Chapter Fourteen:

Alex is sitting on the couch when I open the front door to her apartment. I catch her just as she flips the file on her lap shut. She looks up and gives me a weak smile, but her eyes give her away. She's tired. She's disappointed. She's hurt. And I know her well enough to know she's blaming herself. In her mind, it's all her fault.

I stare at her for a long moment. Part of me wants to bring it up. To talk about it and help relieve some of her guilt. But part of me thinks I should just take her back into the bedroom and hold her. Some days, touching is easier than talking. I know from personal experience.

Her face is unreadable, and I can't tell what she wants, so I finally settle on a neutral, "Hey, Alex."

Alex tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and shoves her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "Hey, Liv." She sets the file on the coffee table, then leans back against the couch, sinking into the cushions. "I really fucked up today, didn't I?"

"It wasn't like you told Barnett we were listening in."

Her smile shifts into a small, tight frown. "I know. That's not what I said."

Again, I'm not sure how to answer her. Part of me thinks she did fuck up. I wasn't in favor of putting a wire on Sam. He's just a kid, too confused and hurt to have the fortitude for a police investigation. But not everyone would agree with me. Alex made a reasonable call. Not the one I would have made, but she put together a logical case for her decision. She never does anything unless she thinks it will work, and she's almost always right.

"I think it's more complicated than you want to admit," I say at last. She doesn't answer right away, so I sink down on the couch next to her, sliding close enough so our thighs touch. I reach out and put one hand on her knee. It isn't a sexual touch, not yet, but I hope the skin contact will help. "He's only sixteen, Alex. You asked a lot of him… maybe too much. I don't think the result matters as much as the motivation. Did you think about his feelings before you asked him to go in there?"

A line creases the middle of Alex's forehead. She keeps staring forward at the blank television screen, away from me. "Of course I thought about his feelings," she whispers. "I thought about them every day this month. But then I thought about what would happen if Barnett walked… if Sam decided not to testify and we lost our entire case. He seemed eager to have another option besides facing a jury."

I shift my hand further up her thigh to take her fingers in mine. "And now?"

Alex's hand stays limp as I run my thumb over her knuckles. "Now, I think we're screwed. The last thing Sam said before he stormed out of my office was, 'I'm not a fag.' There's no way he'll ever trust me again, and no way his mother would let him testify even if he wanted to. We'll have to start from scratch."

"We've started from scratch before. It's not impossible. People like Barnett always leave plenty of victims behind…"

"And how many are still within the statute of limitations? We need someone recent, and Sam's our only fresh connection." Alex pulls her hand away and rests her elbows on her knees, bending forward and staring down into her lap. "I don't know about this, Liv. I think I ruined our best shot."

I stare at her pale cheeks, her drawn face, and make a decision. This is one of the times when talking won't help, when a kiss can heal more than any words. I reach out to stroke her cheek, cupping the soft curve of her jaw in my hand. Even like this, with red-rimmed eyes and deep worry lines, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I dip forward.

She jolts when I kiss her, then freezes, trying to decide whether to pull away or part her lips. After a moment, she melts. Her hands shoot up to grip my shoulders, and her mouth presses hard into mine. I taste her heat, her desperation, and I know I guessed right. I understand her.

When she tips backwards onto the couch, I follow. Her knee hooks around my hip, and I tighten my hold on her waist. "Liv," she whispers. Her lips tremble around my name. I don't say anything. Instead, I kiss her until we're breathless. We don't need to talk, just touch. My fingertips brush her knee, tease beneath the hem of her skirt. Her legs are bare, and her skin is so warm. I can see her pulse pounding along the soft curve of her throat. "Liv…" My name again. This time, she follows it up by sliding her hand over mine. Together, we lift the skirt up.

My teeth tug at my lower lip as I stare between her legs. The soft blue fabric of her underwear is already dark in the center. I don't need to take my time, but I stall anyway, leaning forward to trail kisses along her shoulder as I unbutton her blouse. She gasps beside my ear and lets her hands roam along my back, but I don't allow her to rush me. I know she'll appreciate it later.

By the time I pull her undershirt up and over her head, she's pressing insistently into my hip. I feel her desire, and it's not just for sex. She wants to be swept away and forget everything that happened today. I move my hand from her waist and reach up to stroke her face again, folding my fingers around the arm of her glasses. "Here," I whisper, and slide them off as carefully as I can. She swallows as I fold them up and set them on the coffee table. The only other sound in the apartment is her ragged breathing. "Close your eyes, Alex."

She hesitates at first. Her lips pull into a small, worried frown. But at last, she sighs and rests her head on the arm of the couch. Her eyes flutter shut.

This time, my hands start at her shoulders. I smooth them down along both of her arms, brush over the crease in her elbows, rub my thumbs into her palms. Her fingers flex, but she stays limp beneath me. It's not about power or submission, she's simply accepting my touch. Next, I glide up along her ribcage. She arches, and I smile when the tips of her breasts harden to little pink points. I can't help myself, and I kiss down along the slope of her chest until I pull one of them between my lips. The sweet little gasp above my head almost tempts me to use my teeth.

I stay there for as long as she'll let me, kissing back and forth between her breasts. But she isn't very patient, and soon, she's running her fingers through my hair and grinding even more firmly against my thigh. The wet fabric and the pressure on top of my head tell me what she wants. I pull my mouth away with a soft pop. Usually, I'm the one begging for this instead of the other way around.

My lips wander down along her belly, stopping to kiss just beside her navel. Her stomach is mostly flat, but I adore the subtle curve at the bottom. My hands settle on her hips, and this time, I pull the waistband of her skirt and underwear down. She helps me kick them off, then tugs at me again, trying to pull my head between her legs. Alex is often demanding, even when she's bottoming, but she isn't usually physically forceful. On the rare occasions she's dominated me, it's mostly been verbal. That's what she's best at.

I look up along her naked stomach and realize she hasn't said a word since we started. That isn't like her. I pause and rest my cheek against her inner thigh. "Hey…" Her eyes open, and she looks down at me. I can tell her vision is hazy, because she has a little trouble focusing on me. "Are you okay?"

Alex lifts her head, and a few more strands of her hair spill over the arm of the couch. Half of her bun has fallen out. "No. I'm not okay. But, please, Liv..." She blinks, and suddenly her eyes are so intense that I feel all the air rush out of my lungs. "I need you."

That's all I need to hear. I lower my head between her legs and fold my lips around the exposed tip of her clit. She stiffens when my mouth closes over her, whimpers as I pull her in, then relaxes once she gets used to the warmth and pressure. Her hips rock forward, and I suck harder to match the force. Each soft tug makes her tremble, and the muscles of her abdomen jump and flex. Her fingers scrape through my hair at first, but then they grip the couch cushions, turning white as all the blood rushes out of her tense hands and rushes between her legs.

It doesn't take long to bring Alex to the edge. She's too emotionally raw to make it last anyway. I don't even have a chance to slide my fingers inside of her before she's coming, pushing out and spilling over in a hot flood. Wetness runs down my chin, but I don't care about the mess. This is too important. She's too important.

A sob breaks in her throat, and I give her what she can't find the words to ask for. I fill her with a few hard strokes, fucking into her with my hand and coaxing out more hard pulses. The rough treatment is enough to send her into another series of contractions. This time, I pull out and slip my fingers over her clit as fast as I can, and my mouth dips down to catch the tail-end of her orgasm. The salt and sweetness are too much, and I buck forward, catching against the seam of my jeans. It only takes a firm squeeze of my other hand over the denim to send me flying.

We come down around the same time. Panting, sticky, and out of breath, Alex looks at me with tired eyes and the first genuine smile I've seen from her today. The sight makes me pulse with an aftershock, and I feel a little bad for coming when it wasn't technically my turn. Some of my guilt eases when I see the damp patch on the couch cushion. I'll make it up to her by taking care of the clean-up.

"God, you're a mess," I murmur, pulling apart her swollen lips and staring down at the glistening pink flesh. Most of her wetness runs clear, but there are a few pearly white spots near her entrance. I start by flattening my tongue, running over each sensitive fold before I finally reach her clit again. It's too swollen and red to ignore, so I pull it back into my mouth. Alex tenses up, and a fresh pulse of wetness slips out of her. I can feel her inner muscles shudder with a third, smaller release.

"Christ," she groans when it's over, throwing an arm over her eyes and turning her head away. "Stop making me come. I don't have anything left for you." I know she's telling the truth, but I check anyway, milking the hooded shaft of her clit between my thumb and knuckle as I slide my tongue inside of her. She doesn't come again, but I get to enjoy a few more aftershocks before she pushes my head away.

"No more?"

"No more." She sighs and peeks out at me over the top of her elbow. "Thanks, Liv. That was exactly what I needed." I rest my chin on her hipbone and continue staring up at her. "Well, now I need a shower, but… you know what I mean." I smile. For a few minutes, I managed to make Alex forget work, Roy Barnett, and Sam Cavanaugh. It's not a perfect solution, but it will have to hold her over until we figure this out.