Cassia was the final staff member to leave the mortuary. She hung around until Sebastian sent her a message to say he was outside, and then she made her way to the entrance. A few of them had shirked their paperwork this afternoon to decorate the basement, herself included, and now cotton wool and knitted snowmen were scattered across their desks. Tinsel was hanging in the corridors, and the scent of cinnamon was fighting with the stink of death.
And there was mistletoe over the entrance.
Sebastian was leaning against the wall beside it, his collar turned up. He was becoming such a familiar sight that she would have relaxed if not for the decoration. She looked between it and him. He watched her gaze. The atmosphere tingled between them.
"Hello," she said.
He stood under the mistletoe.
She went to him, and when he kissed her, she felt drunk with it. The world span and faded.
It was the best way she'd ever been greeted.
They left the mortuary, the door locking automatically behind them, and climbed up to the ground floor. When they reached the driveway, they stepped into darkness. A cold wind dug Cassia in the ribs, and she huddled into her coat.
"Before we go to my flat," she said tentatively, "we should probably go shopping."
"Shopping?"
"You've hardly got a thing to eat."
He turned his head away, the faintest blush rising to his cheeks. "Cooking isn't my forte. I usually order takeaways."
"Not anymore. I'll cook."
They squashed onto the fourth tram they found and rode it to the high street. When they hopped off again, they bought ingredients. Cassia had always cooked for Miles, and she'd never stopped making proper meals after the divorce. She bought double everything she usually needed, then splashed out on basic ingredients for baking. Sebastian insisted on paying at least half of the cost for the whole haul. In the end, she agreed, because she realised he'd probably eat a good portion of all the puddings she made.
They'd bought so much that they had to dump it all in his flat before they went to hers. Once she'd thrown what she needed into a couple of bags and they'd returned, it was almost eight and she was starving. She dropped her luggage in the spare bedroom and then entered the kitchen to start dinner.
Sebastian was waiting for her, standing beside the glowing oven. "I'm preheating it, but I don't know what temperature you need it on."
She glanced at the oven. "That's fine. Does this mean you're helping me?"
"As long as it isn't too difficult."
"Don't worry -- consommé is easy." She laughed as his eyebrows rose. "I'm joking. We'll just make pizzas."
"I don't even know what consommé is."
"A notoriously difficult dish."
"And I thought pizzas sounded hard." He smiled, but his eyes held apprehension. "What do you want me to do?"
They worked together slowly, Cassia instructing him. They made the base and the tomato sauce from scratch before adding the cheese and toppings. His main job was to prepare the ingredients while she did most of the hard work, and her muscles unwound as she kneaded dough.
When the pizzas were in the oven, they set two places at the dining table, opposite each other and furthest away from the door. There was another window in the dining room, offering a smaller picture of the city's bright lights. Cassia drifted closer and looked out.
"You love the skyscrapers." Sebastian stood behind her, possessively close. He met her eyes in the reflection of the window.
"How do you know from just one look?"
"It's not just one look. You kept glancing at the view in your flat."
"You're a good detective." She smiled. "But it's not the skyscrapers that enchant me. It's the signs. They make the city look so alive."
The timer went off, and she slipped past him into the kitchen. She took the pizzas out the oven, then poured them both one glass of red wine and promised herself it would be the limit. God knew she could have difficulty behaving with Sebastian when she was sober.
The dining room was a little grand for pizza, but it was nice to sit at the table as if they were on a date. It helped her to erase the memories of Henry, because Sebastian was comfortable with her. In fact, the first thing he spoke about himself was murder.
"We've officially linked the inquiries of Phillip and Ruth, and I'm the senior investigating officer. Amber was annoyed because she'd already started to sink her teeth into it."
It's the most murderous time of the year. Cassia smiled fondly. "I'm sure something else will keep her busy. And she'll still be a part of the investigation, won't she? You'll have to confer."
"Yes, but she likes being in charge."
"Have you found a link between the victims?"
He sighed. "No, nothing. I've spoken to Karisa Barnes, and Amber's spoken to Tobias Evans, Ruth's son, but neither of them knew the other victim. There's no link on their national profiles or Xplora pages, either -- they didn't go to school together, they've never had a job together..."
His body was tense, and he steered the conversation to her, as he so often did when they said too much about his own work. She talked about decorating the mortuary and an upcoming court date in the New Year, and then the pizza was gone and their wine glasses were empty.
They took their washing-up into the kitchen. While Sebastian dumped it in the dishwasher, Cassia looked across the living space again. Now that she'd been in the flat for a few hours, she realised something was missing... "Aren't you going to put a Christmas tree up?"
Sebastian turned sharply and followed her gaze. Something inscrutable shadowed his eyes. "I wasn't planning on it. It didn't look like you were, either."
"That flat isn't really my home. But this is your home. Don't you like Christmas?" If he didn't, that was going to be a problem. She'd decided her puddings would be seasonal, so she'd have to bake while he was out.
"Christmas is fine. I've just never seen the point in decorating my flat when only I'm here to appreciate it." He ran a hand over the back of his neck. "It reminds me of how lonely I always used to be at this time of year."
She looked up at him. "You were lonely?"
"When I was a child. My parents' arguments were the worst at Christmas, and the more they shouted, the more alone I felt. They turned on me sometimes, and I never knew when that was going to happen. I never knew if today, I could trust them. So I stopped trusting at all."
When you get in too deep, people let you down.
Cassia hated to imagine him as a young boy, listening to the raised voices, alone with his fears. Her heart squeezed. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
"They finally divorced when I was eighteen. I got two Christmases a year, both very awkward."
"And now you prefer to spend Christmas alone." She dragged a hand through her hair. "Forget me saying anything about a tree. It doesn't matter."
She put the last glass in the dishwasher and then turned away, intending to go back to her room. She'd opened a chest of bad memories for him, and she knew that she always preferred to deal with hers in private.
"Do you want a Christmas tree, Cassia?" His voice stopped her on the threshold to the hallway.
She turned back. "This isn't my home. It doesn't matter."
"A tree would be different with you here. I wouldn't be on my own. It wouldn't remind me." His eyes searched hers. "If you want one."
"It would be nice to make the place feel festive." She retraced her steps so that they were standing together in the middle of the living room. "And maybe we could replace those bad memories with something better? We can decorate it together, play Christmas music, try festive recipes."
He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb across it, then kissed the skin. "Yes. Maybe Christmas with you will change everything."
He lowered his mouth to hers softly. Even though it was nothing like the way they'd devoured each other on Friday night, her knees turned weak. She loved the care he took; the way he cherished her lips.
Then he slid his tongue across hers and began to stoke the desire that was always running hot between them. Safety melted into danger, and her heartbeat quickened. She stepped back and found herself pinned against the wall.
He teased her burning desire into ecstasy with his mouth, and she struggled against him, tugging his leather jacket over broad shoulders. "I need you naked."
"I'm happy to oblige." But he pressed his lips against the pulse in her neck, kissing softly, and her hands went limp as she gasped with pleasure.
He raised his head, his eyes dark and smouldering, and he slid his hands up her body. When they reached her bra, he pushed it up, cupping the swell of her breasts. She shivered and gripped his shoulders, yanking his jacket back. The rest of their clothes followed.
She kissed him again, desperate with need. His chest was hard against hers, and his hands skimmed her curves. When they were low enough, he picked her up, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him.
It was a desperate prelude, a race to something they'd both wanted for so long. Afterwards, they stayed together for several minutes, locked in the tumbling feelings.
Slowly, Cassia's mind grew sharper. They were still standing up. And they'd just had sex against a wall.
He groaned, his breaths still sharp. "I have never lost control like that before."
"Me neither," she whispered.
He brushed her hair away from her face, his gaze softening. "I'm sorry. I didn't imagine our first time like this. There was supposed to be a bed, and I was supposed to be gentle."
"Well, if that was the first time," she said huskily, "surely there must be a second."
He smiled lazily. "In the bedroom."
He carried her there, and then he laid her down on the bed and did what he'd promised. Gentle didn't mean any less desire. He explored her with his fingers, stoking a burning need low in her pelvis. And he let her explore him, let her light his fire, until both of them were quivering.
He kissed his way across her collarbone. She shivered at the touch, and his lips curved against her. "I love your skin. It's so smooth."
She loved his shoulders, loved watching the ripple of muscle as he moved above her. But she didn't say it, because his mouth was everywhere and he was telling her that he loved everything else, too.
The teasing grew until she didn't know how she could feel a burn more intense, and then finally they came together. She locked her arms around him, arching her hips, frenzied with need. But he was slow this time, taking her to a point she hadn't even known she could reach.
When it was over, he rolled off her. She turned so that they were facing each other, feeling shaky with beautiful relief. They didn't say anything for a long time.
Eventually, as their heartbeats calmed, Sebastian's eyes hardened. They searched hers. "We didn't use protection."
Surprise fluttered in her stomach. Never, ever had she been so reckless. Never had she been so caught up in a man that the whole world and all its consequences left her.
"I'm not on anything," she said. She'd stopped taking the pill after she'd divorced Miles as a small act of liberation. Now she was wishing she hadn't. "I'll get the morning after pill tomorrow."
And then...would she need to think about proper protection again?
They looked at each other. Slowly, awareness ebbed back into their gazes.
She'd take that as a yes.