Penelope nudged Lucia’s shoulders. “At all this,” she gestured between them, “and everything it entails.”
“I don’t know. Not like I have a string of successes to showcase either.”
“You’re also ten years younger.”
“Is that a problem?”
“The age difference itself? Not to me, no.”
“Good. It’s not to me either.” After a beat. “So?”
Penelope gritted her teeth. She didn’t know how to deal with Lucia’s openness, her willingness to bare herself and offer her heart on a platter.
“There’s no pressure. I can wait, or we can decide to just be friends. I don’t want to crowd you or—”
“Could you just be…kissing me now?”
Lucia stilled, lips parted.
Heat crept up Penelope’s neck.
I shouldn’t have said that.
Before she could take it back, Lucia’s fingers trailed down her cheek, and Penelope instinctively leaned into the touch.
Lucia closed the distance, and they sank into a slow, lingering kiss.
Need surged through Penelope, threaded with longing. She gripped Lucia’s upper arms, pulling her closer.
Their kiss deepened, and for a while, that was all they did—losing themselves in the heat and rhythm, the quiet tension of tongue and breath.
Lucia pulled back, pupils blown wide, breath ragged, smiling the terrible soft smile that always squeezed Penelope’s heart. “Bedroom?”
Penelope nodded and pulled her from the couch, leading her there.
She pushed Lucia onto the bed, thankful she’d thought to change the sheets earlier, and climbed after her, hovering.
“I dreamed about this,” Penelope whispered.
“Me in your bed again?”
“You beneath me. Naked.”
Lucia smirked. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
Penelope leaned in and gently bit Lucia’s lower lip. Then, sitting astride Lucia’s hips, she pulled off her shirt.
“I like the way you think,” Lucia murmured, her hands trailing up Penelope’s torso to brush her fingers across her bra. “And this?”
“Still impatient, huh?”
“It’s not impatience.”
“No?”
“It’s desire.”
Lucia surged up, flipping them over in one swift motion. She straddled Penelope, peeling off her own shirt and bra before reaching for Penelope’s straps, sliding them down her shoulders. She slipped her fingers beneath the cups and dragged them down, brushing her thumbs over each nipple.
