Denial (33 page)

Amy bent over and teased Celeste with her breasts.

“Oh God,” Celeste uttered, then caught Amy’s left nipple, and sucking it into her mouth, thrust her hips fast.

“Celeste,” Amy said, trying not to laugh. “Try not to peak before the show starts.”

Celeste stopped sucking and pulled her mouth away. She looked at Amy, her color deepened. “Okay.” She inhaled deeply and, reaching up, captured Amy’s right nipple in her mouth.

Adoring the way that Celeste sucked her breast, Amy started to grind. She smiled when Celeste let go of her nipple, her breathing too rapid and shallow to continue.

Amy cupped Celeste’s breasts.

Raising her head, Celeste looked at Amy. Eyes intent, she gripped Amy’s hips and flipped her over.

Amy gasped in surprise.

Resting her weight fully on Amy, Celeste hunched her hips and slid deeply inside her.

Feeling an intense contraction, Amy cried out.

Groaning, Celeste pumped her hips.

Completely filled, Amy looked up at the beautiful, sexy, sultry woman above her, and feeling her breasts press into her with each thrust, moaned.
 

Looking at Amy, Celeste swallowed then whispered, “I want you so much.” She pressed her head into Amy’s neck and muffled, “So, so much.”

“Oh God,” Amy whispered. She spread her legs wide then hooked her ankles around Celeste’s thighs. The grinding rhythm Celeste took up and the deep penetration was something Amy was unused to. “Oh, Celeste,” she said in a half sob. “Don’t stop.”

Sweat formed between them. Amy cried out when Celeste drilled down, her pace increasing deeper, faster.

“Yes,” Amy hissed. Her orgasm building, her head falling back, she began to shake.

Arching, her nails digging deep into Celeste’s flesh, Amy came.

Celeste groaned. Her crotch and stomach soaked with Amy’s juice, wildness overtook her. Sliding against the hot, slick sweat between them, she thrust into Amy as her own orgasm climbed. The friction from the base of the dildo and the excitement of being inside the blonde was more than she could ever have imagined. A deep guttural animal cry broke free from her lips as she came.

Pressing into Amy, Celeste’s body convulsed. Breathing hard, she slowly climbed down, twitching involuntarily as the last of her orgasm left her. Exhausted, she buried her face in Amy’s neck and whispered, “I’m glad you trusted me.”

Amy swallowed, then muttered, “It just seems to get better and better.”

Celeste started to withdraw, but Amy wrapped her arms around her. “Stay.”

Celeste looked at her questioningly.

“It’s comfortable,” Amy reassured and held her tightly. “Stay. I’ll tell you when it’s not.”

Celeste felt a bittersweet void fill her. This weekend marked the end; their time was up. Resting her full weight on Amy she stared into her turquoise-blue eyes. All she wanted to do was tell her that she was in her blood, a part of her. She wanted to hold on to her, stay connected, stay in her warmth. Stay inside. But the choice wasn’t hers. Amy, she knew, regardless of what happened between them, intended to let her go.

Celeste looked at Amy and took a deep breath. Tears spilled from her eyes. “Amy,” her voice broke, “I—”

“You’re making a habit of this,” Amy said teasingly. Leaning up, she gently caught all of Celeste’s tears, before kissing her fully on the mouth.

Celeste pulled her mouth away. “I need you to know…” she looked at Amy through wet lashes, “…I love you.”

Without breaking eye contact, Amy cupped Celeste’s cheeks and stroked them. Eyes wide and tears brimming, she exhaled then buried her head into Celeste’s shoulder and sobbed.

Cradling Amy as she wept, Celeste stroked her hair. Completely disarmed by Amy’s loss of control, she shifted on to her side and pulled Amy with her. Wrapping her arms around her, she held her tight.

Tears spilling over, Celeste closed her eyes, finally accepting that it was over.

Chapter 39

Amy woke and smiled when she registered that she was in Celeste’s arms. Slipping away, she carefully reached out to the bedside cabinet for a drink of water. She looked at the bedside clock; it was just after eleven in the morning. Feeling languid, she stretched out carefully, delighted that she had slept so well and so long.

Amy smiled when her stomach quietly grumbled. She thought that she would make pancakes this morning—pancakes with syrup, sweet and filling. She turned around to face Celeste and because she was lightly snoring, pinched her nose until she stopped. She then ran a hand down the length of her, enjoying touching her as she slept.

Moving down the bed, Amy smiled. Although hungry, she had no intention of rushing out of bed. She put her hand on Celeste’s hip and placed her chin on it, then carefully ran her other hand up and over Celeste’s breast. She slid her finger over her nipple and rubbed it lightly until erect.

Idly, Amy stroked Celeste and thought about the night before. After they had made love, wanting to prolong the night, they bathed together, then made love until exhaustion overtook them.

Listening to Celeste breathe, Amy circled her belly button with her finger then followed the outline of her tattoo. Breathing in the soft scent of her body, Amy’s artistic eye followed the tattoo’s intricacy. She drew a finger along the detail and wondered why Celeste had gotten the tattoo, and if she had gotten it in some exotic place. She thought about how Celeste’s life was so much of an unknown to her. Leaning in, she listened to the steady heartbeat and acknowledged that in all her life, she had never felt this right.

Amy’s face tightened when she recalled the moment, last night, when Celeste said that she loved her. That moment was exceptionally painful. She was left with no choice but to face the absolute truth and dismiss it at the same time. It had taken every bit of self-control not to tell Celeste the same. Instead, she sobbed in her arms, wanting to tell her, but knowing she couldn’t.

It was impossible. Somehow, Amy forced all the emotions circling inside down deep. This, she reconciled, was what they had agreed on. This, she acknowledged, was the end.

Not wanting to think about it, Amy grinned when Celeste opened her eyes slowly and smiled at her.

“Morning gorgeous,” Amy whispered.

“Morning,” Celeste replied. Pulling Amy into her arms she kissed her.

Amy welcomed the long, luxurious kiss. Eventually, she pulled back and smiled. “Tell me about your tattoo.”

Celeste arched an eyebrow in surprise.

“I like its intricacy and the circular design. Where did you get it?”

About to answer, Celeste was interrupted. “Did you get it in some tribal village?” Amy said, touching Celeste’s stomach. “Maybe during one of your field assignments?” she asked. “Or was it when you were on holiday visiting some remote location?”

Celeste let out a hearty laugh.

Pulling Amy close, Celeste hugged her, “Sorry to break your illusion,” she said, kissing Amy’s forehead. “But I got it in a tattoo parlor in Paris.”

Amy pulled back and smiled. “What? No Maori tribesman in New Zealand carefully decorating you in tribal honor?” she asked in a teasing tone. “No Amazonian women decorating you as part of their initiation ceremony?”

Amy grinned when Celeste laughed hard.

“My, my,” Celeste teased. “What a vivid imagination you have, little girl.” She kissed Amy on the lips. “Nope, it was none of the above,” she answered playfully. “I got it on my first introduction to tequila!” Celeste grinned at Amy’s disappointment. “When I was eighteen, I was out with a few girlfriends and we passed a tattoo parlor. We all decided to get a tattoo.” She looked at Amy. “This,” she said drawing an elegant finger around the tattoo, “was agony.”

Amy laughed.

Celeste winked. “I threw up. Right there in the parlor. I even managed to pass out. But,” she fluttered her dark eyelashes. “The tattooist insisted on finishing the job. After all,” she said, looking down at her stomach, “it was, according to him, a work of art!”

Tracing the outline of the Celtic design, Amy said approvingly, “He’s done a great job. In fact, I really like it.” She kissed it then moving up, snuggled closer. She whispered seductively as her hands began to roam, “And do you know where else I really—”

The doorbell rang.

Amy froze. Holding her breath, her eyes widening in surprise, she looked at Celeste. They listened for further sounds. After a few minutes, the doorbell rang again. Raising her eyebrows, Celeste looked at Amy. “Are you expecting anyone?”
 

Amy shook her head and frowned when the doorbell rang a third time. Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to fight off her growing panic.

“You’d better answer it,”

Amy nodded and rolled out of bed. Standing, she was thankful that Maggie had taken the dogs with her, otherwise, they would have barked the house down.

Throwing on her robe, Amy mumbled, “Can you get dressed.” She quickly left the room. At the door, she lifted her hair and ran her fingers through it. Pulling the belt of her robe tight, she braced herself, hoping that she could easily explain why Celeste was here.

Opening the door, Amy drew in her breath, shocked to see two county sheriff deputies.

They flashed quick smiles and the balding male officer asked, “Mrs. Cameron? Mrs. Amy Cameron?”

Amy’s stomach heaved as she answered, “Yes. Yes, I’m Amy Cameron.”

She glanced over her shoulder when she heard footsteps and looked to see Celeste, fully dressed.

“I’m officer Jenkins and this is officer Daley.” The younger, female officer said. “Can we come in, Mrs. Cameron?”

“Of course.” Stepping aside, Amy allowed them entry.

Standing in the hallway, the officers shuffled their feet a little. Aware that Amy was staring at them, Celeste said, “Please, follow me.” Turning, she led the way.

Once the officers were seated in the lounge, Celeste sat beside Amy and across from them.

Officer Daley took a deep breath and said quietly, “Mrs. Cameron, I’m afraid we have to share some bad news with you.
 
This morning at eight thirty, there was an accident.”

Amy covered her face and whispered, “Oh my God. Something’s happened to Josh.”

The officer looked at Celeste before reading from his notepad. “An eighteen-wheel truck crashed into a Jeep Grand Cherokee Laredo registered to,” he checked his notes, “you and Mr. Josh Cameron.” He quickly finished, “I’m sorry to tell you that all the people inside the vehicle were killed instantly.”

Instinctively, Celeste pulled Amy closer to her and placed her arm protectively around her shoulders.

Amy dropped her hands from her face and, stared dumbfounded at the male officer before whispering, “No.” Shaking her head incredulously, eyes wide, she looked at Celeste. “No. Tell him no way, Celeste. Tell him that those Jeeps are designed to withstand all sorts of things,” she pleaded. “Tell him, Celeste. Tell him that Jeep has air bags, side impact bars, rollover resistance. It has everything.”

Celeste felt Amy’s body start to shake, fully aware that adrenaline had kicked in and was now pumping through it.

Amy’s hands thumped down on the sofa and standing, she stared at the officers. “Tell them,” she said hoarsely. “Tell them now, Celeste.”
 

Celeste looked up at Amy, wanting desperately to comfort her, but, whatever safety features the Jeep had, it would have had no resistance to a truck that size hitting it.

Opening her mouth to offer comfort, Celeste closed it when Amy rushed to officer Daley and, falling to her knees grasped his hand with both of hers. Imploringly, she asked, “Who? Who has been killed?”

With old eyes, officer Daley looked down at Amy.

Amy repeated, “Tell me! Who? Who has been killed?”

Looking at Amy, pain mixed with deep sympathy, crossed his face. He sighed and shook his head. Slowly, he lifted his notebook and read from it. “The driver of the vehicle, Margaret Forsythe, and the passengers, Sean MacDonald, Christopher, and Ryan Cameron.”

Amy gaped at him, and watched his mouth move in slow motion. His voice seemed distorted and extraordinarily loud. Her hands flew to her ears. She tried to cover them to block out the sound, but she couldn’t. Instead, she was forced to listen in horror as his voice boomed out names that were anonymous to him; but to her, those names were the lifeblood that pumped through her veins, the very reason for her existence.

When his mouth closed, the whole world crashed in on Amy. Sounds and smells surrounded her. Everything seemed to pulse with frightening clarity.
 

Amy squeezed her eyes shut, and doubling over, gasped in agony when an unseen fist punched through her chest and ripped her heart out.

When she fell forward, Celeste shot up and moved quickly. Dropping to her knees, she wrapped her arms around Amy.

Surprised at the contact, Amy’s eyes flew open. Straightening, she looked down at her chest expecting to see a gaping hole, but, to her surprise, there was nothing. For a fraction of a second, calm steeled her spine. Her mouth opened and a disembodied voice asked, “How? How did it happen?”

Officer Daley’s voice full of remorse, said gently, “The Jeep was hit as it crossed an intersection. “The truck was speeding, went through a stop sign and,” he paused, “hit the Jeep.” He cleared his throat. “The driver allegedly was using a cell phone at the time and claims that he didn’t see the sign.”
 

Reaching out, he squeezed Amy’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cameron.”

A surge of panic coursed through Amy. She put her hand to her mouth, sure that she was going to vomit.

Vaguely aware of Celeste holding her tightly, Amy removed her hand and looked up at the officer. Needing absolute verification, she asked, as her body shook violently, “Are you sure they’ve been…killed?” She pushed forcibly out of Celeste’s arms, stood shakily, and added desperately, “They might not have been in the Jeep. It could have been stolen.” She looked pleadingly at the officers. “How do you know for sure?” Her voice cracked. “How do you know they were in that Jeep?”

Officer Jenkins stood. Shaking, and desperately trying to fight back tears, she approached Amy. “Mrs. Cameron, I think you should sit down.”

Amy grasped the younger woman’s arms and, shaking her firmly, said, “How do you know? How can you be sure?”

Officer Daley looked at Celeste and both moved toward Amy. Gently, they removed her grip from the young woman. Leading Amy to the sofa, Celeste sat next to her and pulled her tightly to her.

Amy looked at the officers and croaked, “How can you be sure?”

Officer Daley sighed and a look of weariness crossed his eyes and then sympathy filled them, as if knowing that what he said next was about to destroy her world.

“Miss Forsythe had photo identification of herself and the two…” he hesitated, then cleared his throat, “the two boys. The other passenger, Mr. MacDonald also carried identification.” He hesitated again and looked to Celeste before saying as gently as the words would allow, “But, obviously, we still require formal identification.”

Amy looked at the strangers and wanted to scream, but she only managed to croak, “No. No.
No!
”
 
Then an animal sound of pain and loss echoed around the room. Amy was so startled it took a moment for her to realize that the sound was coming from her own throat.

Celeste grasped her tightly. “Amy,” she said, her voice carrying a note of despair. “Amy,” she repeated.

This can’t be happening, Amy thought in horror. “No,” she cried out in agony. They can’t be dead, she tried to shout. They can’t have been killed. She tried to ask Celeste, why, but all the words lodged in her throat and blackness enveloped her.