DESTINED AFFECTION

TWENTY THREE

"If Terry were alive," Phyllis said evenly, without the slightest hint of censure, "you wouldn't be here. Not like this."

"I wouldn't want to be." Camila's voice was gentle, her expression calm.

"I know that." Phyllis smiled softly and patted Camila's shoulder gently. "And that's exactly why I'm glad that you are."

Camila released a long slow breath. "Thank you. That means a lot to me, but it will mean much more to Lauren."

Phyllis tilted her head, regarding Camila fondly. "You seem to understand her very well. Why is that, do you think?"

"I don't know. I felt something the minute I saw her, some... connection." She shrugged, frustrated for the first time. "I can't put words to it, but it doesn't seem like I need to. Not to me. It just feels...right."

"I think you put, just exactly the right words to it, dear." Phyllis picked up her coffee cup. "I expect that Lauren will be right down. I'm going to go home, take a long bath, and see if I can't talk a certain gentlemen into a late-night drive."

"Good luck," Camila called after her as Phyllis descended the back porch steps and disappeared around the corner toward her own half of the house. Soft laughter and what sounded like You, too floated back to her on the breeze.

Smiling, Camila returned to the kitchen, rinsed her coffee mug, and turned it upside down on the drain board. When she turned around, Lauren was watching her from the doorway into the hall.

"I came downstairs to tell Phyllis I was running late." Lauren's voice was husky and low.

The breath flew from Camila's chest and her stomach dropped like an elevator cut free from its cable. Lauren, her hair still wet from the shower, wore a pale green silk robe that came to midthigh, belted at the waist. She was barefoot, and faint drops of moisture had soaked through the material just beneath the swell of her breasts.

Camila could imagine the dampness anointing the smooth skin and her own burst to life, tingling with a fine sheen of perspiration. Throat suddenly dry, she gestured toward the back door. "She just left."

"Good timing." Lauren leaned her shoulder against the door frame, enjoying the stunned expression on Camila's face. The brunette had changed into black jeans and a blue cotton shirt, and she looked lean and beautiful and coiled tight as a spring. Lauren had an irresistible urge to make her snap. She pushed away from the door, saying, "Kyle's asleep. Once she goes down, she never wakes up."

Camila was rooted to the spot. She had just enough time to utter "You're sure?" before Lauren fisted her hands in Camila's shirt front and spun her against the refrigerator.

"I'm very sure." Lauren pressed against the length of Camila's body and with her lips brushing Camila's, murmured, "I've been wanting to do this since Ally's."

Then Lauren took Camila's mouth with a fury that surprised them both. The later closed her eyes and let Lauren claim her, opening herself, body and soul. She felt the force of Lauren's tongue searching her mouth for connection and met the probing thrusts with equal fervor. When Lauren drove a hand between them and cupped her palm between Camila's thighs, squeezing steadily, Camila swallowed a moan and lifted her hips, giving Lauren whatever she demanded. Lauren tore her lips away, and Camila gasped, reeling and unsteady.

"We'll be...safer, though," Lauren panted, her vision dimmed by a hunger that nearly consumed her rational mind, "behind... closed doors."

"God, yes." Trembling, Camila nodded. "I can't think..I... Jesus, I need you to touch me."

"I know, baby," Lauren crooned, rocking her hips once more into Camila as she stroked her face and ran a fingertip over her parted lips. "I know."

Camila whimpered as another surge of painfully sweet pleasure cut through her. Desperately, she cupped Lauren's hips, needing the contact. "We have to go now. I don't trust myself down here."