Andy POV
"You wanted to see me, Captain?"
"Close the door," she said without looking up from her desk. I pulled the door shut and then she added, "And the blinds."
"The blinds?" I repeated dumbly, surprised by her request because over the past few days, since our first kiss, we've been extremely particular about not being alone behind closed doors at work.
"Lieutenant," she said with annoyance. "The blinds, please."
I tugged on the cord, closing the blinds and then I turned to look at her as she got up from her chair.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about last night," she said, walking around her desk and moving towards me while simultaneously unbuttoning her blouse.
"Um…Captain…"
"Sharon," she corrected, coming to a stop in front of me, her blouse now completely undone, and then she slid her hands around to the back of my head and pulled me down for a searing kiss.
She broke it off abruptly after a minute and then reached for my belt buckle as she said, "We need to finish what we started. Right here, right now."
I groaned at the prospect, the thrill of doing it here, in her office, and she just smiled in return, her hands now sliding down the zipper on my pants before expertly reaching inside, and…
"Flynn!"
My partner's voice had me knocking over my coffee as I quickly sat straight up in my chair.
"Damn it," I muttered as the hot liquid covered the various papers that littered my desk.
"Where's your head today? Or for the past several days," he demanded. When I didn't respond, he sighed and said, "Sanchez and Sykes think we need to come out to the scene. Something about the victim having ties to a big deal actor."
I glanced around the room and saw Tao and Buzz standing near the door, apparently waiting for me, as was Provenza.
"Head on down, I'll be right there," I told him.
I pulled out my handkerchief to mop up the coffee, and once they were gone, I let out a frustrated sigh.
I can't believe I was fantasizing about doing Sharon in her office, I thought in irritation.
And then I smirked at myself because of course I fantasize about that. It's just that usually when I let my mind wander like that, I'm at home, not at work.
And this one felt so real. Although that's surely because of last night.
That had to be the best ninety minutes of my life. Being with Sharon, kissing and touching and laughing and talking…it was unbelievable. Anytime I close my eyes, I can picture her as she was when that smoke alarm went off: her blouse open, treating me to the sight of soft skin and black lace, her eyes darkened with arousal, a coy smile playing on swollen lips…and the way she kissed me after I told her she's beautiful was like nothing I've ever experienced. There's so much passion inside of her, and the fact that she's unleashing it on me…it still blows my mind.
So yeah, of course that's what prompted my little daydream.
I just wish Friday would hurry up and get here.
For some reason I feel like if we don't get to it, it's never going to happen. Like maybe fate is conspiring against us or something.
Sounds dumb, I know, but still…when's the last time my daughter stopped by my house? I can't even remember when and yet she did last night.
To tell me about my ex.
"She's upset," Nicole told me, after I returned from walking Sharon out. "Joe left. A few weeks ago, actually."
The second husband, the one I had to share father honors with at Nic's wedding.
"I'm sorry to hear that," I said, mostly because it was the right thing to say. I'm not really sure I care one way or the other.
"I know you don't like him," she acknowledged. "But he's a decent guy. Or at least, I thought so. It's just that…well, Mom told me he hasn't exactly been faithful."
"Huh," I mumbled.
Ironic, I think. I most definitely had my demons, but infidelity wasn't one of them. I was a mean drunk, but I always went home to my wife. It just turned out that after a while, she didn't want me to come home. Odd that the second husband is a teetotaler but can't keep it in his pants. I wonder if Sheila's starting to think maybe being married to an alcoholic wasn't such a bad thing.
"She wanted me to talk with you about it before our next counseling session," Nicole continued. "She didn't want to blindside you with it in front of the therapist."
"Uh, I appreciate that, Nic, but it's not really any of my business anymore. And really, she shouldn't be putting you in the middle either. If she wanted me to know, she could've just called me."
"Well, there's more, although I'm not sure if I should say," my daughter said after a moment's pause. She looks uncomfortable, and now I'm really wondering what the visit was all about.
I put my arm around her, grateful that we're in a place with our relationship again for me to be able to do that, and I said, "Just say it, whatever it is."
"Um…Sharon. It's serious? Because it looked like I really interrupted something."
"That's not what you came here to ask," I deflected, trying to keep her on point.
"No, but it's relevant."
"Relevant how?"
She leaned her head on my shoulder and let out a sigh and said, "Mom said she misses you. Seeing you in therapy lately, how much you've changed, in combination with the deterioration of things between her and Joe…well, I think she'd be interested in trying to rekindle. Or at least seeing where it could go."
"And she sent you to tell me that," I stated while on the inside my temper flared.
Unbelievable.
After all these years, and so much bitterness from her, and the way she spoke to our kids about me…even last winter when Sharon went to the wedding with me, Sheila was a complete bitch to both of us.
And now that her husband leaves her, she looks to me again.
Not a snowball's chance in hell, I thought. But see, she's crafty, my ex, because she sent Nicole here to talk to me, thinking it'll make me at least agree to a date so that I don't look like an ass to my daughter.
It seems to me that the only way I can get out of this and not look like a jerk to Nicole is to tell her the truth.
"It's not going to happen, kiddo. I'm in love with Sharon."
The words felt natural, and it makes me wonder exactly how long I've been in love with her. A while, I think. Much longer than I realized.
"You are?" she asked, turning to look at me, and I was relieved to see a smile on her face. "Of course you are. I saw the two of you together. And I saw the way she was looking at you tonight."
Her comment filled me with hope that maybe one of these days, Sharon will decide she's in love with me, too. Or at least even strong like would be nice. And she must, right? I mean, she was here with me, ready to move our relationship into the realm of physical intimacy, and that's not something I imagine Sharon would take lightly.
"Dad?" Nicole questioned, since my mind had wandered in the middle of a conversation, and I know I probably have a goofy smile on my face.
"Yeah, um…so you're not upset with me? About not wanting to try things again with your mom?"
"I'm happy for you," she countered, kissing me on the cheek. "And I'm so, so sorry that I interrupted your date. I'll be sure to tell Mom…"
"No, I'll call her. Like I said, you shouldn't have been pulled into this."
After that, Nicole noticed the smell in the house, and then she started to quiz me on how I managed to burn something when I'm usually an excellent cook and I suddenly found myself stumbling over an explanation, and I forgot how blunt my daughter can be, how much she's like me, but I was reminded when she cast me a knowing look and said, "Oh my God, Dad. Why didn't you just tell me you were about to score? That explains why her hair was messed up because every other time I've seen her, there hasn't been a hair out of place."
I was too stunned to respond, but she laughed and patted me on the arm and added, "I'm leaving. Go call her."
"Your mom?"
"No, Sharon! Maybe she can still come over, or you can go over there or something, and then I won't feel responsible for cock-blocking my own father."
She hugged me goodbye and was gone before I could formulate a response, and once I was alone in the house, I started laughing. The whole night was just ridiculous, from the chaos in the kitchen, to finding out Sheila wants to date me again, and then to my daughter going home so that I can have sex.
Although I think that ship has sailed, at least for tonight, because I can't call Sharon to have her come back, less than an hour after leaving. She probably just got home, and is eating dinner, since I never fed her. And really, I need to get this Sheila thing out of the way.
That was harder than expected, but only because I did my best to be civil to a woman who's never once returned the favor. Although she was annoyingly sticky sweet on the phone. I made a point to tell her the same thing I said to Nicole, that I'm in love with Sharon. I'm not worried about her saying anything about us because she would never risk me getting fired since that would cut into her half of my pension.
It does bother me that I've told two people now, neither of whom are Sharon, but I think it was the smart thing to do, to get my point across. I don't want there being any confusion about my intentions.
"Think about our history together," she said. "Think about our children."
"Our kids are grown, and our history is just that," I countered. "And you can't possibly be ready to start a relationship with anyone after only three weeks of separation."
"It's been coming for a while. And I can see how much you've changed. Now you're the man I thought I married."
That hurt, knowing that I let her down the first go-round, but it doesn't change how I feel now.
I couldn't get off the phone with her fast enough, and then later that night, I called Sharon.
"Maybe you should explore that," she told me, when I brought her up to speed.
I started to overreact to her comment, but then I remembered that I said something very similar when Jack tried to get back into her life, and I chuckled.
"See how ridiculous you sounded, saying that to me?" she teased.
"Point taken. Can we agree that both exes are completely out of the equation?"
"I'm not sure that was ever in question, but yes, absolutely."
"Remember that, because I'm not sure Sheila's done," I warned. My ex is stubborn and single-minded, so a second effort won't be unexpected.
"I'm sure she isn't. I wouldn't walk away from you after one discouraging phone call," she reasoned, her voice low and sultry, and I love her confidence about the matter, and I'm so glad I made the decision to be open with her, rather than try to hide it.
Although I didn't mention that I told them I'm in love with her. It's too soon, for sure, and I don't want her feeling any kind of pressure to say it back.
Still, I like the direction our conversation is going, so I smiled and got more comfortable in the bed as I said, "I'm hoping you won't walk away at all."
"That's not part of the plan," she responded quietly.
I heard her sigh, and I imagined that maybe she was in the bed, too, and that thought sent a shot of arousal through me that was almost like a physical pain because I really want her in bed with me, even if we're only just talking like we are now.
"Andy, are we crazy for trying this?" she asked after a moment of shared, comfortable silence.
"Maybe," I admitted, suddenly afraid that she's about to have a change of heart. "But I don't see how we have any other choice. I want you too much not to try."
Now I really wish I could see her face because she didn't respond right away, and I was worried that I said too much, but then she exhaled slowly before saying, "Me, too."
"I did have to take that cold shower tonight," I continued, my heart finally beating again.
"Even after talking with Nicole and Sheila?" she questioned in amusement.
"Well, yeah, because after that, I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen, and that made me start thinking about you again, so…yeah, ice cold shower."
We talked for a while longer, and it felt so intimate, sharing a conversation in the dark, even if it was over the phone. I didn't want to hang up, but we both had work today, so eventually we said goodbye, and I spent another night thinking about her.
And morning, too, apparently, considering my daydream and coffee blunder. After that, I spent the afternoon working the murder of a Hollywood B-lister's nephew, during which time I did manage to stay mostly focused, but once we stalled on getting our search warrants, causing us to call it quits for the day, my mind immediately shifted back to Sharon.
Are you sure we can't pretend this is Friday? I texted her, once I was back in the murder room, gathering my things to leave after updating the board and briefing Sharon on our progress.
I promised Rusty I'd take him to dinner tonight, she responded.
I read the text and groaned in disappointment as I glanced up to catch her eye through her office window.
She was looking at me apologetically, but then I saw her reach for her phone again. I paused, pretending to look over a file on my desk while I waited for the text.
You could follow me home. I'm supposed to pick him up in forty-five minutes so by the time we get there, we might have twenty minutes to kill in your car.
And for some reason, as I read the text, I could hear her voice in my head, saying the words…the husky tone and suggestive lilt…God, the woman just kills me.
My response was short and to the point, and I sent it as I headed for the door.
I'll meet you there.
Rusty POV
"I don't know why. I'm just saying, she was home early. Like maybe after a couple of hours, at the most."
"Did she look upset?"
"No," I answered, thinking back to how Sharon looked last night when she got home from her date with Flynn, and the only words that come to mind are sappy, cheesy words that I'm not about to equate with Sharon, even though Emily is still waiting for something.
It's Thursday night, and I just got back from dinner with Sharon, and Emily texted me to say she wanted to Skype, so now I'm out on the balcony in an effort to hide the call from Sharon.
"She looked…wired," I said at last, that descriptive finally popping into my head. Because in addition to those other words, she also seemed to have energy to burn.
"What? Rusty, are you sure you're reading her right? Did she go for the wine?"
"Yeah, but only one glass."
Emily sighed and ran a hand through her hair before looking at me with frustration.
"Okay, so let me get this straight. You talked to Andy, and all you got out of him is that he doesn't want to see her hurt. Then he asked you to buy flowers and write some cryptic card. And then Mom admitted to a dinner date that only lasted two hours and you don't know why."
"That pretty much sums it up, yeah," I said sheepishly, since when she said it like that it makes me seem like a colossal failure at gathering intel.
"I knew I should've booked a flight out there," she said theatrically. "Never trust a man to get the job done."
"Hey, I'm working on it," I argued. "I couldn't come right out and ask Flynn if he's just trying to get lucky, and besides, I don't really want to know if he's getting lucky. You shouldn't either. I mean, she's your mom."
"She's yours, too," she said purposefully, sending a little jolt of emotion through me. "And don't you remember me telling you that Mom isn't worldly in the ways of men? So if he is getting lucky with our mother…"
"Russell Thomas Beck."
I froze at the sound of Sharon's voice behind me, and with my gaze stuck on the screen of my laptop, I could see Emily freeze, too.
"And Emily Catherine Raydor," Sharon finished in that same, very scary tone.
"Yikes, she pulled out the middle names. I think it's past my bedtime, so…"
"You aren't going anywhere, young lady," Sharon said as she crossed the balcony to where I stood next to the rail, my computer balanced on the ledge. "You two are talking about me? Rusty…"
My name said on a disappointed sigh almost made me feel worse than her earlier use of all three names.
"Don't get mad at him, Mom," Emily said, jumping to my defense. "I told him to get involved."
"Why on earth would you do that?"
"It's my fault," I interjected. "I told Ricky about you and Flynn, and then he talked to Emily, and…"
"And now the three of you have decided to become involved in my love life?"
I didn't catch it until Emily broke into a smile, and I don't know how she can be so blasé when Sharon is obviously upset with us, but then again, I guess she has more experience with it, so maybe it's not as bad as I think, although now that Emily has such a smug look on her face, I don't know.
"Is that what it is?" Emily asked with interest. "Your love life?"
"My personal life," Sharon corrected belatedly, and I don't know if Emily can see it, but I can - Sharon's definitely flustered, like she was the other night when I mentioned the parking garage.
"I'm your daughter. I'm part of your personal life," Emily teased. "So yeah, I'm involved in it, just like Rusty and Ricky."
Sharon glanced over at me, and I braced for the worst, but then she let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head.
"No talking behind my back," she admonished. "If you want to know something, just ask me."
"Great," Emily said with a grin. "So is Andy getting lucky?"
"Ask appropriate questions, Emily," Sharon fired back. "That is none of your business. And did I really hear you telling Rusty that I'm not worldly in the ways of men? Oh my God, Emily…this from a girl at the ripe old age of twenty-eight."
"It's from a girl who's been on more dates than you," she pointed out. "Come on, Mom, it's not like you've been playing the field in the twenty-some years since Dad left. Can you blame me for wanting to make sure Andy is going to treat you right?"
"Yeah, we're just…concerned," I added, since I felt like Emily was taking the brunt of the lecture.
"Concerned," Sharon repeated, once again pinning me with a look.
"Exactly," Emily chimed in. "Like, how come your date only lasted two hours last night? Did he do something to tick you off? Or have you forgotten how a good date is supposed to end?"
"No, she hasn't forgotten that. I saw them in the car, remember?" I joked, risking Sharon's irritation in order to make Emily laugh, and it worked. On both counts.
"Rusty, how many times do I have to say we aren't discussing that? Although it seems as if you've been doing exactly that, at great length, with Emily and Ricky. What did he have to say about it? Doesn't he have questions? I'm surprised he hasn't come down here just to confront Andy about his intentions."
Yeah, she's irritated. But Emily's still smiling, so I think we're safe. Then again, she's three thousand miles away, so maybe that's why she's smiling. Because I'm the one who's going to be in the most trouble.
"Actually, he said good for Mom," I answered meekly.
"And Rusty's the one who talked to Andy, so no pop-in from Ricky is necessary," Emily added.
"You talked to Andy?"
"Well, yeah, I mean, yesterday he called to get me to place the flower order for him, and since I had him on the phone…"
I trailed off when she sighed heavily and covered her face with her hand. I peeked over at Emily and she gave me a supportive nod.
"Okay, here's the way this is going to work," Sharon said after a moment. "I like Andy. We're going to try things out and see what happens. In the meantime, I expect no interference from my children."
"As long as you keep us updated," Emily reasoned. "If you're getting serious about someone, it does kind of involve us, don't you think?"
"Fair enough," she agreed.
"So are you sleeping with him?" Emily asked, barely able to hold back her laughter.
Sharon shook her head and said, "You have a one-track mind."
"Yeah, but it's such a fun track to be on," Emily teased.
Sharon turned and headed for the door, waving over her head as she called out, "Good night, Emily. I love you."
I waited until Sharon went inside before I looked back at Emily.
"So how much trouble do you think I'm in?"
"None," she said with a dismissive gesture. "You're fine. She'll lecture you about discretion or whatever, but she knows we only talk about her because we care."
I spent a few more minutes talking with Emily, and then I went inside to face the music with Sharon.
"You've been Skyping with Emily?" she asked when I joined her on the couch. At first I thought I was about to get read the riot act, but then I realized she was smiling.
"Some, yeah. More lately, I guess."
"And you've been talking to Ricky, too?"
"Text, mostly, because he's pretty busy, but we talk sometimes, too. Look, Sharon, I'm sorry about all of this. I didn't mean to start anything."
"While I'm not thrilled that the three of your were speculating about my relationship with Andy, I am really happy about one thing."
"What's that?"
"Your response to the situation was exactly what most children would do. You shared the information with your brother and sister."
Her smile broadened as she finished her statement, and I felt slightly awkward while at the same time, very pleased with myself, not only for making Sharon happy, but because it did feel natural to get in touch with them. Or mostly, anyway.
"Next time, I won't be taken by surprise, though," she added with feigned caution. "Just because it's three to one, don't think that means you're on the winning team."
"I would never think that," I said quickly, holding up my hands in submission.
"Good," she said, and then she got up from the couch, and since my conversation with Emily was still on my mind, I said quickly, "Hey, can I ask you something?"
"Sure," she answered easily, and I'm still a little in shock that she's not angry with me for blabbing to the others, and for talking to Andy.
"Everything was okay last night? On your date? Because you were home awfully early, and Emily seemed to think…well, everything went okay?"
"It was fine," she assured me. "Andy's daughter needed to talk with him, so we ended the date early in order for him to spend time with her."
She paused next to me, ruffling my hair with her hand as she added, "Our children might be grown, but they still come first."
Sharon POV
I'm standing on his porch again, pounding heart, sweaty palms, and all. I can't believe I'm here, about to ring his doorbell, completely unannounced and unexpected.
But Rusty got me thinking.
"I get that," he said in response to my children come first remark. "But we are grown, and unless it's a crisis, like maybe last night was, you're still allowed to be a little selfish with your time. I mean, look at how much time you spend helping other people."
"That's true, but I do it because it's what I love."
"And that's great," he agreed. "But all I'm saying is that I'm eighteen, and I know how to spend an evening by myself, and it was really nice of you to take me to dinner, but you know, your date was cut short last night, so why don't you finish it tonight? I don't mind. Really."
He opened his laptop and started piddling with it, and then without looking at me, he added, "And if you don't get home until morning, I'm going to assume you got called out on a case, okay?"
I stared at him for a moment, trying to hide my embarrassment at his insinuation and yet already mentally considering taking him up on it.
"Although if you don't come home, I can't promise not to blab to Ricky and Emily," he finished, chancing a glance at me with a smirk firmly in place, and then purposefully focusing on his computer again, seemingly to make the point that he knows how to entertain himself, and then I decided that he's right.
Not that I'm going to spend the night with Andy, but I mean about the fact that there's no reason not to see him tonight. Obviously, Andy and I aren't a secret to anyone in our families, so why shouldn't I go spend some time with him? Especially since our latest case may ruin our plans for tomorrow night, and I don't know how much longer I can put off my intense need to pick up where we left off last night.
So as I'm standing on his porch, I repeated my efforts from last night, smoothing out my hair and looking down at myself, and then I had a moment of panic, because I'm not in a skirt and blouse tonight, I'm in a dress. There won't be any incremental undressing this time. One long zipper in the back, and then I'm down to nothing but lace.
Oh my God, what am I doing here?
I'm standing on my lieutenant's porch, mentally going through the logistics of taking off my clothes…
I turned around and stepped off the porch.
I can't do it. This is crazy.
We've barely even been on a real date, and I'm ready to sleep with him.
I took two steps towards my car and then stopped again.
Barely a real date, and yet dozens and dozens of shared meals. Conversations. Emotional moments. And I like him. A lot. I may even more than like him. He's dependable and funny and honest and caring. And attractive. So attractive.
And the way he makes me feel, with just a look or a touch…
A few hours ago, we spent twenty minutes in his car, and thinking about it makes me remember the times I used to lecture Emily when she spent too long in a boyfriend's car after a date. She used to say Mom, you don't get it, but now I think I do get it, and it's funny that I had to get to this age to realize it.
It's not just about the making out, although that's certainly a lovely part of it. It's also about the intimacy of being in close quarters together, the romanticism of feeling like it's only the two of you in the entire world.
And with Andy, I felt like I could sit in that car forever.
"Should we set the timer on your phone?" he asked as I got into the passenger side and closed the door.
"You think we'll set the car on fire?" I teased, enjoying the way his eyes looked me over deliberately and appreciatively before settling on mine.
Even though I was only kidding about the fire, it does feel warm in here already.
"It's a definite possibility," he responded, reaching over to brush my hair back from my shoulder. His hand lingered, his fingers grazing over the side of my neck as he leaned in to kiss me. It was purposeful yet slow, almost like he was cherishing the moment, and then he pulled back and said, "I've been wanting to do that all day."
"You've been working a murder," I countered, smiling as he continued to stroke near my ear. "I'm sure you were properly focused."
"Maybe," he conceded. "But not before or after."
"It was a little strange, wasn't it? Seeing each other at work, after…" I trailed off and completed the sentiment with just a flip of my hand.
"After seeing you half-dressed last night?" he finished, a smile playing on his lips.
"I thought we established the fact that I was more than half-dressed," I pointed out, liking his playfulness but still needing to get something off my chest. "Yes, that. I kept wondering if you were thinking about that, when you were supposed to be listening to your captain."
It's a worry of mine, that after tomorrow night, when he really will have seen all of me, will he still be able to take me seriously at work? Will he still respect me, and my position as his superior?
"I'd be lying if I said I haven't pictured you in my mind a thousand times today," he answered. "But if I'm honest, I did the same thing yesterday and last week, and last month…just not with the same accuracy."
He grinned as he finished his statement, and I was caught by surprise by the admission, to learn that he's thought of me like that for so long.
"And as much as I think about wanting to spend time with you, with and without clothes," he clarified with a smirk. "It doesn't change the fact that you're the best captain I've ever had."
I nodded as I considered his words, and then he said, "But Sharon, if you aren't comfortable with where things are heading, we can slow it down. I mean, that was the original plan, to take things slow. And I certainly didn't intend for last night to turn into what it did, so if you want to put on the brakes and focus more on just dating…"
"No," I said simply, because that's not what I want at all. I pulled him towards me so that I could kiss him again, and this time we let it go on for quite a while, almost too long, because it was a car engine that caused us to break apart and when I checked my watch, I realized we only had about another minute before I needed to go inside.
"Maybe we should've set that timer," I said, taking in a deep breath in an effort to regain my composure.
"I warned you we may set this thing on fire," he replied, interrupting my attempts to calm my racing heart by kissing me again, his hands tangled in my hair and a low moan in his throat, and it amazes me that he has the ability to get me so worked up in such a short amount of time, in the confines of his car.
We finally managed to pull apart, and I reluctantly reached for the door handle, but then I turned back towards him and smiled as I asked with hesitant curiosity, "So…better or worse than your imagination?"
"Are you kidding me?" he responded, reaching out to run his hand over my hair, his expression so adoring that it made me catch my breath. "Nothing beats the reality of Sharon Raydor."
So yes, I definitely more than like him. He's like no one I've ever known, and if I were brave enough to be honest with myself, I might actually be able to think the word that's more suited to how I feel about Andy.
But I'm not brave enough. Not yet.
But I can admit that it's there, even if I can't think it.
And considering it is there, I shouldn't feel bad about being here. So I turned around and walked back onto the porch.
But before I could ring the bell, I heard Emily's voice in my head: Mom's not worldly in the ways of men.
It really threw me to hear her say that…is that what she really thinks of me? Although as much as I object to the wording, maybe she's right. It's not like there have been a parade of men in my life, so even though I like to think I know how to handle anything and anyone at any time, I suppose I do lack experience when it comes to dating.
I did try, for a brief period after the fourth time Jack left, but no one ever captured my interest, and nothing ever went past a chaste kiss goodnight, and I found it much easier just to abstain altogether. Whenever Jack graced me with his presence, I usually allowed him to slip past my defenses, just because it was familiar and comfortable, and with him, it was only about assuaging a need. I certainly never had any misconceptions about longevity, and once Rusty came to live with me, I closed the door on that, as well.
So this thing with Andy, it's completely new territory for me, in a lot of ways.
And yet it doesn't feel like it.
It feels like a perfectly natural progression from friends to…well, to something more than friends.
Lovers.
The word popped into my head unbidden and its presence almost caused me to do another one-eighty, but I stood firm.
As unnerved as I am about escalating our relationship, I still want this. I want him.
So maybe this is crazy, I don't know, but like Andy said last night, it feels like we have to try. And why shouldn't I take a chance on finding happiness?
With my mind made up, I took a deep breath and then I took another, and finally after the third one, I managed to push the bell.
It took him nearly a minute to open the door, during which time I focused only on breathing rather than letting myself think about what it is that I'm about to do.
He opened the door, wearing only pajama pants and a t-shirt, and the pull of desire that I've been feeling for him for days just increased tenfold.
"Sharon. Hi," he said with surprise, and I can't really tell whether or not he's happy to see me. I mean, I think he is, but he also looks leery and I had the horrifying thought that maybe his ex-wife is here or something.
"Hi," I said, still fighting with my anxieties. "Are you alone?"
"Yeah ," he answered immediately. "I'm just watching the game."
He opened the door more fully to invite me inside, and I went in, stepping past him and dropping my purse onto the table before turning around to face him as he pushed the door shut, and the whole thing feels so disjointed, it makes me desperate for the ease we shared here last night. Or even earlier this evening in the car.
"You're here," he stated in confusion. "I thought we weren't going to see each other until tomorrow night. Alone, I mean. Other than at work."
It finally hit me that he's worried, like he thinks I'm here to tell him I've changed my mind about us, probably because I haven't really said much of anything yet, and I blame those butterflies in my stomach that are currently creating a hurricane, making me feel so uncharacteristically awkward.
"I know," I said softly, summoning up my courage to push forward. "But I decided that I don't want to wait. Is that okay?"
His eyes darkened as my meaning became clear and instead of responding with words, he reached for me, pulling me into his warm embrace, holding me to him as if I were the most precious thing in the world.
"Or you can finish watching your game," I offered, smiling as something so simple as a hug seems to be giving us back our rhythm because my nerves are dissipating under the gentle stroking of his hands on my back.
"What game?" he mumbled, moving his hands up into my hair and tipping my head back before bringing his lips to mine for a hungry kiss.
I felt the warmth spread throughout me, and I think it's as much happiness as it is arousal because being with Andy is about so much more than just physical gratification, and it feels so good knowing that it's the same for him, that he's been wanting me for so long and yet he cares enough about me to let it happen at my pace.
"Are you sure?" he asked me, his lips leaving mine only long enough to say the words, and it was several more minutes before I was able to respond.
"Yes," I said breathlessly, moving my hands beneath the back of his t-shirt, my nails scraping over his skin, and he gripped me tighter, the intensity of our kiss increasing by the second, even though we're still standing in the hall, just inside of his front door, neither of us in any hurry to go through the trouble of moving somewhere else.
Without releasing my lips, he pushed my jacket off my shoulders and down my arms, managing to take it off me in a short amount of time, and I couldn't even let it bother me when it fell into a pile at our feet.
With my jacket gone, he shoved his hands into my hair again, cupping my head as he stepped into me, easing me backwards until I could feel the wall at my back, and then he took one more step towards me so that his body was in full contact with mine, and I sighed contentedly as his mouth left mine, moving along my jawline back to my ear, and I could feel the heat building inside of me, but I still had to stop him when a random thought came to mind.
"Wait," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
"What is it?" he questioned, pulling back immediately, his gaze searching mine.
"Do you have anything in the oven?" I asked, only partly teasing because if that smoke alarm goes off tonight, I'm tempted to let the house burn down around us.
He broke into a grin, chuckling as he went back to nibbling on my ear lobe for a moment before blazing a path along my neck, and I almost forgot that he didn't answer me until he rumbled a low, "I think we're safe."
He paused, making eye contact with me again briefly before leaning in to capture my lips, and the mood has changed, the desperate urgency gone, replaced by confident, purposeful passion that's fueling the slow burn that's been going on inside of me for days.
I reached for the hem of his t-shirt, gently tugging it upwards in request, and he pulled back from me slightly, just enough to pull the shirt over his head, dropping it onto the floor along with my jacket. I let my eyes wander over him admiringly, wanting him to see how much I like the way he looks, since I can't seem to say the words, and then I touched him, running my fingers lightly across his skin before leaning in to press a kiss against his chest.
I felt as much as heard him exhale a deep, shuddering breath, as if he's trying hard to maintain control.
"We…um…we…um…" he began, his voice shaky and rough. It makes me feel so desirable that I can have him rattled from such a simple show of affection, and as he brought his eyes to mine, I can see it again, that thing I can't think about. It's almost overwhelming and yet so very welcome because I'm most definitely feeling it, too.
"Yes?" I asked with a smile.
He dropped his head for a second, laughing lightly at himself, and then he said, "I was going to say we could go further into the house."
"I was afraid to move past this spot," I teased. "You know, sprinkler system…burglar alarm…"
"Nothing is going to interrupt us tonight," he said firmly, the cute smile that accompanied the statement creating another wave of anticipation in me.
He took my hand and we started down the hall, and then we both stopped short at the sound of a ringing phone. Considering we're in the middle of a case, we both know he can't ignore it. He shook his head and let go of my hand, letting loose a string of curses as he trotted into the living room where he snagged the cell from the coffee table.
"Oh my God, it's Provenza," he muttered. "Are you kidding me with this?"
His frustration is palpable, although I'm right there with him. If there's a break on this case and we have to go to work…
Well, then I'm still coming back here with him afterwards, I decided. I don't care what time it is.
"What?" he answered shortly, and I smirked in sympathy as I moved closer to him and held out my hand. He took it with his free hand, clasping his fingers through mine and bringing it to his lips for a quiet kiss as he listened to his partner. After a moment, his entire countenance changed, relaxing into something more like amusement.
"No, it's fine," he said. "Really, I'm…yeah, I'm good…No, I've got the game on."
He turned quickly in the direction of the television, and after a second he said, "Dodgers are up by one."
He paused, presumably listening to whatever Provenza had to say, and as he listened, he smiled at me, tugging me closer and then leaning down to kiss my neck as he mumbled several uh huhs into the phone, and then he finally said goodbye and tossed the phone in the direction of the couch.
"Not the case?" I confirmed, although I was scarcely thinking about that - or anything else - at all, not when he has one hand stroking up and down my side, his fingers barely brushing along the edge of my breast, and his lips have moved back to my ear, which I've just recently learned is a weakness of mine.
"He's worried about me," he answered, saying the words intermittently between kisses. "He thinks I'm depressed. Seems this woman I have a crush on got flowers yesterday from some other guy."
My brain's still only partially functioning, but I managed to say, "You have a crush?"
"Oh, yeah," he said, pulling back to look at me with a smile, and it finally hit me that he means me. I know, I'm slow, but considering my current state of arousal, I think it's excusable. "It's really bad, too. Day and night, I can't stop thinking about her."
The last remark was said with genuine solemnity that caused my heart to pound, and then it thundered even more as he moved his hand up to the side of my face and said softly, "I mean it, Sharon. I can't get you out of my head."
The significance of the moment isn't lost on me because as conflicted as I was about coming here, about crossing this all-important line with Andy, the one constant has been that I know Andy cares about me, and I trust him, which doesn't usually come easy for me.
It would be so simple for me to respond with something physical, since we'll be doing that before much longer anyway, but I owe him more than that. In all of this, I've opened up very little about how I feel, instead letting him be the one to take the emotional risks.
"I…ah…" I began with trepidation, but then I stopped because how long has it been since I've said something like this?
Disappointed in myself, I dropped my gaze, inadvertently letting it fall to his abdomen where he has a nasty, jagged scar from a knife wound, and I remember that night clearly, and how easily he could've died. We might never have had the chance to be here. I might've never known how wonderful he is, so how can I not just tell him, when we never know what tomorrow's going to bring?
I reached out my hand and traced a finger along his scar as I returned my gaze to his, and he's watching me intently, anxiously searching for my response, and it astounds me that he's so brave about putting himself out there.
"You don't have to say anything," he offered trying to let me out of my uncomfortable moment, but I shook my head, and then kissed him lightly, reassuringly.
This is Andy.
He's my friend.
I trust him.
He's never let me down.
And I love him.
"I can't stop thinking about you either," I confessed, my words hardly more than a whisper. "And I don't want to. Stop, I mean. Because I…I think I'm…falling in love with you."
The words echoed in my head after I gave them voice, and I held my breath as I watched the myriad of emotions fly across his face, and then he broke into a smile as he resumed stroking my side.
"Want to let me know when you know for sure?" he asked, the smile still intact.
"What?" I asked, my relief over his response causing me to be a half-step behind.
"You think you are. I'm just saying…I know I'm falling in love with you. So maybe you can let me know when you catch up."
I laughed, feeling exhilarated by his admission while at the same time, the overwhelming intensity of the moment disappeared completely as he pulled me into his arms again, and I love how he knows that this is hard for me, so he's doing his best to make it easier.
"I'll let you know," I promised, and I'm pretty sure he can tell it won't be a matter of weeks or days, but rather just enough time for me to be able to better say the words.
He brought his lips to mine, apparently our discussion sparking renewed fervor because suddenly the untimely interruption from Provenza is forgotten and it's like it never happened at all, because now it's just about the two of us, and his hands and lips are everywhere, and once again I'm scorching hot, from the inside out. I groaned in protest when he broke off the kiss, but he just took me by the hand, as he did before when Provenza called, but this time we made it all the way to his bedroom without any interruption.
I took in the sight of his bed, the dark blue sheets and blankets in disarray, and he looked slightly embarrassed as he said, "I didn't make it this morning."
"Looks like you were restless last night," I answered, facing him and still holding his hand as I moved backwards towards the bed.
"I was. I wanted you here with me," he admitted, and his honesty gives me the last little boost of confidence I need, so I let go of his hands and reached behind me.
"I'm here now," I responded and without any hint of my earlier apprehension, I tugged the zipper all the way down and then let the dress slide down to the floor.
What came next was a haze of sensation and passion, and I completely gave myself over to my senses…the wonderfully masculine scent of him, both on the sheets beneath me and on the man himself above me, the addicting taste of his skin on my lips, the warmth in his eyes as he took my hands and slid into me that first time, the combustible feel of his body working in rhythm with mine, and then the white hot fire that enveloped me as I gave in to the release, along with the indescribable emotion that flooded me when he voiced my name, whispered and reverent, as he followed me over the edge.
I'm not sure how long we laid wrapped up in each other, the only sound in the room our combined breathing, but after a while, he said softly, "I know you can't stay the night, but I hope you don't have to go any time soon."
I smiled and ran my fingers through his hair as I said, "I can stay for a while. Go to sleep. I'll wake you before I leave."
"Sleep?" he asked on a low chuckle. "There's no way I can sleep."
"Why not?'
He propped his head up so he could look at me, that cute smile back on his face as he said, "I'm going to fully enjoy the reality of having Sharon Raydor in my bed."
I laughed lightly, shaking my head at his assertion, but then he continued, saying, "I'm serious. Last night, when we were on the phone, all I could think was how much I wanted you right here."
His sweet sincerity sent another wave of butterflies through me, and it surprises me that I can feel such arousal from his words as much as from his touch.
He reached out and ran his hand over my hair, and I snuggled closer to him, closing my eyes in contentment.
"So, we get another next time, right?" he asked after a moment. "I mean, like a date, or…"
"Andy," I interrupted gently, opening my eyes again to capture his gaze. "I've caught up."
He hesitated briefly, deciphering my words, and then he smiled fully and said, "So that means…"
"That means there's going to be a next time. Every time."
The End