DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Breaking the Pattern
By Kristina K


Lindsay reached for the buttons on Cindy's blouse and Cindy let her. Dear god, did she let her. Every time each of the buttons popped open, Cindy could feel her breathing become deeper and her heart rate quicken. Lindsay Boxer was always such a serious woman. Always so task oriented, always so efficient. And so very attractive. Cindy didn't stand a chance.

There were barely any words exchanged ever since Cindy dared to take Lindsay's hand and placed it against her chest, silently letting the other woman know exactly what was on her mind. The brunette took a moment – only a moment – but long enough for Cindy to become doubtful of the outcome. Dark eyes then became even darker, warm fingers flexed gently against the soft breast they were covering and all doubt simply vanished from Cindy's mind in a second.

If there was ever a moment to be assertive then this was it. Cindy moved in, lifted herself up on her toes and after a short, meaningful look into the dark brown eyes, she leaned in for a kiss. Lindsay responded with such delicious eagerness that Cindy had to smile, and she did so against Lindsay's lips. Only in her wildest dreams she was so brave to actually fulfill this fantasy: reining in the ever-eluding inspector.

When all buttons came undone, she felt a brush of air against the newly exposed skin, and when Lindsay's hands began to wander, all coherence that Cindy possessed completely disappeared. It didn't really matter that her brain slowly started to melt away or that her knees might give out at any minute, the only thing registering was the proximity of the so desired body, the softness of the raven locks against her fingers and the warm, velvety tongue teasing against hers.

No. Nonono, it rang in Cindy's head in time with the rhythmic vibration she felt against her hip. The intrusion was ignored for only so long before Lindsay groaned and took a step back, leaving Cindy shivering from the sudden rush of cold. She wrapped her arms around herself rather than buttoning the shirt up again and then squinted her eyes petulantly. The fantasy took a wrong turn too quickly.

"Boxer." Lindsay breathed into the phone and then listened to the person on the other end. Her eyes remained focused on Cindy's quickly becoming disappointed ones. "All right," she said, her eyes blinking apologetically, "I'll be right there."

"Don't worry about it." Cindy shook her head when Lindsay ended the call, "I understand."

"I really am sorry..."

"Just tell me this wasn't a fluke and that you aren't running away."

In her trademark elusive way, Lindsay simply smiled and reached over to move a strand of auburn hair from Cindy's forehead. "I'll come look for you later." Lindsay straightened the collar on her shirt.

"I need to hear it!" Cindy's voice became urgent.

"It's not a fluke," Lindsay assured her with a slow, gentle brush of thumb over Cindy's chin. "I promise."

The End

Return to Women's Murder Club Fiction

Return to Main Page