In return, Susanne slid her hand down and gently palmed one breast through the fabric of Anja’s top.

Anja pulled back with a gasp. Dazed, she realized that she was no longer sitting on the couch. She had slid down on the sofa, and Susanne lay half on top of her, her body warm and pleasantly heavy against her own. Anja’s skirt had slid up, and one of Susanne’s thighs had slipped between Anja’s legs, making her head spin. All she wanted was to pull her closer or, even better yet, take her to bed, but something held her back. “Susanne…”

“God, the way you say my name…” Susanne trailed her thumb along Anja’s lips.

A shiver went through Anja, and she nearly forgot what she had wanted to say. “Susanne.”

Susanne paused and studied her, her gray eyes questioning. “Are we moving too fast for you?”

“No. Yes.” Her body and her mind gave her conflicting signals. Her heart thumped wildly, as much from arousal as from apprehension of how Susanne would react to what she would say next. “I want you, but…” Her cheeks heating, she looked away. “I’m on the last day of my period, so…”

“Ah.”

“Sorry. I know that’s not romantic or sexy or—”

Susanne framed her face with both hands, leaned down, and kissed her softly. “It’s okay,” she whispered against Anja’s lips. “We’re not in a hurry.”

Aren’t we? Susanne would be gone in six weeks. Shouldn’t she be eager to make good use of the time they had, period be damned?

Before she could decide, Susanne navigated them around so they were both lying on their sides, facing each other, and opened her arms. “I believe I promised you cuddles.”

Anja sank into her arms with a sigh. “Thank you. For dinner and, you know, understanding.”

Susanne kissed her forehead. “No need to thank me. Just because it’s Valentine’s Day doesn’t mean we need to have sex. We get to make up our own rules as we go along. And to tell you the truth, the first time we make love, I could do without this blister on my hand too.”

Had she just said make love? Anja stared at her, but Susanne’s expression didn’t change. She didn’t mean it like that. It’s just a figure of speech. Belatedly, Anja’s brain processed what Susanne had just said. “Wait. Did you just say…you’ve got a blister?” She examined one hand, then the other. The skin in the middle of one palm was reddened, and a small blister had formed. She caressed the fingers of the affected hand. “How did that happen?”

“It’s from the screwdriver when I assembled the chairs and the table.”

Anja shook her head. “What kind of lesbian are you? Aren’t you supposed to own power tools like a rechargeable screwdriver?”