Неизвестный - 3. In Pursuit Of Justice

Sloan brushed her fingers lightly over Michael’s hand where it lay motionless on the sheets, lingering for a moment on the wedding band she had placed there. “Jason’s fine,” she added, her eyes moving to her lover’s still face.

“I know,” Sarah answered. “He called me from the office. Said you were probably on your way here. I’m going to go pick him up now and take him home.”

“Good,” Sloan said wearily, settling into the chair by the bed. “He’s okay, Sarah, but the whole thing was ugly. To say nothing of pointless.”

“He sounded drained,” Sarah agreed. “And you look it. I don’t suppose you’d consider going home for a few hours?”

Sloan shook her head, a faint smile on her face. “No.”

“Okay, then.” Sarah brushed her fingers through her friend’s dark hair, letting her fingers rest on her cheek. “Try not to worry.”

“Sure.”

When the door had closed, Sloan leaned forward and took Michael’s hand. “Hey,” she murmured softly. “I love you. I’ll be here.”

Rebecca leaned against the shower wall and let the steaming water pound over her body, hoping it would drive some of the tension from her body and the disillusionment from her consciousness. The door slid open and Catherine stepped inside.

“Mind company?”

“Nothing I’d like better,” Rebecca answered, reaching for the shampoo. “Turn around. I’ll wash your hair.”

Catherine turned her back, resting her hips against Rebecca’s thighs, and tilted her head back so that her lover could work the lather through her hair. As strong fingers massaged her scalp, she groaned, “God, that’s criminally good.”

“You look criminally good,” Rebecca murmured, leaning forward until her breasts pressed into Catherine’s back and her pelvis moved against Catherine’s rear. For the first time in hours, she realized that she wasn’t thinking about anything at all—anything beyond how the faint brush of her nipples over Catherine’s skin started a pulse thudding between her legs. She moved her soapy hands from her lover’s hair and slid her palms over the tops of Catherine’s shoulders, then down her arms. “I love you.”

Catherine closed her eyes, aware of the tingling wherever Rebecca had touched. Reaching for those clever hands, she drew them to her breasts, gasping as willing fingers closed over her nipples. “Oh, God.”

Rebecca braced her back against the wall, cradling Catherine in her arms, still back to front—working her nipples, massaging her breasts, brushing her fingers lightly down her belly and then back up again. “You make me so hot,” she whispered, her lips close to Catherine’s ear. “You make me wet just thinking about touching you.”

“Don’t just…think,” Catherine replied, her legs shaking. “Touch.” Reaching behind herself with one hand, she insinuated it between their bodies, working her palm down Rebecca’s abdomen, feeling muscles tighten under her caress. When she reached the space between her lover’s thighs, she slid a finger on either side of her clitoris, squeezing steadily until Rebecca groaned against her neck. “Cause I’m way past hot already.”

“Careful…you’ll make me come,” Rebecca warned, her voice low and tight. Catherine seemed not to hear and continue to milk her length until she jerked against Catherine’s hand, a fist of pleasure threatening to burst inside. “Oh fuck…”

“Uh huh,” Catherine gasped, her free hand on Rebecca’s wrist, guiding her hand between her own legs. Moaning at the first press of Rebecca’s fingers, she turned her head, her teeth catching skin at the base of Rebecca’s throat.

As Catherine worked her relentlessly toward orgasm, Rebecca pushed deeper between Catherine’s thighs until she was inside her, enclosed by the smooth grip of firm muscles. Then she took her with quick, hard, driving strokes that echoed the blood pounding fiercely through her depths—the fury of her thrusts propelled by Catherine’s sharp cries of encouragement. Shuddering, barely breathing, she locked her knees as she came to keep from falling, supporting her lover’s body as Catherine stiffened, then convulsed in her arms.

Eventually they managed to finish the shower, both of them quiet. When they stood together naked, toweling off, Catherine said, “What the hell was that?” At Rebecca’s quizzical glance, she added, “The last thing I was thinking about when I joined you in there was sex. I wasn’t certain after watching that awful video when I would think about it again. Then, I’m practically ready to come the second you touch me.”

“Adrenalin,” Rebecca replied, reaching for an old pair of gym shorts. Pulling them on, she continued, “It happens after that kind of operation—the fear and the stress come out like that sometimes.”

“What did you do when you were unattached?”

“When I was still drinking, I drank. After I quit, I went to the gym. Once in while,” she shrugged, grinning sheepishly, “I’d find company.”

“Hmm,” Catherine mused, slipping into her robe. “See that you come directly here should the occasion arise in the future.”

“That was my plan,” Rebecca responded, pulling her close.

“What else are you planning…about…all of this?” Catherine asked, threading her arms around her waist.

“I’ll be back on regular duty in a day or so. I’ll have other cases, Clark will pull the plug on this task force…and I’ll keep doing what I’m trained to do until we make this right—for Jeff, for Michael, for those young kids.”

“Yes,” Catherine murmured, “until justice is done—for all of them.”