I clung onto Rosie’s back, far too aware of my best friend. Every bump along the road pitched my arousal higher. I hadn’t come here to seduce my oldest friend, even if I knew how on earth to seduce a woman. Men were easy. Wear a short skirt, show some cleavage, smile, and they ate out of your hand. But Rosie—Rosie was my friend, and she was complicated and above all gay. She’d never hidden that side of her, unlike me, who played the dating game in an effort to hide what my father called “my unnatural urges”.
But fuck it, I’ve had enough. Walking in on my intended, balls deep in his very male lover, had been the last straw. When I’d screamed my fury at my father, he’d just rolled his eyes and told me to shut up and put up. Really? So, it was all right for Max to give in to his urges and I would have to just turn a blind eye, but my liking girls was unnatural, was it? In the heated argument that followed, I might have just burned my last bridges, but I didn’t need the family money to survive, regardless of Papa’s last words thrown at my departing back.
“Go, run. You’ll be back, the minute your money runs out.”
If Rosie had shown me one thing, then it was that money meant nothing. Ever since I’d first brought a ragamuffin Rosie home from school, Papa had looked down his nose at my best friend. As though it was Rosie’s fault that she’d been brought up in care since she was three. We might be an unlikely duo, but we’d forged a firm, lifelong friendship, thanks to the scholarship that meant Rosie had attended the same expensive schools as I did.
Much to Papa’s disgust, Rosie’s superior intellect meant her scholarship was renewed year after year, culminating with her attending Cambridge Uni at the same time as I did. It was only once our student days were over that our very different lifestyles had pulled us apart.
It was something that I regretted to this day, not least because I’d have loved to go backpacking round Europe with Rosie. Eventually she settled back in the UK, touring the canals and living off odd jobs to support her one true passion of sculpting. Such a free spirit, something that I’d always admired about her. If only I could be more like her, I’d never have gone along with this farce and pretended all was okay in our weekly phone calls. Hearing her voice had been the highlight of my week, and when my world came crashing ‘round my ears, there was only one person I wanted to run to—Rosie. What I hadn’t accounted for was the flare of desire I’d feel at seeing Rosie again in the flesh. And I had no idea what to do about it. I couldn’t risk our friendship.
With one last death-defying lurch we rounded the corner and screeched to a halt at the canal path. Rosie’s scooter was not called the pink peril for nothing. My best friend’s driving skills had not improved much since her Uni days, it seemed.
Rosie’s equally candy floss pink canal boat loomed large in front of us, and I barely suppressed a giggle. For a woman who dressed almost exclusively in trousers and combat boots, she sure liked the color pink. It was one of the endearing contradictions I loved most about Rosie. Her tough, no-nonsense exterior hid a soft heart and a generous nature. I’d known Rosie would offer a place to crash with no questions asked, until I was ready t
o tell her why I was here.
Climbing off the pink peril hitched my dress higher up my thighs, and I was suddenly all too aware of how skimpy my dress was. I’d chosen it for the dinner party Max and I had been supposed to attend tonight.
God, that seemed a lifetime ago now. Had that ever been truly me? The person who tried her utmost to be the perfect daughter and fiancée. To do her duty by her family, marry well, and churn out an heir and a spare, like tradition dictated. Hell, no. I was worth more than that. I deserved some happiness, and maybe, just maybe, I could find that with Rosie.
The slight breeze by the water skimmed up my legs and across my heated core. Being this closely pressed up to Rosie had left me wet. The crotch of my lacy panties was soaked through with my arousal, and I bit my lip and swallowed a groan of pure need. Jesus, I wanted her, and I had no idea how to show her that.
Rosie stared at me, and heat flooded my cheeks. Her quiet perusal settled on my skin like darts of pleasure, making me fumble with the strap of the helmet.
“Here, let me.” Rosie’s slim fingers made short work of the clasp, and our hands touched as we both went to pull the helmet off my head. I dropped mine hastily, because a tingle of electricity darted along my nerve endings and settled deep inside my pussy at this innocent enough contact. Did she feel it, too? This sudden awareness between us as we stared at each other for what seemed like ages, the silence between us heavy and sexually charged.
Frozen in place by the silent heat in Rosie’s blue eyes, I didn’t know what to do next. Eventually, Rosie smiled and ran a hand through my hair. It made me want to lean into her touch, to blurt out the conflicting emotions bombarding my soul, but I did neither. Just stood there like a lemon, so damn unsure.
“You’ve got helmet hair. Long hair and helmets do not mix.” Her voice sounded husky, and she cleared her throat repeatedly, while my heart turned into a jackhammer, beating so loudly I was sure Rosie must be able to hear it. Certainly, she could feel it, as her hand lingered on that far too sensitive skin just under my ear for a fraction longer than was necessary to tuck a strand of my hair behind it. Her gaze flicked to mine, and there it was again, that spark of heat that threatened to set me alight. All too soon, she withdrew her light touch, shook her head as though to clear it of whatever thoughts were plaguing her, and turned her back on me.
“Let’s get inside. It’s getting chilly out here.”
My gaze fell immediately to the sway of Rosie’s butt cheeks, perfectly showcased in the tight, black, tailored trousers that formed part of her uniform, and I swallowed hard. Why had I never noticed before what a hot piece of ass my best friend was?
I wrenched my eyes upwards from the poetry in motion in front of me and concentrated on negotiating the towpath instead. When I almost slipped in the damn heels, I gave up and took them off, swaying precariously. Wouldn’t that be grand if I ended up head first in the murky waters of the canal? A warm hand under my elbow steadied me, sending yet more shivers of awareness racing each other across my skin.
“I always said those heels would be the death of you.” Rosie’s soft voice in my ear was so close that puffs of hot breath ghosted across my skin. If I turned my head just slightly, I could kiss her. What would it be like to kiss her, I wondered, even as I struggled to remain upright. “How you can walk in them is beyond me.” Humor laced Rosie’s voice this time, and I shrugged.
“It just takes practice.”
I was quite proud of myself to get that many words out past the huge lump in my throat. I’d never been tongue-tied around Rosie, but then I’d also never been so aware of her either. I wanted nothing more than to lean on her, to claim those full lips curved into a slight smile, but I forced myself to not use Rosie’s strength more than was needed to get my second heel off. She released me immediately my foot was back on solid ground, and I now had to look up slightly. I was half a head shorter without my heels.
“Well, I don’t know how you can wear those heavy boots all the time. You have a great figure. You should show it off more.”
What made me say that I shall never know. I knew she wouldn’t take that comment well, and sure enough she answered through gritted teeth.
“Maybe I don’t want to show it off, Tirath. We don’t all want male attention.” Rosie shook her head and ran a hand through her short, white-blonde hair. It made some strands stick up, and my fingers itched to straighten them for her. “I’m sorry, babe, that was uncalled for. I’m just a little on edge tonight. Let’s just get inside. I need a coffee or something.”
Rosie almost ran down the towpath and banged the barge door shut behind her. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and followed at a slower pace. By the time I made it into the kitchen area, the smell of brewing coffee permeated the air. I silently watched as Rosie went through the motions of finding cups, filling them with the strong brew, and finally handing one to me. I bit my lip when our fingers brushed, and Rosie, too, dropped her hand as though the coffee had splashed over the sides and scalded her.
“What happened, Tirath?” Rosie’s emerald gaze searched my face. It had always fascinated me how her eyes changed color according to her mood and the light. Sometimes they seemed as blue as the summer’s sky. When she was deep in thought like she was now, they turned to the color of moss. Rosie’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “I mean, you can stay here for as long as you need to, you know that, but I’m worried about you. You don’t seem yourself tonight, and—”
I couldn’t contain the sob bubbling up, and Rosie’s expressive eyes widened. Before I could even blink I was in her arms, crying my eyes out on her shoulder. I was dimly aware of Rosie guiding me along, and then I collapsed onto a soft well-worn settee, still clinging onto Rosie’s shoulders.
Who knew I had so much pent up grief contained inside of me? Who knew it would hurt so much to be tossed out on my ear by my Dad? Why the hell did I care so much, anyway? He’d never paid much attention to me. I was only a girl, fit for only one thing in his eyes, to marry well and further his business expansion that way. With my refusal to do that, I was worthless.
I cried until I was hoarse, huge, wracking sobs that left a wet make-up stain on Rosie’s top. When I finally had myself back under control, it dawned on me that I was almost sitting in Rosie’s lap. My hands were fisted in her top, my legs across her lap, and one of Rosie’s hands was in my hair. The other one rested on the top of my thigh, just above my stocking. The slight weight of if felt like a promise, a brand, as heat traveled up from that contact, sending yet more of my arousal into my panties.