June looked at her in disbelief. Or, at least, Miquela was pretty sure it was disbelief. It could’ve been the three glasses of wine.
They walked back to her apartment, having walked to the restaurant in the first place. That was the nice thing about a country the size of Monaco. She could walk anywhere in her tipsy, not fit to drive state. She wasn’t drunk, but she was also pretty sure driving was a bad idea, no matter how good she usually was. Instead, Miquela slung her arm around June and lumbered down the sidewalk with her, singing a common French children’s song – badly.
“Wait, how does that last part go again?” June asked as they entered the foyer of the apartment building. “It sounded dirty.”
Miquela had intended to keep things cleaner until later that night, but from the moment they entered her apartment, June was on her, stroking her chest, her hips, as if she couldn’t wait to get in bed. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she truly wanted her as much as Miquela wanted her.
With wine in her, it was certainly easy to believe that.
June hopped up on her tiptoes, hands cradling Miquela’s face. Miquela held her tight against her chest, fighting back the endless urge to kiss her. It was more pertinent to get her to bed. “Do you believe me?” she asked, lost in June’s color-changing eyes. “That I love you?”
“Dunno. How many languages can you say it in?”
“I love you.”
“That’s one.” They were in the bedroom, the door barging open.
“Je t’aime.”
“Two.” They stopped at the bed.
“Te amo.”
June landed with a heavy thump on the bed. “Three. Give me one more.”
Was there anything better than surrounding such a beautiful woman in one’s own bed? Miquela could bury her face in her breasts if she wanted. “I’m trilingual,mi amour. What do you want from me?”
“Surprise me.” June’s fingers did the dirty work for her.
Miquela scrambled her brain into a huge mess trying to think of any other language she was familiar enough with. Italian? Too safe. Portuguese? Would she even know that one? How the hell did one say “I love you” in German?I should know that one!
“Wo ai ni.”
June stifled an ugly noise. “I’m pretty sure that’s not how you speak Mandarin.”
“So sue me.” Miquela placed a careful kiss on June’s forehead, her body heating up, her heart thumping so loudly that it was almost deafening. “I’m rich. I can afford a lawsuit.”
“You can make up for your lack of linguistics by making me forget my own name.”
That was all the permission Miquela needed. She covered June’s mouth with heavy kisses and pulled her close, letting instinct and emotion guide the rest.
Please say you love me, too.Miquela gave lovemaking her all. All her passion. All her desire. All her hopes for the future and the regrets of the past. She had loved and lost before. It seemed so far away and irrelevant now. Women loved. Women lost. They grew older and wiser. Miquela was at an age where it made sense to pick a woman who made her laugh, love, and live the hardest.Don’t you love me too?
It wasn’t dignified to ask that out loud. Nor to beg. Nor to imply that she was somehow less without June’s affections. It didn’t stop her from thinking it, however. A woman could help how she acted and what she said. She could not help the tumultuous emotions in her heart.
The only way she had to communicate was through her actions. So she showed June how deeply she could care, pouring everything she felt into every touch, every breath, every whispered word against her skin.
When you love that hard, there is no reason. No rules. No forces of nature too strong to make you see reality. Who cared that June had a job that prevented traditional monogamy? That wasn’t why Miquela had fallen in love with her. June was a woman of free will, and she exerted it with such power that Miquela couldn’t help but be in awe of her. It was a miracle that no other had come along and swept her off her feet yet. Why couldn’t it be Miquela?
It felt so right to hold June in her arms, beneath her, on top of her, in whatever direction they naturally fell. The sheets twisted beneath them from how fiercely they held each other. June cried out more than once that Miquela was one of the strongest women she had ever been with. Miquela knew what she meant and had no reason to disbelieve her.
When the intensity crested, Miquela held her close, breathing her in like she was oxygen.
She is mine. You are mine, June. Do you feel that? It’s me, wrapped around you, like you are wrapped around me in so many ways.Was it animal, or was it human? That sensation of pure pride she felt when she was as close as she could be, when June’s voice broke in the dark. The most beautiful sound Miquela had ever heard as she came down from it all.
It was official. No other woman could feel this right or fit this perfectly against her. Perhaps she was foolish. Perhaps she was committing a crime against their nature. It. Didn’t. Matter. One way or another, Miquela Bolivar would find a way to make June Kingsley hers.
Money wasn’t an issue. There were stronger forces at play. Forces that could not be solved with money.
