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The bar was unusually quiet tonight. The usual hum of late-night chatter and clinking glasses faded into the background as Lexy and I sat in my favorite corner, the one tucked just behind the jukebox that hadn't worked in months. The light above flickered gently, casting soft shadows on her face, but she looked like warmth itself, calm, radiant, comforting.
She leaned closer, her perfume floating gently through the air. That familiar mix of lavender and something sweeter, something that always reminded me of home, even when I felt far from it.
"So, what's my favorite person been up to?" Lexy asked, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
I glanced down at my drink, steaming, untouched. With a slow shake of my head, I finally took a sip before answering. The warmth of the liquid didn't quite reach the cold inside me, the chill of truths recently uncovered.
"It's crazy," I murmured, almost more to myself than to her. "The way stories unfold… how secrets claw their way to the surface, how the people you thought were innocent end up in the thick of it. The web just gets messier. Complicated love…" My voice trailed off, heavy with the weight of it all. Only I truly knew what I meant.
Lexy tilted her head, studying me with those eyes that always saw more than I let on. Then, with that soft teasing voice of hers, she whispered, "I don't get it, love. Can you explain better?"
Before I could respond, she leaned in, lifting my chin gently with her fingers. Her touch was tender, familiar. And then she kissed me, slow, deep, full of something I didn't deserve. In that moment, the weight I carried lightened just enough to breathe.
God, I loved her.
Lexy had always known how to pull me back when I started to drift. She was gravity in human form. Her presence,her gaze, her laugh, her unwavering warmth, was my anchor in the chaos that constantly threatened to drown me.
She pulled back slightly and whispered, "Why don't we go home? Just us. Let's take your mind off all this, babe."
She stood, smooth and graceful, turning toward the door.
But I reached for her, grabbing her hand and pulling her into my arms with a grin I hadn't felt in days. "And where do you think you're going, Miss Daven?"
She raised an eyebrow, amused. "Miss Daven?"
I nodded, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Yeah. Don't you want to bear that name? I thought you said you wanted forever with me."
A soft gasp left her lips before she smiled again, genuine, full of something that lit up her whole face. "I do… I want that name. I want you. Let me just grab my bag, baby."
We made it home quickly, but neither of us was in a rush. Not really. The apartment welcomed us like a secret haven, and before the door even closed, we were wrapped around each other, hands exploring, hearts racing.
Clothes fell like leaves in autumn, slow, natural, inevitable.
Our kisses grew heavier as we moved through the apartment, finally stopping in the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub, clad in nothing but her bra and panties. The sight of her made my throat tighten.
"I'll be right back," I said softly, brushing my fingers down her arm. "Just grab us something to drink. Make this night even better."
When I returned, drink in hand, she was still there, barely dressed, glistening under the soft bathroom light. She looked up at me like I was everything she needed.
I placed the glasses near the tub, letting my pants fall before I stepped into the warm water with her.
Our lips met again, slower this time, more deliberate. My hands traced the soft curves of her body as I unclasped her bra, letting it fall away. She didn't resist, only pulled me closer. I moved my hand down, slipping her panties off gently, breathing in the moment, the scent of her, the fire building inside me.
But as I moved to enter her, she paused, her hand gently wrapping around me.
"Slowly…" she whispered, her voice barely a breath. Her eyes shimmered with something deeper than lust. Vulnerability. "I hope I won't regret giving you my pride."
A single tear traced her cheek, and I caught it with my thumb.
"You won't," I said, my voice steady. "I'll cherish you, Lexy. You mean everything to me. I'm not letting you go."
She nodded, letting me in, physically, emotionally, completely. Her moans filled the room as our bodies moved together in harmony. Her hands tangled in my hair, her lips brushing against my skin with every breath.
We made our way to the bedroom, never breaking the rhythm of our connection. Once there, she gently tied my hands and legs with the silk clothes we kept for nights like this, her way of taking control, of showing me that she knew how to heal me when I couldn't find the words.
She straddled me, her hands confident, her body swaying like she was made to move with mine. She kissed down my chest, then lower, her lips wrapping around me in the kind of pleasure that made time disappear.
And when she climbed on top of me again, riding me with such intensity and care, I couldn't think, couldn't speak. Just feel.
She took me somewhere far from my pain, somewhere only she could guide me.
That night was ours.
Full of fire.
Full of love.
Full of us.
....
The soft ticking of the wall clock was the only sound in the room when Miss Donna stepped into the dimly lit office. She looked sharp, as always, hair pinned in her usual tight bun, a sleek black coat draped over her shoulders, eyes guarded but alert. The faint scent of vanilla trailed behind her as she moved toward the chair across from his desk.
Detective Charles glanced up from his paperwork, his expression unreadable, his tired eyes shadowed by days of sleepless nights. The overhead light buzzed faintly, casting long lines across the walls like a cage of fluorescent truth.
"You said you wanted us to meet, Detective," Donna said, settling into the chair with the graceful precision of a woman used to power. Her voice was calm but edged with the kind of curiosity that could cut if provoked. "I saw your message."
Charles leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly, as though choosing his words could change the weight of what he was about to say. He reached toward the desk, pulling open the top drawer with a soft creak, and retrieved a worn manila folder. With a practiced hand, he slid a photograph out and placed it carefully on the desk between them.
"Yes," he said, tapping the photo once with his index finger. "I believe we finally have a solid lead. Maybe even the real murderer."
Donna leaned forward slowly, her gaze narrowing on the photo as her lips parted slightly.
"What is it?" she asked, the curiosity in her voice now sharpened with tension.