The tent door unzipped, and before Claire had a chance to wipe her face dry or at least pull her shirt over her head to hide what were probably very blotchy cheeks and red eyes, Delilah was ducking into the tent.
“Oh, hey,” Claire said. Calm. Breezy. Except her voice sounded thick and watery. She turned her back to the other woman, squatting down to unzip her pack and find her swimsuit.
“What’s wrong?” Delilah asked, her voice so gentle it made Claire want to cry even more. Which she absolutely was not going to do.
“Nothing.” She found her red-and-white polka-dot one-piece and clutched it to her chest as she stood up. “Just . . . I think I’m allergic to something out here.”
God, she was getting good at lying.
“Claire, that’s bullshit.”
Okay, apparently not good enough.
She sighed and turned to face Delilah. “I just . . . I had a fight with Josh. It’s not a big deal, but it threw me off.”
Delilah’s eyes went soft. The inside of the tent was hot, humid, despite the coolness in the June air outside. There wasn’t a whole lot of space in here to begin with, and as Delilah took a step closer, Claire swore she felt their breaths mingling.
“What did you fight about?” Delilah asked.
Claire shrugged, her chest tight again. “Ruby. Us. The same thing over and over.”
A little dip appeared between Delilah’s brows, but she just nodded. “What can I do to help?”
Claire didn’t expect that question. Not from Delilah. A nod of sympathy, sure. A joke about the universal awfulness of straight cis white men, perhaps. But not this caring offer, spoken while her arms slid around Claire’s waist and pulled her closer. It made her want to bury her face in the other woman’s neck, breathe in that smell that was all Delilah, sun and rain all at once.
“I . . . I don’t know,” Claire said. “Come down to the springs with me?”
The plea fell from her mouth before she could rethink it. It was a perfectly reasonable answer, but the way she said it, desperately and with a slight pant, made her want to curl up in a little ball again.
Except Delilah didn’t seem to mind. She smiled, pulling Claire’s hips flush against hers. Want fluttered low in Claire’s belly.
“Is that all?” Delilah asked, then her tongue dipped into Claire’s collarbone.
“Um . . . well . . .” Claire said, but when Delilah’s teeth grazed her skin, a moan slipped out instead of any coherent words. She dropped her swimsuit and buried her hands in Delilah’s curls.
“That helps, huh?” the other woman asked.
“A . . . a little.”
“What about this?” Delilah’s fingers went to the button on Claire’s cutoffs. She flicked the clasp free, then worked the zipper down so slowly, Claire felt the vibration between her legs.
“That . . . yeah, that might help,” she said. She pressed the back of one hand to her mouth to try and stay quiet as Delilah slipped a hand inside her shorts and palmed her over her underwear, fingers pressing and exploring.
“Already wet,” Delilah said, lips on her neck.
God, she was. Claire felt like she’d spent this entire week soaking wet, anytime she was around Delilah Green, even before they started . . . whatever this was.
Delilah’s fingers worked over the cotton in delicious circles. Claire gripped her shoulders, her legs wobbly, her hips pushing against Delilah’s hand.
“Okay?” Delilah asked, fingers moving north to slowly glide along the waistband of Claire’s underwear.
Claire could only nod in response, desperate for Delilah’s skin on hers. The other woman didn’t make her wait long, releasing her own quiet moan as she dipped into Claire’s wet heat. Delilah circled this way and that, exploring slowly, tortuously, before she slid one finger inside and pressed her palm against Claire’s clit.
Claire gasped, tipped her head back. Delilah’s tongue flicked out to taste the skin just under her ear as she inserted another curling finger, pumping them so her hand rubbed right where Claire needed it.
“Faster,” Claire whispered, nails biting into Delilah’s bare shoulders. Other words flowed from her mouth, things Claire had never said during sex, complete and utter dirty talk, but she didn’t care because this—this was what she needed. Fucking, hard and fast, nothing emotional about it.
She bucked her hips against Delilah’s talented fingers, grinding against her hand until she broke. Her orgasm blazed through her, and she sagged against Delilah, her cries muffled by the other woman’s neck. Delilah kept her hand in place until Claire stopped shuddering, and even when she was done, Delilah took her sweet time, fingers teasing and caressing as they slowly emerged from Claire’s pants.
“Better?” Delilah asked, a smirk on her mouth.
Claire tried to smirk back, but she just ended up laughing, a space opening up in her chest she couldn’t explain. “Much better.” Her hand went to Delilah’s jeans, more than ready to return the favor, but Delilah stopped her.
“Later,” she said.
Claire frowned. “What? But I want to—”
“I know.” Delilah took Claire’s hand and wrapped it around her own waist, pulling them together even closer, mouths bumping as she spoke. “And you will. But right now, let’s go swimming. You wanted to see Ruby, right?”
Claire exhaled against her. “Yeah.”
Delilah nodded. “So let’s do it.”
She went to pull back, probably to get her own swimsuit, but Claire yanked her closer. She kept her eyes open as they kissed, soft and slow. Once they parted and turned away from each other so they could change into their swimsuits while keeping their hands to themselves, Claire could’ve sworn she saw a spark of something that looked a lot like happiness in Delilah’s expression.
* * *
“IRIS IS GOING to kill me.”
Claire glanced at Delilah as they walked along the trail toward the springs. She wore a black bikini top that put all of her tattoos on display, along with a pair of high-waisted denim shorts and her boots. She looked soft and badass all at once, and Claire couldn’t stop staring at her.
It was a problem.
“Why?” Delilah asked, her own eyes on the pine straw.
“I left her alone with Spencer and Astrid,” Claire said.
Delilah winced. “Yeah, she’s not going to thank you for that. Not unless you somehow managed to further Operation Shit Boot from afar.”
Claire groaned but then stopped abruptly, her hand flying out to land on Delilah’s arm.