He sat alone in the dark, watching her. Heavy raindrops fell, splattering on the cement in the courtyard as she ran toward the car idling on the street. The moisture, combined with the lingering heat of the day, caused the tendrils of hair that had escaped from her chignon to curl prettily around her face. Beads of liquid broke and slid along the exposed column of her neck and decorated the little black dress that clung to her curves, shimmering in the soft glow of the street lamp, as she climbed, laughing, into the waiting car.
Jealousy tasted bitter as the whiskey burned the back of his throat. He still felt the pressure of her palm against his chest as he averted his eyes from the surveillance monitor.
One week earlier…
Returning home from a "date," they walked through the archway, into the courtyard. He slung his arm around her shoulders, walking her to the door of her condo, preparing to put on a showy PDA since her moron brother and his furry, troll-like friend were camped out on the ledge of the fountain engaged in animated geek speak. He couldn't help but roll his eyes as he grunted, still finding it unfathomable that a girl like her and a brother like that had been woven from the same genetic threads.
When they reached the door, he turned, pulling her into his arms. As he leaned down to kiss her, his mouth didn't quite meet hers. Something was blocking his way. She was blocking his way. He looked down, surprised to find the palm of her hand planted firmly in the center of his chest. This was new. She had never resisted before, quite the opposite. He knew she liked kissing him, and he had to admit, he really didn't mind kissing her so much, either.
"John, we need to talk."
Warning klaxons blared in his head as soon as the words left her mouth.
"What do we need to talk about, sweetheart?" he asked, keeping a casual smile on his face as he tucked a stray strand of sable brown hair behind her ear.
"Not here," she said quietly out of the corner of her mouth as she subtly tipped her head in Chuck and Morgan's direction. Her expression grim, she eased out of his arms and unlocked the door, leaving it open for him to follow her inside.
He pulled the door shut, locking it behind him, counting on the ample warning Chuck would provide as he noisily unlocked it when he was done playing with his little friend.
Casey leaned back against the dark mahogany wood, his stance wide and his arms crossed over his chest. "What do you have to say, Ellie?"
"John, right now I don't get to chose whether or not I have the Intersect inside my head." Her brow furrowed and her lower lip trembled as she continued. "I've accepted that it's going to be a part of me until I can figure out how to remove it; and, if I can use it benefit others, while it's here," she tapped her temple with her index finger, "well, that's the upside."
Casey never moved, listening, as he stood as silent as a sentry, allowing her to continue.
"But this," she reached out, sweeping her hand back and forth in the empty space between them, "this I can and need to do something about."
He didn't need it spelled out for him. "Ellie, my orders are to be your handler, and it's my responsibility to ensure your safety." He shifted slightly, further tightening his arms across his chest as he locked eyes with her. "To do that, I need to remain close to you."
Her expression softened, and she took a step toward him. She reached out, wanting to touch and soothe him, wanting to give him comfort even as she was effectively pushing him away. She withdrew her hand, self-consciously clasping the fingers of her other hand, locking the digits together.
Casey's blue eyes remained riveted on hers. She was going to do this. She had to do this. She wasn't going to back down. "John, please understand, this isn't personal," she began. "I realize that you're just doing your job, but I want to be more than just an assignment to someone."
That lip quivering of hers was going to be his undoing, but he didn't flinch. He stood his ground, waiting quietly for her to finish.
She drew in a shaky breath and continued. "What we have, John, our relationship, it isn't real. We both know it's just a cover." Pain flickered across her face, pain he desperately wanted to assuage. "I want something real."
Casey shifted his weight, straightening away from the door, unfurling his arms. "You're right, Ellie. You deserve a real relationship. I'll stay close, but I won't stand in your way."
He turned and unlocked the door, looking back at her over his shoulder as he twisted the knob and opened it. "Good night, Ellie."
Present Day, Later that Evening…
The rain had stopped and the air was cool as she walked alone to her door. Dinner with Devon had been pleasant, but nothing more.
He was good looking, in a clean-cut, Malibu, quintessentially California boy kind of way. He was a doctor, too, a cardio-thoracic surgeon in fact. His long, lean fingers were flawless, capable of wielding a scalpel and healing with precision, not rough and calloused, capable of wielding any type of weapon and killing with precision.
Devon was a gentleman with impeccable manners. The corner of her mouth tipped up in a slight smile as she recalled him opening and closing the car door for her. So sweet. John Casey was definitely not sweet. He was rough, gruff, and capable of being downright rude when it suited him, which was quite often. So, why was she thinking about how he tasted when his mouth was on hers?
She glanced behind her and spotted Devon's car, still stopped at the entrance to Echo Park, as he waited patiently for her to get safely inside. She raised a hand and waved as she turned the doorknob and walked into her condo.
She flipped on a light and sighed. Here she was, alone on a Friday night. She walked to the window, snuck up a corner of the blinds and peered across the courtyard. His apartment was shrouded in darkness, betraying no hint of motion He was the reason her date with Devon Woodcombe had gone no further than a chaste kiss good night, a polite smile, and a hurried "I'll call you," tumbling past her lips as she climbed out of the car.
He watched her, the clink of glass against glass as he set the remaining finger of whiskey down, the only sound echoing in the dark. The feed from the outside camera, displayed on the monitor, caught his eye. He watched Woodcombe pull away from the curb and drive off. He picked up his glass, raised it to his mouth and took a pull, swallowing slowly. That's something, he thought as he lowered the glass again.
"Baby, how was your date with Dr. Awesome?"
All of the nurses in the ICU knew about her date with Devon, and Sondra was no exception as she leaned across the desk at the nurse's station as Ellie stopped to swap out patient charts.
"Well?" prompted Sondra, an expectant look sparkling in her eyes.
All of the nurses, bar none, absolutely adored "Dr. Awesome" as they called him.
And, she had to admit, he honestly did live up to his name. She mentally ticked off his attributes. He really was awesome. So, why wasn't he working for her? She knew why.
Ellie caught Sondra's hopeful expression and cleared her throat. "It was nice," she said as she flipped through a patient's chart. Thank goodness Westside hadn't switched over to electronic charts yet, though the day was coming soon. It gave her the chance to appear legitimately engaged in hospital business without having to meet Sondra's eye.
"Nice? Oh, baby girl, it was just nice?"
Ellie winced internally. Without looking, she could already see Sondra's fists planted firmly on her hips. She felt the heat of the nurse's stare, and she finally gathered the courage to look her in the eye. Maybe if she went through this with Sondra, she wouldn't have to with all of the other nurses on the floor. Please, God, she prayed.
Instead of seeing disapproval on her friend's face, Ellie was greeted with a Cheshire grin.
"Honey, after you get used to that kind of heat between your sheets, and then it's suddenly gone, well, sometimes all it takes is a smidge of persistence to get the motor running again." Sondra leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper as she continued. "I have just the cure."
Sondra's "cure" was currently making her head pound as the music throbbed and the smoke-filled kaleidoscope of lights pulsed overhead. Sondra and several of the other well-intentioned nurses and a few of the doctors had insisted that she go out dancing with them on Friday night at Rage, a very popular and, at the moment, overcrowded club in West Hollywood.
"Baby, what you need is a buffet, a buffet full of tasty men, in all shapes, colors and sizes. You sample a little here and a little there, and sure enough you'll find what you're looking for," was Sondra's less-than-convincing argument that resulted in her standing in the middle of the dance floor half-heartedly swaying along with a guy named Richard, or maybe it was Robert, she wasn't sure. What she was certain of was that she no longer wanted to be here. She wanted to go home, swallow a few aspirin, and crawl into bed and sleep until well after dawn.
Ellie jumped, startled by the feeling of a hand wrapping around her upper arm. "Are you okay?" Richard/Robert asked, looking down at her with concern.
"Yes, I'm fine, thank you," she said, offering a small smile as she broke free from his hold and turned to walk back toward the table where most of her friends were congregated, enjoying a fresh round of cocktails. "I think my friends are getting ready to leave," she shot back over her shoulder.
"I can take you home," Richard/Robert was in the middle of offering, when he suddenly found himself snatching at empty air where Ellie's arm used to be as he was violently jerked into a dark corner off the side of the dance floor.
The brutal, bone-crushing grip that the much larger man had on his arm definitely refocused Richard/Robert's attention. He couldn't see who was holding him since his assailant remained behind him, but he understood quite clearly the words that the other man delivered with cold precision, next to his ear. "Touch her again and you won't have any fingers left."
Richard/Robert nodded quickly and struggled to get out of the vice grip clamped down on his arm, only succeeding when Casey let him.
Ellie was oblivious to the quiet struggle going on behind her as she weaved her way through the throngs of undulating bodies, slowly making her way back to her friends' table.
"Well, how'd it go, girl?" the instigator asked. "That last one you were dancing with sure was cute!"
"Oh, he was all right, Sondra," Ellie answered with a polite smile, "but he just wasn't my type."
"El, you left your type," Rhonda, the curly-haired, red-headed nurse drew emphatic quotes in the air with the first two fingers of both hands, "in the dust about two weeks ago."
Ellie couldn't suppress a groan and drained the rest of her drink before she and the rest of the women packed up, Sondra, the designated driver, in the lead.
Casey watched Ellie and her friends trail out of the club, still concealed in the shadows. Yeah, he mused, she definitely had a type, and after conducting an informal sociological study over the last couple of weeks, he concluded that Dr. Ken Doll definitely wasn't it. The flavor she favored definitely ran toward tall, dark-haired, and blue-eyed.
He smirked as he stepped out into the light. Something that Walker said to him a few days ago when she caught him in Castle studying the surveillance feeds from Ellie's condo tickled the back of his brain. Oh yeah, "It's not polite to stalk," was what Walker had said. Well, he wasn't a polite man.
Early Monday morning found Ellie struggling to prevent her face from bursting into flames under the piercing glare of General Diane Beckman.
"I repeat, will this be a problem, Dr. Bartowski?" the general asked, more than just the usual note of impatience edging her voice.
"General, Walker and I can—"
"No, ma'am, it won't be a problem," Ellie assured the General, quickly cutting Casey off.
"Major, Dr. Bartowski, I hope not," Beckman replied caustically before killing the video conference feed with a stab of her finger.
"Casey will pick you up at seven," Sarah said, smiling sympathetically as Ellie climbed the stairs out of Castle.
She was dreading this evening. It was her day off from the hospital, and as she ran errands, she replayed General Beckman's mission briefing from earlier in the day.
The general's visage had greeted her on the video screen as soon as she stepped into Castle, joining Casey and Sarah, who had arrived a few minutes earlier.
"Team, I have an assignment for you," she announced crisply, her hands neatly folded on her blotter. "Gilberto Recife is in town, and it's rumored that he and his associates are here to traffic several million dollars in counterfeit currency."
As soon as the picture of Recife appeared on the video monitor, Ellie flashed, images of counterfeiting equipment, scattered hundred dollar bills, some splattered with blood, and crates containing various weapons swam before her eyes.
Beckman continued. "Recife is brokering several deals tonight under the guise of a private party and performance of La Boheme aboard his yacht."
Ellie caught Casey's low growl, which was just out of Beckman's hearing range, and she struggled not to laugh. Even though he had grown up as an altar boy, she knew how much he hated opera.
"Major, you and Dr. Bartowski will pose as a wealthy couple interested in conducting business with Recife. Enough seed capital to establish that you're serious will be delivered via government courier to you later this afternoon, Major.
Recife uses three sets of counterfeit plates to produce currency, and our sources indicate that he never travels without them.
Agent Walker, you will arrive ahead of the performance and pose as part of the catering staff and determine the location of Recife's safe.
'Yes ma'am," Sarah responded.
"Major, agent Walker will communicate the safe's onboard location to you and you will acquire the plates while Dr. Bartowski occupies Recife.
Casey nodded at the video screen.
"Dr. Bartowski, I am aware that you and Major Casey have discontinued your cover relationship, so I hope this assignment will not present a problem."
Oh, no problem at all. If he had to touch her as part of the mission tonight, she wasn't sure if she would allow him to stop.
Sarah studied Casey's profile as he prepped the equipment for the evening's mission. Ever since Ellie had "broken up" with Casey she had noticed some concerning changes in her partner's demeanor.
He was, of course, his general surly self around pretty much everyone he encountered, except for Ellie. To her, he was cautiously, almost painfully polite. When he was certain she wasn't aware, he fastened his gaze on her, a parched man thirsting for a just-out-of-reach oasis. He did his job, but without passion or zeal. He was cruising on autopilot.
"You're both miserable, Casey. Tell her how you feel," Walker urged.
Yeah, because getting personally entangled has worked out so well for you, Walker. But, he bit back the scathing retort, grunting noncommittally as he loaded the magazines for his Sig. She was, in her own misguided way, trying to help. She could have reported his recent behavior, or, more specifically, his lack of enthusiasm for his assignment, to Beckman, but she hadn't. He appreciated the loyalty.
When she answered the door at seven o'clock p.m. sharp, Ellie was never more glad that Chuck was in still in San Diego at Comic-Con with Morgan, because temptation wrapped in a tuxedo was standing at her door, all six feet and four gorgeous inches of him. She wanted to unwrap him, starting with the black bow tie resting neatly below his chiseled chin.
She was stunning. He stood there like a horny teenage boy, gaping, and he imagined that a steady stream of drool was dripping from the corner of his mouth. She wore a full-length sheath dress that did her every ounce of justice that she deserved. The black silk skirt molded to her curves and the strapless bodice, studded liberally with sparkling silver beads, drew his eye to her full breasts, which plumped prettily over the top of the glittering fabric. A single, teardrop-shaped ruby rested in the hollow of her throat, and her hair fell in waves past her bare shoulders and down her back.
Tonight was going to test his sanity on multiple levels, having to endure the caterwauling that was called opera in polite circles and only getting a stingy taste of something he desperately wanted to devour.
A car alarm going off in the parking lot suddenly broke the spell, and he offered her his arm. "Ready to go?"
"Ready," she said, lightly resting her hand in the crook of his arm.
He escorted her to gleaming, silver Aston Martin and opened the passenger-side door for her, closing it after she was comfortably settled in the plush leather seat.
As they rode to the marina, he handed her an ear piece. As his fingers brushed her palm, she shivered.
"Cold?" he asked, running a heated gaze down her exposed skin. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull over and personally see to her comfort. If he had his way, she would be wearing him instead of that dress.
She felt his eyes on her and caught a glimpse of the not-quite-banked blue flames lighting them. "No, I'm fine, just one of those involuntary things," she said with a reassuring smile as she slipped the tiny audio device into her ear and turned back to staring at the tail lights of the car in front of them. It was safer that way.
The five hundred foot yacht, The Enchantress, stood pristinely at anchor, welcoming a clutch of well-dressed and well-moneyed guests as they ascended the red-carpeted gangplank leading to the main deck. The boat was both beautiful and ostentatious, resembling a cruise ship more than a personal vessel.
Greeting guests at the top of the ramp was a handsome, dark-haired man with short dark hair, a deep bronze complexion and the whitest teeth Ellie had ever seen when he flashed them at her. "I am a lucky man," Recife said as he took Ellie's hand and raised it to his lips, "to be graced with the company of such a beautiful woman aboard my humble floating home."
Ellie felt Casey settle his hand at the small of her back, and she was willing to bet that he had his "'I'll kill you later" smile aimed directly at Recife.
"I am Gilberto Recife," their host continued after finally removing his lips and releasing her hand, "and what may I call you, bella mia?"
Casey's hand now cradled her hip, drawing her away from Recife and into the side of his body. Ellie responded by running her hand slowly and soothingly up and down Casey's back.
"I'm Eleanor Carmichael, and this is my husband, John," she replied quickly, smiling up at Recife, hoping to defuse the situation. They couldn't afford for it to deteriorate before they got what they came for.
Casey reluctantly released his hold on Ellie's hip and offered his hand to Recife, giving the other man a very firm, message-laden handshake.
Recife offered Casey the same blinding, yet far less predatory smile as he nodded to the attaché case Casey held in his left hand. "I see you've come prepared for our meeting. But come," he gestured with his arm in a sweeping motion, ushering them forward where several other guests were sipping champagne and nibbling on appetizers while an elegantly dressed woman, elevated on a small platform, played the harp, "business can wait until after the performance. Eduardo will be pleased to secure your case for the evening," Recife assured as a linebacker-sized man in an immaculately cut suit relieved Casey of the case. "Please, enjoy yourself, and we shall talk again later," he said, turning to greet another couple at the top of the ramp.
"Scumbag," Casey muttered, as he and Ellie joined the crowd and Recife was out of earshot.
Casey still had murder in his eye when a server approached. "Ma'am, sir, would you care for a glass of champagne?"
He and Ellie each took a glass of the sparkling pale gold liquid from the blonde server's tray.
Sarah whispered "Recife's safe is hidden behind a sliding panel in the wall behind the bed, in the master suite, which is three decks below us. There are two guards posted there now.
Casey tipped his head in acknowledgement.
"Thank you," Ellie said, raising the glass to her lips and taking a sip as Sarah slipped away and continued to work the room.
As he and Ellie strolled arm-in-arm around the main deck sipping champagne, Casey visually assessed the layout of the yacht, comparing it to the blueprints Beckman had transmitted to him earlier in the day.
They circled their way around to the other side of the deck where a stage and several rows of ivory, satin-covered chairs were set up. Off stage left, seated in a neatly arranged cluster of chairs, was a small orchestra, the tuxedoed musicians busily warming up and arranging sheets of music on the black metal stands in front of them. Other than overhead lighting, which cast a golden glow upon the stage and orchestra area, there was no sign of any other electrical equipment. Tonight's performance would be acoustic.
Moments later, a series of chimes sounded, signaling that the performance was about to begin. Casey and Ellie choose seats in the back row, with Casey sitting on the aisle.
Ellie lost herself in the beautiful and heartbreaking tale of a group of young bohemians living in 1840s Paris. The cast consisted of first-class opera singers that Recife had flown in from around the world. Casey gritted his teeth and wished he could close his ears, until the first two acts were mercifully over. Damn French hippies.
As the brief intermission began, Casey leaned over and whispered in Ellie's ear, "Okay, we're on."
She smiled as they rose from their seats and Casey placed a hand at the small of her back, leading her to the stairs, which led to the deck one level below where several of the guests and their host were beginning to congregate, refreshing their drinks and viewing the collection of priceless art mounted on the walls.
Casey headed toward the bar at the back of the room, using the pretense of getting drinks to slip through a side door and down to Recife's personal deck. On his way, he raised his watch to his mouth and spoke quietly. "On my way down."
"Give me a ninety second head start to neutralize the targets," Walker spoke in his ear a few seconds later.
In the kitchen, Sarah generously loaded a tray with the leftover appetizers and snagged two bottles of imported German lager from Recife's private stash before making her way to Recife's personal suite.
Sarah pasted a bright smile on her face as she approached the closed black marble doors inlaid with gold. Two tall, thickset men stood in front of either door, their arms hanging in front of them, hands clasped.
"Hi there," Sarah began genially. "Mr. Recife asked me to deliver this," she said, holding out the tray with one hand, and raising the two bottles of beer with the other.
The men turned their heads, glancing at each other. After reaching a non-verbal agreement, the one standing on the left reached out and took the tray from Sarah, while the other accepted the bottles of beer.
It was precisely the opening she needed. Before either man could react, tranquilizer darts were buried deep in their necks and Sarah caught the tray of food and the beers before the men fell to the floor.
"Targets have been neutralized," she spoke into her watch, moments before Casey rounded the corner.
"Be careful, Sarah warned as she set the tray and beverages down and helped Casey haul Recife's two thugs into an empty stateroom across the hall.
"I will. Keep an eye on Ellie. She's alone up there with that creep."
Sarah nodded and picked up the food and beverages, on her way back to the kitchen, as Casey crouched at Recife's bedroom door and began to pick the lock.
Ellie casually eased her way through the thinning crowd in the gallery, winding her way toward Recife who was standing in the back of the room speaking with a middle-aged couple. It was almost time for the second half of the performance to start, and she knew she needed to buy Casey more time.
She stood politely off to Recife's side as he finished his conversation with the couple.
"Ah, the enchanting Eleanor," Recife said as he turned to her, his smile brilliantly white against the backdrop of his deep tan. "My wish to spend more time with you has been granted."
Ellie smiled shyly, briefly lowering her lashes, which seemed to captivate Recife even more.
"Your husband is a very lucky and trusting man to leave such a beautiful woman alone. Why is he not by your side drinking in your radiance?"
"He's a huge opera fan," Ellie lied. "He wanted to make sure he was seated so he didn't miss a bit of the second half. I am on my way to join him, but I just wanted to take the time to thank you for including us in such a lovely evening and let you know how much I admire your beautiful home, especially your wonderful art collection," Ellie finished, sweeping her arm in an arc in the now-empty gallery.
"You flatter me with such rich compliments."
He placed his hand in the small of Ellie's back, gently urging her forward toward the front corner of the gallery. "Come, allow me to show you my favorite piece. It will take but a moment. I promise to reluctantly return you to your husband shortly."
Recife stopped them in front of a tall, narrow painting of a naked, amply-endowed woman raising her shackled wrists overhead, where a blond cherub floated serenely.
"Meet Andromeda. She is a divine offering, no?" Recife asked, raking his gaze over Ellie's body.
"I've always admired Rubens' ability to capture the sensuality of his subjects," Ellie declared.
Ellie felt her cell phone vibrate through the thin material of her evening bag, and she unzipped the clutch, removing the phone to answer.
"Yes, darling, I know it's about to start, I will be right there. Mr. Recife is just showing me one of his paintings."
"Casey has gained access to Recife's safe and is preparing to breach it. Stall," Sarah said on the other end of the line.
"Okay, I will," Ellie said. "I'll see you soon."
"Mr. Recife, you have an exquisite collection."
"If you think your husband will allow me to steal you away for a few more minutes, I would be honored to show you some of the more valuable pieces of my collection," Recife said, running the backs of fingers down the bare skin of Ellie's arm.
"I would love to," she demurred.
Recife slipped his arm around her waist and led her down the stairs to his private deck.
Hurry, Casey, she pleaded silently.
A few seconds later, Sarah silently followed them down.
As Rodolfo and Mimi bemoaned their lost love on stage, Casey finished mounting the explosive device on the door of the safe.
Just as the lead soprano hit an excruciatingly high crescendo, Casey covered his ears and pressed the button on the remote detonator, triggering the explosive. He may hate opera, but he'd done his homework and timed the explosion perfectly. The safe door neatly hinged open with a slight sigh.
The thick marble doors of Recife's suite remained closed and muffled the sound of the explosion, so the only thing amiss when he and Ellie arrived was the noticeable absence of his two goons.
Recife scanned up and down the hallway, not noticing Sarah, who was hidden in an entryway a couple of doors down. "Unreliable idiots," he muttered angrily under his breath before turning back to Ellie, his incandescent smile back on his face.
"Please, my dear, this way," Recife opened the doors to the suite and guided Ellie inside.
The enormous suite was immaculate, and Ellie's heels sank into the thick carpeting as she entered. Nothing appeared disturbed, and her eyes scanned the room nervously for any sign of Casey.
"This way, darling," Recife directed as he guided her to a large painting hanging adjacent to the king-sized four poster bed which was covered by a canopy of jewel-toned silk fabric shot through with silver and gold threads.
Recife positioned himself behind her as she pretended to study the painting, which depicted lovers intertwined, suspended for all time in the throes of passion.
She shuddered as she felt him rest his hands on her hips and pull her back against him. His breath on her neck made her skin crawl, and she was attempting to break free, when she heard a groan and Recife was no longer holding her. Ellie turned around and saw Recife crumpled in a heap on the floor, Casey standing over him, a gleaming silver counterfeiting plate resting in his hand.
Sarah stood in the suite's open entryway, her gun drawn. She raised a single eyebrow at Casey.
He looked at the plate in his hand. "Heh, I thought it was appropriate," he shrugged. "I would have rather shot him, but this way he'll still be able to talk."
"You okay?" Casey asked as he escorted Ellie back up to the main deck, while Walker secured Recife and his men and signaled the field agents surrounding the Marina slip that they were ready for them to board and cart away the forger, his associates and the stacks of counterfeit cash, while escorting the remaining guests from the yacht. The government was looking at a substantial windfall after all of Recife's assets were auctioned.
"Yes, I'm fine," she said shakily, "but I'm glad you came when you did. Where did you come from, by the way?"
"Closet," he winked.
Casey and Ellie drove back to Echo Park in relative silence. Casey was grateful for the quiet after the cacophony of the evening.
Casey parked the car and walked Ellie to her door.
"Invite me in, Ellie."
She flipped on the light in the entryway allowed him to follow her inside.
The door closed behind him with a soft click. She removed her heels and tucked them under the dining table before turning to face him.
He walked toward her, stopping when he was close enough to reach out and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Grazing the outer shell of her ear with his finger as he deftly dislodged the audio device, he was thankful that the evening's operation had gone smoothly and she hadn't needed to rely upon it.
He slipped the transmitter into the jacket pocket of his tux and cleared his throat. "I'm sorry that you had to spend so much time with that piece of trash."
He came closer, so close that Ellie could feel the heat from his body deliciously warming hers.
"You look beautiful, tonight," he said, gently reaching up and cupping her face in his palm, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "But, you always look beautiful," he breathed against her lips, as he took her mouth.
Running on pure want, she stood on her tiptoes and reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck as he drew her in close. As his heat seeped into her bare skin, she opened, inviting him into her mouth.
They had kissed many times before, but never had he gotten a taste so sweet or so deep. He loved the feeling of her tongue wrapped around his, and those sweet little moans she was making were going to be his end. He plunged deeper and continued to feed.
Ellie sighed, eyes still closed as he left her mouth, gasping when she felt his mouth on her neck. He bit and sucked while his stubble scraped along her sensitive skin.
"God, John!" she cried softly as she arched her neck, exposing more silky skin for him to feast upon. He was starving and had an out-of-control feeling that he would never be satiated. He kissed and licked at the small wounds he'd made with his teeth. His remaining ounce of conscience signaled that he should feel bad for marking her, but he continued, and by the sounds she was making, she clearly didn't mind.
She hadn't heard of any recorded instances of having an orgasm ignited just by kissing, but she was about to have one of the best of her life. When his lips returned to hers, Ellie sucked Casey's tongue into her mouth, pressing herself closer to him.
Cool air skimmed across her bare back as he unzipped her dress, creating a small gap between them for just long enough to ease the dress off of her breasts and down over her hips, where it pooled on the floor. He lifted her up and as soon as he sat her on the edge of the table, she wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles at the small of his back, using her heels to lock her against him. It was a perfect fit.
He licked his way slowly back into her mouth, caressing the bare skin of her back, as he unhooked the barely there strapless bra. It quickly joined the dress.
She'd been dying to unwrap him all night, so, as the starched fabric of his shirt rubbed against her nipples, hardening them and they ate hungrily at each others' mouths, she pulled apart his bow tie, tossing the unraveled black piece of cloth to the floor. He helped, shrugging off his jacket while she hurriedly undid the buttons of his shirt. They continued kissing in a heated frenzy, between hastily taking breaths and shedding clothing.
Casey growled low in his throat as flesh met flesh and soft met hard. His hands were in her panties, stroking and squeezing the marvelously firm globes of her ass when the clanking sound of a large wad of metal hitting the tile entryway rudely interrupted their revelry.
Chuck Bartowski stared at the couple wide eyed and mouth agape. While his mouth continued to snap open and shut soundlessly, Casey shifted his torso to the side, concealing Ellie from view.
"Casey, you're- you and Ellie, Ellie and you-" Chuck's eyes darted back and forth as he continued to make sputtering sounds intended as speech.
Casey waited patiently for the nerd to run out of steam, while Ellie hid her now-burning face in the groove where Casey's neck met his shoulder. When Chuck had finally and mercifully petered out, Casey tilted his head toward the door. Chuck quickly scooped up his keys from the tile and exited post haste.
"Morgan, buddy," Chuck squeaked from the other side of the door, "I'm gonna need to rent your couch tonight."
Sensing Ellie's mortification, Casey held her, stroking her hair and tracing slow circles on her back. "It's all right," he murmured.
"No, it's not all right, and I'm not just talking about Chuck." But, oh, God, neither she nor Chuck were going to be scrubbing the evening's images from their brains anytime soon.
"What do you want, John?" she asked, her face still buried in his neck.
Given the state of undress they were currently in, he thought it was fairly obvious what he wanted. But, he bit off the innuendo dancing on the tip of his tongue and chose his words carefully since something was clearly troubling her.
"I'm honestly not sure how you mean that, Ellie." He lifted his chin from where it had been resting atop her head. "Please look at me," he coaxed, "and explain what you mean.
Ellie lifted her head slowly and met his eyes. Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips were plumped from his kisses and there were bite marks all over her neck. He was still cradled between her legs. Everything about the situation screamed "mine" to him. He was a millisecond away from going full on Cro-Magnon and slinging her over his shoulder and hauling her off to bed to finish claiming her.
Ellie could tell by the intense look in John's eyes that the time for words was quickly waning. "Is tonight simply about giving in to mutual lust and quenching our desires? Tomorrow morning, do I go back to my job and you to yours and we continue to work together on assignments, pretending nothing happened? If that's the case, I'm prepared to finish what we started here tonight. I would rather have one night rather than none at all. I just need to know where you stand, John, so I can prepare for what comes next. What do you want, John?" she asked again.
He backed away a bit, breaking her hold on him and took her hands in his. "Carnally speaking, I want to taste you as you come, hear you cry my name, and feel you wrapped around me as I'm buried deep inside of you. I also want to spend time with you outside of work, talk with you, laugh with you and do real people things with you, or as close as two people like us can come to that. So, Eleanor, I want you for more than just your hot body; I want you for your beautiful mind, regardless of the Intersect. I want all of you."
Before she could respond, he lifted her down from the table and set her gently on her feet. He reached down and picked up his tuxedo jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
He picked up his crumpled shirt, put it on, and while he was buttoning it, continued. "No more cover dating, just you and me, for real."
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night at my place," he invited, slinging then unraveled bow tie around his shoulders.
"I'd like that," Ellie replied simply as she snuggled more deeply within his jacket.
"Me too," he said with a wink over his shoulder as he opened the door and walked out into the night.