Looking at the cases, they look similar; similar targets, similar attack styles, but I’m not sure if it’s just a copycat or if the person from before just decided to come out of retirement, because we never caught him. Regardless, it’s killing me a little bit. We have to deal with several other stations across the state, trying to figure out if they have anything similar to this, and if so, trying to figure out if they have any information that can help us.
The problem is, stations tend to be fucking greedy. They don’t like sharing. They want all the information for themselves so that they can get the credit and be acknowledged for solving the case. That’s one of the things that sucks about this job: everyone says they want to help, but it’s only in their best interest.
I stare at the pictures on my board, as if staring at them will help me unlock the answers that I’m looking for. That’s what I’ve been doing since I got home, just staring.
“Fuck…” I mutter, running my hand down my face. I’m never going to get anything done with the way that my brain is working at the moment.
I take a deep breath and press the heels of my hands into my eye sockets for a few seconds before pulling them away and standing up. I look around the room once more before shutting off my computer and heading out into the living room.
Sloane dances around the kitchen as music plays from the speaker by the sink. She sings softly as she mixes something in a bowl.
I lean against the doorway and just watch her for a few seconds, letting myself admire her. Her hair is down today in soft waves when it’s usually up in a bun or a ponytail. She’s wearing a baggy shirt and some shorts.
She hums softy to herself. The song is darker than what I’d think she’d listen to, some kind of rap, I’ve never heard it before. She mouths the words as she whisks whatever is in her bowl.
I wonder how long I could just stand here and watch her before she’d notice. Probably awhile; she’s the most oblivious person I think I’ve ever met.
I’ve been thinking about her a lot recently. About the way she felt when I held her in my arms. About her laugh. Just everything about her doesn’t really matter what it is. She’s this ray of light that shines so fucking bright even when all she’s known is darkness.
I’m not sure what takes over me, but the way she moves, the way she sings, everything about this moment just pulls me in. I push myself off the wall. Already feeling a lot better than I have all day.
She seems to have that effect on me; she takes all the bad and makes it better. I’m not really sure how she does it, but she does, and she has no idea.
I grab her and turn her in my arms, earning a gasp from her. I stare at her, just holding her.
She stares at me as if she’s not sure what to do, and I’m not sure what to do, either.
“You drive me crazy, Sloane.” The words leave my lips in a whisper. So quiet, I’m not even sure she hears them.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, looking up at me with big doe-like eyes.
“I’m sorry…I…” My brain catches up with my body, and I try to step back, but she stops me. Her hands find my shirt, and she grips it tightly.
“No, don’t go… stay,” she whispers. There’s a nervous tremor to her hand, but the look in her eyes tells me everything I need to know.
“Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”
She shakes her head softly, her fingers gently gripping my shirt tighter. “Idowant this.”
I lean down, pressing our foreheads together, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” she whispers
I press my lips to hers. The kiss starts soft, like both of us are just trying to figure the other one out. One of my hands tangles in her hair, and the other wraps around her waist, keeping her flush against me as the kiss deepens.
Fuck. She tastes like my next addiction.
She tastes so good. Cherry and vanilla. So much fucking vanilla. Her smell overwhelms me as I run my tongue along the seam of her lips.
I kiss her until we’re both breathless and panting. I pull away and lean my forehead against hers. Her cheeks are flushed, her hands still clutching my shirt like her life depends on it.
We stay still, neither of us daring to move.
I can feel how erratic her heart is beating, matching the pace of mine.
