Jacqueline was enthralled with Jane.

Late at night when she was most honest with herself she could cease denying that it hadn't been there all along.

It began with amusement. The clear intimidation Jane experienced in her boss's presence in their early interactions was a twisted ego boost for Jacqueline. She wasn't an intimidating person, not really. She was exacting and she was direct. She could be warm, gentle even, with her staff. Which made it a bit funny that Jane had from day one become a hot mess in the woman's presence.

At some point it became a feeling other than amusement. She couldn't tell you when.

They met in a bar near Jane's house. Jane wasn't the hot mess she had been many times in Jacqueline's office. She wasn't a mess; she was shy. Jane Sloan who announced to the world that she had never had an orgasm and set out to have one was suddenly shy. The blonde let her take it slowly. It was the first time they had been out alone together since the unlikely, but welcome revelation that they were attracted to one another. This was different than a quick kiss at the office or in the car. Going out together represented truths that neither of them was particularly keen on exploring yet.

"Jane? Relax. I don't bite. I'm the same person you've sat on many a couch with talking about the extremely difficult parts of your life," Jacqueline placed a hand over Jane's on the bar. "I haven't changed. I adore you."

There it was. The feeling Jacqueline had replaced amusement with was adoration.

Pink tinted Jane's cheeks as she nervously looked down at their hands. She felt the hand enclose around hers and her shyness lifted. She followed a path up their arms until she looked into those damn blue eyes. The moment she realized he was into women it was those damn blue eyes that tipped the scale.

"God, you are gorgeous," the brunette remarked.

Sipping her drink, Jacqueline considered Jane. The girl had finished her first drink and signaled for another.

"Don't get drunk on me, Sloan," the editor gave a smoldering look that was better than any buzz or high Jane had ever experienced.

The chemistry had existed between them for a while, but the outright sexual tension was new. The cat was out of the bag and it made their interactions every bit more charged.

"I get chatty when I'm drunk," Jane revealed.

"Yes, I believe I was aware of this."

Jacqueline brushed Jane's arm as they both contemplated the secrets the girl might spill if she had a few more drinks. It was not advisable. Their first what? Drinks? Date? Their first undefined outing deserved some clarity.

Jane would be willing to spend all her money on drinks if she could have these little moments with the older woman regularly.

"I'm going to say something sophomoric and you aren't going to bring it up ever again," the writer leaned closer, their shoulders brushing. "I like holding your hand."

Jacqueline pursed her lips, looking at the wall of liquor bottles instead of Jane.

"Shut up."

The brunette's head dropped to Jacqueline's shoulder, a smile on her face, squeezing her hand.

"You're rather adorable," the editor spoke with that adoration she'd come to feel around Jane.

"Mmhmm."

"Now I'm going to say something you are not to hold against me," Jacqueline smiled. "Would you like to go for a walk while continuing to hold my hand?"

Jane stood, threw money on the bar and put her bag on her arm.

"Let's go."

So much for being shy.

...

The two women had been walking for a few dozen blocks. Jane didn't like holding Jacqueline's hand, she loved holding her hand.

"What were you like in your early twenties?" Jane asked.

"Dedicated, driven, a bit idealistic."

"You are still dedicated and driven," the girl commented.

"Not idealistic?" Jacqueline's eyebrow arched as she glanced at Jane.

"Hmm...no, you're a realist. You understand the world you inhabit and you stay within the parameters of that world."

"I published a controversial piece with a Jane Sloan byline that nearly go me fired," she taunted. "Is that the act of a realist?"

Jane smiled at this and bumped into Jacqueline. She could walk to the end of the city and it still wouldn't be enough of this.

"No, but it was the act of a certified badass," Jane retorted.

"I believe, my dear, you have a crush."

"Do grown women have crushes?"

"If you can hit five foot five in four inch heels, are you a grown woman?" Jacqueline was not at all surprised when Jane swatted her with her purse.

"You didn't!"

Jane pulled Jacqueline by her arm into a tight hug. When she released the taller woman she found a perplexed look on her face.

"What?" The writer questioned.

"How the hell did this happen?" she shook her head, but didn't allow Jane to pull away.

"I don't know, but I'm not ready to let you go."

A look of self-derision touched Jane's face; she wouldn't allow it to settle in because where those thoughts led her always ended on the doorstep of Jacqueline's perfect home and perfect family.

"You don't have to," Jacqueline assured her, her hand framing Jane's warm cheek.

Neither knew who started it nor did they care because the kiss was on fire. There was never a tentative touch. When Jane's fingers buried themselves in blonde locks, Jacqueline moaned. It was the sound of angels. The arousal hit the young woman and a growl formed at the back of her throat. Their loss of control received them a few looks from passersby.

"I should get you home," Jacqueline hummed, taking a breath to gather her composure and get her libido under control.

"Maybe I should take a cab," the young woman was trying to slow everything down. She knew if Jacqueline took her home there was a good chance she would invite her in. This felt too new to jump in without knowing if the water was shallow.

"I understand."

They were still holding each other.

"I think I do know how this happened," Jane hummed.

"Oh?"

"I wanted to be found by you," she was honest.

Pressing a kiss to Jane's forehead, Jacqueline separated herself and hailed a cab.

"I've always seen you, Jane," she said, but she didn't elaborate on this truth that she finds in the middle of the night when she throws out her denial.

"Goodnight, Jacqueline," she smiled, one last kiss but a whisper on her lips.

She watched the editor get into a cab, the way her lips moved as they directed the driver to her home and, eventually after hailing her own cab, watched from the backseat as her boss's cab disappeared into New York traffic.

To be continued…

[Song inspiration "Adore" by Amy Shark]