Just Physical (22 page)

They grinned at each other, and some of the tension receded.

“Listen,” Jill said after a while. “I think we work really well together—on set and in the bedroom. But that's all it can ever be. This…arrangement will last only as long as we're shooting together. Once we wrap up the movie, I want us to be able to just walk away with no heartbreak. If you can't do that…”

Crash's smile looked a little forced, but she kept her tone light as she said, “Hey, I'm a stuntwoman. We learn to roll with the punches. If a strictly physical thing is all you can give me, I can live with it.”

Jill bit her lip. She didn't want to flatter herself by asking Crash if she was sure. Instead, she kissed her again.

When the kiss ended, they were both breathless.

“I know you don't drink coffee in the evening, but how about we find some other ways to keep you up all night?” Crash asked, her voice husky.

Jill nodded and blindly pressed the button that would put up the car's soft-top, setting off another round of barking from Tramp.

They had to drive around the block twice before they spotted a parking space on the street, and then they walked back, giving Tramp the chance to sniff and water a few trees.

Jill's excitement grew with every step, along with her nervousness.
Calm down. You already slept with her once. No big deal. Just stop thinking and analyzing it to death.

Crash reached for her hand as if sensing Jill's conflicting feelings. She indicated their entwined fingers with a nod of her head. “Is this okay? I mean…”

“It's fine.” Jill squeezed Crash's hand and let herself be pulled inside and up the stairs.

Crash unlocked the door to her studio apartment. “Come on in.” She kicked the door closed behind them with her heel and took a moment to set a bowl of water on the floor for Tramp.

With the dog distracted, she pressed Jill against the countertop in the kitchenette and kissed her.

The pressure of Crash's breasts against her own nearly made Jill sink onto the kitchen tiles. “Mmh, I… God… I like your method of keeping me up much better than caffeine,” she gasped out between teasing nips and kisses. She slid her hands down Crash's muscular back and to her trim hips. Oh, she felt so good.

Crash kissed a hot path up Jill's neck and nipped at her earlobe while she moved her backward across the room. Her warm breath bathed Jill's ear, making shivers of excitement rush through her, as Crash whispered into her ear, “Good thing I didn't bother closing my sofa bed back up into a couch this morning.”

Just as Crash pulled the shirt over Jill's head and guided her down onto the sofa bed, a cold muzzle, dripping with water, touched Jill's bare skin. She let out a startled shriek. “Tramp! Cut it out! This isn't playtime, dammit—at least not for you.”

Tramp barked at her in reply, his tail wagging wildly.

Crash collapsed onto the sofa bed next to her and let out a frustrated groan. After a second she started laughing.

Well, at least she was being a good sport about it. Jill sent her a grateful look.

Tramp tried to jump on the bed with them.

“Oh, no, you don't. Tramp, off!” Jill pulled him back by his collar. “Is there anywhere we can make him more comfortable? Somewhere away from the bed.”

“How about the kitchen?” Crash suggested.

They got up and led an excited Tramp, who was jumping and yipping, apparently thinking playtime would continue, over to the kitchen area. A high breakfast counter with two bar stools separated the kitchen from the main room. Crash took a blanket out of her closet, and Jill got him settled in the kitchen, blocking him in with two of the bar stools. She stayed with him for a few minutes, calming him down with soothing scratches to his ears, then got up. “Stay,” she said firmly and pointed to his improvised dog bed. “Quiet.”

Tramp whined when they washed their hands at the sink and then walked away, leaving him behind.

“No, Tramp. Quiet,” Jill repeated.

He fell silent. A deep sigh drifted over as he settled down.

Jill and Crash looked at each other and exhaled at the same time.

Crash reached for her and pulled her back to the sofa bed. “Finally. The kid's in bed,” she said with a grin. “Now, where were we?”

Slipping her hands beneath Crash's T-shirt and sliding it up, Jill murmured, “I believe,” she bent and pressed a kiss to Crash's flat belly, “we were right here.”

Then they both stopped talking as they sank back onto the sofa bed.

CHAPTER 13

Crash woke at six, as
she usually did. Unlike most days, she wasn't eager to get up and go for a run. The warm body behind her felt too good. Jill's front fit against her back as if they were two parts of one piece, molded for each other.

Now you've gone crazy. You agreed to keep it just physical, remember?

Carefully, she turned and watched Jill sleep. She reached out and pushed back a strand of copper hair before it could tickle Jill's nose.

Jill slept on, undisturbed.

God, she looks exhausted. No wonder.
She hadn't kept Jill up all night, but she'd come close. They'd both been just as insatiable as the first time, back in San Francisco, and it had been just as good.

At least physically. She sensed that they'd both held something back. She tried to tell herself it didn't matter. It had been the norm for the past two years, when she'd stuck to one-night stands and short flings. So what if she had one more?

But Jill was not just another woman in a string of meaningless conquests. Yes, Crash had once again agreed to Jill's rules, but that didn't stop her from hoping that she'd win Jill over to the idea of dating. Just dating, not a lifetime commitment. Crash wasn't ready for that either, but a date she could handle.

Maybe Jill just needed a little time to come to the same conclusion.

What if time won't change a thing?
she wondered.

Well, she would survive. It wasn't as if she was hopelessly in love with Jill, right?

Right.
Resolutely, she forced herself to roll away from Jill's warmth and out of bed.

As soon as she started to move away, Jill let out an irritated groan. Her hands slid over the sheet as if looking for Crash.

Aww. How cute. She's missing me already.
Crash grinned down at her, then called herself an idiot, and forced herself to walk away from the bed and the sleeping woman. Maybe a run would help her clear her head.

A cool touch to the inside of her wrist woke Jill. “Oh God, no,” she mumbled, still half asleep. “Not again. I really can't, or I won't be able to walk on Monday.”

Her spirit was more than willing, but her body was simply exhausted and sore in ways that weren't entirely unpleasant.

When Crash didn't answer, Jill opened one eye. Bright sunlight streamed in through the balcony doors, and she blinked a few times before realizing it hadn't been Crash that had woken her.

Instead of looking into Crash's passion-clouded blue eyes, she stared into a pair of brown ones.

Tramp nosed her bare forearm again.

Oh no.
The poor guy was probably close to exploding. Thank God she'd at least fed him before heading over to Grace's cottage last night.

A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed that the spot next to her was empty. She tried not to be hurt that Crash had just gotten out of bed while she'd been asleep.

This is what you wanted, remember? Just a physical thing. No pillow talk on the morning after required.

She fisted the pillow beneath her head, which smelled of Crash and made her want to burrow deeper. With a grunt of frustration, she shoved it away.

Just when she was about to try out how steady her legs were, the door to what Jill assumed was the bathroom opened and Crash stepped out, fully dressed.

For a moment, Jill felt very naked in comparison. Well, she
was
naked, since she had fallen asleep after making love last night. She wrestled the impulse to pull the sheet higher up her body.
Don't be ridiculous. She saw every inch of you already. Several times.

But the way Crash gazed down at her made her feel as if she saw so much more than just her body.

In a tank top and a pair of cut-off sweatpants, Crash walked over to the bed. Her hair was damp and pushed back from her face, revealing her strong features.

Jill felt an almost painful tug in her belly.

“Good morning,” Crash said with a smile and settled onto the sofa bed next to Jill, close but not quite touching.

Her closeness instantly made Jill's body react, tired as it was. She struggled against the urge to touch the damp strands clinging to Crash's neck.
You can't possibly want more. Get out of bed. Now.

But she didn't move. “Good morning. Wow. I must have been really out of it. I didn't hear you get up.”

“Yeah. You were. Seems we really tired you out,” Crash said with a small grin. “You can sleep a little longer if you want. It's Sunday, after all.”

Jill shook her head energetically, not sure whom she wanted to convince—Crash or herself. “Tramp needs to go outside.”

“I doubt it. I took him with me when I went for my run.” Crash pointed to the yoga mat, where Tramp now lay, looking as if Jill wasn't the only one Crash had powered out. “I hope that was okay.”

“You went for a run?” Jill echoed. How on earth could Crash go for a run after a night like the last one, when Jill wasn't even sure she could walk? She reached over and ran her hands along Crash's limbs.

Crash chuckled but held still and let Jill examine her. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for your hidden cyborg technology. You can't be human.” Instead of artificial joints or super-human muscles, her fingers encountered warm skin beneath the tank top. “Hmm. Maybe I should stay in bed a little longer after all.”

Crash pulled the tank top up over her head and rolled on top of her. “Maybe you should.”

For once, it wasn't the little electric shocks zapping through her feet that woke Jill; it was a soft movement beneath her head. She opened her eyes and blinked into the bright late-morning light. It took her a moment to realize she'd fallen back asleep.

She settled back with her head again resting on Crash's chest, which was lifting and falling in a steady rhythm. Their legs were tangled, and one of her arms was wrapped around Crash's middle. Both of Crash's arms were holding her close, her fingers splayed across Jill's back as if trying to achieve maximum contact. Her warmth and scent surrounded Jill, creating a bubble of comfort.

For a few moments, Jill imagined waking up in Crash's arms every morning for the rest of her life.

Impossible.
She mentally shook her head at herself. But for the first time there was another voice piping up in her mind.
Why shouldn't it be possible?

She hadn't had a relapse in about a year, and her last MRI hadn't shown any new lesions. Sure, her symptoms flared every now and then, but so far, they were just minor annoyances, nothing major that put her into the hospital or into a wheelchair. She did have a few limitations, but for the most part, she could live her life the way she wanted. Maybe she was one of the lucky ones and her MS would turn out a very mild, stable form. Could she have a relationship of some kind after all, maybe just date casually, as Crash had suggested? Was it possible to keep the MS and a relationship separate, so she wouldn't end up a burden to her partner?

She tightened her hold on Crash, afraid to let herself hope. But as much as she tried to shut them out, Crash's words kept echoing through her head.
You're still you. You're still a great actress and a wonderful woman, and nothing, not even the MS, can change that.
Somehow, those words had cracked open a door that Jill had thought closed forever.

“Hmm, good morning…again.” Crash's voice rumbled through her. She trailed her hand over Jill's hip.

Almost without her conscious will, Jill snuggled closer, allowing herself to enjoy the caress.

But instead of sliding her hand down to cup Jill's ass, Crash paused. A tiny wrinkle formed between her brows. She gently circled a tender spot on the back of Jill's hip with the tip of her index finger. “What's this?”

Jill craned her neck to see what she meant. When she realized that Crash was pointing at one of last week's injection sites, where a red spot the size of a quarter had formed, she stiffened. So much for being able to have a relationship without MS. “It's nothing.” She slipped out of bed and reached for her clothes, which had ended up on the floor last night.

Crash sat up and watched her with a frown. “Did I say or do—?”

“No. I just have to get going. Tramp needs his breakfast.”
And I need the toilet and my damn injection.
Crash's question had been a reminder that she couldn't just spend a lazy Sunday morning in bed with a lover the way most other people could. She put on her panties and her jeans, covering the red spot on her hip, and then wrestled with the closure of her bra.
Shit.
Her fine motor skills weren't the best this morning.

Crash got up and tried to take over the task. “Let me. I'm not just good at taking bras off, you know?” She winked at her.

But Jill didn't want help dressing. She sidestepped Crash's hands, stuffed the bra into the pocket of her jeans, and slipped her T-shirt over her head.

Crash dropped her hands, letting them dangle at her sides. Her gaze tracked Jill as she searched all over the room for her shoes, but she didn't try to approach her again.

Jill bit the inside of her cheek. She hated this sudden tension, but it was a good reminder of why she couldn't allow herself to get in too deep. Finally, she found her shoes beneath the coffee table and slipped them on.

Crash put on a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and followed her to the door, where they lingered. “Jill…”

“Shhh. Don't say anything.” That was the beauty of a purely physical fling after all—no need to explain herself or to talk about her MS. Jill softly pressed her fingertips to Crash's mouth, then, unable to resist, replaced them with her lips.

Moaning, Crash wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close. Their bodies touched all along their lengths, breast to breast and thigh to thigh.

It took several minutes before Jill could force herself to back away. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Crash said, leaning against the door as if her knees had gone weak.

With a slight smile, Jill pointed. “You're blocking the door.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Crash straightened and took a step to the side.

Jill clipped on Tramp's leash and headed out without allowing herself to look back.