Author's note: This chapter is a bit longer and is distinctly less PG-13. Note the rating change.

The day dragged on.

From time to time as she passed through the bullpen Jane peered into the glass-enclosed office to assess Jacqueline's disposition. The editor seemed fine, but what simmered under the surface was another matter.

Jacqueline Carlyle had a facade more indestructible than most buildings. It meant a lot to Jane that she had been allowed to be present when that facade crumbled.

She didn't know what to say or do. What role she played in the older woman's life was still an unknown. They hadn't even slept together. But their interactions of late were nothing less than intimate.

"Are you ready to take off?" Sutton's voice ended Jane's deep contemplation.

"You're coming home with me?" Jane questioned.

"For tonight. We'll see."

There was sadness on Sutton's face that broke Jane's heart. She was rooting for her friend and Richard, but she also saw the strength her best friend was exhibiting and was extremely proud of her.

"Ice cream is in order. Postmates on standby," the writer stood, rounding the corner with her bag and a strained smile. "Let's get out of here."

The two women passed through the vestibule and made their way to the elevator bay. Jane turned her head to look one last time at the blonde in her office. For a brief moment their eyes met. Jacqueline nodded almost undetectably. The younger woman's mouth twitched as if moving to smile and stopped.

"Jane?" Sutton asked from inside the elevator. The brunette stepped forward to join her.

She was uneasy.

...

Sutton had crashed after ice cream and wine. She seemed to be drinking more recently for evident though still worrying reasons.

Jane was lying on her bed unable to sleep. She was thinking about Sutton's marriage and briefly let her mind wander to her own future marriage. She had thought about it when she was with Ryan. She hadn't thought about it with Ben in a real sense even though he was willing to make her his domestic partner for insurance reasons.

And then Jacqueline came along.

I can't think about Jacqueline and marriage, she thought. I can't think about Jacqueline and I being Jacqueline and I! Then I will start thinking about Jacqueline's marriage.

She covered her face with a pillow in frustration. On cue, her phone dinged.

It was past midnight. There was only one person that could be texting her. Kat would be closing up at work and Sutton was in the house. She wasn't surprised when she saw who it was.

Can you come over? it read.

Jane sat up and her anxiety went into overdrive.

Are you okay? She hurriedly typed out.

I am, yes. I was just hoping you might, god, I don't know what. We can pretend I never asked.

Jane stood from her bed and began looking for clothes, keys and her purse.

Are the boys...? she asked.

They are asleep.

The young woman didn't really need to know if the boys were home. She had already thrown on a bra and gathered her things. The day being what it had been, her worry had moved her feet.

I'll be there in 20 minutes.

Slipping on her shoes, she debated whether to leave Sutton a note or not. There was a good chance her houseguest wouldn't notice her absence. And Kat would crash immediately upon finding room with Sutton in the spare bed.

To hell with it, Jane whispered to herself, leaving her bedroom to tiptoe to the front door.

Jane rolled her eyes at herself once she had made it outside. She had stealthily snuck in to the house before whilst doing the walk of shame. She had never snuck out of the house. The Uber she requested the second Jacqueline posed her question pulled up right on time.

...

When the elevator opened, she was faced with a closed door. That had never happened before. As if waiting for the sound of the arriving elevator, the heavy inside door opened and there was Jacqueline without makeup, in satin pajamas, barefoot and with tousled hair.

Oh god, she thought to herself. This woman wrecks me.

"Hey," she spoke quietly, inspecting Jacqueline's eyes as she did. Eyes were puffy, nose red in the spots where continued tissue use irritated it.

"Thanks for coming," Jacqueline whispered back, wasting no time in taking the writer's hand in her own to pull her away from the door to close it. She did not let go, instead she used it to lead the writer down the hallway to the bedroom.

"You are not okay, are you?" Jane asked, dropping her bag at the foot of the bed and using their linked hands to turn the woman toward her. "What is it?"

Jacqueline shook her head as if her behavior were absurd.

"I didn't want to sleep alone tonight," she admitted.

"Oh, Jacq."

The shorter of the two initiated a reassuring hug.

"I have shorts under these," she pointed to her sweats. "Why don't you crawl in and I'll rid myself of a layer or two."

Jacqueline smiled. She knew that for Jane to be in layers it had meant she had thrown clothes over whatever she was sleeping in and hurried out the door. She did as she was told, watching as Jane pulled the sweatshirt over her head. The sweatshirt was left folded loosely at the end of the bed, an action that seemed as if she had done it hundreds of times before. In spite of the reason Jane was there, the editor couldn't help but enjoy watching the sweats drag down fit legs that were barely covered by running shorts. Even in her current state of emotional fog, Jacqueline found the young woman's legs mouthwatering.

Jane made her way to the bed; she was unable to dismiss the look she was being given as she climbed in. She struggled to put the surge of adrenaline aside. One look from the editor had the power to do remarkable things to her body.

Looking at one another in bed gave the two women the opportunity to consider the ease that existed when in one another's presence.

"Jane..." Jacqueline didn't know what to say. The day had taken everything out of her.

Tears fell.

"Come here, baby."

The word came out of her mouth so naturally that it didn't even make Jane blush when she heard it with her own ears. She opened her arms and relaxed once Jacqueline settled into them.

"Thank you," the blonde sniffled.

"Of course. Do you need to talk about it?" she asked. "Before you can sleep, I mean."

"No, I will be fine," Jacqueline said, but her body shrugged.

"Says the woman who texted me after midnight to drive across more than one city borough to climb into her bed."

What had been an attempt at levity fell flat. Jacqueline Carlyle was embarrassed. This was new. Jane couldn't remember Jacqueline ever being truly embarrassed.

"Hey, look at me."

Jane's hands were on rosy cheeks, their eyes meeting in the subdued light from a bedside reading lamp.

"What do you want, Jacq? What do you need from me?" Jane breathed.

It was a split second response.

"You, Jane."

Leaning in, Jane's left hand dropped to find the blonde's hip as she pressed her lips to Jacqueline's. It was irresolute, as kisses go. Jane was afraid of pushing. She was here to be whatever Jacqueline needed. Her needs and desires were irrelevant.

"If that is going to happen again and it will," the editor hummed as the kiss ended, "we need to close the door."

Lost in the moment, Jane had totally forgotten about the boys asleep on the other end of the apartment.

She stood and made her way to the door, closing the door firmly, but without making excessive noise.

"Lock it."

Those two words caused Jane more than an adrenaline rush. She felt the heat between her legs and her nipples were suddenly erect. She did as she was told.

Crawling back into bed with Jacqueline, the writer reminded herself to breathe and to not set expectations.

"You don't wear a bra when you drive across more than one borough?" Jacqueline's eyes were once again on Jane's breasts.

Jane felt her nipples becoming desperately hard.

"Actually, I do."

Choosing not to elaborate, Jane did something else. Taking the hand that had already found her hip, she placed it over one of her small breasts.

"Oh," Jacqueline's hand twitched, the nipple touching her palm.

All because I asked her to lock the door? she mused. God, what else can I ask her?

"Jacq..." Jane all but moaned at the touch.

The blonde's lips were on hers and the hand on her breast was no longer stationary. Tongues that had leisurely greeted one another before the door was locked now battled to lead. Jane hooked her leg around the back of Jacqueline's knee, pulling their bodies closer.

When she needed air, Jane pulled back and inhaled loudly. The hand on her breast, different than it might have felt in the past prior to her reconstructive surgery, was skilled. God, it was skilled, Jane said to herself. She might always grieve the loss of how her breasts responded to stimulation in the past, but with Jacqueline at the helm she might like her breasts again. Oh my god, she nearly said aloud. I might love my boobs again.

When lips found her nipple, sucking it through her sports bra and tank top, Jane's hips bucked hard against Jacqueline's pelvis causing the other woman to moan.

"Is it a terrible time for this?" Jane managed to speak, breathless as it was.

Blonde tendrils being pushed from her face, Jacqueline was a beautiful sight. Her reddened cheeks, both evidence of earlier tears and now arousal, made her appear all the more sexy.

"If you are worried about me—about the day—don't be. But if you'd like to slow things down a bit we—"

Her words were cut off. The brunette had made her decision. She did not need more time to decide. If Jacqueline was okay with it, Jane was not going to stop. She kissed the editor fiercely.

Lips moved on, trailing from Jacqueline's ear down her helpfully extended neck and back up again. She twisted her body to climb atop Jacqueline but was stopped by a hand on her chest. She was confused until the words "I need to be on top" were whispered in her ear. Jane understood.

Lying flat, Jane raised herself onto her elbows before using her abs to hold her there while she pulled her tank top over her head. Jacqueline was totally in awe of the young woman's small breasts. She nodded her permission for the bra to be ditched as well. Those eyes missed nothing.

A trembling hand reached out to touch, fondle, explore. She desperately wanted to suck. She took a minute to raise herself up and rolled over to straddle Jane's hips.

Eyelids fluttered closed at the sensation. Jane had no idea if Jacqueline's did as well. When her eyes opened Jacqueline was looking down at her, waiting to devour her.

And then Jacqueline bent forward.

The sensation of tongue on skin, the electricity of lips on nipples elicited suppressed moans from the brunette. Her hips moved between Jacqueline's. She nearly cried out when a clearly quite skilled mouth released her nipple and air filled the gap. Looking up she saw why. Jacqueline was unbuttoning her pajama top. As much as Jane would have liked to help, she was too captivated by the sight to move.

"God, Jacq," she rasped. The top was left hanging open. It she were meaning to tease, Jane was sufficiently teased.

And the garment fell down each of the older woman's arms.

Jane felt a gush between her legs and her thighs reflexively pressed together. She was certain it was noticeable. Her eyes were wide with desire. The woman's breasts were full, perky. Mouth-watering by any definition.

Bending forward once again, Jacqueline felt Jane's eyes on the space between her breasts. She had only one thing in mind and it would block Jane's view. It didn't matter. She lowered herself until her chest was pressed firmly to the writer's.

Jane cried.

It was not loud nor was it a moan. It didn't bring about tears, but it had the same sound of emotion catching in her throat. Instead of pulling back, Jacqueline rocked her body slowly.

"Oh my god..." was the only decipherable response.

Convinced by this that the woman beneath her didn't need a moment to adjust, the blonde carried on. It was subtle, slow. Their bodies against one another, bare breasts on bare breasts, and the feeling of their souls entwining moment by beautiful moment.

Jacqueline's own deep inhales and exhales came as rocking turned to grinding. By then their lips had once again found each other to resume erratic, desperate kissing.

Small hands were tangled in wavy tresses. Holding on as if the moment might slip through her fingers if she did not, Jane's lithe hips lifted to meet every movement of Jacqueline's.

It was then that the blonde's pubic bone rolled over the bundle of nerves and sent Jane tumbling into the abyss. One hand held tight to Jacqueline's hair while the other held on to the pillow. She did everything she could to be quiet—failing as a last wave hit her and she moaned. A quick and ready mouth pounced on hers to stifle the sound.

The brunette's body went limp against the mattress. She opened her eyes to find Jacqueline looking at her in amazement.

"What?" Jane covered her face with her forearm, suddenly self-conscious.

"She who could not orgasm—"

Jane swung the pillow she had been gripping, missing Jacqueline who was halted by the attack. Jacqueline laughed.

"Don't even—"

"And why not?" she raised her eyebrow.

Jane took in the scene above her. That trademark eyebrow lift. Blonde hair that was an absolute mess had been treated to fingers all through it. Jacqueline remained topless, her chest red from their bodies rubbing against one another and her intense arousal. It was when her hazel eyes followed the bare torso downward that she could not keep a low growl from developing. There was a noticeable wet spot at the front of Jacqueline's pajama bottoms.

Jane made her desire known both in her look and in her movements that brought them each on their side, facing one another.

Lips met the place beneath the editor's ear. They became acquainted with the skin spanning Jacqueline's neck. Kisses trailed along a tempting collarbone. And when gentle sucking began along the tops of her full breasts, Jacqueline's head tipped back.

No longer content with what she could easily reach from her current position, Jane moved further down the bed until her eyes were level with dark nipples. First fingers and then tongue traced the outer bands. She knew it was driving the editor wild based on whimpering each time Jane's mouth grazed the center peak.

"Dammit, Jane," Jacqueline hissed, grabbing the back of the writer's head and pressing her against the desperate nipple.

Following direction, Jane sucked and soothed, teased and tormented. It was when her teeth pinched the tip of Jacqueline's nipple that she felt hips meeting her own, reacting with their own desperation.

Looking up at the woman she would walk on water for, Jane wanted to give her every bit of pleasure she deserved.

"Jacq..." Jane purred as she ran her tongue on the underside of each breast.

"Huh?" Jacqueline managed to speak.

"Take them off."

"Fuck..." Jacqueline groaned.

Jane pressed gentle kisses all over the woman's belly as she felt more than actually saw the satin drawstring being loosened and fingers slipping under the waist band on either side to push the bottoms downward. Scooting down the mattress and the blonde's body, Jane's breath caught. She wasn't expecting to find Jacqueline without panties. And extent of the sheen of wetness surprised her.

"Umm, Jane?" Jacqueline chuckled. "Help me out of these?"

Jacqueline would have attempted to kick the pajama bottoms down the rest of the way, but with the brunette situated where she was, she feared kicking her in the process.

Jane obliged.

The satin was hardly as pure to touch as the skin beneath. Once cleared of long legs and delicate feet, Jane followed the same path up with hands all over smooth skin. When she passed the blonde's knee, her fingers were replaced by her lips. The younger woman knew her hands were trembling. Not out of fear, necessarily, though she feared not being able to fully please Jacqueline. Her hands trembled as a physical manifestation of her disbelief that this was really happening.

"Oh, god," the editor moaned when Jane's mouth reached the apex of her thighs.

The younger woman had no experience to draw from, only that of encounters with men who never worshiped her body the way she wished to worship Jacqueline's now. She did what seemed most obvious—she lifted Jacqueline's outer leg and placed it over her own shoulder.

"Jesus Christ."

The brunette took note of every word uttered, every sigh, every moan. She would never forget this night. As her lips first touched Jacqueline, pelvis rocking against her face, she knew she wouldn't be the only one remembering the night.

"Fuck..." Jacqueline hissed, her hand finding the back of Jane's head and trying to hold on to it and anything else to ground her.

Jane dipped in to Jacqueline and found herself moaning, a low rumble that was more than stimulating for the blonde.

"Fuck...fuck...fuck."

The writer's tongue matched the staccato, profane moans. She could not get enough.

One last swipe of her tongue and Jane felt the otherworldly feeling of Jacqueline unraveling against her lips.

The sound released was not a moan. No, it was as if her entire body exhaled for the first time in months, years even. As the editor relaxed, allowing the weight of her leg to fall entirely on Jane, she opened her eyes and looked down at the very moment Jane wiped her mouth on the woman's inner thigh. There was something about that sight that felt as intimate as anything that had happened since Jane came running to her that night.

The intimacy of lovers, Jacqueline thought.

She felt a wave of emotion.

"Come here," she whispered.

Jane could hear the emotion lacing the simple request.

Jacqueline's leg was removed from Jane's shoulder. Her breath caught when her thighs came together, sensitivity apparent. She had to ward off tears when she felt Jane's arm wrap around her and leg drape over her hip. Jane Sloan was many things. Confident was not one of them. However, she brought their bodies together with the confidence of a woman enamored. She had the confidence of a long-time lover. She kissed Jacqueline tenderly before resting her forehead against the older woman's chin. Her breathing was becoming less heavy and her heart no longer in an all-out sprint.

"Are you alright?" Jacqueline whispered.

The eyes that looked up at her were those of a person with no regrets.

"Mmm...yes," she hummed.

"I wasn't expecting that," Jacqueline's subtle smirk warmed and reddened Jane's cheeks.

"Honestly, I thought you'd called me over here to hold you."

The writer nuzzled Jacqueline's neck.

"I thought I had too, babe."

"I can still do that," Jane said. "For as long as you need."

They laid in that position until their bodies cooled and Jacqueline was forced to pull the blanket up to cover them. A lingering kiss preceded the blonde turning over. Jane pressed her torso against Jacqueline's back. Her arm lazily draped over a hip where their hands entwined.

"What time do the boys get up?" Jane asked without any hint of awkwardness.

"They leave for school at 7:30, usually up at 6:45. I assume you have to go back to Brooklyn?" Jacqueline said.

"Unless dirty running shorts are now acceptable under Scarlet's dress policy, yes," Jane smiled against an ear.

"I'll have my car take you."

Jane sighed contentedly.

"Jane?" a rare insecurity had crept into Jacqueline's voice.

Pressing a kiss to the woman's neck, Jane squeezed her tight.

"Thank you for coming over tonight."

"All you have to do is ask."

It was there with Jacqueline Carlyle in her arms that Jane acknowledged to herself for the first time that she could get very hurt. She was too invested to not experience heartbreak when this ended. A lump in her throat barely held back the flood of emotion that overcame her. And it was when not if.

It was the last thought to cross the young woman's mind before she drifted off to sleep.

To be continued…