"So…when did you end up going home?"
"Only about three quarters of an hour after you."
"Huh-hu. And how did you spend your evening?"
"Lewis came by. We went out. Then I fell asleep on the couch. That's where I was when you came by actually."
"You were in the shower."
Shit. You should have let her do the talking. "Well, when you came by I was in the shower, but…you came by in my dream."
"Really? What was I wearing?" Again, the coy smile. Joking. His eyes shot up to meet hers. Shocked. "I was wearing something, right?"
"Y-yes…" He gulped.
"Was it red? No, don't tell me."
"Black."
"Great, like that's any better."
"I like black better."
"Oh, I'm sure you do." He looked at her, quizzically. She, in turn, pointedly avoided looking at him.
Again! Ah, fuck. "Stay here." She tried to hide her laughter, but not too hard. "You think this is funny?" He turned back. "There's nothing funny about it." Slinking towards her. Mildly pissed. "Let me attempt to show you what it's like." And there it was.
He had intended it to be fast and hard, a sort of "take that." But tonight just wasn't working for him. Without trying, she had filled his mind and soul yet again and now he couldn't find himself pulling away. One hand brushed up against an ear, skin soft on skin. There was passion, like before, but it was different—so different. This was tender, calming as if pushing it anymore would cause the moment to crumble into a million tiny shards that would always remain to haunt their partnership. He slowly pulled away to take in a breath but stayed close, his hand still next to her ear.
"I'm not usually like this. It's…it's just that…" She pulled away, walking out of the room to safety.
"You need to get laid." She was joking. Or was she? It had been a long time—a very long time. But there was good reason for that. Several very good reasons, the first and foremost standing in his living room.
"I don't disagree."
Pause. "You know its Hanukkah now, right?"
"Don't try to change…" Sigh. "Yes."
Moments ticked by slowly, watching to see what would happen next. "I don't…" Another sigh. "I should go." And with that, she grabbed her coat and left.
"Wait!" She paused, but didn't look back. She couldn't, he knew. He had placed her in an awkward position. His fault, his doing.
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That night she lay in bed, the day's events not letting her mind fall asleep. The feeling of his lips on hers…was strange. She wasn't expecting it, nor did she know how she felt about it. The thought hadn't crossed her mind. Not with him anyway.
She spent so much energy keeping up with him, the job, her family, that her love life had simply vanished. At first her thoughts about him were "this guy is weird" and then they turned to "this guy is weird…and intriguing." Even without her personal feelings, she hadn't pondered the idea for fear of tarnishing her record. No dating co-workers. It was common enough everywhere, but as a cop, dating your partner was an obvious no-no.
Then again, it had been a long time. She had tried to get back in the game a couple years after the fateful day, but wasn't satisfied with the results. Instead, she put energy and time into work. It had paid off.
She called him. He wasn't asleep, just like she knew he wouldn't be. "What do you want to do about this?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You know damn well what I'm talking about."
"Look, I'm sorry—"
"Don't apologize if you meant it."
A breath was let out. "Then I take that back."
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"What do you think we should do!"
"What do you think…?"
"What do you mean 'what do I think'?"
"…about all this? I want to know. You know how I feel."
Awkward. "I…I don't know how I feel. It's complicated."
"You mean its taboo."
A minute passed. "What was your dream exactly?"
"You don't want to know."
"Or is it just that you don't want to tell me?"
"It could be both, but more that you just don't want to know."
"Maybe it's better that way…"
"It is."
"Huh-uh." Sarcastic.
"You really want to know." Statement, no question. She did. "I don't want to say it over the phone. I'm coming over."
"Fine." Click.
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Knock, knock. "Come in."
He found her, wrapped in a green comforter on the couch. She looked up. "Sit down." He did, next to her, but with a foot in between. "So…"
He looked away. Fidgeting. "You don't have to know."
"No, I don't." She turned towards him, lowering her arms to her lap, taking the comforter with them. He looked up and gulped.
"It's Christmas night and you wear a black tank top to bed?"
"The heater was on all day. It's hot."
And it's just getting warmer. He nodded. "Right."
"You pointed out that it was black."
"Something's put me on a one-track mind tonight."
"Me."
Nodding again. "Well, the thought of." Silence. Hesitantly. "You implied you had a solution?"
"Can we just…ignore it?" She regretted that quickly. The thought of her alone had excited him at least twice that night. And she was asking him to stifle it.
Looking away, again. "I don't see why not. It's what I've been doing for four years." Four years? Good God. This is why they call women cruel.
Pros and cons flashed through her head rapidly, one side taking precedence. What the hell? Why not? If she hadn't noticed for four years, then he was probably good at hiding things from her, let alone anyone with authority. She couldn't say she didn't like him. In fact, she did think he was good looking—he always had been—but had never let herself dwell. And her body needed something. It was the season of giving after all.
She got on her knees, crawled to his side and wound her neck around his head so her lips could take his. Questioning. Embarrassed. Hands found burning cheeks. The soft, hesitant pressure came to an end shortly. He looked at her, quizzical. "I thought you said—"
"You're really good at ruining a moment."
"Sorry."
"Don't apologize if you don't mean it."
"So I can be confused?"
"Yes, just don't verbalize it now." She pushed him back and crawled over him. The sight of a man under her seemed like something from her wild youthful days. Exhilarating.
Before she could bring her head down to his, lips met hers and strong arms pulled her down. She didn't have to remember what to do, he was leading her through the process, a warm wave of energy washing over her. His tongue found hers and pulled her in closer, deeper. Reluctantly, and with much effort, she pulled away for a much-needed breath only to have it be torn from her lungs at the touch of his mouth on her collarbone.
His hands found their way up under her top and held on just below her ribs. The sudden touch caused her to jump away though she couldn't get far. "What?"
"Nothing." She kissed him again, hard, the heat causing an urgency within her. "Let's do this like your dream."
"Hmm, we can't." The beginning of his words cut off by an extra set of lips.
"Why?" Her head came back down, suckling his neck just below the ear.
Moaning. "You were in a dress."
"But it was taken off so what's the difference?"
"You wore it the whole time."
A beat went by. "Now that's desperation." He laughed. She bit his ear. "You making fun of me and my lack of sex?"
"Possibly."
She sat up, one leg on either side of his waist. "You're in trouble now."
"I'm in trouble?" One eyebrow went up. "You were the one who bit a police officer." He raised himself up and pushed her back on the comforter.
"You're lucky I don't have my handcuffs on me."
"Hmm, maybe another time." He slid her top up slowly, feeling her squirm beneath his body.
"You're expecting this more than once?"
"But of course." Her mouth opened in protest, but the words were kept bottled up as his tongue slipped between her teeth.