Page 23 of Taken from Her (Phoenix Ridge Police Department #4)
Diana paused, meeting Lavender's gaze across the space. The evening had proven they could integrate personal connection with public service, individual happiness with collective responsibility.
Tonight had been about more than fundraising or investigation updates. It had been about community healing, and somehow, they'd facilitated that together.
But standing in the aftermath, Lavender felt exposed in ways that had nothing to do with public speaking.
For two hours, she'd fought a constant battle between her professional responsibilities and her awareness of Diana's presence.
Every time Diana had spoken, Lavender had found herself studying the way her hands moved when she explained procedures.
When Diana had leaned forward to examine the resource lists, Lavender had noticed how her uniform pulled across her shoulders and lost track of Georgia's question about patrol schedules.
This wasn't like her. She'd built her reputation on being fully present for her community, on reading every emotional undercurrent in a room and responding with exactly the right combination of comfort and guidance.
Tonight, she'd stumbled over words she'd said hundreds of times, repeated herself when explaining safety protocols, and caught herself staring at Diana's mouth when she should have been facilitating group discussion.
The worst part was how obvious it had been.
There were Georgia's knowing glances, Elle's poorly concealed smirk when Lavender had mixed up the names of two safety apps, and Sam's raised eyebrow when Lavender had asked Diana the same clarifying question twice.
Her community had watched their usually composed leader turn into someone distracted and slightly breathless, and they'd drawn their own conclusions.
Lavender moved toward the memorial corner where photos of Tara, Isabel, and Joanna watched over the space.
Three women who'd trusted her to keep their community safe, who'd counted on her leadership during their most vulnerable moments.
How could she maintain that trust if her personal feelings compromised her ability to think clearly?
But even as the self-doubt pressed against her ribs, another truth demanded recognition.
The workshop had been more successful than any she'd facilitated alone.
Diana's presence hadn't just distracted her; it had elevated the entire evening.
Community members who usually remained quiet had contributed ideas.
People who typically viewed police with suspicion had asked genuine questions.
The combination of Lavender's emotional intelligence and Diana's practical expertise had created something neither could have achieved separately.
Her hands trembled as she straightened the memorial flowers.
For fifteen years, she'd poured herself completely into community care, convinced that romantic relationships would demand energy and attention she needed to give to others.
She'd chosen service over partnership, believing she had to choose between loving her community and loving one person deeply.
Diana had shattered that assumption. Their collaboration tonight had been more effective than anything Lavender had achieved alone, not despite their growing intimacy but because of it.
Standing in her café surrounded by evidence of successful collaboration, Lavender understood that she was falling in love with more than just Diana's strength or competence or the way she kissed with desperate intensity.
She was falling in love with who she became when Diana was beside her—more confident, more effective, more herself than she'd ever been alone.
The recognition was terrifying and exhilarating.
"Ready to head home?" Diana asked quietly, appearing beside her as the last community members gathered their things.
Lavender nodded as she switched off the lights and locked the door behind them. The walk to Diana's car felt charged with unspoken energy—everything they'd discovered about working together, everything they couldn't say in front of the community.
The drive to the harbor took fifteen minutes through Phoenix Ridge's quiet streets.
Lavender found herself stealing glances at Diana's profile, remembering how she'd looked during the workshop—competent and caring, someone the community was learning to trust because they could see how much she genuinely wanted to protect them.
By the time they reached the marina, Lavender's pulse had settled from the evening's intensity into something deeper: anticipation mixed with the growing certainty that tonight had changed something fundamental between them.
The houseboat felt different when they arrived. Lavender unlocked the door to find Saffron and Basil waiting, their green eyes reflecting the dock lights.
Diana followed her inside, and Lavender watched her take in the space with different eyes than she’d had weeks ago.
No longer the awkward police chief studying unfamiliar territory, but someone who belonged here and who understood that this floating home represented more than unconventional living; it was a space where Lavender could drop every public mask.
“Wine?” Lavender asked, noting how Diana’s uniform carried the scent of candles from the cafe.
“Please.” Diana settled onto the cushioned seating area while Basil immediately claimed her lap. “I keep thinking about Corinne’s words and how she still sets out two coffee mugs.”
Lavender poured wine into handmade glasses, her movements automatic while her mind processed the evening’s emotional weight. “The details are what break your heart. Not the big gestures, but the small habits you can’t break.”
She handed Diana a glass, their fingers lingering on each other longer than necessary. The touch sent familiar warmth through both women.
“You were remarkable tonight,” Diana said, watching Lavender settle beside her. “The way you held space for all that pain while channeling it into community action. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“ We were remarkable,” Lavender corrected, studying Diana’s face in the soft lamplight. “A month ago, you would’ve given them statistics and procedures. Tonight, you gave them your presence.”
Diana’s laugh was laced with self-awareness. “A month ago, I thought caring too much would compromise my judgment. You’ve taught me that caring more deeply makes me better at everything.”
The admission hung between them, loaded with meaning. Lavender felt something shift inside her chest, not the flutter of attraction she’d been managing for weeks, but something deeper, more permanent.
When Diana reached for her, Lavender met her halfway.
This kiss was different from their desperate collision in the cafe’s back room or their urgency in the sea cave.
This was slow and deliberate, the kiss of two women who understood they were choosing each other not just for tonight but for whatever came next.
“Four weeks ago, I thought I knew what my life looked like,” Lavender murmured against Diana’s lips. “Cafe, community, cats. Simple.”
“And now?” Diana’s hands found the hem of Lavender’s top, her fingers tracing the skin underneath.
“Now I can’t imagine any of it without you.” The confession came out before Lavender could second-guess it, a truth that felt both terrifying and inevitable.
Diana’s eyes darkened, not just with desire but with something deeper. “Lavender, I?—”
“I know,” Lavender whispered. “Let’s go.”
They moved together toward the bedroom, hands exploring and clothing falling away.
Lavender led Diana by the hand through the narrow doorway, the gentle creak of the houseboat beneath them a familiar lullaby.
But tonight, nothing about her felt lulled.
She felt alive and electric, every inch of her skin humming with anticipation.
The harbor lights cast soft ripples across the wood-paneled walls, and the scent of lavender and sea salt clung to the warm air.
She turned and kissed Diana again, more demanding this time. "Let me take care of you tonight."
Diana didn’t speak, just nodded, her pupils already dilated with raw desire. Lavender pressed her back toward the bed, walking her slowly until the backs of Diana’s knees hit the mattress.
"Sit," Lavender whispered, and Diana obeyed.
Lavender dropped to her knees between Diana’s thighs and began to undress her.
She unbuttoned her shirt slowly, one at a time, brushing her knuckles across the skin she revealed with each opening.
She could feel Diana’s breath hitch when she let her fingertips drift over the tops of her breasts, still held in place by a dark lace bra.
"I picked this out for you," Diana said, voice low, already breathless.
"I noticed," Lavender smiled. "It’s staying on…for now."
She kissed her way along Diana’s stomach, letting her mouth linger over the skin there.
Soft, warm, real. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of Diana’s pants, tugging them down slowly, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin as she went.
Diana's thighs trembled slightly when Lavender mouthed just above the edge of her panties.
"Lavender," she murmured.
"Shhh. Let me taste you."
She pulled the fabric down and off, watching the way Diana opened to her without hesitation now. Lavender kissed the inside of her thigh first, dragging her lips slowly upward, letting her breath warm the sensitive skin just shy of where Diana wanted it.
"Fuck, please," Diana gasped, hips arching.
Lavender smiled against her skin and finally gave her what she asked for. She licked a slow, deliberate stripe between her folds, savoring the slickness already there. Diana moaned, low and guttural, her hands gripping the sheets.
Lavender teased her with her tongue first, circling her clit with excruciating patience, then drawing it between her lips and sucking gently. The sounds Diana made were shameless now, and Lavender loved every breathy whimper.