You give your hand to me
Then you say hello
I can hardly speak
My heart is beating so
And anyone can tell
You think you know me well
But you don't know me
Sharon Raydor walked across the office floor for the fourth time in 5 minutes, Andy Flynn had watched each time, his eyes watching her every movements, her strides were effortless and confident. She wore that blue number he liked, a blue and white dress with fitted blue blazer. There was something in him that was drawn to blue.
She had congratulated him this morning on his break yesterday, cracking the case wide open and offering him her hand. Her eyes were beaming and after the last few days of Taylor pressuring her to wrap this case up, he had saved her day. He was her knight in shining armour.
No, you don't know the one
Who dreams of you at night
And longs to kiss your lips
And longs to hold you tight
Oh I'm just a friend
That's all I've ever been
'Cause you don't know me
He had returned her smile and taken her hand, the skin on skin contact sending a jolt of electricity through his hand, around his body. If only she knew what he dreamed about at night, what he pictured them doing together. The attraction that drew them together, the heat of two bodies, the skin on skin contact and the sharing of intimate pleasure; to be together as one again, like they had once before.
I never knew
The art of making love
Though my heart aches
With love for you
Afraid and shy
I've let my chance to go by
The chance that you might
Love me, too
He would never forget the time he met her years before IA, before Major Crimes. She was working within the Department, outside of FID jurisdiction of rule books and policy. They had met at an LAPD Gala Event; she had been wearing a royal blue figure fitted dress with scoop neck and gold embellishment on the right hip with a strappy pair of gold heels. There was something about her wearing blue. She had arrived as someone's date but found herself alone by the bar. Andy had approached her for a dance, which turned into conversation and reverted back to more slow dancing, their bodies pressed together as they swayed around the dance floor. They had escaped for some fresh, a walk around the block, some more conversation but as discussion turned to flirty suggestions, they found themselves unable to hold off the attraction between them. He had taken a hugh risk with the woman he had just met, pushing her up against the exterior of a brick wall, his lips crashing against hers; there had been no resistance, only her hands coming up and pulling him closer. The danger was exciting, the intimacy thrilling. His hand had wondered up her thigh, his lips had trailed kisses down her neck onto her collar bone; the shear moans leaving her turning him on.
You give your hand to me
And then you say good-bye
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy
You'll never never know
The one who loves you so
Well, you don't know me
Twenty two minutes attacking each other like teenagers and they were back by the bar; no one the wiser, a sparkle in both their eyes. The man she had arrived with had appeared once more, ready to call it a night. Ready to take his wife home to bed. That man turned out to be her now estranged husband.
You give your hand to me, baby
Then you say good-bye
I watch you walk away
Beside the lucky guy
No, no, you'll never ever know
The one who loves you so
Well, you don't know me
Memories of that night had never left his mind and he wondered if she often thought of it too.
He often wondered how different things may have been if she hadn't left with her husband. He often lied awake at night and wondered if she would have ever loved him if they had had the opportunity together. She often wondered if he could ever love her too.
No, no you'll never ever know the one who loves you so….