Chapter Text
1.
Tim Bradford was used to being unflappable.
He’d commanded scenes under gunfire, negotiated with suspects on the edge, held together teams that were falling apart. He could multitask under pressure. He could compartmentalize.
What he apparently could not do was focus on a report while Lucy Chen sat three desks away.
They were together again— officially, openly, finally— and Tim still couldn’t believe it some days. Couldn’t believe she’d forgiven him. That she had taken him back after everything. Let him be in her life, her space, her bed.
Well, their bed.
Because she’d said yes to more than just dating again. Asking her to move in had been his way of showing her he meant it this time. That he wasn’t going anywhere and would never go anywhere again. And in return, she said yes— proving that she still believed in them.
Ever since, they’d been making up for lost time in ways that left him wrecked and breathless. If what they’d had before had been good, and the ex sex had been even better… what they had now? That was something else entirely.
This was forever sex. Intimate and indulgent and full of promise. Built on something unshakable. Every touch, every breath, every time they reached for each other was laced with certainty. There would never be anyone else. And they both knew it.
But it wasn’t just emotional. It was also insanely, ridiculously hot. Because while Lucy had always been attractive, she wasn’t just Lucy Chen anymore.
She was Sergeant Lucy Chen.
That title hadn’t just reopened the door to their relationship— it had cracked something wide open inside him. Because power sat on her like it had always belonged there. That new confidence. That quiet authority. The way she carried herself now. Shoulders squared, voice steady.
It lit him up in ways he wasn’t remotely prepared for. Especially when that same steady, commanding voice was used on him. When she told him what she wanted without hesitation. When she looked at him and told him he was the one about to fall apart— and then made sure of it.
Yeah. He liked her in charge. Maybe a little too much.
And that had been manageable when she was on night shift. When all that confidence was something he only got to witness at home, in the quiet dark, behind closed doors.
But now? Now she was on day shift again. Back in his line of sight. In full uniform. Calling shots. Owning rooms. Walking past his desk like she didn’t know what she was doing to him. Tim was in agony.
She wasn’t doing anything obvious. That was the problem. No outright flirting. No rule breaking. Just existing in his periphery. Typing something into her computer, her brow furrowed slightly, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she scrolled.
Completely normal. Completely professional.
But Tim couldn’t look at her. Not for long. Because it wasn’t just her presence that was wrecking him. Wasn’t just the quiet confidence or the flash of her new stripes or the way her voice dropped when she got serious.
It was the fact that he knew— god, he knew— exactly what she was wearing beneath that neatly buttoned uniform.
Lacy. Black. Strappy. She’d pulled it out of the drawer that morning with a quiet little smile and raised eyebrow.
She was standing by the dresser, holding a shirt in one hand, underwear already on, hips swaying slightly to music playing from the bathroom speaker.
Tim sat on the bed, still half under the sheets, sipping coffee and watching her.
She held up two bras, trying to choose between them. “Black or tan?”
Tim took one look and said, “Neither.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “Not helpful.” She picked the black one.
Tim set his coffee down.
She looked over her shoulder as she fastened it. “You’re staring.”
“I am.”
She slid the straps up her arms slowly, deliberately— not teasing exactly, but very aware of the effect she had on him. “No,” she said, a soft warning in her voice. “We don’t have time.”
“Lucy...” Tim pushed the sheet aside and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, never taking his eyes off of her. There was a twitch low in his abdomen, an instinctive response he couldn’t control, couldn’t even pretend to hide.
She turned to face him, shirt still in hand. Maybe she meant to put it on next. Maybe she didn’t. Either way, she sauntered barefoot across the room and climbed into his lap like gravity had pulled her there. Her knees straddled his thighs. The shirt fell to the floor. Her hands pressed to his bare chest. But she didn’t kiss him— not yet. She just hovered, eyes on his lips.
Tim’s fingers rose to trace the dip of her spine, then the edges of the bra she’d chosen. The heat of her skin bled through the lace. His hands lingered there.
Her voice came quiet. “We really don’t have time.”
“You’re the one on top of me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Shut up.”
So he did. He leaned forward and kissed her— slow, deep, claiming. She met him halfway, mouth already open, body already arching into his.
Tim cleared his throat.
The sound came out rougher and louder than he meant. Across the room, Lucy looked up from her computer. Their eyes met. She smiled.
Just a small, polite smile. Nothing charged. Nothing loaded.
But it still undid him.
Because all he could see was a similar smile stretching across her lips as she came apart beneath him earlier— flushed cheeks, wild hair, gasping his name.
Those fingers now casually tapping the keyboard? They’d been tangled in his hair hours ago. Gripping. Desperate. Telling him don’t stop in every language but words.
The black bra he knew was under her uniform? It had barely stayed on long enough for him to appreciate it before she was arching her breasts into his mouth, moaning into his shoulder, unraveling.
And now she was just… Working. Existing.
Tim closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.
Day shift was going to be a problem.