Debra turned to her, the wind catching on her hair and tugging loose strands around her face. “Then what does it feel like?”
The honest answer was too much—dangerous, unwise, too good—so she swallowed it down and went for something safer. “Different.”
Debra held her gaze. “Different isn’t always bad.”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Just this morning, Billie would have claimed that different was no good for her, but standing here with Debra, different wasn’t all that bad. It was a damn sight better than sitting alone in her office at the shop, wondering what loneliness waited for her back at her apartment.
Debra nudged her elbow. “Come on. I don’t want to overstep and never hear from you again.”
They continued walking, the quiet between them deepening in a way that felt almost intimate. Billie tried not to stare, but her gaze kept shifting to Debra of its own accord. She noted the flush in her cheeks and that smile at nothing in particular. And then Billie felt that pull again, only this time…she didn’t want to fight it away. Not so strongly, anyway.
This was what she’d forgotten she craved.
Not the meticulous choreography of sex and not the ritual of control. Absolutely not the pristine symmetry of transactional intimacy. Butthis. The witness of another person beside her. A conversation that wasn’t strategy. Company that didn’t need theatre and a presence that asked for nothing except that she showed up and stayed.
It was terrifying, but right here and now, Billie didn’t want it to end.
Debra slowed as they reached the steps that led towards the bridge. “You don’t seem like someone who takes time off.”
Oh, she had that right. Billie didn’t know what ‘time off’ meant. “I don’t.”
“Maybe you should. Recharge, you know?”
For some reason, Billie was actually considering what Debra was saying. “Maybe.”
Debra searched her face, those blue eyes narrowed. “What would you even do with a day off?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Billie exhaled, both amused and a little saddened. “It’s been years.”
“Then that’s your homework.” Debra’s smile brightened against the fading light. “Figure out who Billie Brown is when she’s not in a suit. Because I know that deep down, this isn’t who you really are.” Debra nudged her shoulder. “As hot as it may be, I think you’re a teddy bear at heart.”
Emotion swelled in Billie’s throat. She didn’t know how this woman had the ability to disarm her, but it was happening whether Billie wanted it to or not. “That might take a while.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” Debra may have said that lightly, and Billie didn’t know whether she truly meant it, but those words settled inside of her regardless.
They reached the corner where they should have parted ways—Billie’s car was a few streets away, and Debra’s flat was nearby but in the opposite direction. Billie should have ended it here before this turned into something she couldn’t control, but Debra lingered, and Billie realised that she couldn’t move.
Debra shifted her bag on her shoulder. “Would you…like to come in for coffee?”
Billie froze.
Why had her pulse just tripped over itself at the mere mention of coffee?
It was a harmless invitation. Anormalinvitation.
Except normal had never been safe terrain for Billie. She knew how to navigate desire. She was a master at guiding it, shaping it, and containing it, but this…a coffee table, two cups, and a conversation without choreography? Yeah, this was the kind of closeness she didn’t know how to survive.
Her instinctscreamedat her to walk away.
She’d managed to avoid moments exactly like this for a long time. Moments where control slipped and wanting made you visible. Moments where someone could see you, and worse…keep looking. But Debra wasn’t like anyone she’d met before.
Most women came to Billie wanting something clear anddefinable. Be it pleasure, escape, or affirmation, Billie knew how to give all of it without giving anything of herself in return. It was a dance she’d mastered. Only Debra didn’t move like that. She wasn’t performing, and she wasn’t chasing some kind of experience. She wasn’t looking at Billie the way clients looked at her.
She was looking at her.
Justher.
And that gaze, that soft and unwavering care in her eyes, wasveryclose to undoing Billie entirely.
