The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden

Author:Yael van der Wouden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Avid Reader Press / Simon & Schuster
Published: 2024-05-28T00:00:00+00:00

10

FOR A BEAT, THE DISTANCE to the bed stretched like an open field, a thin horizon; she looked at it and did not know how long it would take to cross it. She looked at it and thought, This will go on forever.

Then Eva said, “You let him kiss you.”

The doorjamb dug into Isabel’s back. She leaned away from it. She said, “You let him take me away.”

A flicker of an emotion. Eva tightened her jaw, said, “Did you—” She was still sitting primly. “Did you enjoy it?” She said it and then turned her face away. She meant the kiss. She meant Johan’s kiss. She looked like she didn’t want to hear the answer at all.

How do you know, Isabel had asked her, mere days ago—had asked her a little drunkenly, a little out of her mind. And Eva had said, You should just let him. Find out.

And then she had kissed Isabel herself. And kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her.

“No,” Isabel said now, an emphatic rush of sound.

“You blushed very prettily for him tonight. Could barely speak a word around him.”

The three steps from the door to the bed snapped into nothingness. She went, she fell to her knees, she said, “That wasn’t for him.” Between Eva’s legs, grabbing her knees, sliding up her touch—under the fall of the hem of Eva’s shorts. Isabel’s hands had gone cold in the evening and Eva’s skin was a heat, was a rasp against the grain of hair. A punch of air from Eva’s lungs, she opened her legs to Isabel and Isabel told her: “You know that. You know it wasn’t for him.”

They were at eye level like this: Isabel kneeling, Eva perched on the bed’s edge. They were close, and Eva had two hard hands in the flesh of Isabel’s shoulders. Their noses brushed, cheeks pressed, and Eva turned her face away. Turned it back. Isabel made a sound, tightened her grip on Eva’s thighs, and Eva panted—a hot thing on Isabel’s lips.

The carpet itched under her knees. Through fabric, through trousers. Sweat at the line of her spine. All she could see of Eva was the downcast of her eyes, the fan of her lashes. She was looking at Isabel’s mouth. She was digging her fingers into the back of her neck.

“Tell me no.” Isabel’s voice rumbled between them. “Eva. Tell me yes or no.”

“I can’t,” Eva said, and opened her mouth over Isabel’s. A rolling movement of her body, the press of her breasts to Isabel’s. There was something maddening to her kiss, wide-open the one moment, and then hesitant the next, pulling back. It made Isabel want to barrel in, want to break the hinges, push the door from its bolts; she nipped her lip, she sucked her in, she pushed her hands up Eva’s bare thighs and pulled. The movement skid Eva to the very edge of the bed, it opened her legs wider, it pressed her heat to Isabel’s stomach—Eva’s crotch, the hard bone of her mound.

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