Juliette jerked away from his kiss, her hands yanking from their place curled fiercely around the back of Nick's neck.
"What's wrong?" Nick asked, brow furrowing in that intense way he did, the way she had begun to recognize even without remembering.
"Me." Juliette sucked in a short breath, frowning desperately. She had felt oddly out of place since returning home (her home with Nick) but had brushed it off to the situation as a whole, or at leastlack of sleep.
But since meeting Captain Renard at the precinct, the feeling had more than intensified, had been pinching at her like a scorpion trapped under her skin. Perhaps she ought to move her next appointment with the neurologist up a few days.
"Juliette, wait!" Nick caught her by the elbow just as she reached the stairs, her hand curled so tightly around the banister, she risked splinters.
"I'm just tired. I'm sorry." She glanced away from him, though whether it was to avoid the deep caring in his eyes or to avoid catching another glimpse of the piercing stare she had seen moments earlier she couldn't be certain.
Nick hesitated but pressed his lips together in the most understanding way a man who had been sleeping on the couch for weeks possibly could. "Oh. That's okay. I'll just… clean up the kitchen."
Juliette gave him a sharp nod, tossing a halfhearted "thank you" over her shoulder as she darted up the stairs. She slipped into her (their) bedroom and closed the door behind her gingerly, as though afraid he might be listening for her to slam it in anger or frustration. Her eyes drifted shut as she gave a quiet sigh and leaned back against the closed door, hands wrapped tightly around the doorknob behind her back.
A cool breeze swept through the fine material of her blouse and she felt more than heard the flutter of the curtains, even though the windows were all shut tight. Juliette peeked open one eye, clenching her jaw at the sight of Captain Renard standing in the middle of her bedroom, hands stuffed casually in his pockets. He sniffed, taking one slow step at a time towards her until he was only a breath away and she slammed her eyes shut again.
"You're not real," she mumbled, swallowing hard before taking it up as a whispered mantra. "You're not real. You're not real. You're not real."
"Of course I'm real, Juliette." She shrunk away from the brush of his fingertips in her hair, from the kiss he painted on her forehead. "I'm always real, Juliette. I'm always here."
Another kiss on her cheek, close to her ear, then another on her jaw. By the time his lips closed over her pulse point, her fingers were curled in his hair, around his arm, hallucination be damned. Juliette gasped, lips parting even as his made a harrowing course across her collarbone, fingers deftly pulling aside the creamy silk of her blouse. His free hand pressed into the wanton arch of her back, sliding just beneath the fabric to make contact with soft, tempting skin.
She whimpered quietly, tugging on his hair until he raised his head just enough for her to find his mouth, tongue seeking his desperately, franticly. Sean's hands slammed against the door on either side of her, his body trapping her willfully against the wood, knee sliding between hers.
She had his jacket off and his tie undone and the buttons down the back of her blouse had nearly given way beneath his hands but alas, every hallucination has its end.
Sean Renard jerked awake, gasping for air as he blinked, disoriented by the clean lines and cold loneliness of his own bedroom. He growled under his breath, throwing the covers off and storming for the bathroom. Standing beneath a cold shower, occasionally fully clothed, seemed to be a nightly occurrence in recent days. If he was honest, there was no truly efficient cure for waking so abruptly from a dream (nightmare? Hallucination, maybe), of pressing the lovely Juliette against her bedroom door, of feeling her pulse race beneath his tongue and her back arch under his hands.
Across town, Juliette sank back against the door, again clasping the doorknob in her hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, teeth sinking into her bottom lip against the onslaught of aroused longing and confusion. "Definitely need to move that appointment up," she muttered under her breath. "Definitely."