She bit down on her own hand to keep quiet.
“Look at me,” Sarah said.
Lizzie opened her eyes. Sarah was watching her with an intensity that made the whole thing feel unbearably intimate—not performing, not showing off, just seeing her. All the way through. Like she wanted to memorize the way Lizzie came apart as much as she wanted to cause it.
“Right there. Don’t stop.”
Sarah didn’t. She kept the same pressure, the same angle, the same maddening rhythm until Lizzie came hard, her back arching, her whole body drawn tight as a wire, her hand pressed over her mouth to muffle the sound.
Sarah eased her through it, gentling her touch, slowing until Lizzie pushed her away.
“Too much.”
Sarah crawled up and kissed her. Lizzie could taste herself on Sarah’s mouth and she kissed her harder for it. They lay there for a minute, Lizzie’s pulse still hammering, her body humming. Sarah’s hand traced idle shapes on her hip, patient, unhurried, like she could have stayed in that exact spot for the rest of the evening and been perfectly content.
“Your turn,” Lizzie said when she trusted her voice again.
She sat up and pushed Sarah back against the pillows. Her hands were less steady than she wanted them to be. She stripped Sarah out of her slacks, her bra, and then just stopped.
Sarah in the late afternoon light coming through the window. The warm brown of her skin, the slope of her shoulders, the dark hair between her legs. Four weeks since Lizzie had seen this. She wanted to press it into her memory like a flower between the pages of a book.
“Stop staring and touch me.”
Lizzie leaned down and kissed her, deep and slow, her tongue sliding against Sarah’s while her hand moved down between Sarah’s legs. She was already soaked, and when Lizzie touched her, Sarah’s whole body registered it before her mind did.
“God, you’re so wet.”
“I’ve been thinking about you too.” Sarah’s voice was rough, stripped of its usual composure. Lizzie loved that—loved being the one who could undo her, who could take the woman who ran boardrooms and negotiated settlements and turn her into someone breathless and wanting.
Lizzie circled Sarah’s clit and Sarah’s hips came off the bed. Lizzie watched her face because this was the part she loved most—not the mechanics but the unraveling. The way Sarah’s jaw went slack, the way her brow creased, the way her hand found Lizzie’s arm and gripped it like an anchor.
“Inside,” Sarah managed. “I need to feel you.”
Lizzie gave her what she wanted and Sarah gasped—a sharp, unguarded sound that sent heat flooding through Lizzie’s entire body. Sarah was tight and hot and so wet that Lizzie couldhear it when she started to move, and the sound was obscene and beautiful and it made Lizzie want to take her apart piece by piece. She found the angle that made Sarah’s whole body jerk and her eyes squeeze shut, and she stayed right there, relentless, her thumb working Sarah’s clit in time with each movement.
“More.”
Lizzie gave her more, deeper, harder, and Sarah made a broken sound that went straight to Lizzie’s core. Her free hand went to Sarah’s breast, rolling her nipple, and Sarah fisted the pillow above her head and arched off the bed. Her composure was gone. The polished GM, the woman who kept her voice level through every crisis—she was shaking apart under Lizzie’s hands, and the raw, open need on her face was the most beautiful thing Lizzie had ever seen.
“I’m going to come.”
“Let me see it.”
Lizzie didn’t let up. She kept the rhythm, kept the pressure, and Sarah came apart with a cry she didn’t bother to muffle, her body tensing in long, shuddering waves. Lizzie eased her down gradually, gentling her movements until Sarah grabbed her wrist.
“Stop. I can’t.”
Lizzie withdrew and collapsed beside her. They lay there breathing hard, skin damp with sweat, the room golden and quiet around them.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Lizzie listened to Sarah’s breathing slow and felt the knot in her own chest—the one she’d carried all the way from New York—finally dissolve.
“I’m going to fight.” Sarah said it like she was making a decision in real time.
Lizzie turned her head. “Are you sure?”
“I’ll talk to Stavros. See if we can get the Gazette to print a retraction or at least publish my side. Maybe do a local TV interview.” Sarah propped herself up on one elbow. “Thank you. The evidence, the witnesses, all of it. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“You don’t need to repay me. I did it because I love you.”
