“Please don’t push this.” Hannah finally meets her gaze, her expression pleading, and big gray eyes imploring. “You… you know,” there’s a desperation in her tone. “And I just want it to stay in the box it’s in because as soon as we talk about it, as soon as the box is open – it’ll be different.”

But the sharp confusion she feels won’t let her drop it. She shakes her head, tossing her hands in the air. “What will be different? What do you think I know, because I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Caroline,” Hannah’s never sounded more exasperated, shaking her head as she bites her lip.

She barrels on, her teeth sinking deeper into this. “And what box is better left closed? What’s better left unsaid?” She hates feeling desperate, it’s not something she often feels. But she is desperate to know the answer.

In a way, it’s what makes her good at her job. This obsessive need to get to the bottom of everything, unable to let something go. On the other hand, it has also been a detriment to her personal life.

Before she can say anything else, Hannah’s mouth is on hers.

***

Just like that, time slows down.

***

Both of Hannah’s hands are cradling her jaw, her lips soft and searching against Caroline’s, in spite of the rushed beginning of the kiss.

Caroline’s mind is reeling, confused beyond belief, but it doesn’t matter. All she can feel is Hannah’s mouth against hers. All she can smell is Hannah’s scent all around them, and she slides one arm around Hannah’s waist and slides the other into her hair.

God. Just as soft as it’s looked all night.

Just like her lips are. As soft as Caroline has always thought they’d be. One of Hannah’s thumbs is stroking her jaw in circles, and she brushes her lips over Caroline’s again.

Caroline groans deep in her throat and she pushes forward, until Hannah’s back hits the wall. She slides the hand she has in her hair down until she’s cupping the back of her neck and she coaxes soft, pink lips with her tongue.

Hannah whimpers, lips parting, and Caroline’s thoughts are racing. How? And what? And is this real?

But then Hannah’s fingers trail down her neck, burning the path they leave behind, and she forgets to care. She just knows she wants more of it.

She grips Hannah’s hip as best she can with her hand, cursing her stupid brace, rolling her own hips against Hannah and pressing her more firmly against the wall. She can feel Hannah’s sharp intake of breath and her gasp makes Caroline weak in the knees.

Hannah’s fingers slide to her shoulders, digging in, and Caroline can feel the strength of them from over her coat.