This is a story written on a whim for a friend who desperately needed some "hot, heavy, horny Rossi. STAT!" And she wanted him with Ashley with nasty sex so hot that it would melt a December blizzard. Her prompts were: ivory towel, rivulets of water on Dave's bare chest, and an unexpected guest. And I got to choose that it takes place around Christmas. This chapter is T, but trust me, it's going to get hot.
Song prompt: "Baby, It's Cold Outside" by Barry Manilow and KT Oslin
Baby, It's Cold Outside
Ashley Seaver shoved the key in the lock of her apartment and turned it. The day had been a long one, but it was over. At last. Now for the stand down to begin. She was no longer in the BAU, but Agent Andy Swann was just as good as Aaron Hotchner had been. And it was pure luck that she was still an FBI agent after the way she had messed up with Ian Doyle, so she was counting her lucky stars.
But she still missed her friends. Okay…so they hadn't been her friends - although she had gone out a couple of times with Reid - but she had admired them. They were like the family she never had. And if she could have one wish for the Christmas season, it would be to see them again…or rather one in particular. Her mentor: Dave Rossi.
Now that she was no longer on the team, she could let her fantasies run wild. Yes, he was more than twice her age, but there was something about him that drew her to him. Maybe it was his hair - thick and black and with just enough wave to make a woman want to run her fingers thru it. Or it could be his deep brown eyes that sparkled with humour when he was happy but could be hard when he was angry. She sighed.
It was his smile. Full, crooked, and so charming that had he not gone into the FBI, he could have been an actor on the silver screen. Women would have plunked down hard earned cash just to see that smile on the screen. She sighed again. Well, she would have paid to see it. And since she couldn't see it everyday, she had to settle for memories and erotic dreams that she had no desire to dissect.
Balancing the tree against the wall, she turned the knob. Well, maybe once she got the tree up and decorated, she could build the courage up to call and ask him out to dinner. After all, she was single and he was single…and it was no longer fraternization. At least not by strict guidelines. Oh, the things she would do to him if she had him alone for five minutes. What was under those blue jeans that caused all the women to go breathless whenever he walked into a room? What she would give to find out…maybe someday.
Opening the door, she half-carried/half-dragged the six foot evergreen into the foyer. Using her butt, she shut the door and threw the lock. Then she let out her breath. She was home and she could put up the tree…once she took a nice long hot bath. God, it was freezing cold outside and it hadn't even snowed yet.
Pulling off her gloves, she laid them on the table by the wall. Then she hung up her coat and scarf. Maybe she could get a cup of hot cocoa first. Then she paused. What was that smell? It was spicy and musky and so tantalizing. And so familiar...
Automatically her hand went to her side arm. Familiar didn't mean she had to let her guard down and a girl living by herself could never be too cautious. She tip-toed thru the living room to the hallway. She crept down the wall as she had been taught in the Academy. Always alert and on guard. And never let them see you sweat. Quickly her eyes made a sweep of the guest bedroom. Clear. Cautiously, she approached the master bedroom.
"You are in the home of a federal agent who is armed. I suggest you make your appearance known before I shoot first and maybe read you your rights after. Or I'll just let my friend Derek Morgan kick your ass," she announced in a voice that belied her tiny stature. But then again, a fully loaded Glock would give anyone a bit of arrogance and bravado.
"I'm counting to three. Then I'm coming in shooting. And so help me, if you bleed to death on my down comforter, there will be hell to pay!" Ashley drew in a breath. "One." Pause. "Two." Pause.
"Okay. Okay," the deep baritone called out from the bathroom. "I'm coming out. Give me a second to make myself decent."
Ashley frowned. She knew that voice. But she instinctively kept her weapon trained on the door. Who ever was in her bathroom was either high, drunk, or insane. What else could they be if they were in her apartment and in her bathroom?
"I'm not going to count again," she stated loudly. "And if I have to, I'm coming in shooting."
Slowly, the knob turned. And then her breath caught in her throat. Quickly she blinked as she took in the figure she swore had to be part of her fantasies. There was no way that Dave Rossi was standing in the doorway of her bathroom with an ivory white towel around his waist, and rivulets of water running down his chest from the droplets that fell from his wet hair.
She swallowed hard. Oh my god! She thought. Her thoughts raced with a million things to say, but nothing came out.
"Hello, Ashley," Dave greeted. "It's good to see that you haven't forgotten what we taught you and you keep yourself armed at all times."
Ashley flicked her gaze downward, then back up to Dave's handsome face.
"I see you're armed too," she replied with a blush.
Then Dave gave her that crooked smile and knocked her world out from under her feet.
