Except it wasn’t. Not to Billie. Not when Debra had been curled against her on the couch the night before. Not when Debra had listened to her with that tender patience that made Billie want to weep and bite down on her own tongue at the same time. Not when Debra had looked at her and made her feel like she wasn’t someone damaged or someone she had to tolerate. Just…someone to love.Potentially.
Billie swallowed, lifted her head, and stared at the wine glasses she’d set out earlier. Two of them, side by side. She’d hesitated even doing that. Because there was a version of her that would have only set one glass out, just in case. Just in case Debra had changed her mind. Just in case Billie had ruined it before it had even started. But she’d set two anyway in a small act of faith.
And now she was standing there like a teenager, waiting for the woman she’d been obsessed with for months now to step into her space again, knowing full well she was going to be unbearable the moment Debra smiled at her.
Billie walked back into the living room and adjusted a cushion. Then she checked her reflection in the hallway mirror and regretted it immediately. Her hair was still damp from her shower, and it wasn’t perfectly styled either. Just brushed and falling naturally. She wore a fitted black shirt and dark pants, the sleeves rolled up her forearms. And, most importantly, she was barefoot. A common occurrence when she was alone, but never if she had company. Not even with Ella here.
There was no suit tonight. There was no…armour.
She looked normal. Still Billie Brown, but she looked less like a warning sign, and that was exactly the point. She hadn’t cooked for anyone in years. Not with intention and not as an offering instead of a routine. She hadn’t cooked for anyone since…Janet.
A wave of nerves hit her again, and she rubbed her palms down her thighs.
Don’t start pacing.
But her legs didn’t listen. Billie moved to the window and stared down at the street, the glow of London bleeding across the pavement. She watched strangers walk beneath her building—couples, friends, people who belonged to one another, be it for a night or for a lifetime.
Her heart constricted. She’d never been that person. She’d never been the one waiting, and she’d never been the one hoping. She’d never had that special someone who was coming over just because they wanted to see her.
She was still adjusting to that, and she was still learning what it meant. And the worst part of it all was that Billie wasn’t just excited. She wasaching. Not in the crude sense, but in that deep, visceral way that made her feel as though she was made of longing.
She wanted to undress Debra, yes, but not quickly. Not desperately or frantically. Not in the way she used to, when need was a clawing thing, and she was always either in control or losing it.
Tonight, she wanted something else.
She wanted to peel Debra out of her clothes like she had all the time in the world. She wanted to show her that she wasn’t afraid of what any of this meant. She wanted to watch Debra sit on her couch, comfortable and claiming space without apology, and she wanted to kneel in front of her…not out of fear or conditioning, but out of choice. Out of devotion.
Billie inhaled sharply at the thought and clenched her jaw, hoping she could stop her imagination from running away with itself. Her mind, traitorous and vivid, offered her a flash of Debra from earlier in her coat, that luscious blonde hair windswept, and those blue eyes bright in Billie’s company.
Then another thought followed. Debra underneath it all. The lingerie,hopefully, and the deliciousness of every curve. The idea of Debra walking into Billie’s flat in comfortable clothes while hiding something beautiful beneath them made Billie’s pulse pound.
It felt like intimacy in its purest form. Not just sex, but trust. A gift, a…promise.
Billie looked at the time again. She still had ten minutes to wait.
Ten! For fuck’s sake!
She dragged a hand down her face and exhaled slowly. She wanted Debra heresobadly that it felt like her skin was too tight. Her whole body was tuned towards the door, every sound in the corridor making her breath catch. She’d always thought she had patience, and maybe she did, but not where Debra Allen was concerned. She already felt as though she’d lost precious time with her in the last month. But tonight, Billiewouldmake up for that.
And then came the knock.
Billie froze.Actuallyfroze. Another knock followed, and just like that, her heart started to pound. Not with panic, and not with fear, but with that strange, all-consuming joy that felt almost too big for her chest.
As she walked to the door slowly, forcing her feet to behave, she rested her palm briefly against the wood and gathered herself. She drew in one breath after another, composed herself, and then she opened it.
Debra stood there with her coat draped over one arm, holding a bottle of wine in her other hand. She had those pink, rosy cheeks from the cold, but it was her eyes that Billie focused on. They really were the most beautiful Billie had ever come across.Then came that smile. The one Billie had thought about all day. God, it was so intense that she almost stumbled back.
“Hi,” Debra said softly.
Billie stared at her, unmoving, for far too long.
Debra’s brows lifted with amusement. “Are you…going to let me in?”
“Yes!” Billie blinked, then stepped back. “Sorry. Come in.”
Debra stepped past her, and Billie breathed her in. Perfume, cold air, that underlying elegance thatalwaysmade Billie’s thoughts turn dangerous.
Debra spun on her heel, still smiling, and held the bottle up. “I come bearing bribery.”
