Page 57 of Hairpin Curves

Megan came out of the bathroom in some fuzzy socks and a nightshirt that grazed her knees. Had she always been this cute, or was this another case of Scarlett’s hormones getting the better of her? She’d attributed their one-night dalliance in New York to experimentation and a platonic educational experience, but there was nothing platonic about the surge of hormones running through her body. Megan wasn’t even wearing anything sexy. Something about her wet hair and her innocent vulnerability juxtaposed with the sex toy maven Scarlett had witnessed made all of Scarlett’s buttons go off.

“Did you see a hair dryer in any of those cabinets?” Megan asked, running her fingers through those wet locks.

Scarlett shook her head. “I didn’t look. I don’t usually blow dry mine.” Her curls were finally starting to dry in the heat from the woodstove.

Megan took her brush and a pillow and sat in front of the woodstove to brush her hair. “I feel like a Jane Austen character, brushing my hair by the fire.” Her smile beamed up at Scarlett, who was very glad she was sitting several feet away on the couch so she didn’t lean in and kiss that smile. “Although I think they probably brushed each other’s hair.”

“I’ll brush your hair,” Scarlett offered before she could stop herself. Shit, what a terrible idea. Worse still was when Megan held out her brush, and so Scarlett had to go sit behind her in front of the fire, had to move close enough that her knees brushed Megan’s hips. Megan’s hair was perfectly straight, unlike her own curly, unruly tresses, and it glided through the brush effortlessly. “My hair would never submit to being brushed like this. I’d have a poof like a poodle at the end of it.”

“It feels nice,” Megan said softly. In the reflection on the back windows, Scarlett could see her eyes were closed. She tried to focus on the rhythm of the brushing, the methodical, rhythmic movement, and not on the way Megan’s shoulders relaxed as she leaned into the touch like a cat. The woodstove cast overwhelming heat on her right side as she worked, mirroring the heat running through her body. She was going to combust. She wanted to drag Megan back by a handful of that hair, stretch her out on the floor, kiss her like she couldn’t get enough. Instead, she brushed her silky brown hair and tried to think of anything else.

Megan pulled away before her hair was all the way dry, scooting an inch farther from Scarlett. “I think I’m going to fall asleep on the floor if you keep doing that.” She took the brush, and her face was pink, probably from the heat of the fire. “There’s only one bed. I can sleep here on the couch if you want.”

“It’s a lumpy couch. I don’t think you’d be comfortable.” Scarlett swallowed. “I can share if you can share.”

Megan averted her eyes. She was still that same rosy color of pink, all over her face and down the curve of her neck. “Sure. That’s fine.”

The orange candle still burned on the table, a pool of melted wax gathered on its surface. Megan walked over to inspect it, nodded once, and then blew it out.

It was not a very big bed. Scarlett had estimated it to be small, but she hadn’t appreciated how small until Megan climbed in on the other side and pressed right up against her. Megan’s laugh sounded breathless. “Not a lot of room in here.”

“Right.” Scarlett was normally a side sleeper anyway, so she rolled away from Megan and tried to take up as little of the available space as she could. Every time Megan moved, she brushed against Scarlett’s back, and Scarlett’s heart sped up for a moment before settling down. They lay there, back to back, frozen in stillness, until Megan sighed loudly.

“This is ridiculous.”

Scarlett opened her eyes. “What’s ridiculous?”

“Trying not to touch you. The bed’s barely big enough for both of us.”

More shifting behind Scarlett, and then Megan curled up all along her back, slotting into place like spoons in a drawer. Scarlett’s breath caught. Megan’s arm snaked over her side, then curled up toward her chest, nestling right beneath the swell of her breast.

Scarlett could think of this as just a practical move, just making good use of the space, if it weren’t for Megan’s breathing. Like a clear tell in a poker game, Megan’s breath was coming rapidly, brushing Scarlett’s neck in shallow puffs, and her fingers twitched below the curve of Scarlett’s breast.

Yup. Scarlett was going to do something stupid.

“It’s okay,” Scarlett breathed, barely a whisper into the silence.

Megan’s hand slid up to cup her breast.

The touch ignited the rest of Scarlett’s resolve and burned it away in a moment. One light brush of Megan’s palm over the peak of Scarlett’s nipple, even through her shirt, and Scarlett’s hips twitched. “This is a terrible idea,” Megan said, echoing all the thoughts Scarlett had carefully cultivated throughout the evening, a list that was even now going up in smoke.

“Do you want to stop?” Scarlett asked.

“No.”

Thank God.

Scarlett rolled over into Megan’s arms and pinned her down to the bed, covering her mouth and kissing her hard. Megan always seemed so frail and delicate, but she wasn’t, and she arched up to kiss Scarlett back with the same ferocity. They both wanted this. They both wanted this, and they should stop and talk about what it meant, but Scarlett had no intention of doing what she should do. She wanted to kiss, and touch, and lose herself in this moment, and explore every inch of Megan’s body.

Megan pulled on Scarlett’s top, lifting the hem, and the next moments passed in a flurry of undressing. Scarlett nipped the ridge of Megan’s collarbone, making her arch up, and then held her hips down with her free arm while she did it again. Megan made a desperate noise, wriggling beneath the touch, like even just this much was enough to drive her mad.

“Tell me what you want.” Scarlett kissed lower, down to the valley between Megan’s breasts.

Megan moaned, sliding fingers into Scarlett’s wavy hair. “I want to fuck you.”

Scarlett hadn’t expected that at all, and she froze, her lips barely brushing Megan’s tender skin. “What?”

Megan tugged Scarlett’s hair, gently, just enough to get her to lift her head. In the dim light, her eyes were sparkling, pupils wide with desire. “I want to fuck you. Please.”