A/N: My first POI story. Many thanks to wolfmusic218 for her encouragement. Hope you enjoy!
She was two blocks behind him. Never closer than one-and-a-half. Never farther than two and a quarter. She had needed to strike the perfect stalking distance for this one. Too far and she'd lose him. Too close and he'd make her in a second. Her usual was a strict one-and-a-half blocks. But this was a special case. He was a special case.
She slowed her casual stroll when she saw him enter a shop. Which shop she wasn't sure. She was still too far back to tell. Familiar with the area, it was either the bakery or the watch repair place. Either would be entirely plausible. She took her phone out of her suit jacket pocket to casually fiddle with it, hoping to remain inconspicuous amongst the bustling afternoon New York City crowd while she casually stood alongside the curb, occasionally glancing in the direction of the shop John had entered. She quickly wondered if he had made her, and was making his way out the back of the shop to escape her tail. She lowered her phone to her side and took a few steps in the shop's direction. As she pondered her next move, she saw him exit the building and continue on his way. He was empty handed. Must have been the watch repair shop.
He moved swiftly but perhaps it just seemed that way to her. His long legs carried him farther, faster than hers did. For a split second, she worried she might lose him. But then that wasn't very likely. He stood out in a crowd, and it wasn't just due to his height. It was the way he walked, the air of swag. Confidence. He gave off an aura of purpose and determination. How he never attracted enough attention to get caught by the myriad of people itching to catch him was unbeknownst to her. Even though she was supposed to be one of them. Even though she was pretending to be one of them. Even though she was acting like one of them right now by following him.
But it wasn't to arrest him. It was to catch him. She needed information. She needed to know something, anything. Where he and Harold met up. Where either one of them lived. Something. Anything that would help her figure out how in the hell they got the information they did. They wouldn't tell her so she would have to find out on her own. A lot of damn nerve they had. Stringing her and Fusco along, not even giving them scraps, while they risked everything to help the two men carry out their well-intentioned but illegal as hell mission. Why were she and Fusco on a need-to-know basis while John and Harold knew everything about them? Was that shit fair? Respectful? Absolutely nothing in her nature could accept it. Not any longer.
She continued following him at a more than respectable distance when she saw him reach into his jacket pocket briefly. The phone in her hand vibrated. Shit, she thought. She looked at the caller id. Unknown. He had made her. She wondered if she should even bother to answer it. Ultimately deciding to get it over with, she held the phone to her ear.
"Something on your mind, Detective?"
Sometimes that haunted whisper of his was infuriating. She stopped in her tracks not caring if anyone was behind her. Hanging up the phone, she released a long-suffering sigh and a humorless smirk took over her features. She watched as he turned around, walking backwards briefly with his own smirk marking his face before he turned back around, maintaining his momentum.
More than a little pissed off with herself for not being more careful-never mind that she hadn't considered the possibility that he knew her location by the GPS on her phone-she turned around, heading back in the direction from which she came. This was going to be harder now. Now that he knew what she was up to. Why was she even going through all of this drama? Why not just let all of it go? Simplify her life again?
She had made it about four blocks when she sensed his looming presence behind her. Before she could turn around to verify her suspicion she felt him slip his arm about her waist, guiding her movement.
"Well, Detective? Was there something I could help you with?"
It was all she could do not to roll her eyes as he led her to a short alleyway with a dumpster at the end not fifteen feet away from them. How convenient.
Stopping just inside the alley, he released her. He stood just outside her personal space while he looked down at her, a disturbingly neutral look on his face that just served to cause her even more irritation.
She decided to skip the niceties. "You know what I was doing." She watched as he turned his head toward the dumpster and nodded. He knew.
"I can't tell you that, Carter."
She wanted to throttle him. How many times had she heard that? It was like beating her head against a brick wall. In fact, she probably should just beat her head against the very brick wall she was leaning against. Instead, she shook her head and began to make her way back onto the busy sidewalk.
Quickly reaching his arm out to stop her, Reese brought her back around to face him. "It's not that I don't want to tell you. It's just too dangerous for you to know." He changed his look of neutrality to one of imploring. His hands were tied. He needed her to get it. He needed her to understand. He knew it was going to come to this, her trying to figure things out on her own. He also knew he shouldn't have let it. He should have given her more a long time ago.
Carter snorted. "And what I'm doing now isn't too dangerous, John? One slip up and I'm going down harder than either one of you. I need to know what you know. It's what I don't know that could hurt me. I'm going against my job, my oath. I'm lying to feds, CIA agents. I get caught, I'll lose my job, get locked up, lose my son. But it's too 'dangerous' for me to know some simple information." As she finished her short tirade, she began to wonder. Exactly why was she doing it? It was a huge risk. One with a potentially epic fallout. A risk she was taking for essential strangers.
He looked away again. "You're risking a lot, Carter." There was a brief pause while he contemplated his next question. "Why do you do it?"
Carter shook her head again. He was changing the subject. She was going to get nowhere. As usual. Knowing a complete waste of time when she saw one, she started on her way when once again, he drew her back to stand in front of him.
Noting the increasingly irritated expression on her face, he quickly released his light hold on her, holding his hands up in front of him in surrender. He took a small step toward her, straddling that invisible personal space line, and this time looked directly into her eyes as he lowered his hands to his sides. He didn't repeat his question. He just stood there, his eyes asking it again for him.
She hadn't realized, until that moment, how penetrating his gaze could be. She shifted uncomfortably, feeling herself being compelled to answer his question, tell him anything he ever wanted to know, and it pissed her off.
He already knew why she did what she did. How in the hell could he not? He was subtle with it but he was one of the smartest people she knew. And she was fast learning how manipulative he could be as well. Because she knew he knew. And yet she stood there, ready to humor him. Surrender. "You know why. You're doing good things. You're helping people. I owe you a debt. And I almost got you killed. I kinda feel bad about that."
There. It was more than she'd ever given him before, not that he'd ever asked. And it was all true. She admired how far he was willing to go to help strangers. She owed him a lifetime of gratitude for herself and her son. And there was guilt. A lot of guilt. Even though she knew in her mind that, at the time, she had done nothing wrong, considering the limited amount of information she had about him and what her damn job was.
He kept those eyes trained on her, reading her, increasing her discomfort level. She wanted him to turn that shit off, what he was doing with his eyes. She almost didn't hear him when he spoke.
"And?" There he was with that whisper again. She didn't know how he could speak so softly and yet be so commanding at the same time.
"And what?" She was somehow beginning to regain some control over her faculties now. Now that she knew what his game was. How he was trying to see right through her. She watched as he didn't say anything, still reading her, before a knowing grin limped across his features.
"You like the thrill, Detective. You like taking risks."
She breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe he wasn't so sadistic after all. He had let her off the hook. Somewhat. She wasan adrenaline junkie. She charged toward challenges, swore up and down that curiosity never killed cats. She liked the high and she liked helping people. He might have seen it in her the first time he laid eyes on her. Fellow junkie that he was.
She shrugged. "Maybe." Feeling her confidence return to full power along with her faculties, she decided to turn the tables on him. She doubted many people ever successfully did. "Tell me something. When I turned you in to Snow, you didn't even blink. You still trusted me. Why?" She stood there, still meeting his eyes, wondering if she was going to be one of those select few.
He turned away from her again, looking at nothing in particular, and shrugged. "I should have seen it coming. You were doing your job. Following orders. I can understand that."
It wasn't enough for her. She hadn't gotten enough out of him. He had come out of nowhere and saved her life right in the nick of time. Like a damn superhero in a movie. And instead of showing her gratitude by letting him slide, just that once, she dropped a dime on him. And he still took the risk of meeting up with her in that diner. Perhaps he hadn't really decided to until he'd followed her that morning and saw her skillfully ditch her CIA tail. Or perhaps he had. Either way, there wasn't an ounce of anger or mistrust in his eyes when he sat across from her. "Most people aren't that forgiving when someone turns them in and almost gets them killed. Especially after they just saved that someone's life. Why didn't you care about what I did?"
He still didn't meet her eyes. He still looked at that particular nothing. It was several seconds before he answered. And when he spoke, his voice was...normal. Quiet, but normal. No whisper. No sarcasm. No humor. "I just can't get mad at you."
Damn, she thought. She had gotten something out of him. A tiny sliver of his feelings, his thoughts. She was encouraged. And touched.
He couldn't get mad at her.
And she couldn't not do what he asked. With those mental revelations, her voice softened. "Why did you pick me in the first place? We had only met before for five seconds and I was interrogating you." Her thoughts wandered. There were other cops, other decent cops. And didn't he and Harold already have Fusco? Fusco had told her he had started working with them before he was transferred to the homicide task force, but John had been leaving missing-but-presumed-dead teenage girls in her care before she ever met Fusco. While she was hot to track him down and get him off the streets. "Why did you let me take your prints in the first place? You're not stupid. No matter how far gone you were, you knew what I was doing." She was soon looking off in another direction as well, pondering even more. John and Harold knew everything about everyone. The thought struck her. Sure, he certainly didn't look like he did now back then. But was he already working with Harold? Had he known of her before she met him at the station? Did he know something about her that would explain his automatic and unrelenting trust in her? "Did you already know who I was?"
She turned back to him and watched as he took a deep breath. It was several seconds before he answered.
"No."
And then he was gone. In a flash.
Carter drove out of the movie theater parking lot later that evening after having dropped Taylor and his friend off. It was Friday and she was looking forward to meeting her friend, Dawn, at Roscoe's for drinks. After the day she'd had, she needed it. The distraction. She couldn't stop thinking about what had happened earlier. Sure, she hadn't gotten any closer to figuring out anything about their elusive operation. Which still pissed her off. But John. Fearless, self-assertive, over-confident John had run away. As much as she'd been replaying the event in her head, she refused to allow her mind to go there. To acknowledge what that meant. She also refused to acknowledge how it made her feel. Nothing good could come of it. Nothing good at all.
She was startled out of her musings by her phone vibrating in her pocket. Looking at the caller id, she immediately answered. "Hey, what's up?"
"Hey, girl. Listen. Brian's sick as a dog so I've gotta stay home and watch the kids. Can I get a rain check?"
Damn. "Of course. You need me to get anything?"
"Oh, no, girl, thanks. We're fine. I'm sure he'll feel better in a couple days."
"Okay, well let me know. Tell Bri I hope he feels better soon."
"I will, girl, thanks."
"Alright. I'll talk to you later."
"Okay, bye."
"Well, there goes that," Carter muttered to herself as she re-pocketed her phone. She had had no other plans for the evening, and briefly considered stopping by to visit with her mother before ultimately deciding to just go home. Taylor's friend's dad would be dropping him off in a couple of hours after the movie so she figured she might as well get some cleaning done in the meantime. To keep herself busy. An idle mind was not what she wanted to deal with at the moment.
Walking down the hallway to her apartment, she paused at the door, unlocking it before entering. She had left one light on as was her usual practice but she still didn't notice that more of them were on until she closed and locked the door behind her, tossing her keys on the table before being startled out of her mind. She put her hand to her chest in her surprise. "Jesus, John." He was sitting on her couch. Lounging. Like he owned the place. The television on the wall was on as well. Apparently, confident John was back. She glanced at the TV as she approached him. The Cooking Channel. Interesting. "Why don't you do like a normal person and come back later if I'm not home?"
He smiled. "I'm not normal."
"Well, can you at least fake it?" She watched as he shrugged. Taking her shoes off, she picked them up, turned back to her bedroom and tossed them through the entryway. If he was going to act like earlier today hadn't happened, so would she. "So what's going on? Something wrong?" She walked back into the living room, pausing in front of the TV, her hands resting on her hips. The last time he'd shown up in her apartment uninvited and unannounced was when Harold had been kidnapped.
Wordlessly, Reese stood, taking his phone out of his pocket, turning it off before removing his ear bud. Setting both pieces on the couch cushions, he turned to face her. If Finch was still up working, listening, he would take the hint, and refrain from listening in via Carter's phone instead. Reese wanted her to know what he was about to say was important. Between them. And he didn't want any distractions.
He wanted her to know that what she was doing, what she was helping them with, what she was sacrificing and risking, wasn't all in vain. That they did trust her, and that keeping the machine a secret from her wasn't out of disrespect: it was a necessity. To keep her and Fusco safe. To keep hersafe. All other feelings aside, that was the bottom line. For him anyway. It would always be. Her safety. If she knew nothing else, she needed to know that. So she could close her eyes at night and know that, even if she wasn't privy to everything, she could always count on him to have her back, protect her.
He got straight to the point. "I really can't tell you everything Finch and I know. If I did and certain people found out-and they will-you'd probably be dead within twenty-four hours. I'm not about to let that happen to you. Not on my watch."
Trying to ignore the intensity of his gaze and the impact of the words coming out of his mouth, she still tried to probe. She couldn't help it. "John, what the hellis it? Some kind of crazy, supernatural type shit? And somebody would try to kill me if I knew?" What had she gotten herself into? "Is it a person you're getting your information from, some computer? What?" She watched as an almost pleading look crossed his face, as though his eyes were begging her to stop asking him questions. "If it's so dangerous, why do you and Harold know about it?"
"Because we're already dead."
"So what is this? I'm just supposed to let this go? Just keep doing what I'm doing not knowing exactly what the hell it is I'm doing?"
"Yes," he stated simply. "Please. Just trust me."
She shook her head incredulously. This is crazy. I must be out of my mind.She headed to the kitchen, suddenly needing some air he wasn't breathing. When had her life gotten so convoluted? Why had he been accosted on that subway and subsequently walked into her life that god forsaken day and never let her go? Taylor would be without both his parents right now if he hadn't. But what was the price she was paying now?
Reese followed her into the kitchen. "I know we're asking a lot. You should be asking questions." He thought for a moment, back to his days in the agency. "I should have asked questions." Bringing his thoughts back to the present, he continued. "We'll understand if you want out. We'll stop asking you for help, leave you alone. But I'm always going to look out for you. That's not negotiable." He stood at the entrance to the kitchen and watched as she rested her hands against the countertop, leaning heavily with her head down. After about thirty seconds, she lifted her head, a soft, sad smile playing on her face.
"I'm always gonna have my guardian angel, huh?" She finally turned to look at him. She couldn't describe the look on his face. She was scared to. It made her stomach flutter. And it warmed her heart. She had never known anyone like him. Had never had anyone so openly and fiercely determined to protect her. When he had absolutely no obligation to do so. And even though she was just as fiercely independent, felt just as strong if not stronger than all the men she worked with as a cop and all those she served with in the military, he brought out a part of her that she'd carefully closed off. That vulnerable part of her that yearned for the protection he was selflessly offering. That secret part that relished being cherished and shielded by a strong, capable man.
And that was why. His selflessness, his heart, his courage, his ability to put others before himself was why she felt the sudden urge to hug him. To hold him. To thank him. For everything he'd done for her. For everything he'd done for everyone he'd ever helped. For being him. When was the last time anyone had hugged him? When was the last time he'd felt that emotional connection to another person? When was the last time anyone had done anything for him? The pull was strong and she didn't, wouldn't, fight it.
Walking toward him, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, feeling his body tense up. Out of surprise, fear, being unaccustomed, she wasn't sure. But it wasn't long before he relaxed, eventually bringing his arms up to wrap around her small frame. He had needed this. She was sure. After a long moment passed, she felt she should pull away, but he wasn't budging. He hadn't gotten enough yet. He had been long deprived. And she had never felt safer. And it was a feeling she could get accustomed to.
But there was a problem building, billowing around them. Emotions. Things she had refused to think about, feelings she had positively refused to acknowledge, were creeping in. They were swirling around them as they stood in her kitchen, poking and prodding at them as if they were caught in the center of a whirlwind.
He was about to drown. In spite of the fact that he could swim. And instead of helping him, saving him, she had pulled him down further. Pulling back, he waited until she lifted her head to look at him. And realized it was too late. He would never be able to swim back up fast enough. He lowered his head, his thinking apparatus on lockdown. He brushed his lips against hers before she turned away, breaking the contact. She was leaving him down there, swimming toward the surface. It was her fault he was down there in the first place; he had to bring her back. He moved his head tentatively to find her lips again. When he did, he refused to let go. He heard her whimper as he began to kiss her fully, deeply, the spark igniting and the ferocity leaping to stratospheric levels in seconds. He lowered his hands to her waist, pulling her body against his lower half, feeling it come alive after lying dormant for so long. He wanted her horizontal. He wanted to consume her. He wanted to be greedy and pound himself into her all night. And all morning. The feeling was so strong he felt like his skin was on fire. He felt like he was having an out of body experience when he felt her push him away.
Breathing heavily, Carter tried to find her bearings. But it was feeling damn near impossible with his arms still around her, his body close, the heat from his skin setting her skin on fire. But this was crazy. What they were doing. Nothing good could come of it. Nothing good. "What are we doing?" She looked into his eyes. And goddamn that was a mistake. They were rendering her helpless, weak. Forcing her to surrender. When absolutely nothing good could come of this.
"This." He leaned down and again took her breath away. Stole it like the criminal he was.
Oh, God. Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! What am I doing?She had never been kissed like this in her life. It was pure sex in a kiss. She felt like she was going to come any minute. Her panties were so soaked, so uncomfortable, she wanted to rip them off. Now.
But, God, what was she doing? What were they doing? Something, from somewhere deep inside her, gave her the strength to separate her mouth from his. She turned her head, his lips falling to her cheek, her jawline, her ear lobe. Her lungs were burning, were about to explode. "We can't." Don't look at him, she told herself. Don't look at him.
"We need to," the ear he was relentlessly nibbling at heard. "...once...one time...just once."
Fuck, fuck, fuck!She turned her head back, so her poor ear and the tender spot behind it could catch a break. Licking and sucking and nipping at them, he was making her teeth chatter. But that had been a rookie mistake. She wasn't thinking. She wasn't thinking clearly at all. Because now he'd taken her mouth again. Her hands flew to his head, grasping at his hair and drawing him closer.
He stumbled forward. She felt her back pressed against the refrigerator. Heard some of the magnets and clips fall to the floor. His hands roamed her body, squeezing her ass before sliding along her sides and around, gently squeezing her breasts before dropping lower and pulling her shirt out of her slacks. His hands christened her skin underneath her shirt at her waist.
And it jolted her out of her trance. She had to stop. She had to stop this right now. For both of them. Bad things were going to come of this. She gave him a rough shove, enough to startle him, break through his haze. "John, stop. Please. I can't-I can't think."
They were both sucking in air so violently, it was a wonder there was any left in the room at all.
Trying to calm his racing heart, Reese took a step back, leaving his hands at her waist, resting his forehead against hers. He wasn't altogether with it yet and was scrambling to regain his footing. The feeling was causing him distress. He was out of sorts. And not in any way used to it. What was Carter doing to him? Why was he so powerless to stop it?
Knowing he had to go, had to get out of there quickly so he could find himself again and stem the desire for her that had overtaken him, he lifted his head from hers and kissed her softly on her forehead. Closing his eyes, he let his lips linger there for a moment before forcing himself to release her and leave her trembling in the kitchen. Heading for her front door, he almost forgot his cell phone and ear piece. Walking over to the couch to retrieve them, he unlocked her door, opened it, and left without looking back.
Outside of her building, the cool fall air felt good inside his lungs.
The moment he left, Carter felt her legs give way beneath her and she crumpled to the kitchen floor. She had never in her life felt like this before. From just his kisses and touch. And she had been married before. She felt raw, stripped bare. He'd lit her on fire and just the thought of him pulsating in and out of her, over and over again, was making her moan right there where she sat. She felt tears burning behind her eyelids.
What had just happened? And how? How had she let it? Everything had just changed. Every secret feeling she wouldn't dare acknowledge to herself that she had for that man was there now, right in the open. For her and for him to see. The genie was out of the bottle. Or was it more like Pandora's box? What was there left to do now? What would she do when she saw him again? And good God did she want to. In spite of everything her head was telling her. About nothing good coming of it, of this. She still wanted to see him. Still wanted to feel him. Wanted him to hold her, love her.
She ran her hands down her face, holding them there, willing herself to get it together. She didn't know how long the movie was but Taylor would probably be home in about an hour. And she needed to be normal, mom Joss before he did. Not this quaking, pitiful mess. Finally gaining what little of her bearings she could find, she rose from the floor. Looking down, she saw several refrigerator magnets scattered about and the memory of John's hot body pressing hers against the Maytag appliance hit her hard. She had longed to free him from the confines of his pants at that moment. But her head, her fears, wouldn't let her. She leaned down and picked them up, putting them back where they belonged. She looked over at the microwave clock. It was just before nine o'clock. She decided to take a shower-a long, cool one-and maybe grab a bowl of cereal and watch TV while she waited for Taylor.
Finished applying her lotion, Carter was about to exit the attached bathroom to find some underwear and pajamas to put on when she paused to look at herself in the mirror. She looked...different. To her own eyes. She touched her lips. They still looked slightly swollen. She squeezed her thighs together as she stood there. Involuntarily remembering again. She was soaking wet again in seconds.
Jesus. She needed to put some clothes on and turn on the television. She needed a distraction. Not bothering to cover herself up with a towel-the bedroom door was closed, Taylor wasn't home and he knew to knock if he wanted something-she flung open the bathroom door and took a step out before she froze in her tracks.
John was standing there, his back to her. When he heard her leave the bathroom, he turned around. His dark blue, grey, green eyes took her naked form in, soaked her up, before she found herself pinned against the wall beside her open bathroom door, his hands roaming her body unencumbered, his tongue declaring war with hers. It hadn't needed to, though: she had already surrendered.
Grabbing at his pants, she undid his belt and unbuttoned his black pants while he kneaded her breasts. She pushed them down and pressed her palm against his erection through his briefs. She swallowed his groan in her mouth and felt his hands move from her breasts to cup her ass before his left hand found her sweet spot from behind. He swallowed her cry in his mouth. She was ready for him. Wet, hot, and waiting. He took his hands away from her body to push his underwear down, never relinquishing his hold on her lips and tongue. Using one foot to slip off one of his shoes, he used the other to do the same before stepping out of the pool of material at his feet and kicking it aside.
He couldn't wait. Not another second. He guided himself into her, finally tearing his mouth away from hers to look into her eyes. Lifting her up, he held her firmly at her waist as she wrapped her legs around his. He didn't move for several seconds. He just stared into her eyes. It felt like heaven and hell and fire and ice. He thrust once, twice, the whimpers coming from her lips and desire pouring from her eyes making it incredibly difficult to control his body's reaction to hers. Giving up the fight, he was soon drilling himself into her, no longer able to retain eye contact from the frenzy. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, swears and animalistic sounds poured from his lips. From her lips. Indescribable pleasure engulfed them, encased them, swallowed them whole. The electrifying crescendo built until their explosion sent pieces of them flying beyond this world, into the next. Panting, Reese tried to hold them up. He failed. They sank to the floor, still linked together physically and emotionally, and waited for their breathing to even out. Wordlessly, he pulled himself from inside her and sat down heavily next to her. Spent. Fulfilled. Terrified. He had never felt, never expelled so much passion for another woman before in his life. Why would it happen now, when he couldn't have anything remotely akin to normalcy in his life?
She stared straight ahead as she sat there naked, sated, completely exposed. They had done it. They had gone and done it.
So now what?
Silence stretched for miles in front of them, between them. He had been right. They had needed that one time, to relieve the tension. To bring it down to a tolerable simmer. But a cold, dark reality now permeated. It was another few moments before she found her voice. "You're going to break my heart."
It was a long minute before he responded. "I'm sorry." He knew as well as she did it was inevitable.
"I know." She felt his left hand slide into her right. They sat there for another few minutes, feeling the coldness begin to ebb, replaced by enlightenment. Whatever they had, whatever it was, they knew they only had a moment, however short or long.
Silence once again took over the space before his voice filled it. "It was your eyes. Something in them. I wanted to see it again." She finally turned to look at him, waiting for him to continue. "That's why I picked you." He met her eyes. "I always want to see it."
They both jumped as they heard the front door unlock. Taylor. Her bedroom door, perpendicular to the front door, was wide open. Carter quickly jumped up, still holding Reese's hand, and darted into the bathroom, praying her son wouldn't stick his head in her room to announce his arrival and see John's clothes and shoes on the floor. Or at least wouldn't look close enough to recognize what they were.
"I'm back, Ma," she heard him call out in the general direction of her bedroom as she heard him continue on his way down the hall.
"Okay." She answered.
"Night!" He responded, probably already in his room.
"Night, T." She wondered if he'd even heard her. Turning to face John, she gave him a look of apology. And relief. He smiled and squeezed her hand before releasing it.
Leaving the protection of the bathroom, he bent down to gather up his clothes. He looked and felt ridiculous. Fully clothed from the waist up, socks still on his feet. He had been in such a hurry to find his place inside her he hadn't even removed his suit jacket. He watched as she quickly made her way over to her bedroom door, finally closing it. Damn she was perfect. Small, curvy, sexy, perfect. He ran his eyes up her body as she made her way back over to him.
"You don't have to go." She slid her hands inside his suit jacket and ran them up his chest before sliding the garment off his shoulders. He dropped the pants and shoes in his hands. "We'll just have to be quiet." She began to work on the buttons of his white dress shirt. He stood there and watched. His eyes on her face as she focused on his buttons. What the fucking hell would he do if he lost her? If he had to go through that devastation again? He decided then and there that he wouldn't. He'd just go with her.
She led him to her bed, folding down the comforter and sheet before climbing in, dragging him with her. He settled on top of her, familiarizing himself with how she felt beneath him. Kissing her, he slowly slid back into her warmth.