A Recipe for Regret by Ryann Fletcher

Author:Ryann Fletcher [Ryann Fletcher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ryann Fletcher
Published: 2022-03-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 30

Rosie opened her door to find Delia, her face flushed, her eyes glistening with tears. “Dee?” she asked. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Rose…”

“Come in, don’t stand out there in the corridor, someone might see—”

“What if I said that I didn’t care anymore?”

“I’d ask how you managed to smuggle whiskey aboard the station.” Rosie closed the door and leaned against it, her brow furrowed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“You.”

Rosie laughed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I know that you don’t want this—me—anymore, and I know that I deserve that,” Delia said, reaching out for Rosie before pulling back, tentative, almost shy. “I know that I ruined whatever life we might have had, once.”

“Why are you saying these things?”

“I never stopped thinking about you, Rosie. Every day we’ve been apart has been like an ache in my chest. I thought about you in every moment, I yearned for you. I built a wall inside myself to block out the pain. But the moment I saw you here on this station, that all started to fall away.” Delia reached out again, resting her fingertips on Rosie’s hips, her touch so light it was almost like a summer breeze.

“Dee…” Rosie started, but her words faltered. She never had been very good at resisting her, not when they were teenagers at school, and not when they were starting careers a decade ago. The passion, and the insistent hunger, pulled her to the brink every time.

“I won’t, if you don’t want me to.”

“Won’t what?” Rosie whispered.

“Kiss you.”

“Only if you can promise that you won’t leave again.”

“I promise that I’ll do whatever you want until the end of time,” Delia breathed, pressing herself closer, pulling at Rosie’s hips. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anything in my entire life.”

“You are an impossible woman to resist,” Rosie said, tilting Delia’s chin upwards, before kissing her soft and slow, their lips lingering. “I can’t decide if coming out here was my best idea, or my worst.” Her hands found Delia’s waist, and then the waistband of her trousers, where she rested her thumbs while pulling her closer.

Delia’s hands drifted down, and then snaked up Rosie’s skirts, running her hands over the soft, dimpled flesh, pulling a quiet gasp from her lips. What could be more all-encompassing than the feel of the only woman you’d ever really loved, pressing, and pulling, and begging without words to be swallowed whole?

“We should be careful,” Rosie said, finally coming up for air between kisses. “What if—”

“Shh,” Delia hushed, pressing a finger to Rosie’s lips before letting her own rest against Rosie’s neck, kissing gently, her hot, eager breath panting against bare skin.

Small moans emitted from Rosie’s throat, unintentional yet unrestrained. She’d waited years for Delia to return to her, and now they were together again, after over ten years apart. Her flesh hungered for touch, for the sweet, delicate tracing of fingertips on skin, lips against collarbones, the insistent, needy pulse between her thighs. “The problem with all the others was that they were never you,” she whispered, almost involuntarily.

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