Free Heart of the Matter by KI Thompson Page A

determination to become independent once more and, for now, to replenish her damn scotch. She yanked her door open and was halfway down the hall when a heavy pounding in her chest made her stop. Her feet quite simply refused to carry her forward, and her breath came in short, labored pants. She stumbled sideways toward the wall and leaned against it, frantically trying to slow her breathing. The hallway seemed too narrow and stretched out indefinitely, and for a brief, panicky moment, she thought she wouldn’t make it back.
    Glancing at Ellen’s door directly in front of her, she thought of knocking, but her pride wouldn’t allow it. Instead, in one huge burst of adrenaline, she literally scurried to her condo and, once inside, collapsed onto the couch. Shaking and nauseous, she closed her eyes and listened to the pulse hammering in her ears. Okay, so maybe she still needed a little help. Two weeks of isolation was nothing. Hell, her bruises had yet to completely disappear.
    Her eyes filled with tears. One thing was clear. If she was going to survive, she couldn’t manage without help. She would have to apologize to Ellen. Not only would the people who knew her be shocked at what she had become, Kate no longer recognized herself.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    Ellen absentmindedly placed her keys on the credenza and pondered that kiss from Sandra at her door—had it been only a week ago? She liked Sandra. They had a lot in common: a love of foreign films, fine dining, and a passion for politics, although in DC that was almost mandatory. Part of her was relieved Sandra had begged off that night, yet another part was disappointed.
    She retraced everything she had said and done that night and couldn’t come up with a single misstep. Sandra seemed to enjoy her company as much as she had enjoyed Sandra’s. But the little voice inside her head insinuated itself into her consciousness— Sandra likes you, but not in that way . Ellen went into her bedroom and stood in front of the full-length mirror. If only she wasn’t so heavy, if only she’d met Sandra ten years ago when she was a size four. Sandra would definitely have stepped in for a nightcap then, early meeting or not.
    She kicked off her shoes and changed into a sleep shirt. She was determined to plow through several chapters of her friend’s book on Lincoln, but once in bed, she read the same paragraph over and over. Finally, in exasperation, she put the book down, turned off the light, and snuggled deep into her pillows. She went through her mental checklist of things to do the next day, automatically including shopping for Kate before remembering that thankless task was no longer part of her routine. Knowing how Kate resisted leaving her condo, Ellen was surprised. She had expected a phone call by now, and perhaps a weak apology, but not complete silence. Had Kate found someone else to do her running around?
    Simply the thought of Kate aroused her and she closed her eyes to conjure up an image of her. Strangely, when she thought of Kate, or dreamed of her, the scar never figured in. She saw only the dark hair and eyes, the firm jaw and full lips and the way she walked.
    The entire package was too damn sexy, and the woman wasn’t even trying.
    As usual, Ellen’s body reacted in all the right ways. She withdrew her vibrator from her nightstand drawer and turned it on low. It felt exquisite when she rested it near her clit, but not directly on it. She liked to tease herself first, draw the orgasm up slowly while she massaged her breasts and nipples. She fantasized Kate leaning into her at the door and kissing her, kissing her passionately, then ravishing her.
    Kate was undressing her and grazing her way down her breasts, her stomach, and then between her legs. Ellen moved the vibrator directly onto her clit, flipped the switch to high, and pinching her nipples felt the rolling approach of the orgasm. It started at her clit, then worked its way up her belly and into her chest