfast each morning, greeting her with a warm embrace each afternoon, eager to congratulate her on some outstanding thing she’d done at school, and brushing her hair each night after dinner before tucking her into bed and wishing her sweet dreams. Her guilt had gotten much worse years later when she realized what she wanted from a later Mrs. Ford type was attention of a not-so-maternal kind. There had been many other crushes since then, and her tastes had gradually shifted from sweet and pretty to rugged and dashing, but all had been safe, she realized now. She swallowed, admitting to herself that the subject of her current obsession was anything but.
No, she told herself. It’s not infatuation, really. It’s just…interest.
The heavy clink of liquor bottles from the kitchen brought her back to the present and she stood, smoothing out her nightclothes and fixing her mind on preparations for tomorrow’s dinner. She felt fortunate that her lover enjoyed entertaining as much as she did and they both took pride that, despite the hardships of war, they were able to offer their guests a variety of drinking options and a fine meal served in a formal setting.
She smiled to herself, recalling how that very formality had helped accomplish something she’d been trying to do for months. It hadn’t taken long after she and Victoria Whitman had arrived in Fort Des Moines before an opportunity to attend one of their gatherings was the most sought-after invitation in the small but lively homosexual community in town, as well as among the lesbian officers on the base. Kathleen didn’t consider herself as a snob, but the idea of mingling with enlisted gals in a social setting seemed unwise, at best. The noncommissioned officers she considered on a case-by-case basis. But the one she thought of as the most intriguing sergeant in Fort Des Moines had initially turned her down flat. The rejection hurt, and she’d tried to see her way through it. She’d been careful, calming her initial attraction until their first few encounters had given her a clear sense that the sergeant also enjoyed their interactions, despite Rains’s formal, somewhat distant manner. At that point, Kathleen had confidently disregarded the common assumption that Gale Rains was MTTS (married to the service), and while she’d given no sign of distress when Rains had declined her first invitation, she’d felt it deeply. Echoes of her mother’s perpetual disapproval were magnified at any perceived inadequacy on her part, and she’d pushed herself hard to ensure such failures were rare.
She’d waited to mention the situation until Whit’s schedule returned to normal. The Fort Des Moines medical staff switched day and night shifts every fourteen days, alternating two on, two off. It had been hard on her lover at first, and Whit, who was normally quite even tempered and thoughtful, had been somewhat irritable and even complained, on occasion, about odd things like indigestion or difficulty in concentrating. So Kat tried to make sure parties or important discussions happened when Whit was on days, when their schedules meshed, or on Whit’s days off between her shifts. Concerns about a drill instructor who’d declined to visit her home seemed shallow and petty against all the death and destruction of war and everything the women of America were doing to work toward their country’s victory, and she told herself that was another reason for her reluctance to bring up the matter. But when they finally talked about it, Whit had thoughtfully suggested that the sergeant’s refusal was most definitely not a personal slight, but more likely shyness or even insecurity on Rains’s part.
Kathleen wasn’t surprised that Whit could relate to Sergeant Rains on some level since, unlike her own moneyed background, Victoria Whitman came from a solidly working-class family. Even though she’d been an only child, Whit described herself as “the kid who went everywhere and made friends with everyone.” She’d told Kathleen how her comfort with the various ethnic neighborhoods of Chicago had only increased when she’d taken over the job of delivering for the pharmacy when Bobby O’Hara had broken his arm racing bikes on an icy hill with some of the other boys. It wasn’t hard for Kat to imagine little Whit as a regular visitor to the drugstore for penny candy or, on special occasions, a soda, but her lover insisted that what she’d loved most was watching Mr. Cleary prepare various home remedies and compounded concoctions for his customers. She’d absorbed every word as the pharmacist talked his way through each process, adding, “If old Jack Cleary was surprised that a girl would be interested in such things, he never let on.” Whit described her disappointment when Bobby healed enough to get his old job back, but by the time she finished high school her visits to the pharmacy slowed considerably as other pursuits became more important. Unlike many other girls, she never outgrew her tomboy ways, and as such, Kathleen knew Whit would have been totally out of place in the world she’d inhabited during that period—a realm of grand openings, galas, and fancy banquets. Perhaps their dissimilar backgrounds made them an unlikely couple, but in their time together, Kathleen admired the occasional flashes of what Whit referred to as her “street smarts,” while Whit had come to appreciate many of the finer things that Kathleen enjoyed.
“There’ll come another time,” Whit had assured Kat that night when they’d first talked of Sergeant Rains in their bed. “And she’ll say yes.”
As it turned out, Whit was exactly right. The unsociable sergeant had seemed different…more relaxed, somehow…when she’d come back from a week’s leave following a dramatic altercation with an MP, and shortly after that she’d been promoted and put in charge of the motor pool. Now a lieutenant, Gale Rains had unexpectedly approached her when she’d brought in Whit’s jeep, asking for some fine dining guidance. A few days later, they’d been practicing in the mess hall when Bett Smythe walked in. It hadn’t taken Kathleen long to detect the electricity between the two women, and she’d promptly invited them both to her pre-holiday dinner party. Normally, she’d have to be much better acquainted with someone, or the guests would come with an endorsement from someone she did know well. But the expectation that Rains might now accept her invitation made it worth the gamble. Interestingly, though Bett seemed delighted by the opportunity, she deferred until she could speak to Rains privately, making Kat wonder who held the power in their relationship.
Driving home, she’d pondered further on the two women she’d invited to her home. Bett was absolutely gorgeous, well-educated, and quite probably a step above even Kathleen’s social status. They might become friends, but she wasn’t the type Kathleen was attracted to. Gale Rains fit that bill to a T. Even in winter, Rains had the coloring of someone who spent a great deal of time in the sun, with dark hair over deep black eyes in a face that wasn’t classically beautiful but whose angles and lines spoke of determination and strength. She had a reputation for toughness, tempered with fairness and even sensitivity. Physically, Rains’s height made her somewhat imposing, and she had a way of moving that indicated power beyond her tightly muscular conditioning. Even while engaging in casual conversation on the sidewalk of Fort Des Moines, she seemed constantly alert, completely aware of her surroundings and of everyone in them. And then there were the stories about her and that knife. Kathleen shivered lightly at the thrill of a dangerous woman.
Not that she was looking for anything beyond occasional dinner companions or possibly friendship, she prompted herself as she made her way to the bed and slipped under the covers. It had been a great relief when she and Whit had both been assigned to Fort Des Moines after their Florida base had closed, since her lover knew her in ways no one else ever had. Once, she’d been so frightened by the needs that only Whit could fill she’d almost sabotaged what they had, but after they’d weathered that storm, she gained a clear understanding of the boundaries that held their relationship together and she’d been very careful not to cross them again. This wouldn’t be any different.
Reassured, she turned her thoughts to the upcoming gathering. In some ways, Kathleen considered the assorted types who visited their home to be like a collection. Most were typical, universal additions, while others added rare or uncommon qualities to the grouping. Two of the couples that would be attending tomorrow had been to their home numerous times, and the mix of personalities had provided some lively entertainment in the past. Recently, though, she’d found herself vaguely bored, feeling a kind of predictability settling into the evenings. But the anticipation of newcomers sparked a tingle of excitement that must have inspired her earlier fantasy. During their conversation in the mess hall, Bett Smythe had revealed that Rains was half American Indian, which might account for her looks and her manner. It might further explain why Kathleen found her so alluring. She’d certainly never encountered anyone with that background before. Rains would be a unique addition to any assemblage.
The light went off in the other room. Kat called into the darkness, “Are you coming to bed soon?” as she snuggled under the down comforter her father had brought back on his last trip to Europe before the outbreak of the war. If he suspected who his daughter was likely to lie with underneath it, he’d given no indication. They’d had very little contact with each other for the first years of her life, but she’d gone to work for him once she was old enough. To her mother’s dismay, her father had given her increased responsibility as her knowledge grew, and proudly introduced her as a “career girl” to his friends. She’d cut her protocol teeth on making everything perfect at the various functions his work demanded, and while in attendance at these events she’d cheerfully flirted and danced with his cronies. But when she married a family friend, Theodore Hartley, in yet another desperate attempt to please her mother, she’d known within a week it was a mistake. Probably Teddy knew it too, because after they stuck it out for a year, the divorce was surprisingly amicable.
Back in her childhood home she returned to work, but now the household simmered with tension between her father’s delight at having her back and her mother’s dismay at her failed marriage. Still, her life might have gone on as before had not the war broken out. Before long, men in dashing uniforms were everywhere, and she could have had a date every night had she wished. But the first thing to make her blood race since college was the day a new recruiting poster caught her eye. Predictably, her mother had been horrified when she’d announced her intention to join what was then the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps, but Arthur Yarrow had defended his daughter’s choice. Unlike many of his generation, he now took pride in her service to her country, though Private Hartley quickly learned a great deal more than the fundamentals of soldiering. When the heat of her first encounter with another woman during her basic training at Fort Oglethorpe in Georgia reignited the unexplained yearnings she’d had since childhood, she understood one reason why every outing with a man her age had left her indifferent, somehow.
“Very soon.” Whit’s voice came from the hallway and then she was leaning on the doorjamb, grinning at Kat’s mummy-like appearance. “Are you cold?”
“Not everywhere. Why don’t you come and find out?”
Less than a minute later, Whit was beside her, naked, her talented fingers starting her off exactly the way she liked it.
“Damn, Kitty, you’re so wet,” Whit breathed, her voice husky in Kat’s ear. “What have you been doing back here?”
Whatever Whit might suspect or even encourage about her fantasies, Kathleen knew what her answer had to be. “Thinking about you, Vic. What else?”
As Whit’s mouth made its way down her body, she willed that to be true.
* * *
Though harshly awakened by the force of her dream, Gale Rains lay completely still. Wherever her nocturnal wanderings took her, she’d begun to accept that she would awaken beside the warm body of the woman she’d given her heart to, and she didn’t want to disturb her. During their first few weeks together, it had seemed like the life she was making with the person she had first met as Private Elizabeth Smythe was the dream, but lately she’d been able to let herself trust in the miraculous beauty of this unfamiliar reality. The differences in her new world at Bett’s house were almost beyond measure. Before the Army, she had rarely known the comfort of a home where the weather stayed out or the security of not having to move every few months, so the joy and passion of a stable, ongoing relationship with a wonderful, fascinating woman was beyond anything she’d ever hoped for.
But tonight she’d been jolted from sleep by the sense of impending danger, some approaching threat, and she’d roused herself to try and understand the warning. Before she could set her mind to work, she let Bett’s steady breathing ease the forceful emotions of her dream-induced visions. She needed a clear head to seek the message and a calm spirit to find her way to the cause. Seeking peace, she found herself contemplating the woman beside her, warm and caring and exceptional in many ways. Despite the risks and the intermittent lies that were necessary to hide the true nature of their relationship, their time together was the happiest of Rain’s life.
And a few days ago, Bett had shown a new depth of courage, bravely revealing a most painful part of her past. Once the story had unfolded, and after she’d been able to let go of her anger, Rain had come to realize that Bett was not merely telling it for the sake of confession, but for them, to build what was between them into something more, something solid and absolutely true. In the hours since then, it had been in her thoughts many times to tell Bett more of her own story. Withholding such a crucial part of herself was not only unfair, the omission suggested a level of dishonesty she could barely stomach with others, and that was utterly unthinkable with Bett. Her mind returned again to the dire warning of her dream. Was this a caution against sharing this worst part of herself with Bett or a sign she needed to speak this truth soon? Seeking clarity should be her first and only consideration, because if the trouble she’d sensed was a danger to Bett and to others as well, she needed to be prepared to take whatever action was necessary.
As if reacting to the urgency of keeping her beloved safe, an uncontrollable tremor passed through Rain, and Bett’s breathing altered. She shifted slightly, turning her body into Rain’s. Hoping to ease her back into sleep, Rain faced her and reached to stroke her hair. Bett relaxed again, but in a few seconds she murmured, “Are you cold?”
Rain delighted in Bett’s voice at all times, but when it was heavy and slightly slurred with sleep…or sex…it made her fierce with longing and profoundly protective at the same time. She wanted to enfold her, to pull Bett so close that there was no space between them and they merged into one, safe and whole. Managing that desire, she answered without moving, “No. Just a dream. Go back to sleep.”
Instead, Bett moved toward her, sliding her leg between Rain’s, bringing their bodies closer. Rain let herself be comforted, marveling at Bett’s mysteriously acquired understanding of exactly what they both needed. Her lips curved up slightly at the little humming noises Bett made as she nibbled at her neck, her hands moving across the hard planes of Rain’s back. After a few soft kisses, Bett asked, “Do you want to tell me?”
No. Yes. Never. Soon. “Not now.”
Bett stroked her chest, then her hand made its way to Rain’s breast. “Then is there something else I can do for you?”
“Uh…” Once, the question of whether she would ever grow inured to Bett’s touch had crossed Rain’s mind. At times like this, she knew she’d been foolish to even imagine such a thing. No other woman had ever gotten past her defenses like Bett had, and now she no longer had the ability or the need to keep her out. Each day brought a deeper communion between them, and as she’d allowed herself to be known, she’d come to know Bett too. Not the feisty, competent woman she showed to the rest of the world, but the tender, thoughtful person who talked with her and listened to her and cared for her in a way she hadn’t appreciated was possible. In her heart, in her spirit, and at times like these, in her body she was grateful beyond measure. Even the words I love you, which she’d never said before saying them to Bett, didn’t seem like enough.
Bett shifted them until she was lying on top of Rain, her thigh pushed more firmly against Rain’s crotch. “Could I give you some sweeter dreams?” she suggested playfully, before her voice lowered. “I’m sure I could help you get back to sleep.”
Oh yes. Concerns over the rise of trouble implied in the dream faded even farther away as the closeness of Bett’s body and the promise in her voice aroused her. Even after these many weeks of being together, her blood still raced at the mere thought of Bett, and a look or a touch affected her even more. When Bett lowered her mouth and gently bit her nipple, Rain groaned and arched beneath her. As Bett’s lips trailed down her body, Rain’s heartbeat accelerated. She gripped the sheet, ripples of desire coursing through her when she felt Bett’s breath on the heat between her legs. Any rational thought fled as her entire being focused on the delicious warmth of Bett’s mouth, on the sweet caress of her lips, and on the teasing flick of her tongue. Intent on not pushing herself more firmly against her lover’s face, she almost growled as all sensations suddenly stopped.
“I’m really glad you like this,” Bett murmured, her cheek resting on Rain’s thigh, “because I adore the way you taste.” The tiny puffs of air from her words drifted torturously across Rain’s overheated flesh.
“Bett.” It was part plea, part prayer, and faintly, part demand.
“Yes, Beloved. I know.”
She did know. That had been true even when Rain had tried to deny it, and the notion of someone understanding her that completely had been terrifying only months ago. Now it was a bliss beyond anything she’d ever imagined. As was this. The return of Bett’s perfect pressure on her center uncoiled her desire, elevating the rushes of pleasure inside her to a focus that burst so powerfully, it left her weak.
After a time, she became aware of Bett’s head resting on her shoulder. She swallowed and managed to ask, “You?”
“Tomorrow.” Bett’s lips pressed against her cheek, and she caught a whiff of her own scent. “Get some rest.”
There would be no more nightmares tonight, although Rain’s last conscious thought was that only one thing could transcend the peace of being with Bett. And that would be something else new to her—fear of losing her.