Isabel smiled as Victoria only twitched and stayed silent. She gently kissed Victoria’s neck as her hands caressed up and down Victoria’s thighs. Isabel could have stayed there forever, between Victoria’s beautifully toned and strong thighs, holding her close. She moved her hands further up Victoria’s sides, soothing the goosebumps down with gentle motions. When Victoria’s breath sounded more even, Isabel stepped back.
She immediately looked towards Victoria’s eyes, expecting to see her building her icy walls. Instead, she saw Victoria’s lips curl into a relaxed smile as she gazed into Isabel’s soul.
Isabel leaned forward, unable to resist the pull of that rare smile. She kissed Victoria softly, slowly, savoring the warmth of her lips after so much fire and fury between them. It wasn’t about taking or demanding now—it was about being close, feeling the impossible ease of the moment.
When she drew back, she smoothed a damp strand of hair from Victoria’s temple and murmured, “Can I get you anything?”
Victoria hesitated, then nodded once. “Water.”
Isabel gave her one last brush of her thumb along her cheek before stepping away. She grabbed a bottle from the fridge, twisted the cap, and handed it over. Victoria’s throat worked as she drank greedily, as if she’d been parched for hours. Isabel stood there watching, her chest tight, memorizing the image—the mess of her hair, the softness in her eyes, the hunger still simmering underneath.
When she started to turn away, Victoria’s hand shot out and caught hers. Isabel froze, her pulse thudding as she looked back.
Victoria held her gaze, voice low but steady. “There’s a memory in that bedroom I’d rather not keep.” Her thumb brushed over Isabel’s knuckles, deliberate and sure. “Take me to bed, Isabel. Let’s replace it.”
For a moment Isabel could only stare, struck dumb by the raw honesty of it. Then she bent, sliding her arms beneath Victoria, lifting her easily. Victoria gasped softly, but her arms wound around Isabel’s shoulders, her smile brushing Isabel’s ear.
Isabel carried her toward the bedroom, every step charged with the promise of what was to come. The door shut behind them, the night stretching long and endless.
11
VICTORIA
Victoria woke to the faint gray light pressing through the blinds, the room hushed but for the steady rhythm of Isabel’s breathing beside her. For a moment, she lay still, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the guilt to arrive—waiting for the sharp edge of regret that usually followed when she allowed herself to feel too much.
But it didn’t come.
Instead, there was warmth. Isabel’s arm draped across her waist, her cheek resting against Victoria’s shoulder. The slow, unguarded rise and fall of Isabel’s chest lulled against her ribs. Victoria’s throat tightened. She hadn’t woken up like this in years—body spent, heart strangely light, someone pressed against her as if she belonged there.
She turned her head slightly, taking in the tangle of dark hair spread across the pillow, the curve of Isabel’s lips softened in sleep. Beautiful. Infuriating. Dangerous.
Victoria let out a quiet breath. “What are you doing to me?” she whispered, too low for Isabel to hear.
Isabel stirred, her lashes fluttering open. A sleepy smile curved her mouth as she shifted to look up at Victoria. “Morning,” she murmured, her voice husky from sleep.
The word scraped something raw inside Victoria. She hesitated, then said softly, “I haven’t…done this in a long time. Waking up with someone.”
Isabel’s smile gentled, curious but patient. “Yeah?”
Victoria swallowed, eyes fixed on the ceiling again. “I had someone. Years ago. Diane. She…wanted more than I knew how to give.” She flexed her hand against the sheet, feeling the old ache rise. “I thought keeping my distance, keeping control, was the right way to protect both of us. But all it did was drive her away.”
The confession burned on her tongue, but once it started, she couldn’t stop. “I don’t let people in easily. And when I do, it feels…as if I’m losing ground. Like I’m weaker for it.” She forced herself to glance at Isabel, bracing for judgment.
But Isabel only looked at her quietly, her gaze steady, her touch grounding where her hand still rested on Victoria’s stomach. “You’re not weak,” she said, her voice firm but low. “Letting someone close doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.”
Victoria closed her eyes briefly, the words sinking deep. When she opened them again, Isabel was closer, her lips brushing Victoria’s in a kiss that was gentle and reverent. Victoria let herself melt into it, the kind of kiss that stripped away her defenses and left her bare.
When they broke apart, Victoria rested her forehead against Isabel’s. “We can’t—people can’t know. Not yet.”
Isabel arched a brow, smirking faintly. “You mean the captain and the new detective sneaking around? Yeah, that might raise a few eyebrows.”
“More than a few,” Victoria muttered, though the corner of her mouth twitched. She sobered quickly. “But I mean it. If anyone finds out, it will put everything at risk—this case, our reputations, our careers. We keep this…between us.”
Isabel studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine. Our little secret.” Her smirk softened into something warmer. “But you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
Victoria’s chest ached at that—half fear, half relief. She didn’t know where this path would lead, but for the first time in years, she wanted to follow it.
Victoria sat behind her desk, the soft glow of the computer screen painting her face in pale light. The precinct outside her office hummed with its usual rhythm—phones ringing, footsteps crossing tile, voices trading clipped updates—but she barely heard it.
