No Strings Attached (The Pink Bean Series Book 1) Page 15

  “Please,” she begged. “I need you now.”

  Robin’s glance went soft. She brought her face so close to Micky’s, their noses almost touched. She shook her hand free from Micky’s grasp and, without taking her eyes off Micky, brought her hand where Micky had wanted it all along—or at least for the past two weeks, which seemed to have been condensed into this moment.

  This time, when Micky braced herself, Robin’s fingers did enter. Slowly, stretching Micky wide. She was filled with Robin. Her dream was coming true.

  Micky brought one hand to the back of Robin’s head and the other to one of her breasts. This was beyond any dreams she’d dared to have. Was this even really happening? But, oh, yes, Robin’s fingers delved a little deeper, and her blue eyes were still gazing at Micky.

  Micky’s breath was already faltering, stopping and starting in short gusts. Robin’s fingers inside of her were really all she needed ever again. And the feel of her breast in her hand. And those beautiful eyes on her.

  Robin’s serious expression changed into a slight smile—one that said she knew exactly what she was doing and what Micky wanted. To have a woman like Robin doing this to her. No matter how nice Martha was and how much they had in common, Micky had, on some level, known it would never work unless she’d had a few months to get over Robin first. Because Robin did something to her. This wasn’t just the effect the first woman she’d ever slept with was having on her. This was Robin. The combination of them together.

  Robin’s fingers found a spot inside of her that seemed to make all of Micky’s thoughts come to an abrupt halt. All the desire she’d kept bottled up for the past two weeks came crashing through her flesh, pooled between her legs, clamped itself around Robin’s fingers.

  And if Micky had one thought flitting through her mind in that moment when Robin fucked her so deliciously, so knowingly, as though it was all she’d ever done in her life, it was that this wasn’t just an orgasm, it was a reunion. There was no way that, after this, Micky wouldn’t let her feelings be known down to the tiniest detail.

  “Oh God,” she moaned, holding on to the wall for support, while the heat spread through her flesh.

  When Micky’s eyes fluttered open, she was greeted by Robin’s wide smile.

  “Worth a midnight trip through the pouring rain?” Robin asked.

  The climax seemed to have taken the last of Micky’s energy. She just nodded, mirroring Robin’s smile.

  “Come to bed with me,” Robin said. “I presume you’re sleeping over.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  When Micky woke up, she was alone in bed. She looked for the alarm clock. It was ten thirty-two. She sank back into the pillows, perking up her ears for a sign of Robin, but all was quiet.

  What a night she’d had. The dinner party, followed by Robin ringing her bell, and then coming over here. She thought about Amber and Martha. And about what Kristin and Sheryl must think of her now. And whether Darren would be shocked if he found out. And about Christopher and Olivia, who now had a mother who fled the house in the middle of the night to have sex with another woman. All the conversations she still needed to have. But then her mind drifted back to Robin, to her blue eyes and the smile on her face and how, with the lightest touch of her finger, she could make Micky go all liquid inside.

  Micky hadn’t fallen in love since Darren. She’d all but forgotten what it felt like. She remembered now. Michaela Ferro had gone and fallen head-over-heels in love with another woman. And, by the look of things, Robin was headed in the same direction.

  She heard the front door fall into the lock. Some stumbling in the living room. Then Robin came into the bedroom, her hair wet, her skin scrubbed clean, with a Pink Bean carrying tray containing two cups. “You’re up. Great,” she said. “I thought you might like this.”

  Micky chuckled. “I can’t believe you went to The Pink Bean.”

  “Where else am I going to go?” She sat down on the bed and handed Micky a cup. “You didn’t stir one bit this morning. At one point, I actually put my hand on your chest to check if your heart was still beating.”

  “You exhausted me.”

  “It must have been all that cooking you did beforehand.” Robin scooted a little closer. “I’m so sorry for crashing your party.”

  “You do, indeed, look extremely apologetic.” A rush of happiness shot up Micky’s spine. She could easily imagine waking up like this every Sunday. Well, every other Sunday, perhaps.

  “I did my very best to express exactly how sorry I was last night. Wouldn’t you agree?” Robin wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Wholeheartedly.” Micky broke out into a smile. “Thank you for coming over like that. Truth be told, I couldn’t stop thinking about you either.”

  “Oh, is that why you had a bunch of lesbians at your house last night?” Robin blew cold air onto the froth of her cappuccino.

  “What else was I going to do?” Micky put her coffee, which was still too hot to drink, on the nightstand next to her and shuffled closer to Robin.

  “You could have waited for me to show up at your door in heartbreaking solitude.” Robin disposed of her cup as well.

  “And you could have texted me back.” Micky sat close enough to Robin to inhale her freshly showered scent.

  “You were the one who told me you’d met someone, remember?” Robin fixed her with a stare.

  “I did meet someone. She was at my house last night. But all I could think of was you.”

  “Poor woman,” Robin said, “though I don’t feel that sorry for her.”

  “I think Amber will be there to pick up the pieces.”

  “Really?” Robin tipped her head and leaned in a little closer.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later.” Micky kissed her on the cheek, then fully on the lips. They had all day to talk—and kiss, and make love.

  ✶ ✶ ✶

  Later, over a late lunch of pizza and wine in the middle of the afternoon, Micky couldn’t stop gazing into Robin’s eyes. They had a lot of things to talk about, but Micky was content just sitting there with Robin, and having the pleasure of being able to look at her as much as she wanted. There was one question burning in her mind, though. Not one she had any right to ask, but she was dying to know the answer to.

  She cleared her throat, drank some wine, then spoke. “Did you, er, sleep with anyone else in the past two weeks?”

  Robin drew her lips into a grin. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, you know, you don’t do relationships and such, and… you must get propositioned a lot.”

  “Propositioned?” Robin huffed out a chuckle. “Do you get propositioned a lot?”

  “Well, I don’t mean to brag but…” She sank her teeth into her bottom lip.

  “I didn’t sleep with anyone else, Micky.” Robin’s voice was suddenly low and serious. “I told you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And then you told me about this other woman, which was a genius move, by the way.”

  “You were jealous.” Micky’s eyes widened.

  Robin cocked her head. “I was.” She transferred a slice of pizza from the serving dish to her plate. “That day you took me to the beach, I had such an amazing time. I don’t just mean us sleeping together afterward. I mean the entire weekend. I only realized it too late. We have a ton of chemistry between us, that’s for sure, but I also just like being with you. Just sitting here with you, talking, getting to know you better. I want to know everything about you, in fact.”

  “But, er, isn’t that against your… policy?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a policy. It’s more me trying to rely on common sense. I have no business falling for someone when there’s no future for us, but you know, the heart wants what the heart wants. Last night, I was sitting at home, feeling very sorry for myself. The classic image of a woman by herself gazing out of the window, watching the clouds gather before the storm rolls in, with a half-empty bottle of wine by my side. This life I lead, it can get very lonely. Moving from c
ity to city, starting over again every two years, building a social life from scratch. Which is why I asked to go back to the US after my stint in Sydney. I’ve had enough of this life. This last year away from home was going to be my craziest one. I mean, this is Sydney. Diversity will always need to be promoted anywhere in the world, at least for a good long while to come, but this isn’t Asia. Spending a year here is basically a working sabbatical for me. I have work to do, for sure, but it’s not as strenuous and frustrating as what I was trying to accomplish in Hong Kong and Singapore. And I had one rule only: have as much fun as possible and don’t fall in love.” She paused, picked up the slice of pizza, then put it back. “My plan was working pretty well. Then I met you.”

  Micky’s pulse picked up speed. Her mind focused on the very last sentence Robin had spoken, from which Micky deduced that Robin was falling in love with her as well. This, however, didn’t change anything about their situation in the long run. Robin would still be leaving at the end of the year. But it was only March. There were nine more months in the year. Perhaps Robin could take some time off after. At this point, everything was still possible. Micky had no other choice but to believe that.

  “I wish I could say I was sorry, but I’m really not,” Micky said.

  Robin smiled, but only briefly. “What I did last night, running over to your house in a frenzy like that, was surely impulsive. That was me not abiding by common sense at all. But I don’t regret it in the slightest. I was overcome by this urge to see you, to tell you that I didn’t just want to be friends either, with benefits or not. I want more. I want to date you. It might have been foolish, but I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “Then let’s date,” Micky said. “Let’s be foolish and date.”

  Robin bent over the table. “On the sly, you mean? I can’t leave my panties lying around at your house, I presume?”

  Micky chuckled nervously. “I know you lesbians are very quick about these things and all that, but we’ve only just met, so let’s hold off on the U-Haul for now.”

  “Good lord, don’t tell me you just made a U-Haul joke.” Robin banged her hands on the table. “Not even out of the closet yet, but already making the joke.”

  Micky glanced at Robin, trying to figure out if, somewhere during this line of banter, she had become serious about the matter, or if she was just teasing Micky for being a forty-four-year-old woman in the closet.

  Robin sat smiling, picked up the slice of pizza again, and finally took a bite.

  “I met my ex-husband’s new partner the other weekend. I was at the cinema with the kids and we ran into them.”

  “Oh yes, Lisa, right? I happen to have met a Lisa at work this week.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  “What?” Micky asked, though she knew very well what Robin was getting at.

  “P.Y.T.,” Robin said.

  “What?” Now Micky really was confused.

  “Pretty young thing? Michael Jackson song? No?” Robin gave her an amused expression. “But don’t worry, Micky, she’s actually older than me. I looked her up on the company’s intraweb. We can double-date some time, if you like.”

  “I should probably tell Darren about this… us.”

  “You tell him when you’re ready. How long was he seeing Lisa before he told you?”

  “A few weeks. But that’s different.”

  “Why is it different?”

  “Because… Darren isn’t seeing another man all of a sudden. If it had been the case, and he was bringing a guy into the house where my children spend half of their time, I’d want to know as quickly as possible.”

  “Why is it so different?”

  “Because their father would suddenly be gay and I imagine we would need to have a conversation about how to tell the kids.”

  “Why would you need to be involved in telling your kids their father is gay? And why are we talking about this as though your ex is the one who’s gay? It’s got nothing to do with him.”

  “They’re his children, too.”

  “Yes, of course they are, but you’re the one who’s dating a woman. I agree that, once you’re ready, you should inform him about your decision to tell the kids, just as he did you the same courtesy, but that’s where it ends. His further opinion doesn’t matter, because it’s your life.”

  Micky swallowed a big gulp of wine. “How old were you when you came out?” She made a mental note to get in touch with Martha. Not only because she could have been more upfront with her and she should, perhaps, apologize for not telling her about her lingering feelings for Robin, but because collecting coming-out stories suddenly seemed like a necessity before she could do her own.

  “I was twenty-five when I told my parents.” Robin fell silent.

  Micky had expected her to have much more to say about the subject. “And?”

  Robin sighed. “I’d like to think they’ve fully accepted it by now, but a part of me thinks they never will. Not that they would ever tell me so, but it’s just a feeling I get. I can try to explain to them that it’s nobody’s fault and so on and so forth until the cows come home, but I know that no rational explanation will ever change how they feel deep inside. The sort of life I lead…” Robin shook her head. “It’s so far removed from how they’ve been brought up and lived theirs. Not just my choice in partners, but being an expat. Everything. They’re good people, but the distance between us just seems to get bigger and bigger, and I don’t just mean the physical distance.”

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” Micky said.

  “Because I travel around coaxing people out of the closet and pushing them to stand up for their rights?” Robin started playing with her unused fork. “Which is a gross oversimplification of what I do, by the way. Discrimination toward minorities is so terribly ingrained in every culture and society I’ve ever come across. Even my own parents, you know? They’re hardly hillbillies, not by a long shot, yet I’ve always gotten the impression that, despite really doing their best, they just can’t fully grasp the difference between us. But that’s just the thing: why would I be different from them? I’m not. Not really. I’m as much their child as my brother is, except that I haven’t followed the path they’d dreamed up for me since the moment they knew they were pregnant with me. Instead I veered so off course, I’m just a dot in the distance to them now, I sometimes think.” Robin’s gaze drifted to somewhere behind Micky.

  “Is that why you do what you do?” Micky asked.

  “I do what I do because I can’t stand it when people get treated differently just for being who they are. It makes my blood boil.” Robin expelled a sigh again. “I’m sorry, Micky. I didn’t mean to get all heavy on you. In general, I am accepted, even respected for what I do and who I am. I’m one of the lucky ones, really.” A forced smile appeared on her face. “And I think you will be too. If anything, you have Amber, whom I would love to get to know better, for the record. You have your job at The Pink Bean. You have children who were raised open-mindedly in this day and age. As daunting as the road ahead seems, I have a sneaking suspicion you will be all right.”

  “Do you give a lot of inspirational speeches?” Micky wanted to lighten the tone.

  “I’ve given a few in my day.” The subsequent smile on Robin’s face seemed more spontaneous.

  “I can tell.” Micky responded to Robin’s smile in kind. “I would very much like for you and Amber to get to know each other better.” Micky proceeded to tell Robin about her and Amber’s near-life-long friendship, then said, “Maybe we’ll be double-dating with her and Martha soon.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Nerves rattled Micky’s stomach, even though of all the gatherings she was yet to have in the weeks to come, this one should be the least nerve-racking. Kristin had organized an open mic poetry night at The Pink Bean, and she and Robin were going together. It was a Friday evening, and her kids were home alone, a fact for which Micky felt disproportionally guilty, despite Liv and Chris being old enough to stay at the house alone an
d take care of themselves.

  “I’m going to an event at The Pink Bean,” Micky had said.

  “Wow, you really can’t stay away from that place, Mom,” Olivia had replied. “When can I try the coffee?”

  Micky could only hope her daughter hadn’t seen the flyer for the open mic tonight, which had been very much advertised as LGBT-focused.

  Amber, Kristin, and Sheryl would be there—perhaps even Martha—and Micky was eager to introduce Robin to them officially. But it was all so new and so different from anything else she’d ever done. Micky might be forty-four, but she’d only had one significant relationship in her life so far. Up until her divorce, she had probably followed the exact path her parents had dreamed up for her. While still at university, she’d fallen in love with a man no parent would disapprove of, quickly followed up by marrying and having a boy and a girl—how perfect was that? Micky had followed all the rules, had done exactly what everyone had always expected of her. She even had a lesbian best friend, for added political correctness.

  One life event had flowed into the next, and she’d never had to stop to think about whether any of the things she did were socially acceptable or frowned upon. Walking to The Pink Bean that night was an entirely different experience, because, to her, it felt as though she was breaking every rule possible and, more disconcertingly, she didn’t really know how to behave. She had a lot of questions rummaging in the back of her mind. On top of all that, this was also Micky’s first official LGBT activity. It wasn’t a coming out as such, but she would at least be considered by many as gay by association.

  When she arrived at the coffeehouse, Robin was already there. She was chatting to a woman Micky didn’t recognize.

  Robin kissed her on the lips, then introduced her to the woman. “This is Meredith, a colleague who got extremely excited when I told her about tonight’s poetry night.”

  Micky shook hands with Meredith, hoping she wasn’t the chatty type at the office, and didn’t work with Lisa. This was all too close for comfort. She would need to tell Darren sooner rather than later.