by V. K. Powell
“Fin, please. You can do anything you want, just do it quickly.” Her insides coiled into knots and released every time Finley touched her and then withdrew. She’d never been so wild for a woman’s touch.
“Not a chance.” Finley rose, draping Dylan over her shoulder.
“Careful. You’re injured,” Dylan said. Finley hardly seemed to struggle under the added weight, and Dylan loved the view down Finley’s sleek back to her tight ass. When they reached the side of the bed, Finley grabbed the bedspread with her free hand and yanked it and the pillows to the floor with one pull before lowering Dylan onto the sheet.
Finley’s gaze held hers as she shimmied out of her briefs and stood naked in front of her, exposed and waiting. The gesture ripped at Dylan’s heart. “I want to make love to you in my bed, slowly. If you have any reservations, please…tell me now.”
Finley’s voice quivered at the end. Had she also registered the reference to making love instead of having sex? Or was she simply feeling as needy as Dylan? Finley’s courage didn’t end at work, but now was not the time to question what it meant. “No reservations.”
Finley eased onto the bed, removed Dylan’s black bikinis and lacy bra, and then sat back on her feet. “You are so beautiful.”
“And how many women have you said that to, Officer Masters?”
“Some, but never one in this bed.”
Dylan raised up on her elbows. “You’ve had sex here before.”
“Only with you. I never associated this place with any kind of happiness until you came along. You’re different, Dylan. Something about you calls to me, and it’s not just your body, which is superb. I can’t explain it. I’m no good with words.”
“Your words are perfect.” Dylan stroked Finley’s face, kissed her lightly, and lay back again. No one had ever looked at her the way Finley did—worshiping—teasing her cheeks and lips, caressing her breasts, skimming over her torso, lusting for her sex, and refusing to rush. She felt shy under the intensity of Finley’s gaze, but it was an invisible touch that brought heat and desire and she couldn’t look away.
Finley wrapped Dylan’s legs around her waist, pulling her closer between Dylan’s thighs. She draped her body over Dylan’s and caressed her cheek, stared into her eyes, and said, “I’m going to kiss you now, Dylan.”
Their lips met lightly at first, almost tentatively, but almost immediately, the gentle press of Finley’s mouth turned hungry, and Dylan answered with equal vigor. She couldn’t get enough of the hot moisture of Finley’s mouth, her sweet taste, or the probing of her tongue. She opened and responded greedily, pulling for breath but unwilling to stop. “Yes, Fin.”
Finley nibbled her way down Dylan’s neck to her breasts, cupping one in each hand. “Perfect. They were made for me.” She licked each nipple, and Dylan felt them swell, pucker, and ache. “I love how your eyes grow wide and your pupils dilate when I touch you. And my God, how you smell when you’re turned on.”
Finley’s words fed Dylan’s desire, and she needed more contact. She gripped Finley’s hips and tried to rub against her. “Do you always talk this much during sex?”
“Not usually. Guess you bring out something in me.” Finley backed her hips away from Dylan. “Slow down.”
“I can’t. The sex talk is working…and you’re on top of me.” She squeezed Finley’s ass. “I need you.”
“And how would you like me?” Finley kissed beneath Dylan’s breasts and continued down her body to the crest of her pubic mound.
Dylan bucked at the sight of Finley so close to her aching center. “I like your strap-on. You really know how to use it.”
“Maybe, if you’re really good, I’ll finish you with that, but first things first. I promised a slow burn, and that’s exactly what we’re having, Ms. Carlyle.”
“You’re killing me, Fin.”
Finley rose on her knees and slowly circled Dylan’s clit with her index finger, and Dylan arched to meet her. “Ohhh, yes. I like that too.” Her touch was magic. Dylan wouldn’t last long.
“Your whole body just turned pink.” Finley eased a finger toward her opening but suddenly returned her attention to the clit. “You must’ve liked that a lot.”
“Yessss,” Dylan hissed and reached to keep Finley’s hand in place, but she pulled back.
“Patience.”
“I lost it…about two strokes ago. Please, Fin.” She licked her dry lips and swallowed against the heat burning her body, but the only moisture she felt was between her legs. She stared into Finley’s blue eyes and saw her passion reflected there. She wanted this as much as Dylan, but she wanted it to be perfect, and Dylan just wanted it now. “Touch me, damn it.”
Finley slowly eased a finger inside her and continued to circle her clit with her thumb. “Like this?”
“Just like that.” Dylan rose to accommodate her, and Finley slid a pillow under her hips. “A little faster.” She captured Finley’s wrist and increased the pace, demonstrating exactly what she wanted.
“I love watching you, Dylan.” Finley matched her pace for several seconds, but when Dylan released her wrist, Finley slowed again. “I want to make this last all night.”
“And I want to come. We can take it slow later,” Dylan pleaded, her voice sounded needy but she didn’t care. Right now, all she felt was need and the pleasurable way Finley touched her, bringing them together again and again.
Without answering, Finley pumped faster, her gaze never leaving Dylan’s. “Whatever you want.” She kept the pace until Dylan clutched the bedsheet on either side of her.
“Yessss. I’m getting close.” But Finley pulled out suddenly. “Noooo. Don’t stop.” Before Dylan could catch her breath and figure out what was happening, Finley slid into her with the strap-on, and Dylan cried out in ecstasy. “Ohhhhh, yes. Faster.” She clenched her eyes shut and stars burst behind her eyelids. Finley filled her and teased her clit in perfect sync while Dylan clawed at her back and thighs. She heard herself scream but couldn’t stop. She tensed as shivers exploded inside her and then collapsed as the energy drained from her in wave after wave of orgasm.
A few strokes later, Finley finished, withdrew and tossed the strap-on to the side before staring down at her. “Are you okay?”
“Great but don’t…talk.” Dylan pulled for breath, enjoying the aftershocks of her climax and the expert way Finley had teased and tormented her in perfect proportions.
Finley stretched out beside Dylan and hugged her tightly. “I love you, Dylan.”
Dylan stilled as Finley’s words scorched through her sowing hope and fear. She never imagined Finley Masters would say the L word first or at all. Their short journey had been swift and intense, and she’d known early that her feelings for Finley were special. She loved Finley too but couldn’t admit it. She wouldn’t spend her life waiting for another visit from the police chaplain. She pretended she hadn’t heard, giving Finley a chance to recant. “What did you say?”
“I’m in love with you.”
The second time produced the same result. She leaned back to look Finley in the eyes and saw sincerity along with a touch of nervousness. “Dude, you can’t just say that after sex. The ‘I Love You’ statement deserves its own space, not wedged between orgasms.” She tried for levity, but Finley didn’t even grin.
“You probably don’t feel the same, and I apologize for blurting. It just came out.”
“It’s called post-orgasmic euphoria, and I promise not to hold you to it.” Dylan tried for humor again though her gut screamed for honesty.
“I don’t think so. Being with Anita tonight and seeing you with Wendy made me realize I don’t want to be with anyone else and I don’t want you to be either. Selfish I know. Probably too soon, but I feel what I feel. No one is more surprised than I am.”
Watching Anita touch Finley tonight hadn’t made Dylan’s highlight reel either. She’d questioned then if her feelings for Finley went deeper than just a sex partner. The answer seemed obvious now,
but she struggled to say the words.
“I think we have something different, Dylan, and I’d like to find out if it’s real.” She stroked Dylan’s cheek and brought her head back to her chest. “You don’t have to say anything, and if you want to leave, I’ll understand.”
Dylan curled against Finley again and pressed her ear to Finley’s chest. Her heart beat rapidly and her breaths came quickly. She was just as nervous and confused as Dylan, but she’d had the courage to admit her feelings. Dylan couldn’t reciprocate. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Finley, but the long-term consequences of saying those three words terrified her.
“Do you want to leave?” Finley asked.
Dylan stroked Finley’s face and rested her hand between her breasts. “No, you gorgeous woman, I don’t want to leave. I want to rewind before things got heavy and enjoy you for the rest of the night. Can we do that or have I spoiled it?” It broke her heart not to return the gift Finley had given her, though she felt the same. The words just wouldn’t come.
“Sure,” Finley said, but her tone lacked conviction. “After all, I’m famous for my sexual prowess and stamina. I can’t risk my reputation by refusing a willing woman, can I?”
Dylan flinched at Finley’s return to her cavalier, cocky persona but recognized it as a defense against the pain she’d inflicted. She clung to Finley, sexual desire giving way to the need for closeness and intimacy, both of which she’d just destroyed. “I’m sorry, Fin.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Dylan stood beside Finley’s bed and watched her sleep. She was gorgeous, vital, and exciting when awake, and a portrait of vulnerability and innocence when sleeping. She was everything Dylan wanted and one very important thing she didn’t. Why couldn’t she tell Finley that she loved her last night? Every time they’d made love again, she’d wanted to yell the words, but her fear was stronger.
“Sorry I couldn’t keep my promise, love,” she whispered.
She dressed in the sweats Finley had left for her and tucked her crumpled dress under her arm, pulling up the Uber app as she walked toward the living room. While she waited, she scribbled Finley another note. Leaving her like this felt familiar, but today it also felt wrong.
When the Uber driver dropped her off at the employee entrance of the hospital, she checked her watch. She had enough time to check on G-ma before her shift started, so she sprinted to the locker room to change into her scrubs. If she could concentrate on work today, it would be a miracle. Finley’s words replayed on a constant loop, and every time Dylan felt their authenticity and her own cowardice.
She eased G-ma’s room door open quietly in case she was still sleeping, but saw her sitting up in bed with her breakfast tray in front of her. “You’re up early.”
“Makes two of us. How are you, honey?”
“That’s supposed to be my question.” She pulled up G-ma’s chart and read the night nurse’s notes. “This says you’re bothering the nurses too much and should be released soon.”
“Thank the good Lord for that. I considered a jailbreak. Come here.” G-ma pushed the overbed tray aside and opened her arms, her right sporting a bright purple cast to match her car. “Tell me about the fundraiser.”
“It went really well, but you were terribly missed. Several people asked about you. I think we held up the tradition.” Dylan hugged G-ma and lost herself in the unconditional love she always felt in her arms. Tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them back. G-ma was recovering from surgery and didn’t need to be burdened with her problems.
“What’s wrong, honey?” The room door opened and a nurse started to come in. “Not now.” The nurse faltered, and G-ma shooed her. “I mean it. Go away. Immediately.”
Dylan laughed. “Seriously? No wonder they want to get rid of you. Have you been this uncooperative since you got here?”
“Never mind about that. I know my girls, and you’re struggling.” She patted a spot beside her like she’d done in her old four-poster bed when Dylan was a child. “Hop up here and unload. And like a newspaper friend of mine says, don’t bury the lede.”
There was no arguing with G-ma when she set her mind to something, especially if it involved her family. Dylan settled on the side of the bed and started to talk, but the words caught in her throat and the tears returned.
“Oh, honey, whatever it is, it’s going to be fine. Trust your old granny.”
Dylan wiped her tears on her shirtsleeve and let loose. “Finley told me she loves me.” She met G-ma’s gaze, hoping for an intervention, but she wasn’t getting off that easily.
“And?”
“I didn’t say it back.” She glanced around the room and finally focused on the window overlooking the parking lot.
“Because you don’t love her.” It wasn’t a question.
“No.” The strength and volume of her response surprised Dylan. “I mean I do love her, or I’m pretty sure I do.” G-ma grinned, and Dylan play punched her leg. “Nice trick to make me admit my feelings.”
“So, you do love her. What’s the problem?” G-ma covered Dylan’s hand where it rested on the bed and gave it an encouraging squeeze.
“You know why, G-ma. I can’t even put my father’s badge on display in my home because it’s too painful to look at. I don’t know how you and Mama lived with the fear of losing your husbands every day they went to work. Kerstin and Emory seem to manage the uncertainty too, but I’m not that strong.”
“Dylan, look at me.” She stared into G-ma’s brown eyes that somehow managed to see into her depths. “You love women. You chose a career different from the rest of your family. You heal injuries and sickness and fight off death. You tell family and friends their loved ones have passed. All that takes courage, so don’t tell me you’re not strong enough to love someone.”
“But I don’t risk my life, and I’m not sure I can love someone who does.”
“Who’s to say which gift is greater, giving a life or saving one? In the end, it’s probably just semantics. Doctors and police officers understand the challenge of doing their jobs.” She leaned forward and kissed Dylan’s forehead. “You already love Finley. You only need to ask yourself two questions. Would you love her any more if she wasn’t a police officer? And will you be happier with her or without her?”
“You’re wrong this time, G-ma. There’s another question. Can I live with the uncertainty and fear of losing her forever?”
“There are no guarantees, honey. Any of us could go at any time, totally unrelated to our jobs or how careful we are.” She gestured to her head. “This fall could’ve been the end of me. We don’t get to choose, but you know that.”
Dylan nodded but couldn’t form words. The thought of losing anyone else she loved was too much to imagine.
“Your grandfather and father would be heartbroken that you’re letting their deaths limit your life. Love Finley and enjoy every day you do have with her. I’d give anything to be with Garrett again for one more day or even an hour. Love is worth the risk, honey.”
Dylan rested her head in G-ma’s lap. “I’ll think about what you said.”
“Don’t let that brilliant mind of yours lead you in matters of the heart. You’ll live to regret those decisions.” She stroked Dylan’s hair and nodded toward the door. “Guess I better let Nurse Ratched in before she calls security and has me restrained.”
“Good idea. I need to get to work. I love you, G-ma.”
“Will you be back for brunch? The family is smuggling in all my favorites.”
“It depends on how busy the ER gets this morning.” Dylan waved good-bye and stopped at the nurses’ station. “I hope she hasn’t been too much trouble.”
The nurse who’d tried to get into the room answered, “She’s a genuine joy who likes to pretend she’s in charge.”
“Don’t we all? Thank you.” Dylan caught the down elevator with G-ma’s advice still swirling in her mind. Could she just love Finley without always expecting the worst? Could she watch her
strap on a gun every day, never knowing if she would return home? But G-ma’s last question haunted her most. Will you be happier with her or without her?
* * *
Finley didn’t hear Dylan breathing steadily or feel her warmth next to her in bed. She was gone again, in spite of the promise to wake her before leaving. But this morning, the emptiness felt more permanent, and it was her fault. She’d spoken those three words that either made life seem fantastic or turned everything into an awkward mess. She’d done the latter.
When Dylan hadn’t responded in kind, Finley felt her heart might explode and she’d fought back tears. She’d promised herself no one would ever get close enough to devastate her the way her father had been. Sleeping around served her well, insulating her from relationships and involvement, until Dylan Carlyle gave her a dose of her own medicine.
She rolled over and inhaled Dylan’s fragrance on the sheets, and another stab of pain doubled her over. Unable to bear the memories of their night, she jumped up like she’d been launched out of bed. She needed to work. In the field, she anticipated danger and prepared for it, but at home, memories appeared like traps laid in the darkness and she had no defense.
As she dressed, three questions hounded her. Was she really in love with Dylan? Or had she blurted the sentiment in a post-orgasmic haze as Dylan suggested? Was she sorry she’d said the words? Yes, probably, and no. She was in love. Nothing else explained why she thought of Dylan constantly, didn’t want to be with anyone else, and couldn’t imagine a future without her. Which meant she was totally fucked because Dylan didn’t feel the same.
Finley grabbed her jeans jacket and went to the kitchen for coffee, but spotted Dylan’s note on the bar. She stared at it, trying to summon her courage, before picking it up. Her breath hitched when she saw the red kiss at the bottom of the page.
Fin,
Sorry I broke my promise. We played hard and long, and you were sleeping so peacefully I couldn’t wake you. I hope you’re okay. Last night was fantastic. You constantly amaze me! If you’re not busy for lunch, join me and the family in G-ma’s room at the hospital. We’re smuggling in some goodies. Would love to see you. And I promise we’ll talk about everything later.
