Chapter 21
WE STAGGERED in her front door, Teresa’s warm hand burning in mine, kindling flame in my bones, setting fire to my skin. Our clumsy entrance triggered several small lamps, and I glimpsed a sectional leather couch, an empty fireplace, boring beige walls. A broad picture window opened onto the darkness. Then her palms clasped my chin, thumbs before my ears, fingers in my hair, and everything faded away but the glow of her pale skin and the searing heat of her lips. Her fingers trailed fire down my chest as she reached down to yank my buttondown shirt out of my pants and scratch her nails up my bare back.
My hands bunched up the back of Teresa’s silk blouse, raising it to her shoulders and exposing the clasp of her bra. I fumbled with the unfamiliar snaps. Sheila’s bras had close
