A/N: Jibbs in Paris. Please review! The title is French and means "The city of love"
Just thought I'd mention, that next time I post it'll be under a new name. I'm changing from primrose-lh to Scarlet-lh, for personal reasons. Sorry if it confuses anyone!
La Ville de l'Amour
The door creaked lightly as she pushed it open. Biting her lip, she cast a cautious glance back at the bed she'd just left, but the man in it seemed to not have noticed anything. Tendrils of the night air crept in through the crack in the door, cold against her bare legs, so she quickly stepped out onto the balcony and pushed the door shut behind her before it got too cold inside.
The NCIS t-shirt she wore wasn't hers; it reached down below her hips and grazed her thighs as she stepped up to the balcony rail. She placed her hands on the cool wrought-iron rail, closing her eyes and let the night air caress her face with its cool touch. Below her were the lights and sounds from the city that never slept. The sound of cars passing, laughter from the restaurant on the corner.
She shivered slightly, but the air inside their hotel room was too hot and pressing. She needed to breathe for a moment. Needed to collect her thoughts. She sank down heavily in the wrought-iron chair on the balcony, her legs tucked underneath her, covering them with Gibbs' t-shirt. She let her eyes drink in the sight of the Eiffel tower shining against a velvet black sky, littered with stars and a large full moon. The view made her smile.
She hugged her arms closer around her body, as the cold seeped through her t-shirt. But as the heat in the bedroom was slightly too much, she welcomed the night with its dark, soothing cold. She looked over her shoulder through the glass door, the curtain she hadn't pulled close after her and her eyes immediately found the man in the bed, still sleeping contentedly. She let her eyes caress his still form for a few more seconds. The seconds turned into minutes as she was unable to tear her eyes off of him. She loved watching him sleep, he looked so peaceful, so relaxed and she'd be damned if she didn't admit – if only to herself – that she sometimes wondered if she had something to do with it.
Streaks of moonlight illuminated his silvery-grey hair, causing faint shadows to appear on his muscular chest and her fingers itched to trace the curves of his muscles, to feel his skin against hers and to feel the beat of his pulse quicken beneath her fingertips.
She closed her eyes, turned her head away and when she opened them she was looking toward the Eiffel Tower in the distance, the moon right behind it and its structure shining against the moon's silvery surface.
A light wind pushed her hair off her shoulders, gently blowing in her face and caressed her cheeks and catching in her eyelashes. She closed her eyes again, as the light, deliberate touch continued to tease the skin of her exposed shoulder.
She suddenly realized, it was not the wind that was touching her, it was a hand that so gently brushed the hair from her neck and then warm lips pressed down onto her shoulder to taste the sweetness of her skin. He left a trail of kisses up her neck, until he caught her earlobe between his teeth. She'd stopped wondering how he was able to sneak up on her so soundlessly a long time ago.
"Can't sleep?" He mumbled into her ear and his voice that was still rough from sleep sent vibrations down her spine. She leaned her head back, resting it against his shoulder.
"I just needed some air; it was too hot in there," she whispered back, as though talking louder would shatter the spell of the Parisian night that was weaved over them.
He circled her in a fluid movement, grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. Tugging her firmly to his bare chest. She raised her hands and placed them on his chest, her fingers flexing against his skin. She tilted her head up and her bright green eyes met his sparkling blue.
He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and his hand settled behind her neck, drawing her into him until their lips were millimeters from each other and his breath was drying out her lips. He mumbled something incoherently against her lips, it may have been her name, she didn't know and didn't give that much thought into what he'd actually said, as his lips pressed gently onto hers. The kiss was tender, romantic but with an underlying hint of the passion from earlier. He kissed her with more emotion than he liked to admit verbally.
She pulled back only when air became essential and her hand moved to rest gently over his heart, feeling its beating increase. She looked up at him with large green eyes that expressed more affection than she was ready to admit.
Leaning into his embrace, she turned her head and looked out over the view of the city. He gently stroked his hand down her back, tightening his hold on her the slightest. Keeping his eyes on her, watching her nuzzle her face into his chest and he wasn't sure he even dared to breathe, afraid to break the spell that seemed to have settled over them.
She was no longer aware of the chilly night air. Every sensation of himinfiltrated her senses; his scent of bourbon and aftershave, the sound of his heavy breathing and the calm beating of his heart under her cheek. His strong arms that encircled her, his hand threading through her hair, making her feel strangely safe and at home.
She slipped her hands higher up his back, trying to get impossibly closer to him, craving more of his warmth.
"Paris," she whispered, so quietly he almost didn't hear it, but he felt her breath that left a burning trail across his chest.
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply and pressing a soft kiss to her head. The faint scent of lavender from her hair, her firm body pressing against his and the quiet magical spell surrounding them made his eyes close and a sensation washed over him, too powerful to stop, and it made his heart stop and stole his breath.
"The city of love," he breathed into her hair, lifting his head and placed two fingers under her chin, tilted her head up to meet her eyes. They were sparkling, their color reminding him of emeralds and the emotion he read in them enough to make him lean down and capture her lips in a kiss that spoke more than he ever could bring himself to say out loud.
"Sounds about right," she replied, sounding slightly breathless. He smiled, then he lifted her up, one of his arms holding her around her waist and the other under her knees. She gasped in surprise, flung her arms around his neck and when the initial shock had subsided; her laugh rang in his ears like the sweetest tune. He joined in her laughter, kissing her quickly on the lips, and proceeded to carry her to bed.
The End