Oh Christ. Too much air down there, not enough in her lungs. And the thought of Mia’s stare. Was she just looking? Yes. Nothing stirred in the room, there was no sound other than the ferocious beating of Lou’s heart in her ears, that mad drumbeat pumping more blood to her swollen clit. Seconds passed. Minutes. Lou didn’t know. Her brain had become incapable of measuring units of time. Everything blurred together. The first time she had seen Mia again in the Pink Bean and how it had felt like a punch in the gut—a punch Mia had never meted out. Mia Miller had never touched her, had only ever hurt her with words—words spoken by a tortured teenager. Words that hurt them both equally. The first time she was able to see Mia as the person she was now. The soft touch of Mia’s lips on her cheek when she’d kissed her goodbye last Sunday. And now this. The upcoming soft touch of Mia’s lips elsewhere. It was the beginning of something. Lou had no way of knowing what exactly, except that it would include much needed healing for both of them.

Then Mia’s mouth pressed against Lou’s naked lips, against her throbbing clit. It was just a kiss, light and gentle, yet it was so much more. It held in its touch both forgiveness and new beginnings. In its intention, both the expulsion of demons and the will to drive Lou crazy. The last bit was working really well. So well that Lou let a moan escape from her throat. It burst out of her, the way the tears had done when she was a teenager, unstoppable and giving voice to something unspeakable.

Once Mia put her tongue into play, Lou was lost. It was all too much. Her hand slipped from Mia’s hair and she leaned back on both her elbows, throwing her head back, enjoying Mia’s touch, her now insistent tongue on her clit, running along her lips, dipping inside, driving her mad. Because that was what Mia had done from the very beginning, long before Lou had even had the smallest inkling of it.