Chapter 52: We are going to be fine, you and I

Jane chuckled. “To the labs, milady.”

Amber crammed her hat back on, pulling the brim so far down, she had to tilt her head back to see where she was going.

Jane opened her mouth to tell her not to worry about it but stopped herself. It would be less than ideal if any faculty member saw Amber getting into Jane’s car. Less than a week until the job interview. Then some of this madness can stop.

They made it to the safety of the car interior without being discovered. Jane fumbled with the keys. It was so quiet and still in the intimate space that she could hear Amber’s breathing. She was desperate to kiss her, but there was still a tiny chance someone might see.

Amber didn’t make any move to initiate contact either.

As Jane drove, they chatted about the Idol publicity, Jane’s upcoming job interview, and Teddy’s exploits at the Oxford Street bars and pubs. It was easy, like talking on the phone with her, but desire was building up inside Jane like a volcano about to blow. That damn yellow T-shirt isn’t helping.

In Jane’s townhouse, with the door shut behind them, Jane flicked on the hallway light. She squinted against the brightness after the dark outside but was glad to be able to look at Amber properly. Jane could tell she was tired from travelling—the crow’s feet were a little more prominent, and there were hints of dark shadows under her eyes, but only if you got up close enough to be able to see them.

Jane got close enough, and fierce gratitude burned through her. She put her hand to Amber’s face and ran a gentle thumb over her smile lines.

Amber’s lips parted.

Jane kissed her and pulled her close. She tried to make up for all the many times she should have kissed and held Amber out in the world since they had met. She gripped her waist, and Amber’s stomach let out a ravenous grumble.

They both smiled.

“Sorry,” Amber said. “I haven’t eaten since Sydney.”

“Don’t apologise. What kind of host am I? I haven’t even offered you water. Just accosted you half a meter inside the front door.”Amber pressed her lips to Jane’s cheek. “Don’t you apologise. Accost me until the cows come home if you make it feel that good.”

“Let’s order some food. I’ve been so busy with work, there’s absolutely nothing in the house.”

Later, when they were sitting on the couch with full bellies, Jane put her arm around Amber.

Amber snaked her arm across Jane’s belly and rested her head against Jane’s chest.

Could this be my life all the time? A forceful longing for the possibility took hold of her. But it was soon squashed down and chased away by fear. Things as perfect as Amber didn’t happen to people like Jane.

“Your heart’s going a mile a minute,” Amber said. She looked up, tender concern written all over her face.

Jane searched her eyes. Safety, affection—all the feelings coursing through Jane were reflected back. The evidence in front of her pointed to the conclusion that Amber felt the same way about her. But people had a habit of twisting and slipping through Jane’s fingers. There was no way to predict or prevent it. Her fear whispered that this was better evidence— based on proven history and not unpredictable, quicksilver emotions.

“I–I’m sorry. I’m in my head a little bit,” Jane said. Her heart started to pound uncomfortably, and pressure built up in her throat and behind her eyes.

“Hey now. Shhh-sh-shh.” Amber ran her hand through Jane’s hair. “Don’t worry. You’re OK. You know what we can do?”

Jane shook her head.

“We can pull down our glass dome. Remember? Here.” She reached up and pulled the imaginary dome down over the both of them. “Better?”

Jane nodded, not trusting herself to talk yet.

Amber rested her head against Jane’s chest again and put both arms around her.

The dome was helping. Jane focused on Amber’s body against hers. Nothing else, for now.

The panic receded.

“There,” Amber said as Jane’s heartbeat slowed to a normal human rhythm.

They sat for a bit, just hugging and breathing. Jane ran her hand down Amber’s back. “I remember this shirt. You were wearing it when you came to Barbara and Bill’s.” The words were little more than a murmur because Jane didn’t want to move her chin from where it was pressed into Amber’s hair.

“The day I met Selena Gomez. Of course. How funny you remember what I was wearing. You usually don’t clock outfits.”

“You’re right. I have a specific memory of this one, though. You were looking out the living room window, and I noticed, well, you wear this shirt well. Extremely well. It clings in all the right places.”

Amber’s hand clenched into a fist, taking hold of Jane’s work shirt. “Oh. How very interesting.” She sat up, a glint in her eye. “Are you sure this is the same one?” She reached up under the back of the shirt and undid her bra, pulling it out below her left armpit and dropping it to the floor.

Jane’s breathing grew heavy as her eyes roved over the shape of Amber’s breasts under the thin, soft fabric. “Well.” Her voice came out as a rasp, and she cleared her throat. “It’s very important we get to the bottom of this. I’ll need to investigate further.” She pressed her lips to Amber’s jawline, then breathed on her neck, teasing the sensitive skin there with her tongue.

Amber groaned and threw her head back.

Jane ran her thumb with agonising slowness over Amber’s nipple. It hardened at her touch.

Desire thudded in Jane’s body. She pressed Amber against the couch and took her nipple, fabric and all, in her mouth.

Amber gasped and gripped Jane’s back with both hands.

Jane looked up, resting her chin on Amber’s stomach. “I’m getting your T-shirt all wet. Is that okay?”

Amber laughed and wrapped her legs around Jane’s hips. “I can wash the shirt, Jane. I’ll burn the damn shirt! Just keep going.”

Jane grinned and did what she was told.