Roslyn's breathing slowed, her heart rate settling back to normal. She stared up at the ceiling, taking in the bedroom properly for the first time.

  Pink. Everywhere.

  The walls were a soft blush color, the curtains a deeper rose. The bedding beneath her was cream with pink embroidered flowers along the edges. A vanity sat against one wall, organized with military precision—brushes lined up by size, cosmetics arranged in neat rows, everything in its pce.

  But it was the art that caught her attention.

  Paintings and sketches covered nearly every avaible wall space. Women in various states of undress. Women kissing. Women touching, embracing, their bodies intertwined in ways that left nothing to the imagination. Some were tasteful, artistic. Others were explicitly erotic.

  One painting directly across from the bed showed two women in a garden, one with her head thrown back in obvious pleasure while the other knelt between her legs.

  *So this is who Miriam really is.*

  Buttoned-up Director Whitfield at work, all high colrs and stern efficiency. But here, in her private space, she surrounded herself with femininity and desire. With images of what she wanted but couldn't have openly.

  Or couldn't have until now.

  Miriam shifted against her, a small warm weight curled into Roslyn's side. Her head rested on Roslyn's breast, one small furred hand spyed across Roslyn's stomach. Her breathing had evened out, but she wasn't asleep. Roslyn could feel the tension still humming through her small body.

  "That was..." Miriam's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "It's been a while since I've been with anyone."

  Roslyn ran her fingers through Miriam's hair, the strands silky and fine. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." Miriam's whiskers tickled against Roslyn's skin.

  Miriam lifted her head then, propping herself up on one elbow. She looked down at Roslyn, her dark eyes searching. A flush colored the tips of her ears, visible even through the fur.

  Roslyn looked up at her, taking in the way the afternoon light caught in Miriam's brown hair, the way her small body was still flushed from what they'd just done. "I'm gd I could help you with that."

  A shy smile crossed Miriam's face. "You did. Quite a lot, actually."

  *Got her.*

  Roslyn reached up and cupped Miriam's cheek, thumb stroking through soft fur. "Come here."

  Miriam leaned down and kissed her. Slow this time, nguid. She made a soft sound against Roslyn's mouth and Roslyn felt heat start to build again low in her belly.

  When Miriam pulled back, she was watching Roslyn with those dark, intelligent eyes. Something open and vulnerable in her expression that hadn't been there before. "So maybe I can help you with those blueprints you need."

  Roslyn's heart kicked up a beat, but she kept her expression neutral, curious. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah." Miriam's fingers traced idle patterns on Roslyn's colrbone. "Mayor Jack's house. The construction blueprints. ."

  "That would be helpful," Roslyn said carefully.

  Miriam's gaze held hers. "This stays between me and you, though."

  Roslyn slid her hand down Miriam's back, over the curve of her hip. Then she gripped Miriam's thigh and pulled, rolling them so Miriam was on her back and Roslyn was above her. "Between me and you," she murmured, and slipped her hand between Miriam's legs.

  Miriam's breath hitched. Her eyes went wide for a moment, then fluttered closed as Roslyn's fingers found wet heat. She pressed into the touch with a small, desperate sound.

  *Still so eager.*

  Roslyn kissed her way down Miriam's throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath soft fur. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, and Miriam arched beneath her.

  "Roslyn—" Miriam's voice came out breathy, shaking.

  "Shh." Roslyn kissed her again, swallowing whatever Miriam was going to say. Her fingers slipped inside, and Miriam gasped against her mouth, hands gripping Roslyn's shoulders, cws, grazing, pale skin.

  This part wasn't a hardship at all.

  Roslyn took her time. Drew it out. Watched Miriam's face as she worked her with practiced skill—the way her mouth fell open, the way her whiskers trembled, the way her whole body tensed and released in waves. The organized, controlled Director Whitfield dissolved into something raw and needing.

  And Roslyn catalogued it all. Filed it away for ter use.

  When Miriam came, she cried out Roslyn's name, her small body shuddering, and Roslyn felt a spike of satisfaction that had nothing to do with the mission.

  *Dangerous.*

  The thought flickered through her mind, brief but sharp.

  She liked this. Liked the way Miriam responded to her, the sounds she made, the way she looked up at Roslyn afterward with trust and desire and something almost like worship.

  Miriam was breathing hard, her eyes half-lidded and dazed. "Goddess," she whispered.

  Roslyn smiled and kissed her softly. "You're beautiful."

  Miriam's arms came around her, pulling her close, and they y there tangled together as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

  Roslyn stared at the painting across from the bed—the two women in the garden—and let herself enjoy the warmth of Miriam's body against hers.

  She'd gotten what she came for. The blueprints would be hers.

  Everything else was just a bonus.

  But as Miriam pressed a sleepy kiss to her shoulder, Roslyn couldn't quite shake the