After she gently took the key from his hand with a small smile, he followed her into the room.
The door clicked behind them, and things momentarily slowed down, his lips brushing her cheek gently. He cast a glance around before meeting her eyes.
"That was… not indicative of any other... performance issues…" he said in a low voice.
She laughed aloud and continued in.
It was a massive hotel suite with an elegance that fit the price. One wall was comprised of an expansive window: a breathtaking view of Chicago.
Will saw none of it.
His eyes were fixed on Alicia as she walked away from him.
Extending one elegant, white arm, she dropped her purse on the chair.
He let his eyes wander appreciatively down her back and over her hips. Feeling himself warm, he was unaware that his breathing had slowed.
Every single opening and closing of those damn elevator doors had tested her resolve.
Until his hand took hers and he pushed her gently back across the elevator wall. Then she was sure.
The fiddling with the key was cute… as was his obvious desperation. She felt his pulse flicker when she grabbed him to take the key, easily pushing the door open.
She discarded her purse and jacket before realizing that he had gotten quiet. She turned around and her eyes widened questioningly, "Will…?"
He saw worry cloud her face and closed the distance between them before she had finished saying his name.
Working on a case, she would stand close to him and he could smell her hair. Passing her a file, her fingers would brush his. Walking past her office, he would see her smile. But now, her scent was washing over him, her hair was soft against his hands, and his lips were pressing into hers, and it was the greatest sense of relief he had ever felt.
He felt her hands slide under his jacket and push it back off his shoulders. He pulled back and looked her in the eyes as it fell away.
She arched an eyebrow as Will's jacket slid to the floor. She felt his hands come back to her waist and took a step back towards the bed, tugging him by his belt.
And then she had him pressing her down into the mattress with his whole body, hands on either side of her, palms flat on the mattress. She had all of him, not just a fleeting touch, and it felt so good. The first in… years. The first since Peter. It had been so long since somebody new. Her hands skimmed down his sides and she felt him shiver. One leg curled up so her thigh was at his side. She bit his bottom lip gently, and was immediately surprised at her own boldness. It was gratifying to hear him grunt.
Her fingers were agonizingly close to his skin: he could feel their warmth through the fabric of his dress shirt. Over top of her, his head was swimming with the sensation of being close to her, until she bit his lip and his thoughts focused on one crystal point of clarity.
He had to get her ..
She felt him move off of her, pulling her with him off the mattress.
Half-standing, he began to fumble with his buttons, and she leaned up, slowly pressing her lips into his cheek while sliding down his tie.
Now he was sitting and she was straddling him, skirt hiked practically around her waist. He had gotten his shirt off, and she finally smoothed her palms over his bare chest.
His fingers brushed her upper thigh, and she thanked her lucky stars she thought to wear stockings.
She had kicked off her heels (which saddened a small part of him) before she hit the bed, and her stockings followed with ease.
She smiled and pulled away from him, standing to slide down her skirt. He took advantage of the distance to rid himself of his shoes, socks and pants.
There he was.
Body always so in control in the courtroom. Calculated gestures, choreographed for a reaction. Now only in boxers, and obviously excited.
Will.
He was sexy.
But…
And before she could give herself time to think, she pulled the blouse over her head.
It was the same body from Georgetown, slightly rounder and softer with age.
He ran his fingertips over her stomach, and she pushed his wrist away.
"No, no, no…" he said quickly, before swallowing, "gorgeous."
Sitting back on the bed, he pulled her, standing, towards him, burying his face in her midsection. He kissed passionately upwards towards her breasts as her hands tightened around his shoulders.
He was amazed equally by how much she hadn't changed, and by how much the changes in her excited him.
His hands on her thighs, smoothing up over her butt to brush her sides.
His mouth on her breast, and she had to tighten her grip on his shoulder to stay upright.
Pushing him back gently so she could straddle his lap, her mouth found his again, letting her hands slide down his chest.
Smooth white thighs on either side of his, her breasts pressing into his chest.
He didn't think he could get harder.
And then she wrapped a hand around him, and something exploded in his brain.
His mouth fell open against hers.
It felt nice to have that power over him.
She stroked him gently, teasingly, to feel him twitch against her.
Trying to get a grip, it all flashed through his mind.
All of the ways he wanted to have her: up against a wall, in the armchair in his apartment, from behind with his face pressed against her shoulder.
In bed.
When he couldn't take it any longer, he carefully (as carefully as possible) flipped them over.
Her hips arched up to meet his determined thrusts, nails digging shallow half-moons in his flesh.
He felt exquisite inside of her.
Even the pauses for the necessary precautions hadn't broken the mood, and he rolled back to her, pressing her down as she wrapped her legs around him.
Now, she pressed his shoulder… harder, now, to get his attention. Rolled them over and stretched her arms up, over her head as she rose above him.
He was breathing hard on his back under her, and she saw a darker shade of arousal pass over his face as she met his eyes.
And when she didn't think she could get any bolder, she took his wrist and showed him exactly where to touch her.