She decided there was something seriously wrong with her.

First, girls flung themselves onto her, she did not go after girls. Second, Shane did not tell girls that she would call them back, ever. It was always the cold shoulder or the gun.

“Fucken hell” she muttered.

Shane had been in the club for over an hour and there was no Carmen which made her feel angry for some reason. She couldn’t dance with anyone or fuck anyone for that matter.

Actually, she could but she kept seeing dark brown wavy hair like the last times she saw her, and chocolate brown eyes. The 25 year old scowled, knowing exactly what she wanted and peeled out of the loud atmosphere, retreating into her car before starting the engine.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this again.

Shane hadn’t even had the fucken time to fix her shoulder and she was gone looking for the brunette. What, was she turning desperate or something?

One knock to the door and it swung open, Carmen on the other side. The smile was gone once she saw Shane's shoulder,

“Oh my god Shane, what happened?” she asked, hand covering her mouth in shock.

The older woman moved forward to kiss her but was stopped by the latina, hand firmly holding her back.

“Shane, what happened?”

“Nothing, it’s just a scratch” Shane muttered.

The brunette pulled her into the house and then into the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

“Pull your shirt off for me?” Carmen said.

The dark haired woman knitted her brows together, she didn’t come here for this. She just wanted to feel Carmen’s body against hers, taste her, and fuck her.

“Carm, I didn’t come here for this” the word just slipped from her mouth.

Carmen pressed her lips to the taller of the two, giving her a chaste kiss before looking into her eyes.

“Please?”

Shane muttered something incoherent which most likely was some unknown profanity and pulled the red shirt off which she remembered, belonged to Carmen.

The 23 year old began cleaning Shane’s wounds with alcohol, feeling the woman’s muscles flex underneath her fingertips.

Focus Carmen, focus. Don’t look at her-oh I looked damnit.

The latina furrowed her brows, trying awfully hard to concentrate but found it hard to do so when all Shane was doing was staring at her; hands on her hips, drawing random patterns on her hips with the pad of her thumb.

The younger woman had just managed to place a band-aid over her cut when she was pulled into a rough kiss, tongue pushing into her mouth.

They parted as Carmen’s shirt was lifted over her head and thrown behind them somewhere and Shane’s hot mouth traveled south quickly.

The brunette moaned and held onto Shane tightly as the 25 year old carried her and sat her on the counter beside the sink, pulling at her short shorts.