The orgasm started in her center but swept over her in full ripple effect, reaching all the way to her fingertips and her toes. Even the insides of her eyelids buzzed like a fuse was shorting out. It was only after she came back to reality that she was even aware of Dylan’s dead weight sinking into her.
Briana smiled, loving that they’d climaxed together. She opened her eyes and placed a small kiss on Dylan’s temple. She loved how intertwined their bodies were and how they jointly seemed too depleted to even begin to unentangle. She didn’t have a clue how that would even begin—figuratively or literally. But that was a problem for tomorrow. Right now, in this moment, she was content basking in the post-sex haze, in Dylan, in sleep, in the sheer ecstasy of it all.
Chapter Eleven
Dylan sat on the edge of the bed and reached for her shoe, tugging it on with as little movement as possible.
“Are you leaving?” Briana’s voice was gravelly with sleep, her fingertips delicate as they drifted along her back.
“I was trying not to wake you up.”
“What time is it?”
“A little after midnight.” She shifted on the bed to face Briana, who was covered under a pile of rumpled sheets. Spent and sated and half-asleep, she was as gorgeous as ever. Dylan leaned forward and caressed her face. In return, Briana kissed her palm. The action was decidedly tame, but it turned her on just the same. “I should go,” she said, even though she was dying to take her clothes off and get back in bed. She wanted to do everything over again. Slower, this time. Savor every second.
The night had been a divine rush, and she knew it was what they both needed, but it already seemed a blur. She wanted another chance, and she wasn’t sure she was going to get one. Her heart plummeted at the thought. Looking at Briana’s sleepy smile affected her in a way that was unfamiliar. She wanted Briana to tell her to stay, to fall asleep in her arms.
“Text me when you get home?” Briana whispered.
“You’ll be asleep.” She placed a kiss on her cheek. “You’re asleep now.”
“Do it anyway?” Briana’s request was almost a plea, and it touched her.
“Okay,” she said, agreeing on the spot.
Briana held her face and kissed her. It was more than a peck but fell short of leading to anything more. At once sweet and passionate, it was the perfect good-bye.
She stood and finished dressing in the dark, at last securing her gun inside the waistband of her jeans.
“It’s ridiculous how sexy that is.” Briana covered her eyes with her forearm as she shook her head back and forth on the pillow.
Dylan grinned. She’d heard it before. There was a brand of woman who dated cops as a rule. They dug the mystique, the uniform, the badge. She never really understood it, and she never sought them out the way some of her coworkers did. Right now, she was beaming inside because Briana Logan thought she was sexy. If all it took was taking her gun on and off to get those flushed cheeks, she’d do it all day long.
“I hate that you know it,” Briana said, misreading her flattered expression for smugness.
Seizing the moment anyway, Dylan leaned in for a final kiss. “Sweet dreams,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Dylan let herself out and walked home practically on cloud nine. It hadn’t been that long since she’d gotten attention—or action, for that matter—but she simply could not remember the last time she felt like this.
* * *
Why she’d assumed they’d do coffee this morning, Dylan wasn’t one hundred percent sure. She supposed it was because she expected—or at least hoped—Briana wanted to see her as much as the reverse was true.
In that spirit, Dylan had sent a good-morning message coupled with a coffee emoji when she arrived at the office but never received an answer. By ten thirty with no word whatsoever from Briana, Dylan made another move.
You are alive, right?
It was several minutes before Briana’s curt response appeared.
In a meeting. Sorry.
No worries, she typed back.
She waited all morning for a follow-up, a simple explanation. She didn’t need much. Common courtesy, good manners, that was all she was looking for. But hours passed with nothing. Not a phone call, not a text, not even a goddamn GIF indicating Briana was swamped with work. In her head she knew Briana was probably redrawing the line. She’d made it clear for weeks that she didn’t want to cross a boundary, but then they had. And now she was freezing her out. It was an unnecessary, over-the-top reaction, and even though she was pissed, Dylan wanted to fix it.
At two forty-five, she found the courage to be the bigger person. Plus, she was ready for a break from a full day of monitoring and transcribing phone calls.
Dylan thought carefully about wording, trying to keep her text to Briana breezy. I’m making three o’clock coffee. You in? She waited a second and reread it. It seemed to have the right tone, with no room for misinterpretation. She hit send.
Briana’s response was immediate. Busy. I’ll text you later.
Wow. Wow. She didn’t think their hookup last night meant they owed each other a commitment, but she also didn’t deserve to be treated like crap.
Yeah, okay, she responded, mimicking the icy tone.
There were bubbles for a second, but then they disappeared entirely. What was Briana about to say? Did she even want to know?
Despite her commitment to do the exact opposite, Dylan kept one eye on her phone all day, but it was for naught. It wasn’t until she was home from work, unpacking her few groceries from the corner farm stand, that Briana contacted her.
We should talk.
Dylan rolled her eyes at the dramatic one-liner. They should have been talking all day, and part of her wanted to say exactly that. But before she had a chance to respond, a second message came through.
Are you still working?
No. I’m home.
Oh. I thought you might be on overtime.
So you were hoping I might NOT be available…
It was frustrating that text messages had a way of omitting emotion, because right now she wanted Briana to know she was annoyed. Caps were the best she could do.
No. There were bubbles and then none, and then bubbles again. A small part of her felt guilty for instigating this tiny squabble, but technically Briana had started with the cold shoulder. Finally a message appeared. I was hoping to catch up with you. I just checked the plant, but you weren’t there. I thought you might be in the field.
At least Briana seemed to be thawing. Thank God.
We could meet somewhere if you want. She knew better than to offer her apartment. Surely Briana would be suspect of her intent, and if she was being honest, she didn’t entirely trust her motives either. Connolly’s? she suggested.
How about the Starbucks on the corner of Court and Kane?
More coffee, the last thing she wanted. Sure, she typed.
I’m just getting on the subway now. See you in about a half hour?
See you there.
Dylan got there early but waited outside. She was curious about the randomness of picking Starbucks for their first post-sex sit-down, but rather than fixate on it, she scrolled her phone while she waited for Briana to arrive.
She was halfway through an interesting article on DNA testing when a vaguely familiar strawberry blonde approached her.
“Hey, Dylan. Fancy meeting you here.”
The woman bounced on her toes to kiss her cheek.
“How have you been?” Dylan asked, completely drawing a blank on her name. She put her phone away and racked her brain, but nothing surfaced.
“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” She scrunched her curls as though she was primping on the spot. “Are you going in?” She nodded at the door.
“I’m meeting a friend,” Dylan said. In the distance she saw Briana crossing the street and heading her way.
“You should come to Boca tonight,” the woman said. “The vibe is amazing on Fr
idays.”
“Uh, maybe.”
The woman placed a hand on Dylan’s forearm. “Or we could meet up somewhere else. Shoot me a text. You have my number.”
She might. Be helpful if she knew what name it was under. It would also be fabulous if Briana wasn’t catching this entire exchange.
“Hey,” Briana said, arriving at the tail end of the convo.
The woman looked at Briana and then back at Dylan. “Anyway, it was good to see you, Dylan.” She squeezed Dylan’s biceps as she opened the door.
“Thanks, sweetheart. You too.”
“Sweetheart?” Briana mouthed. “Am I interrupting?” She waved between Dylan and the woman who was already inside at the counter. Her tone was completely tongue-in-cheek, but Dylan rolled her eyes in response.
“I don’t remember her name,” Dylan admitted in a low whisper as she held the door open.
“What’s worse is that you think that makes it better,” Briana said, still teasing.
She hung her head like a scolded puppy, but the truth was she really didn’t know what to say. The back and forth outside had thrown her off her game, and she wanted to get some mojo back. “Hi,” she said, starting over and keeping it simple.
“Hi,” Briana said.
It was only one word, but Briana’s expression was soft and warm, and even after not talking all day, Dylan felt ridiculously close to her.
“Do you want coffee?” she asked.
“What are you getting?” Briana responded with a question.
“I’m thinking about a vanilla latte.” Dylan turned to study the specialty drink menu just to make sure there wasn’t something else that piqued her interest, when one of the baristas squinted at her. “Dylan Prescott, is that you? Haven’t seen you around in ages.”
“Mairead. How are you?” she said with a smile. At least she knew this one’s name. The name tag she wore was only a minor assist. But honestly, how the fuck was this happening right now?
“For real?” Briana didn’t even try to hide her judgment.
Mairead was still batting her eyelashes. “What can I get you two?” she asked.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” Dylan said to Briana.
Briana slow-blinked and shook her head. “No.” Dylan thought she heard a small laugh sneak out. “It might not be any different.”
“Ouch.” Dylan covered her heart.
“You love it,” Briana teased. “I’ll have a caramel macchiato,” she said to Mairead. “And a vanilla latte for the neighborhood stud.”
“Okeydokey. Are you two staying or going?”
Dylan looked at Briana as she paid for their drinks.
“Staying,” Briana answered for both of them.
“Sit anywhere you want. I’ll bring your drinks over when they’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Briana said. She turned to Dylan. “And thank you for paying.”
“I’m not above buying your goodwill at the moment.”
“Not necessary.” Briana touched her arm gently as they settled into a corner. “Even though I was not expecting the twofer, I’m just teasing you.” She shook her perfect hair off her shoulders. “The reality is that neither of us was a saint before last night.”
Last night. Dylan had almost hoped to avoid the topic entirely. She knew why. Her gut told her Briana’s standoffishness today was the first baby step to putting the kibosh on any future extracurriculars. Avoiding the topic altogether at least left room for a chance. But it was too late—Briana was already talking.
“The thing is, Dylan, I just don’t think we should let that happen again.”
Dylan nodded stoically. “I knew you were going to say that.”
“Perhaps because you know it’s the right decision.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“I am sorry about this morning. All of today, really.” Briana leaned forward and touched her knee. In past interactions the gesture had meant desire. Right now, it signaled sincerity, and it was amazing the dismal effect that difference had on her entire being. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was busy today,” Briana continued. “We got hit with a multitude of ticking time bombs at once.” She took a deep breath, appearing to steel herself. “Nonetheless, my behavior was immature, to say the least. I don’t really have an excuse for that.”
Dylan wanted to suggest that it was possible Briana’s conduct was her subconscious’s way of telling her she didn’t want to be mature. That deep down she didn’t want to make the decision that was right on paper. Her body and soul wanted to splurge, to indulge. But even in her head, it sounded like an appeal.
Mairead brought their drinks over, and it bought her a little more time to think about what she wanted to say. But nothing came to her.
“You’re awfully quiet over there.” Briana took the first sip of her drink.
“I don’t really know what to say.” She shrugged. “I disagree with you. I think you know that.”
“What’s the alternative?”
Was Briana really asking that? It seemed so straightforward to her. “We take it day by day. See where it goes.”
“I know you think it’s that simple.”
“It’s not?”
“I think as women, particularly working in male-dominated fields, it’s foolish of us to assume we won’t be judged. And treated differently.”
“Don’t you think people talk about us already?” Dylan tasted the froth on her drink. “I mean because we’re strong and independent women, not to mention queer.”
“Yes. Of course. I’m sure there are people who talk about you for being an out lesbian and criticize the way you choose to present yourself. Undoubtedly people consider me loose for openly identifying as pansexual, not that the haters even understand that label,” she said. “But that’s not what I mean.” Briana took another sip of her macchiato. “I guess what I’m saying is we can’t dictate the things people will judge us for that are beyond our control. I am who I am, you are who you are. But we shouldn’t add fuel to the fire by doing something that, while not strictly verboten, is arguably unprofessional. I’m an Assistant US Attorney, you’re the co-case detective.”
Briana had a valid point and Dylan hated it.
“What about our feelings?” Dylan asked even though it made her vulnerable.
“I think this case could be paramount to both of our careers. Right now, I think that surpasses all else.”
“Wow, that’s cold.” Dylan forced a laugh.
Briana’s face fell at the barb. “Dylan, I like you. Obviously, I’m attracted to you.” She chewed her bottom lip. “If you had any doubts before, I’m pretty sure last night put those to rest.” She blushed a little. “As far as feelings go”—she raised her drink aloft—I think that’s where we can take it one day at a time. “If real feelings develop, they’ll keep.”
“Until after the case is done.”
“Ideally, yes.”
“The fact that you make so much sense is very annoying. You know that, right?”
Dylan took a hefty sip of her latte, letting Briana’s message sink in. She still didn’t wholly agree with the approach, but she could at least respect the ideology behind it.
“Hold on a freaking second.” Briana stared at Dylan’s paper cup and then lifted and inspected her own. She spun it all the way around on their shared table before dropping her jaw in disbelief.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Briana pursed her lips and pointed at Dylan’s cup. “She put a heart on your cup. The barista.”
“Mairead?”
“Mairead,” Briana singsonged in mock frustration.
Dylan waved her off with a laugh. “It’s probably her signature thing.”
“I don’t have one. See for yourself.” Briana offered her drink for inspection, but Dylan pushed it away.
“You know, you sound a teensy bit jealous.” It was true and Dylan reveled in it. Even though she knew she couldn’t expect anything from it, for no
w, just knowing was enough.
“I mean, it’s a little rude. I’m sitting right here with you.”
“Do you want me to go yell at her for insulting you? My non-girlfriend. My boss? What is our relationship exactly?”
“We’re friends?” Briana suggested. “Friends who had one super-hot, amazing hookup. Now we work together. To put bad guys in jail.”
“We sound like a TV show I would actually watch.”
“Right?”
Dylan loved Briana’s silly laugh and her real smile. It was just a bit giggly and oddly goofy for such an attractive person. It was worth everything just to see it.
“So we’re back to normal?” Dylan asked.
“Whatever that is,” Briana said with a laugh.
“That’s you and me and coffee. We talk, we laugh. We know there’s something here”—Dylan waved between them—“but we don’t act on it. That’s our normal.”
“To our normal.” Briana toasted with her drink.
Dylan didn’t miss a beat, meeting her midair. “I’ll drink to that.”
Chapter Twelve
“That was kind of a wild-goose chase,” Dylan said. “I’m sorry I dragged us all the way out here.”
“No big.” Trevor shrugged. “Would have been a home run if it had panned out.”
Dylan had road tripped with Trevor to New Jersey to speak to a female who’d woken up from a months-long coma after a heroin overdose. Since the young woman had done a semester at NYU before transferring to Princeton, they’d hoped she’d be able to point out George or Benji as her supplier. No dice.
“I haven’t really done too many interviews since making detective. It was good experience for me.”
“How did you like Vice?” Trevor asked as he steered up the turnpike entrance ramp.
“It was fine. A little rote. I felt like we did the same thing over and over.”
He dropped a look on her that questioned how that was different from day after day of surveillance and wire monitoring.
Bulletproof Page 10
