Even Lovers Drown

Warmth radiated from the nude body pressed against Saylor. Comforting, safe. Smooth skin brushed smooth skin, brushed the heavy comforter. Limbs locked them together in a tangled mess. Blake's breasts acted as a cushion for Saylor, the steady rise and fall threatening to lull her back to sleep. Rays peeked through their curtains, the sun preparing to start its early morning. Bird chirps dotted the silence. Perfect.

Content, Saylor sighed, rubbing her legs absentmindedly against fabric and skin. She peered up at Blake. Beautiful blue eyes hid behind closed eyelids. Long lashes rested on her cheek. Her lips parted. She was fast asleep, recuperating from their long shower. A lazy smile tugged Saylor's lips. She did that, exhausted Blake during their bath-time.

But there had been more to their shower than illicit touches under steaming water. Touching Blake, being touched by Blake, she regained a part of herself, found strength to overcome more of Katie's abuse. She was healing. She was growing. And Blake was her unknowing savior.

Blake deserved to know.

She needed to. For a stable relationship. Katie, the destruction she caused on Saylor’s mentality, couldn’t remain a secret forever. Saylor had to tell her, no matter how terrified she was of having the conversation.

Blake would understand. She confided in Saylor, told her possibly her darkest secret. Events painful to relive, no doubt, but she told her. Because she wanted their relationship to be something more than a silly tour fling. She was letting Saylor in, and Saylor would have to let her in, too. Everything would be fine. Blake wouldn’t abandon her.

Her mental reassurance was not calming her nerves.

Could she help it? She liked Blake. More than she ever thought she would. She didn’t want to lose her over a past relationship, over her stupidity.

The phone on the bedside table rang, obnoxious tone jolting Saylor from her musings. Blake stirred, pulled her closer, but didn’t wake. Sage didn’t seem to be disturbed by the noise at all, her bed making no noise to indicate disgruntled movement. Heavy sleepers undisturbed by the consistent tone.

Saylor wiggled in Blake’s hold, slacking her grip enough to twist her upper body and grab the nuisance of a phone.

Placing the receiver against her ear, she said, “Hello?”

“Hey, Saylor. It’s Andy,” the familiar voice of Say Goodbye’s manager pumped through the speakers. “This is your room’s wakeup call. You ladies have an hour to get ready. Breakfast is going to be in the hotel room’s dining area.”

The early morning wakeup call. That was supposed to come from the front desk. Not Andy. He didn’t seem able to give up control enough to let the hotel staff make the calls, decided to take it upon himself to make sure every room was woken.

“Sounds fantastic,” Saylor responded.

“Good luck waking Sage and Blake. If you need help, call Hayden and Hunter’s room. The twin terrors can wake anyone up.”

Advice the hotel couldn’t provide. Maybe Andy’s need to make each wakeup call was for the best. The hotel staff, qualified as they were, had no idea how to handle each room. Andy knew how to keep everyone in line, could prepare a specialized wakeup for each person who answered the phone. Especially for the members of Say Goodbye. And he could easily employ Davy’s help in getting calls made in a timely manner.

She chuckled. “Dully noted.”

“I think that’s it. See you downstairs.”

“Sure thing. Bye.”

“Bye.”

She dropped the phone on its cradle, the loud click of plastic hitting plastic ending the call. Relaxing back into Blake’s hold, she stared at her sleeping face. Innocent. Sweet. Hardly different from the Blake she knew, the Blake she adored.

Gently, Saylor stroked her cheek, the pads of her fingers dancing on soft skin. Blake fidgeted, her closed eyelids clenched, but she didn’t wakeup.

“Hey,” Saylor whispered. Blake’s eyelids opened a sliver, a peak of blue to acknowledge her voice. “We have to get up.”

No response. Just an unwavering stare through cracked eyelids. Her dream world shattered, she wasn’t awake enough to comprehend Saylor’s statement or her surroundings.

But reality fell into place, slow process made obvious by the feet playing with hers beneath the comforter.

“No,” Blake mumbled, closing her eyes and burying her face in Saylor’s collarbone.

“Blake—”

“No.”

She snuggled closer, her grip tightening around Saylor’s waist. Breath hit her collar in slower, even puffs. And the feet beneath the comforter didn’t stop moving, brushed and tickled Saylor’s feet.

Faker.

“Well, I’m getting out of bed,” Saylor announced.

The tight hold around her waist didn’t relent to allow her leave from their bed, and Blake didn’t drop her sleep charade despite her moving feet. Like a stubborn child who didn’t want to let go of her teddy bear.

Saylor didn’t mind being Blake’s teddy bear. Had it been any other day, back home, she would have ignored her responsibilities to stay in bed. Safe, warm, cherished in Blake’s arms. She’d let the day waste away in lazy lounging, held by a woman who she meant so much to.

Too bad they had breakfast to attend, Andy’s strategic roll call.

Arms hooked around her waist, legs threaded through hers, head buried in the crook of her neck, Saylor was trapped in bed, trapped in Blake. Slipping out of the snug hold would be impossible and pushing Blake, exerting any threatening physical force on her, was out of the question. Seduction, as tempting as it sounded, would encourage her. Even with Sage in the next bed, Saylor was sure Blake would only respond to her touch, not stop her. She couldn’t coax her out of bed, whisper sweet words in her ear until she finally roused.

But she could use her parents’ personal favorite coercion technique: withhold Blake’s metaphorical dessert.

“Hey,” Saylor whispered, breath tickling Blake’s ear. “The sooner you get up, the sooner we get to eat and the happier I’ll be. The happier I am, the more fun we get to have in your bunk.”

She drew circles on Blake’s bare skin, feather-light touch accenting her statement. With each rotation, her fingers dropped farther. Closer and closer to Blake’s wet slit. And Blake squirmed under her touch. Her eyelids remained squeezed shut, her moving feet hooked around Saylor’s legs, her arms seemed to tighten.

“But if you don’t get up,” Saylor continued, “we’re going to be late and I’m going to be upset and I won’t want to play in your bunk.”

Her fingers stopped, barely touching the thatch of curls between Blake’s thighs, and moved back up the recently scaled skin to rest innocently on Blake’s stomach. Silence followed, complete stillness. Even Blake’s breathing seemed to stop at the empty threat.

Saylor wouldn’t punish herself in an attempt to get Blake to cooperate. No matter how upset being late could make her, she’d never deny the opportunity to touch and be touched intimately. By Blake.

Only by Blake.

Finally, a low groan of defeat rang in Blake’s throat. Her hold slacked, legs untangling, arms releasing their tight grasp, until Saylor was completely free and Blake was sprawled on the mattress. Her eyes remained shut, a desperate attempt to regain sleep.

Chuckling, Saylor kissed the tip of Blake’s nose and raised from their bed, the air conditioner nipping at her as the comforter fell from her body. Blake didn’t move, remained laid out on their bed, comforter askew, her eyes shut, with all the stubbornness of a child being awoken for school. Shaking her head, in only a loving manner, Saylor walked to her overnight bag. She’d let her attempt to sleep a little longer. Long enough for her to get dressed. Then, she’d work on waking Sage.

She figured Sage would be an easier person to rouse. Something about her demeanor screamed she was a better early morning riser than Blake. At the very least, she didn’t seem the type to give Saylor much trouble.

She unzipped her bag, yanked out her clothing for the day—a pair of ripped jeans and a tank top—and rooted around the bottom of her bag for her undergarments buried somewhere beneath the mess of toiletries. Firm hands slid over her raised bottom, shocking her into a straightened position. Her back hit soft breasts, a nose nuzzled her hair, the wandering hands left her behind and hooked around her waist.

“You win,” Blake mumbled into her messy locks.

Sighing, Saylor relaxed in her arms, simply enjoying the loving embrace. So domestic, to be held first thing in the morning by someone she was so fond of. This is what she had always wanted. Just to feel cherished.

She turned her head to look at Blake, the move met by a kiss before she could catch those lovely blue eyes. Swollen lips against swollen lips in a gentle peck. When she pulled away, love shone in Blake’s beautiful eyes, absolutely unadulterated. Saylor’s chest tightened under the look, her lungs clenched, she thought she might cry.

“Good morning,” Blake whispered and kissed the corner of her lip.

And tears did dribble from her eyes, streaks of overflowing happiness dancing down her cheeks.