Page 8

Chapter Eight

River Wattle

( Acacia cognata Fettucini)

A compact form of Acacia cognata and makes an attractive foliage plant all year round with its variegated weeping foliage which gives a wavy appearance. Small ball-shaped flowers appear in spring. Fairly self-sufficient.

“…a small native bush to put on my balcony. Something not too outlandish.”

“Got the very plant right over here.” Lucas gestured for the woman to follow him and I blended into the fernery to eavesdrop on his interaction. They stopped at a collection of mini natives potted into blue ceramic pots. “This is the Acacia cognata Fettucini . Pretty hard to kill if that’s what you’re after as well.”

The woman laughed. “I’m not too bad at keeping plants alive, but an anti-death plant sounds self-sufficient and hardy. Thanks.”

“No worries. Which one do you want? That one,” he pointed to a pot at the back, “looks the healthiest, although no plant would be game to be sick on Angel’s watch.”

I rolled my lips in.

“Angel?” The woman reached over and picked up the plant.

“The owner.” Lucas began walking towards the counter. “Did you want anything else?”

I knew I had a unicorn working for me because Lucas was incredibly chatty, and based on what I knew, teenage boys generally only spoke in a melodic sequence of grunts.

The woman waved her debit card over the card reader, waited for the beep of joy from the machine, and picked up the potted plant.

I drifted forward as she left.

“You’re going to need a raise if you continue schmoozing the customers like that.”

He grinned. “I’m emulating my mighty leader.”

I laughed. “Just to forewarn you. I’m holding at bay a very interested Pip who can’t wait to Tarot you.”

He squinted. “Is it my turn?”

“Nope. But apparently you and Kadee having coffee last week has piqued her interest and she is desperate to see what the cards say.”

“Oh, geez. Okay. I’ll drop by this afternoon, otherwise she’ll bug me to death.”

“Can I ask a personal question?”

“Sure.” He leaned against the counter.

“How’s it going with Kadee?” I’d gone into mum-mode. Not just for Kadee, but for Lucas. They were my kids, like all the Bonsai Brainiacs, and my interest in this budding relationship was rather parental.

He pursed his lips, then folded his arms. “It’s nice. I like her a lot. I know that she’s one of yours and I’m—we’re taking it slow. Lots of conversation and coffee. And cake.” He grinned, then sobered. “I’ll take care of her heart, no matter where things go, Angel.”

“I know.” I patted his bicep. “Take care of yours, too.”

* * *

Speaking of taking care of hearts, Steph turned the heat up a notch a bit later in the week.

“Are you interested in dinner at my place?” Steph’s mouth quirked up into a soft smile.

I leaned over my hands that were splayed on the potting table. “Hmm. Let’s see. A hot woman who keeps kissing me wants to have dinner with me at her house.” I hummed and looked at the roof. “Ooh. I’m not?—”

Steph took a step towards the table, caught up her shoulder-length blonde hair in her fingertips, and smoothed it behind her ears, then leaned over her hands as well so our faces were brought closer.

“I can guarantee excellent food. I make a great paella.”

I brought my gaze back and looked into her eyes. “Will there be dessert?”

“Depends on what type of dessert you like.”

Our gaze never wavered. “I don’t think I’m ready for that type of dessert yet,” I whispered.

Steph brought her lips to brush against mine. “Just as well I’m not ready either.”

Our lips touched again, then we pushed and softly pulled in the timeless actions of a toe-curling kiss. Then she slipped her tongue into my mouth and I nearly levitated through the roof.

I pulled away, breathing quickly.

“Dinner sounds great. I’ll bring dessert.” I ran my finger over the knuckles in her hand. “The edible kind.” Then I jerked my hand away. “Oh! The, you know, the bought-from-the-store edible kind.”

I must have blushed a decent shade of crimson, because Steph laughed softly then kissed me again. “I am enjoying you. I’ll cook. You bring dessert.” Then she picked up my hand and drew circles in my palm. “How about tomorrow night at seven? You know where I live. Buzz for apartment eight.”

The hand-holding, finger-spirals, whisper-murmuring, and eye-contact were sending goosebumps rippling across my skin. Steph spotted the hairs standing to attention on my arm. She narrowed her eyes and grinned, then she leaned past my face to whisper in my ear. “You’re not the only one with reactions like that, Angel Whitlock.”

Gah. What was it about a woman saying my full name that reduced me to a liquified mess? So damn sexy.

Steph left, after another soft kiss, and I stared at the table not really looking at anything at all. I wondered when I’d be ready for the fancy dessert. Maybe soon. Steph was incredibly desirable, incredibly sexy, and it wasn’t as if I was a lost cause in the bedroom. In fact, I regarded myself quite skilled. But this thing with Steph felt like it needed tending with soft movements. I had no idea why.

Meanwhile, I needed to think of a dessert and a gift. A gift that said, “Hi. Thanks for the invitation. I like you. This is all very fast but I like the speed. Please put your lips on my lips and maybe other bits. You’re so ridiculously attractive. Dinner was awesome.”

I wondered what type of gift said all that.

* * *

It was Ted who gave me the answer.

“Is she a reader?”

I squinted at him. “Based on absolutely no information whatsoever, I guess so.”

“Books are always appreciated. Even if the person doesn’t read them, they generally like the way the books look artsy on a bookshelf.”

I laughed. “I reckon I’m right that Steph will enjoy reading what I give her.” I slid past a pile of books precariously perched on the edge of the step ladder and wandered up to Ted’s small but growing queer fiction collection. I ran my finger along the spines. It was a visceral sensation of happiness when I huddled into a shelf, touched the books, and angled each one out so the title was revealed before I pushed it back into place.

“Ooh,” I whispered, tugging out the new Milena McKay. I propped that against the line of books, then chose a sapphic thriller and a romantic comedy that sounded like fun after reading the blurb. I bundled all three into my hands and went to pay.

“No need, Angel love.”

“Yes need, Ted darling,” I countered, glaring at him, and he laughed.

“Righto, then. Next time I visit Dig It, I expect to pay as well.”

I tapped my card, then held up the three books as a sort of salute. “No chance.”

* * *

I opened the pannier and grabbed the bag holding the hand-crafted vanilla bean ice cream and the books wrapped in silvery paper and a crossed ribbon, then I made my way into the foyer of Steph’s apartment block.

I stopped when I got to the panel of intercom buttons bearing people’s names. Apartment eight’s button was nestled in amongst the thirty-two options listed in four vertical lines. I blinked. Thirty-two apartments. The building was a decent size but seemed much taller than only eight storeys if I was working on a standard apartment block arrangement of four units per floor.

I walked back out onto the footpath, looked up, and silently counted. Sixteen. That meant only two apartments per floor. Wow. I was right. This area was swanky.

I wandered inside, mentally preparing myself for Steph’s huge apartment. A tiny wave of imposter syndrome reared its head.

“It’s Steph and she inherited the apartment and it’s not her fault she lives like a rich person, because she doesn’t act like it, so shut up,” I mumbled to myself as I poked at the button next to the name ‘Thatcher’.

“Hi,” said Steph, her voice tinny in the intercom. “Come on up.”

After a brief trip in the lift, and a knock on her door, I was welcomed with the lovely sight of Steph in jeans, a light cashmere jumper, and bare feet. Swoon.

I pointed to her feet. “You have a beach in your apartment?”

Steph looked down and laughed. “No, but I do have wooden floors.”

“Ooh. Yes, please.” I toed off my low cut motorcycle boots, picked them up, then crossed the threshold and left the boots inside the door with my jacket.

I handed her the bag and the parcel. “These are for you. Dessert. The fancy kind of ice cream that comes in teeny tubs so I bought two. And the parcel is to say thank you.”

“For what?”

I stepped closer, my socks sliding a little on the polished floorboards. I reached up and pulled her face towards mine, then lightly kissed her lips. “For dinner. For you. For just because.” I peppered her lips with more soft kisses at each statement. She grinned, then hugged me, the bag holding the ice cream swishing softly at my back.

“Well, I accept any and all gifts. Thank you.” She pointed into the apartment. “Make yourself at home. I’ll pop this into the freezer.”

Making myself at home meant following Steph to the kitchen because I had taken a look at the lounge room on the way and it looked like a space that needed a tour before making myself comfortable. Knick knacks, photos, books—yay!—and beautiful furniture. The kitchen was just as lush and just as homey. I hitched myself onto a stool at the marble bench and cupped my chin in my hands, then Steph dragged around another stool and mimicked my pose. Our faces were close.

“What’s for dinner?” I asked quietly.

“Lamb shanks in red wine.” Steph raised an eyebrow

“Really? That’s one of my favourite meals.” Steph was ticking boxes. So, so many boxes. The other type of dessert was a strong possibility.

“Do you want to open your gift?” I asked, and Steph’s face broke into a delighted smile.

“Absolutely.” She sprang off the stool and fossicked about in the second-from-the-top cutlery drawer, then stood, brandishing a pair of scissors like an adorable serial killer.

Snipping aside the ribbon, she tore through the wrapping and squeaked at the books.

“I haven’t got any of these! Thank you.” Then she pointed the scissors at me. “Ted?”

“Yes. I’ve convinced him that the entire sapphic population of Melbourne will flood into his shop if he stocked all indie and small press authors as well as the mainstream ones. He wholeheartedly agreed and prepared sandbags of books ready for the onslaught.”

Steph leaned over the counter and kissed me.

“Thank you. You’re very sweet.”

“I’m a giant marshmallow.”

“Yes.” She giggled and grabbed my hand, leading me into the lounge. I was right. It did require a tour. There were pictures of her parents, of places she’d travelled to, piles of books arranged artfully and one bookshelf holding sapphic books where every title was categorised by trope.

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. I take my pseudo-librarian role seriously,” Steph threw a mock frown at me, and I laughed. It was lovely. The hand-holding, the shoulders bumping, the occasional kiss, the quiet voices. I loved all of it.

Steph ran her finger along the spines of the books, then made little spaces to house her new novels.

“You should wear sexy glasses when you do that. It’d be like you’re cosplaying a trope.”

Steph laughed. “I should. Too bad I don’t need glasses, but it’s definitely a thought. Maybe on your next visit, I’ll shuffle a shelf or two then sort the books wearing tweed and lens-free spectacles.”

I looked at her, then fell about laughing. “Oh my god. The specifics.”

Steph joined in with laughter of her own. “Right. Dinner.”

Still with my hand clutched in hers, she brought me to the dining table. Scandinavian piece, I guessed.

“Sit. I’ll bring it over.”

Our conversation meandered throughout dinner. Catching glances, smiling, making serious eye-contact that, if we’d held it for too long, would have let our food go cold. As it was, we took our time to get to know each other over the meal.

Much later, as I ate a luscious mouthful of the creamy dessert, I asked the question that had been buzzing in my head for the evening. I’d spotted a framed picture of Steph’s parents but I’d not seen one photo of a man who looked like Steph anywhere in the lounge or kitchen. “What does your brother do? You rarely mention him at all.”

Steph looked at her placemat. “Oh…” A shadow seemed to pass over her face, then she stood to collect our bowls. “He’s in building development.” She gave me a tight smile, then bustled into the kitchen.

I nodded slowly. Okay. That was deliberately vague. Fancy address, brother in a potentially lucrative career, fluent Greek. I felt like, with my question, I’d helped close some shutters into Steph Thatcher’s heart and mind and that wasn’t what I wanted at all. But suddenly, with all the kisses and long looks and handholding and soft touches on arms and backs, I wanted to know everything about her. I knew she was beautiful, sexy, hot, empathetic and just a good person, but I wanted to know the who. The when. The why. The how.All of the how. Including how she’d gotten under my skin in the most sensual manner possible.

If I wasn’t careful, I’d be Steph’s something, and I’d been burned before when I’d been someone’s something. Yet how had she become so important to me in such a short time?

“Do you want a tour or is that a bit bougie?” Steph was at my shoulder.

I stood, and reached for her hand. Steph was nearly always the one instigating the hand-holding. I wanted my fair share.

She led me to the study which contained the overflow bookcase.

“I have an addiction,” she said, shaking her head with a grin.

“That’s okay. I collect plants. It’s why I sell them all. So I can buy more.”

She laughed.

“This is my room.”

It was muted pastel and white. I thought I knew enough about Steph to say that the room was very Steph. Classy, feminine but not overly. King size bed without fifty-gazillion pillows sprawled across the top of it

She waved at the bathroom door. “Toilet, bathroom, laundry, etc.”

Then just as we were about to breeze past what had to be the spare bedroom. Steph paused, shook her head, then tugged on my hand to lead me away.

“You okay?” I pulled her back.

“It’s just the spare room so no big deal.”

I paused. “Okay. Cool.” I stepped forward to make my way back to the kitchen, but Steph pressed her hand to my chest. She seemed to come to a decision.

“Promise you won’t be mad.”

“Depends on the thing. What am I not being mad about?”

She let go of my hand and opened the door. I was right. It was a spare bedroom but the bed had been pushed up against a wall so there was more floor space. There was a rather expensive-looking camera on a tripod, which was aimed at a portable green screen and a native Lilly Pilly had been arranged in the middle of a piece of black matting. A large roll of florist’s wire sat behind the tripod.

I looked quizzically at Steph who was holding her hands together, fingers entwined.

“So, you know that idea I had about the reels on Insta and the videos on TikTok? I know you said that it would be a waste of time, but you didn’t say no. Not really. But I wanted to have an attempt at doing it.” Steph’s hands and fingers were tightening their grip on themselves. “If it was a complete failure then so be it. But it hasn’t been. So NatsNatives presents info about native plants and mental health and accompanies it all with a dancing plant.” She ran out of breath.

I narrowed my eyes at Steph, then gazed at the equipment. “O-kay.” I drew out the word.

“Well, that right there is NatsNatives . Me. I’m Nat or my mother was. Natalie. She was the green thumb and I just thought that if…” Steph faded off because my face must have shown the conflicting emotions across my face. Surprise, slight sense of betrayal, sympathy. Probably impressed as well, when I really thought about it. All in a continuous loop.

“And no one else knows?”

“No. I nearly didn’t show you tonight. I debated all day and only just then at the door, did I know you’d be okay with this.” She grimaced. “I think.” Then she sighed. “I didn’t want you to think it was silly.”

I gently disentangled her fingers and held her hands. “I think it’s inspired. So much better than the QR TikTok videos thing that Benjamin Walker was going on about. This is educational, and fun, Steph. I really thought it would be a waste of time, but I was wrong,” I admitted. “It’s perfect.”

Steph blew out a breath.

I pointed to the little Lilly Pilly. “Is this your next star?” I asked with a wink, and space and time did that little narrowing and widening thing that they do when moments happen between two people who are highly attracted to each other. Steph’s lips parted slightly at my wink. Well, then. I added winking to the things that made Steph’s motor run.

“Yes. I’m going to add some text boxes about the spoons theory. The one about limited energy resources and how spoons represent both the physical and mental load required to complete tasks.This video’s about not taking too much on, as a human or as a plant.”

I stared at the plant. The whole idea was so clever, and to have made such as snap judgement about the videos’ worth simply because I didn’t want it to look like what Walker’s was doing was just plain stubborn.

Turning back to Steph, I blew out a breath. “You’re amazing.”

Steph grinned. “Want to help me make this video?”

“Okay.” I was starting to feel like I needed to be in Steph’s personal space every minute of every hour. Not just because of the kisses and sexy glances. But for the smiles, and the jokes, and the general goodness of her. The Lego block of attraction had joined with admiration, and now affection. Steph was addictive.

I was instructed to stand behind the camera and press the shutter on Steph’s command. She made minuscule adjustments to the tiny twigs and branches after each time I created a photo that wirelessly arrived on the computer monitor on the desk at the edge of the room.

“There. That should do it. I’ll put the info boxes in tomorrow,” Steph said, standing and brushing her hands over her thighs. She beckoned me to the monitor and we stood, bent over, heads nearly touching, as the software created a hilarious stop-motion video of a Lilly Pilly executing an extremely accurate version of the oscillating impact sprinkler dance.

I chuckled again then turned my head towards her, nearly brushing her cheek with my nose. “This is so cool,” I murmured. She drew back and smiled.

“I’m so glad you’re fine with this. As I said, my mum was the green thumb, and she was really into the idea that plants could heal people, or at least bring some comfort.” She leaned into me and together we stood, holding each other’s hands and smiling softly.

Then I lifted our combined hands to my lips.

“I’m not mad at all.” I kissed her knuckles. “In fact, it’s kind of a turn-on.” Then I shook my head in wonder. Steph was awesome. I released her hands and lifted mine to place them lightly on her waist. “I think you’re terrific,” I whispered. It was time to be bold. Shy, yet bold. I slowly slid my hands from Steph’s waist up, up to her ribs, then cupped her breasts.

The little hitch in her breath just about dissolved my kneecaps.

But I wanted more.

I angled my head so my kiss, which had started off as an ‘I like you’ kiss, turned into one that advertised ‘I’d like to fuck you’. My hands twisted into Steph’s hair. Her fingers wove themselves into mine. Then my hands were on her breasts, thumbs brushing across her nipples. I couldn’t get enough of her breath, her soft sighs, her hum of appreciation. A low moan. That might have been me.And still we kissed, and nibbled, and angled our heads so that more and the most could be drawn from our lips.

I caught Steph’s hands and, then holding fast eye contact, brought her index finger to my mouth and dragged my tongue from the base to the tip. Steph’s eyes blew wide.

“Angel,” she hissed.

I sucked the fingertip into my mouth.

I didn’t know about Steph’s situation—well, I could give a pretty good guess—but I was a hot, wet mess and I wanted to do something about it.

“I need you,” I stated, leaning up to kiss her jaw, then licking the length of her neck.

“Yes. Oh, god, please.”

“Take these off,” I said, stepping back and circling my finger at her clothing. Steph, her eyes hooded with desire, complied, undoing each item of clothing so that only her underwear remained. She reached behind to unhook her bra but I stepped forward and caught her wrists.

“How about I do that?” I murmured at her mouth, then kissed her deeply while I unhooked her bra and felt her breasts against my chest.

“Undies, now.”

Steph stepped back and with a teasing smile, slipped her thumbs into the sides of her underwear and slid them slowly down her legs.

“Your turn,” she said, with an arched eyebrow.

I stepped towards her again.

“Nope,” I growled. “What do you want?” I walked her backwards towards the bed. “I could just kiss you deeply, wantonly, or touch and fondle your breasts.” I continue to suck at her skin and kiss the lines of her collarbones, and all the while, Steph caught her breath in quick gasps. I pushed her gently onto the bed and scooted her into the middle. She reached for the buttons on my shirt but I clasped her hands in mine.

“Uh uh. This is all for you. Don’t touch. Be a good girl.”

Good girl . I’d never said that to a lover and I had no idea why it fell out but the words sparked something in me. An escalation of desire. It sparked something in Steph as well, because I was presented with another pair of wide eyes, pupils huge, accompanied by a bottom lip bite and nipple-puckering. Oh boy. I felt ten feet tall and bullet proof from the way that Steph’s gaze was devouring me.

I leant over her, my knee holding her leg bent, tight against my body. I slid my hand down to her sex, lightly touching her wet folds.

All the while kissing her jaw and her lips, stifling her moans.

“What do you want?”

“Angel,” she whimpered in between kisses. “I—God, fuck me, please.”

“I will but don’t come until I say so,” I said, and lightly bit her earlobe.

I played with her clit, pulling at it with my fingertips.

She gasped. “Angel! Oh, god. Please!”

“Not yet.”

I was so wet that I knew my undies were soaked but it didn’t matter. I wanted this to be all about Steph. I wanted to bring her to an orgasm that shook her entire being.

I gently pushed two fingers inside and the action caused Steph’s body to bow in pleasure, presenting me with her erect nipples to suckle and flick with my tongue.

Her chest and neck were flushed.

I fucked her slowly, pushing in, then pulling out completely, then pushing back in. All the while holding her gaze, her eyes wild with lust.

I withdrew my fingers until just the tips were inside Steph, then brushed my thumb over her clit. Her entire body jerked in pleasure.

“Yes. Yes. Angel, I need?—”

I thrummed against her clit, then pressed my lips to her ear.

“You’ve been such a good girl. Would you like to come?”

Who the hell was I? This dominant, fully clothed being. This lover. I didn’t even know myself. But I liked it.

“Yes. Please,” Steph moaned, her breath coming in short gasps.

I held her there at the edge for one more flick, then I whispered, “Now.”

It was like a lightning bolt ignited Steph’s body. She shouted as she came, shuddering and grunting through her teeth. She clung to my shoulders, clutching at the fabric of my shirt as I eased her through her orgasm, soft push-pull movements with my fingers, the aftershocks rippling through her muscles. Finally, her eyes found mine and I smiled.

“You are so very, very gorgeous,” I murmured.

I received a soft smile in return.

“I thought we weren’t having this type of dessert yet,” Steph said, her eyes hazy with post-orgasmic bliss.

“I was greedy.”

She laughed, then raised an eyebrow. “I want just as much.”

Steph pushed up to deliver a scorching kiss, her tongue playing with mine, then, when I pulled back, breathless, I took in the sight of Steph resting on her elbows, legs splayed, muscles loose. Oh my.

My expression must have been a news bulletin because Steph giggled. “I need you and your clothes separated.” Then she sobered and sat up, turning to face me on the bed. “Oh! Unless, you know, you want to stay dressed. That’s totally?—”

I kissed her. “I have no idea at all why I’m still wearing clothes,” I whispered, and Steph giggled again.

I climbed off the bed and feeling emboldened by Steph’s gaze, undid the buttons on my shirt, pulling my arms from the sleeves, unzipping my jeans and slipping them off my legs, and over my feet. Socks, bra, and undies all went in record time, and suddenly I was nude. In all my glory.

Steph licked her lips, her body lying supine.

“Oh, Angel. You are gorgeous as well. Get on this bed right now,” she commanded with a grin, and her tone did things to my libido. Talk about revved up. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who became aroused with a bit of dominance and direct instruction.

She shuffled over and patted the space next to her. We faced each other and smiled. Then kissed. Then touched, drawing our fingertips in lazy lines over hips, dipping into waists, and up over the ribs in each other’s torsos. Finally, Steph circled one of my nipples, trailing her fingers around in ever widening circles until she cupped my breast.

“I think I’m in love with your boobs,” she stated matter of factly, and I laughed.

“They’re big enough to handle any type of love.” I looked down at her hand as she squeezed the shape of my breast.

“Lie down,” Steph said, gazing at me with her eyes dark with lust. I couldn’t say no. I rolled onto my back and Steph sat up then straddled my waist, leaning over to kiss me. My hands fluttered at her breasts, ribs, and settled on her upper thighs, my fingers splayed over her skin. Steph’s hair tickled my face, and I smiled into her kiss.

“You taste like vanilla and something exotic,” I said, kissing her quickly, both of us peppering each other with our lips.

Then Steph held my face in her hands. “Angel. Are you okay with me tasting you?”

Apparently, asking for permission to go down on me was an aphrodisiac because suddenly I was even more wet than I had been.

“Yes, please.” I held her gaze as she slithered down my body, stopping at my breasts, pushing them together so she could dart her tongue between the nipples. It was exquisite and my breathlessness was evident, because Steph looked up, tongue pointed, and deliberately slowed down, grinning wickedly as she tended to each nipple.

Bloody hell. So hot.

Then time stood still as Steph hovered over my pelvis, pushed my knees apart, and dived into my sex. She held on to my thighs, grabbing handfuls of my flesh.

I kept my head up to watch. I normally don’t like how my body looks all flattened out, with the soft rounded lower belly still there even lying down. But right then, it didn’t matter. How could I not look? A beautiful woman with eyes only for me was teasing me, tonguing me, sending me on the fast track to a thundering orgasm.Steph was unbelievably sexy. I was sexy. The whole situation was sexy as fuck.

And again Steph met my eyes, holding my gaze as she lightly flicked the tip of her tongue over the hood of my clit.A grunt-moan sort of noise forced itself out of my mouth. I couldn’t even get my bearings because Steph was licking, and sucking, and teasing, and it was all so much that I came like a runaway train.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck! Yes!” I clutched at the doona, the back of Steph’s head, the edge of the bed, back to the doona. I didn’t know what to hold on to but it didn’t matter, really. Steph had hold of me and she was taking me for a ride.

Finally, after giving my clit another quick flick with her tongue which sent a remaining shudder through my body, she made her way up and snuggled into the crook of my neck.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” she said.

“Right now, I’m tachycardic. Christ, Steph. That was incredible.”

I felt her smile against my skin.

“I’ve read enough sapphic novels to get the gist but I had absolutely no idea I needed to hear ‘good girl’. But, I really, really like it,” Steph whispered.

I chuckled and the movement jostled her head.

She pulled back to look at me. “Will you stay the night?” There was vulnerability in her question.

“I’d love to.”