Extreme Sensitivity… as an indication of welcomed advances. – A Women’s Murder Club Series, part 11

TITLE: Extreme Sensitivity… as an indication of welcomed advances. (11/?)
PAIRING: Lindsay/Cindy
DISCLAIMER: Women’s Murder Club does not belong to me. The characters do not belong to me. They are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. (Well, not anymore. Jackasses.) I have no problems with that as long as I can borrow them for short bursts and use them in pursuit of my own enjoyment. I am not trying to infringe. Though, I don’t know why anyone has a problem with fan fic. After all, it really is a compliment. If anyone wants to write fan fiction about my book, feel free.

(Lindsay’s POV)

To say that she had conquered the very real desire to pounce across the console in her car and molest the driver was somewhat dishonest. It was true that she didn’t make the leap, but it had a lot more to do with incapacitation than self-control. As it was, she figured she’d only find enough traction to further injure herself and probably cause an accident. If it wouldn’t have meant a police report and, consequently, a further delay, it may have been worth risking.

She fully realized just how infinitesimal her willpower actually was when Cindy – kind, generous, accommodating Cindy – was helping her inside. Up the front walkway, through the front door and up the stairs, Lindsay was exceptionally aware of Cindy’s warm, energized body against hers, and under the guise of finding something to hold onto, she was very, very ill-behaved.

She copped feels.

Several.

It was cruel and inopportune and nearly caused them to stumble back down the stairs more than once, but she just couldn’t help herself. Was it really her fault that Cindy was so small and her arm was so lanky, and the combination made it effortless to let her hand land at the top of the protruding ‘S’ on Cindy’s borrowed t-shirt?

Outside the door of her apartment, Cindy’s charity ended. She scurried out from under Lindsay’s arm as if trying to escape a predator and unlocked the door, disappearing inside without a backward glance. Lindsay eased around the doorframe, wondering if she really had overstepped a boundary, and found Cindy turned away from her, fingers running unevenly through her hair. Stress rolled off of her in waves, and if she weren’t still saturated with a satisfying tingle throughout her body from the stolen touches, Lindsay would have felt bad for causing it.

Using the wall for support, she hobbled inside and pushed the door closed, and when she turned back around, Cindy whirled to face her, arms crossed, with a look that Lindsay assumed was supposed to be blank, but didn’t quite get there. Instead, Cindy looked eager and hopeful and unsure and there was just a hint of underlying anger as if she was expecting to get burned, and the combination was so damned hot that Lindsay lost what little restraint she did have.

One unsteady step forward and her hand reached out to snag the back of Cindy’s neck, drawing her forward. Cindy made a tiny squeak of surprise just before their lips met, but as soon as they did, Cindy’s mouth opened for her on a moan that, in Lindsay’s ears, sounded remarkably like the opening chord of a symphony.

Tongues tangled and bodies pressed in closer as if there were some magnetic force acting upon them. Maybe there was. It certainly felt like a relentless marvel of nature. It also felt real and right and, when Cindy’s hands finally buried themselves in her hair, pulling gently, and her own hands pushed the back of the t-shirt up to splay across warm skin, it felt so uncommonly good, it had to be sinful.

Completely under the control of a dire need to know exactly how good it could feel, Lindsay just let things happen. She let her hands slide around to the front of Cindy’s body, moving upward to caress the silk-swathed flesh she’d spent the morning ogling through a one hundred percent cotton shield. She let her thigh insinuate itself between Cindy’s and let the groan spill out from her chest and over their joined lips as Cindy grinded against it.

It took her currently ineffectual leg giving out and the resultant collision with the wall to break through the seductive haze of lust and positively delicious physical sensations crawling over her. This wasn’t just any talented, pliant body she was making out with. This was Cindy’s talented, pliant body. As the weight of why exactly that made such a difference unloaded on Lindsay, her hands pulled from beneath the navy fabric and moved to Cindy’s shoulders, gently but abruptly pushing her away.

“Wait.”

“Why?” Cindy whined.

Heart jack hammering against her chest like it was trying to drill an entrance for someone who might be looking for a way inside, Lindsay tried to compose a reason that didn’t sound like a line out of a dime store romance novel. Her hand moved up to Cindy’s face, trailing down it slowly, and the sudden gripping sentiment nearly scared her into silence.

“Because I want it to last.”

At her whispered declaration, the room seemed suddenly that much quieter. Cindy stared up at her, eyes teeming with desire and lips kissed wine-red, completely dumbstruck, and so enticing it was almost cruel. Lindsay denied her urge to reengage, pulled Cindy close to her with one arm and turned them toward the living room, gripping Cindy’s shoulder firmly, determined to make it there without giving into the temptation to touch anything else.

Trading her Cindy crutch for the back of the couch as soon as it was within arm’s reach, Lindsay took a few shaky steps and lowered herself to the cushions, looking up and feeling another swell of something considerably more notable than desire at the sight of Cindy’s befuddled, fretful expression. With what she knew had to be a ridiculously adoring smile, Lindsay patted the sofa beside her and, after looking around for a moment as if she didn’t know whether she wanted to take the seat, Cindy at last eased down onto it.

Lindsay turned to face her, knee bumping lightly against Cindy’s thigh and it drew Cindy’s eyes over to her for the briefest of moments before they dropped back down. It struck Lindsay as adorably peculiar that, after what had just transpired between them, Cindy would get shy on her now. Her left hand reached over to push red hair back, tracing along the shell of Cindy’s ear and Cindy’s eyes fluttered closed in reaction.

Fingers loitering there, Lindsay reached across Cindy with her free hand, pulling gently on her arm until Cindy responded in kind by adjusting her body so that they were facing more fully. This time when Cindy’s eyes raised to her, glancing up through thick lashes, they remained, and Lindsay didn’t know what to say.

Instead, she let her hand drift down to Cindy’s neck, watching goose bumps form in its wake. When she reached Cindy’s pulse point, a very telling thump drummed against her fingertips. It seemed Cindy was extremely sensitive to her touch. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Or had she? It would certainly explain her fondness for touching Cindy whenever they were near each other when there was no real excuse for it at all.

Extraordinarily intrigued, and equally inspired, Lindsay let her hand rest delicately against Cindy’s throat, the tips of two long digits pressing against the rapidly beating pulse beneath. Her other hand lifted to Cindy’s face, the backs of her fingers making gentle contact with Cindy’s cheek. Cindy loudly exhaled, but her eyes stayed open, locked with Lindsay’s. Beneath Lindsay’s fingertips, fulfilling her secret hope, the tempo picked up.

With a pleased smile, Lindsay studied the movement of her hand as it slid along Cindy’s jaw line, then back up over Cindy’s chin, thumb coming to rest on Cindy’s lower lip, pulling lightly. Her other hand monitored a marked increase in Cindy’s heart rate, and Lindsay’s kicked up to a nearly equal pace.

Unable, or perhaps just unwilling, to resist any longer, Lindsay leaned in, Cindy’s eyes following the movement intently, a telltale swallow working its way down her throat past Lindsay’s fingers. Replacing her thumb with her lips, Lindsay unhurriedly kissed Cindy again, reveling in the way that Cindy yielded to her, lips softening beneath hers, granting every unvoiced request. The pulsating in Cindy’s throat had practically turned to a flutter by the time she pulled away to survey the closed eyes and slightly trembling lips.

Lindsay could definitely do this. She could do it right now, but, inexplicably, she didn’t want to.

Not yet.

“Will you spend tonight with me?”

Her voice came out as little more than a husked sigh, and was met with the slow unsheathing of Cindy’s eyes and a small, bemused smile.

“Yeah,” Cindy breathed. “I was kind of hoping to.”

“Good,” Lindsay answered, with a feeling of rather profound relief.

Cindy smiled and Lindsay didn’t even have time to register Cindy’s hand on her leg or their suddenly closer proximity before hot, moist lips were again pressed to hers in a kiss that was incredibly hard to pull away from, but through a force of sheer will, Lindsay did, trying to shake out of the powerful haze.

“No,” she whispered.

“No?” Cindy asked, unsurprisingly more confused than before.

“No,” Lindsay repeated, then realized how that could be misconstrued. “I mean yes. Yes. Definitely yes.”

Cindy’s attempts to follow her were noble and hopeless. Lindsay knew how much, or how little, sense she was making. Trying hard to bring them back to some level of cohesion, she moved both hands to Cindy’s shoulders and held her eyes.

“It’s just… I was thinking… we could… maybe we could go to dinner. Or to a movie. Or wherever. You know… just the two of us.”

God, when did she turn into such a blundering, nonsensical idiot?

“Linds,” Cindy questioned softly, pausing for a slow, inquisitive smile that made Lindsay’s stomach somersault, “are you asking me out on a date?”

Feeling like an actor who just walked on stage and forgot her dialogue, Lindsay glanced away.

“Well, it’s just that… I just… I don’t want there to be any confusion. I don’t want to…” she motioned vaguely in the direction of the bedroom, then sharply pulled her hand back. “I mean, I do. I want that too. But that’s not all I want. I don’t want a friend with benefits. I mean, if I did…”

“Jill,” Cindy smiled.

“Yeah. For example,” Lindsay returned. “I just… I really want to… um… make sure that you know that this isn’t just… that it’s not just a, you know… It’s…”

Noting Cindy’s much appreciated endeavor to withhold a laugh, Lindsay shook her head at herself.

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’m asking you out on a date.”

When Cindy’s smile grew to show teeth and her eyes softened, Lindsay assumed she wasn’t going to be handed her walking papers.

“I want us to… I’d like…”

“It’s okay, Lindsay,” Cindy whispered, a charmingly buoyant look coming over her. “You don’t have to say it.”

And that suddenly made it so much easier to.

“I want more with you.”

Cindy appeared so floored by the confession, Lindsay momentarily feared she’d just really gotten ahead of herself. In the midst of trying to figure out a way to backtrack the conversation, she was seized by the front of her shirt and her lips were brought roughly to Cindy’s. Then she was released just far enough for Cindy’s eyes to meet her own. It might have been her imagination, but those eyes seemed to be glistening more than in the moment prior.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that?” Cindy whispered.

Not expecting it in the least, Lindsay choked down the lump that leaped into her throat.

“I don’t know,” she managed. “Maybe we can compare notes over dinner.”

Cindy’s smile was so bright, Lindsay felt as if she’d just had a spotlight turned on her. She wanted to do a little dance of joy in it.

Cindy’s hand released its firm grip on her shirt, smoothing it back down, and Cindy’s eyes lifted up from it slowly to take Lindsay in again.

“What time do you want me to pick you up?” she asked, something almost dream-like swimming in her eyes.

“Eight?” Lindsay suggested.

“Okay,” Cindy agreed and stood up. “I should probably go or else… Well, I’ve never been entirely in control of myself around you.”

A fresh wave of need rolled through Lindsay, and she wanted to suggest that they didn’t necessarily have to carry out activities in their commonly accepted order. They could do the making out up until dinner time. But in an oddly masochistic way, Lindsay wanted to wait.

“You’re okay by yourself, right?” Cindy asked.

Of course she did, because Cindy was thoughtful and caring and amazing and always looked out for her.

“I’ll manage,” Lindsay said, a smile twitching her mouth up.

Cindy nodded, looking around somewhat frantically.

“My bag,” she muttered, then all of sudden ceased in her search, looking toward Lindsay with a sheepish expression. “By the door.”

Infused with giddy excitement, Lindsay laughed in response, relieved that she wasn’t the only nervous one.

“I’ll see you at eight,” Cindy said.

“‘kay.”

She didn’t want Cindy to go, but as she watched her walk toward the door, stopping briefly before she disappeared beyond the wall to look back over with a coy grin, Lindsay felt like she could fly, which was kind of ironic at a time when she could barely walk.

Martha came out of the bedroom at the sound of the door opening and closing and eyed the ridiculous smile Lindsay couldn’t seem to wipe off her face. An elated squeal from the hallway drew both of their attention in the direction of the door, and, with an irrepressible giggle, Lindsay clamped down on the instantaneous compulsion to chime in.