Неизвестный - 3. In Pursuit Of Justice

“As I said, the department will send a summary of why you’re being referred, but I want you to tell me in your own words. Then I’d like to spend some time getting to know you. General background kinds of things. When I feel that I can make some determination about this event within the context of your professional life, I’ll file my report.”

“How much of what we talk about will be in it?”

Two references in less than five minutes to issues of privacy and confidentiality. She’s worried about keeping something in her personal life a secret.

“You may see my report. I will not discuss your case with anyone without informing you and obtaining your consent. You understand that I will need to include some details of our meetings to substantiate my findings, and that this will become part of your personnel record?”

“Yes.”

A bit of anger there. She feels violated. Betrayed by her superiors, by the system that sent her here?

“Do you want to proceed? You could still see Rand Whitaker.”

“No. How long will this take?”

“I don’t know. Have you been suspended?”

“No. But they’ve got me riding a desk.”

Stiff shoulders, condescending tone of voice, one quick, frustrated fist clench. She’s chafing at the restrictions.

“More than a few sessions, most likely. I’ll see you on an accelerated schedule, but that’s as definite as I can be.”

Several beats of silence.

“Okay.”

“So. Tell me what happened.”

“I was daydreaming about something that happened in a session today—something that brought up more than I realized, apparently. Rather like a waking version of what Freud said about dreams. He called them day residue, things we are still trying to process that we didn’t finish before sleep.”

“He said a lot more than that about dreams, didn’t he?” Rebecca commented dryly.

Laughing, Catherine nodded agreement. “Yes, quite a bit of which I take issue with.” Linking her fingers through Rebecca’s, she continued, “Nevertheless, even if I could talk about it, I certainly wouldn’t want to take up our time together tonight with business. After all, this is a date, right?”

They’d made love, spoken of love, but they’d never had the time to fall in love. As much as she missed Rebecca’s subtle presence in her apartment—the extra clothes in the closet, two coffee cups in the sink, her keys and wallet on the dresser, she liked this new distance. It was a distance heavy with promise and hope, a kind of charged separation she’d never experienced before. It was the very opposite of lonely, because Rebecca was with her.

“Well,” Rebecca mused, feigning thought, her thumb playing over Catherine’s palm, “I got all spruced up in my best suit and I washed the Vette. I’m trying to impress you with the dinner and the wine.”

She’d missed her that afternoon when she’d opened the door of her apartment to be greeted by the musty scent of abandonment. Out of years of habit, she’d dropped the duffle inside the door and walked directly across the rugless living room to the single window, pushed it up, and leaned out to breathe the aroma of car exhaust and Saturday dinners. Home. As familiar as a favorite bar, and as lonely as the tail end of the night with only a bottle for company. She leaned closer across the table, her gaze claiming Catherine with the intensity of a caress. When she was with her, the places inside that always ached stopped hurting. “I was hoping that you chose that dark green blouse with me in mind, because it reflects in your eyes—like shadows in a forest, calling my…”

“Rebecca,” Catherine murmured, her heart hammering, “we’re in a restaurant.”

Undeterred, she continued in a low, husky tone, “And I’ve been thinking all afternoon about the way my skin burns when…”

“We are going to sit here and consume this very fine food, or Anthony will be so offended he’ll never recover.” Her voice cracked and she had to swallow. She had never been the focus of such undiminished attention in her life. It was a heady feeling and she suddenly understood how people made fools of themselves for love. “Is this how you seduce women?”

“Only you.”

“It’s working.”

“Good.”

Reluctantly, they sat back in their seats, breathing a little erratically, fingertips just barely touching on the fine linen. The first time they’d been to DeCarlo’s they’d just met. They’d been strangers, uncertain, wary, but drawn to one another nevertheless. In the weeks since, they’d shared fear and passion and near death, but, in so many ways, they were strangers still.

“There is something wrong with the appetizers?” Anthony DeCarlo asked anxiously from beside them.

“No,” Catherine answered, smiling quickly at him before glancing back at Rebecca, whose eyes had never left her face. “They’re perfect.”

CHAPTER FOUR

REBECCA ROLLED OVER and opened her eyes. She smiled when she found Catherine, arms wrapped around her pillow, lying close beside her and watching her with a tender expression in her soft green eyes.

“I fell asleep last night, didn’t I?” Rebecca asked.

“Uh huh. Actually, you fell asleep several times last night.” Catherine ran her fingers through Rebecca’s thick, tousled blond hair, finally resting her fingers in the curve of her neck. “Let’s see. First you fell asleep in the car. I was very glad that I didn’t drink more of Anthony’s wonderful champagne, because I wouldn’t have been able to drive us home, and you were literally out on your feet by the time we got to the Vette.”

“I’m sorry,” Rebecca said, completely chagrined. She’d had very different plans for the Saturday evening, none of which had included falling asleep at nine o’clock.

“Don’t be. You obviously needed to rest, and I am very fond of sleeping next to you.”

“Well, I’d like you to be fond of a few other things before the sleeping part,” Rebecca murmured, shifting closer until their bodies touched along their entire length. Instinctively, effortlessly, their limbs entwined and they pressed even nearer until their lips were only a breath apart. “It was supposed to be a hot date, remember?”

“Oh, I remember that very well.” She didn’t seem to have any control over what happened to her body when Rebecca was against her like this. The feel of Rebecca’s skin hot against her own, a heat so much more consuming than any fever, set her blood on fire. It was hard to think, it was hard to remember that she meant to go slowly and carefully this first time. She hadn’t made love to Rebecca in almost two months and her hands were already shaking with the need to touch her. Valiantly, she tried to distract herself with conversation, because she was a heartbeat away from forgetting her good intentions.

“When we got home,” Catherine continued, “you managed to make it up the stairs with just a little help from me, but by the time I had my shoes off, you were asleep again.” She ran her fingers down the center of Rebecca’s chest, pausing to brush her fingertips over a taut pink nipple. The swift intake of breath and automatic surge of Rebecca’s hips were exactly the reward she had been seeking. Moving her lips along the edge of Rebecca’s jaw, she finally reached her ear and whispered, “I had a really good time taking your clothes off, though.”

Rebecca couldn’t help but laugh. “I am thoroughly humiliated. What a putz.”

“Oh, you are so far from that,” Catherine replied, laughing, too.

“Well, I’ve had smoother moments. I guess the workout tired me out a little more than I realized.”

“How are you feeling?” Catherine asked, suddenly serious, her hand stilling on Rebecca’s skin. She’d seen Rebecca work for days at a time with no sleep, but she’d never seen her as physically depleted as she’d been the previous night. Even knowing that it was a perfectly natural occurrence at this stage in her recovery didn’t eliminate the quick rush of fear.

“I’m feeling way better than fine,” Rebecca replied soundly, claiming Catherine’s mouth for a kiss.

“Ah…” she sighed when she could find her voice, “I can tell.”

Rebecca kissed her again, and it was the warmth of her tongue that was Catherine’s undoing, or perhaps it was the way Rebecca pressed her fingers into the shallow depression at the base of her spine, or the way she—

“Rebecca,” she gasped, “I can’t possibly wait another minute.”

“Then don’t.”

Rebecca shifted her weight until they were reclining, Catherine beneath her. Bracing her arms on either side of Catherine’s shoulders, she fit her hips between Catherine’s thighs and rocked into her, the rhythmic pressure making them both hard in a matter of seconds.

Sighing, Catherine ran her hands up and down Rebecca’s back, cupping her buttocks, squeezing the tight muscles as she thrust, forcing them together even harder. Watching Rebecca through eyes dim with need, she found the reflection of her desire mirrored in Rebecca’s intense expression. Even as she felt Rebecca’s strong shoulders and arms beneath her fingers and the insistent pressure of her hips working between her own thighs, she couldn’t help but see the irregular, bright red scars on her chest.

“How do you…feel?” she asked, her words punctuated by short gasps as she found it increasingly harder to catch her breath.

“I’m…perfect,” Rebecca assured her, but all she could really feel was the growing heaviness in her stomach and the slowly rising tension between her legs. Her arms were trembling with the effort of supporting her upper body, but she didn’t care. It had been so long, too long, and she needed this more than she needed air to breathe.

“This is torture,” Catherine gasped, linking her fingers behind Rebecca’s neck and pulling her head down, bruising her mouth with a kiss. Their tongues trysted with the same seeking need as their hips thrust, until the tempo of blood pounding and muscles clenching and lips searching echoed the pulsing beat deep inside. “I need to taste you. It’s been so long. I feel like I’m starving”.

“I won’t last if you do,” Rebecca groaned. It had been a very long time for her too, and she was already crazy to come.

“I don’t care.” Gently but insistently, Catherine placed her palms on Rebecca’s chest and pressed until she relented and rolled over onto her back. Following in one smooth motion, Catherine settled between the taller woman’s thighs, her breasts resting for a moment in the moist heat between Rebecca’s legs. Then she caught the rim of skin edging Rebecca’s navel and tugged it between her teeth, drawing a deep groan from Rebecca that made her head swim. Following the insistent pressure of Rebecca’s palms against her face, she inched lower until her lips brushed the fine hair between Rebecca’s legs. The scent and heat of her was like being welcomed home, and with a grateful sigh, she rested her cheek against the soft smooth skin of her lover’s inner thigh and slowly, reveling in the first sweet taste, took her between her lips. She had intended to go slowly, had meant to savor every sensation, but Rebecca’s sharp cry at the first touch of her mouth and the tightening of the muscles in Rebecca’s thighs told her how very she close was. Suddenly, all Catherine wanted to do was lose herself in Rebecca’s pleasure.

“Oh no,” Rebecca moaned, her voice tight and choked. “You’re going to make me come right away.”

It was enough to make Catherine’s heart shatter. She loved having her like this, feeling the two disparate elements of Rebecca’s being fuse at the moment of final release—strength and surrender, power and need, wariness and trust—all of her trembling, quivering on the edge of dissolving. So, so unbelievably beautiful.