She felt herself instinctively pushing her hips backwards as if to welcome Lena deep inside her.
The press of Lena’s fingers against her G spot made her nearly explode on the spot.
“Oh, god… please…” Erin murmured, and Lena’s response was to begin to fuck her properly, thrusting into her hard and deep.
“Oh… Lena….”
She felt Lena’s left hand snake around the front of her hips whilst her right hand kept on fucking her.
The feeling of Lena’s fingers sliding hot and slippery against her clitoris was just what she needed to tip her over the edge.
Her world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors and she felt shudders run through the entirety of her body.
“Oh… my… god,” she whispered.
“Good girl,” Lena purred in her ear.
They eventually made it out of the shower and dried off, but they could barely keep their hands off each other as they made it to the bedroom.
After what simultaneously felt like hours, though it could’ve been minutes, of Lena driving her to back to the edge and making her see stars, they lay in bed together, Erin’s head resting on Lena’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of Lena’s heartbeat slowly returning to normal. The sheets smelled like cedar and lavender, something so distinctly Lena that made her want to bury her face in the pillow and stay here forever.
Lena's fingers traced lazy patterns on Erin's bare shoulder, a touch so gentle it was almost devotional. "Are you okay?"
"Mmm." Erin pressed a soft kiss to Lena cheek, feeling a sense of deep satisfaction settle in her bones. "More than okay."
"Good." Lena's voice was drowsy, different from her usual controlled professional tone. It was softer and unguarded in a way Erin had never heard before.
They didn't talk about what this meant or where it led, didn't discuss the complications of working together or what they'd tell their teams or how they'd navigate the case now that everything had changed. Those conversations could wait for daylight and coffee and the return of rational thought.
For now, there was just this: the warmth of Lena's body beside hers, the smell of cedar on fresh sheets, and the comfortable weight of exhaustion settling over them both.
"Erin," Lena whispered, so quietly it was almost lost in the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad you came over."
Erin smiled against Lena's skin. "Me too."
She felt rather than saw Lena's smile in return, and then they were both quiet, settling into comfortable silence. Erin's eyes grew heavy as she listened to Lena's breathing deepen and slow. Lena’s hand had stilled in her hair, her fingers still tangled in the strands but relaxed now in approaching sleep.
This felt dangerous—not just the physical intimacy, but this. The rightness of lying here together, the way her body seemed to fit perfectly against Lena's, the peace that had settled over her for the first time in weeks. It felt like something she could get used to, something she might want to keep.
That should have scared her. There were professional boundaries, workplace complications, and the fact that they'd known each other for less than a month and most of that had been spent arguing. All of it should have sent her reaching for her clothes and heading home to the safety of her own bed.
Instead, she pressed closer to Lena's warmth and let herself drift toward sleep.
In the kitchen, the containers of lo mein and orange chicken sat forgotten on the dining table, growing cold in the darkness. But wrapped in Lena's sheets and the warmth of finally giving in to what they both wanted, Erin couldn't bring herself to care about anything beyond the woman sleeping beside her and the contentment settling in her chest like something she'd been searching for without knowing it.
Tomorrow could wait. Tonight was theirs.
7
Lena woke to the absence of warmth beside her.
Sunlight cut through her bedroom blinds in harsh lines, exposing the rumpled sheets and the empty space where Erin had been. The pillow still held the faint impression of her head, and Lena found herself staring at it longer than she should have, cataloging the evidence of what had happened just hours before.
She rolled over, muscles protesting in ways that reminded her exactly how they'd spent the night. The clock read 7:23 a.m., and Erin was gone.
