Page 76 of Frosted Fakes

It wasn't gentle. This was hunger and relief and need. Elliott made a surprised sound against her mouth, then her hands were in Julia's hair, pulling her closer, and Julia forgot to think about anything except this.

Her fingers found the buttons of Elliott's shirt. The first slipped free, then the second. Elliott's skin was warm underneath, her heart racing against Julia's palm.

Elliott pulled back, breathing hard. "Julia. Wait."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to…" God, had she messed things up again?

"Why do you want this?" Elliott's voice was rough. "Why get involved with someone like me? I'm difficult. Grumpy. Hard to be with. Everyone says so."

"You're strong," Julia said. "And independent. That's not the same thing as being difficult."

"Julia—"

"I have feelings for you. Real ones. Not fake-girlfriend feelings." She held Elliott's gaze steadily. "I want you. All of you. Even the grumpy parts."

Elliott's expression shifted into something softer. Then, unexpectedly: "Tell me, are you better in bed than you are in the kitchen?"

Julia grinned. "Why don't we find out?"

Elliott laughed, warm and surprised, and pulled her toward the bedroom.

The room was small, bathed in amber evening light. Julia had spent weeks on that wretched couch, stealing glances at this space. Now she was here, and Elliott was here, and suddenly, there was nowhere in the world she’d rather be.

They stood facing each other at the foot of the bed. Elliott's fingers were sure as she slipped Julia's cardigan from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Then she worked the buttons of Julia's blouse, one by one, unhurried. Julia shivered as the fabric parted, suddenly self-conscious.

"If I’d have known, I’d have worn nicer underwear," Julia muttered, glancing down at her plain cotton bra.

"I don't care what you're wearing." Elliott pushed the blouse off Julia's shoulders. "I care what's underneath."

She reached around and unclasped Julia's bra. Julia's breath caught as the cool air hit her bare skin. But Elliott was looking at her with something like reverence, her gaze traveling slowly over Julia's body.

"You're beautiful," Elliott said.

"Flatterer."

"I don't flatter." Elliott bent her head and pressed a kiss to Julia's collarbone. "I state facts."

Her lips traced a path across Julia's chest, warm and soft. Julia's hands went to Elliott's shirt, finishing what she'd started in the kitchen. She pushed the fabric back, revealing lean muscle and scattered tattoos, ink she'd glimpsed but never properly seen. A compass on her shoulder blade. Sprigs of herbs along her ribs. Stories written on skin.

"These are beautiful," Julia whispered, tracing the rosemary on Elliott's hip.

"Milly's favorite herb. Got it when I was nineteen."

Julia kissed the spot, felt Elliott's stomach muscles tense beneath her lips. She kissed her way up along the curve of Elliott's ribs, between her breasts, up the column of her throat. Elliott's head tipped back, a soft sound escaping her.

They tumbled onto the bed together, shedding the rest of their clothes in a tangle of limbs and warm skin. Julia ended up beneath Elliott, looking up at her. Elliott's dark hair fell around them like a curtain, and her eyes were soft in a way Julia had never seen before.

"Hi," Julia whispered.

"Hi yourself."

Elliott kissed her, slow and deep, taking her time. Her hands touching Julia's body with deliberate care. The curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, the soft skin of her inner thigh. Julia arched into her touch, wanting more.

"Patience," Elliott murmured against her mouth.

"Don't have any."

"I've noticed."