A/N: Many thanks to wolfmusic218 for this one!
John Reese stood in front of the wide array of pasta sauce in a quiet aisle of the grocery store, one hand holding his shopping basket, the other holding a jar of sauce. It was Saturday afternoon and he had just finished depositing troubled teenager Eric Salisman with his parents in Brooklyn. He and Finch had fortunately kept the kid from doing something he'd later regret- namely murder. Reese shook his head to himself. It started so young sometimes. Trouble, debauchery, evil. Demons knew no age limit it seemed. Or simply didn't care. He put the sauce back and picked up another one. He had stopped at the grocery store on his way back home, suddenly in the mood for lasagna. Lasagna and spinach. With a side of ciabatta. Take-out, even in New York City, got old at times. And sometimes he felt guilty not taking advantage of the expansive kitchen his loft offered. Having lived on the streets not two years ago, knowing the people he left behind when he vacated those streets, he felt he needed to do a better job of appreciating what he now had.
"I'd go with the store brand. It's actually better."
He turned, a broad grin on his face, as he watched Joss Carter approach him pushing a shopping cart. She was smiling, looking relaxed in black capri leggings and a white tunic, flat black sandals on her feet. It took seeing her this way to realize he never saw her this way: dressed so casually, fresh-faced, at ease. But he did a better job of hiding his surprise than she did. Competing with her smile was the most curious expression. Like seeing him in a grocery store was the wildest thing she'd ever seen. And the woman lived in New York City. "Thanks." He put the jar he held back on the shelf and got the store brand, depositing it into his basket.
"What are you doing in my neck of the woods?"
"Finishing up some business. Needed to get a few things." He looked at her, smirking at the look that remained on her face as she stuck her nose in his basket.
Carter knew she was being nosey. She knew it. But this spectacle in front her? It begged for it. John Reese, in his signature suit, at a grocery store. Buying groceries. She knew he had to eat but...wow. It was just...weird. In a really weird way. She noted the lasagna noodles and ricotta cheese. Just plain weird. He could cook? "You cook, John?" She raised her head from his basket and raised an eyebrow. The shocks to her system just kept coming.
"Gotta eat, Carter." He watched as she accepted that answer.
"True."
Carter began walking. A few feet down was the pesto she needed to get. Reese walked with her. "Where's Taylor?"
"Home. Doing his chores hopefully." She reached her target and placed it in her cart. She saw Reese decide to return the favor from earlier by sticking his nose in her cart. He picked up the bottle of vanilla citrus liqueur and held it up.
"Drinking tonight, Carter?"
She smirked at him this time as she pushed her cart forward, still on a mission, needing several more items before she could leave the store and get back home. "It's for my vanilla orange Bundt cake. Lot of work but worth it. Taylor's favorite," she added. She watched as he put the bottle back in her cart before she stopped suddenly. "Shoot. I gotta go back. Forgot eggs." She began turning her cart around, preparing to say goodbye to him while she backtracked through the store. He probably didn't have everything he needed yet either and wanted to be on his way.
But he turned with her.
She decided not to say anything, odd as it was to be grocery shopping with John. He clearly was in no hurry and she didn't want to appear rude by suggesting he go on without her. Odd it was. Atypical to say the least. But it was mildly comforting. Almost...pleasant. Being around him usually stressed her out. Where he went, trouble followed. When he was around her, he usually wanted something from her. But take the man out of those settings and he was...different. Trouble wasn't following him now. At least not yet. He wasn't breaking the law. He wasn't pummeling people who were no match for him. He wasn't keeping a watchful eye over someone. He wasn't tense, focused, alert. He was just a guy shopping in the grocery store.
And damn if the whole thing still wasn't weird.
They walked to the dairy section so she could grab some eggs. The trip over must have triggered a reminder for him because he took a few steps down and picked up a carton of Lactaid milk. "You lactose intolerant?"
"No."
She looked at him, thinking he was going to elaborate. But when he didn't, she shrugged.
He glanced at her and chuckled to himself before continuing alongside her as she resumed her shopping. He was finished getting what he needed but, for some reason, he was enjoying the company. Well, it wasn't just some reason he knew. He liked being around her. And being around her right now was making him feel like he did before the CIA: normal. So he stayed with her while she continued her shopping. She didn't seem to mind, filling the conversational space by asking him what dishes he fixed, if he baked, and what other secrets about himself he had up his sleeve.
"Can you fix cars?" They were in the frozen food section now. She needed some frozen vegetables and Ben & Jerry's ice cream.
"No. Can you?" He knew the basics, enough to get by. No sense in telling her he could and then get caught with egg on his face down the line one day.
She opened the glass door housing the ice cream. "I can change a tire. I used to know how to change the oil but it's been so long..." She found the Oatmeal Cookie Chunk she was looking for and chucked it into her cart. "Like ice cream?"
"Strawberry's my favorite."
"Hmm." They walked until they reached the frozen vegetable aisle. "Know anything about plumbing?"
"Even less than I do about cars." He frowned, looking into the frozen food case at the brussel sprouts as he came up with a question of his own. "How do you cook brussel sprouts? That's one thing I've never tried to do."
She shrugged as she picked through the frozen vegetables. "I never eat them either. I know you can fry them." Once she tossed everything she needed into her cart, she grabbed the handle and pondered. "I think that's it."
"No list?"
She grimaced. "Yeah, I usually do but I forgot it." She shrugged one shoulder and began pushing the cart. "Oh well. Whatever I forgot I'll get it later."
Together, they headed toward the checkout lanes. "Know how to fix a compu- ? Oh, hell, never mind."
"Finch," they both said simultaneously and laughed.
He smiled at her, her questions both amusing him and making him curious. "Got a lot of things broken around the house, Carter?"
She laughed. "No. Just wondering what else I could use you for." She looked up at him before continuing. "Apparently not much." She grinned, making sure he knew she was kidding.
He let another small chuckle escape his lips. "Yeah, well, if anybody ever messes with you, I'm your man."
She frowned as they made it to the end of a line. "Hell, John, I can do that myself. What else you got?"
"Well, what else do you need?"
She decided, after a couple of seconds, not to read anything into what he'd just said and how he'd said it. They were in a grocery store after all. And she knew he could turn on the Flirt And Charm when he wanted. No need to question why he chose that moment. Or her for a target. "I'll get back to you."
He had ended up in front of her in the line so after he placed his basket on the belt he helped her load her items. When it was his turn, the cashier asked if the basket was all he had. He nodded his head toward the end of the conveyor belt, indicating Carter's items that sat before the orange separator she placed behind her things. "That, too."
"John." There were people behind her as she stood behind her cart, its length separating her from John. She really didn't want to make a scene. But why was he about to pay for her groceries? It was so not necessary. And she had a lot of shit. The liqueur alone was going to jack up her bill about thirty dollars. Her mouth was open in unspoken protest as he shot her a mischievous look.
"I want that cake."
She closed her mouth and smirked at him. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable with this arrangement; she inched her way past the cart to stand next to him, watching the screen total as it rose, wanting to know how much she was about to set him back. "I can pay for this, John." She spoke quietly and sternly.
"I know."
She looked up at him but he ignored her, watching as the items were scanned. She sighed and went back to the cart, maneuvering it around him so the bags could be placed in it.
It was then that it struck her. She was feeling how she did when she used to go grocery shopping with her husband. Why was she thinking about that? Why was she feeling that way? Why was it such a welcome feeling?
And why was she sad it was almost over?
She stood by while John paid the cashier in cash and followed alongside him as he took over the reins of the cart. "You didn't have to do that, but thank you."
"You're welcome." He turned to look down at her. "I was serious about that cake."
"I told you that cake was a lot of work."
He faced forward as they walked through the automatic doors. "Still want it."
She let out a loud exasperated sigh this time. "Fine. But don't hold your breath. I don't know when I'll be able to make it. Taylor has first dibs."
"I'll remind you. Where'd you park?"
"Over there." She shook her head. He was going to load up her car for her, too. She liked it. This whole unexpected encounter was making her day, making her feel good. Special. She really was sad it was almost over. Who would have thought he of all people could make her feel this way? She wondered what he was like when he wasn't working. What he did in his free time. What his hobbies were, what he enjoyed. If he even had anything outside of his work to keep him occupied.
She unlocked the trunk and he helped her load the groceries inside. When they were finished, she closed it and looked at his two bags that remained in the cart. "So what are your plans for the rest of the day, after the lasagna?"
He shrugged. "Probably read a few chapters, go get a haircut." He watched her face as she nodded in approval.
"Hmm, another surprise." She liked that. That he was a reader. "Mystery or self-help?" She didn't peg him as the romance novel type.
"Both. Gotta keep my skills honed." He headed to the driver's side of her car and opened the unlocked door. She grabbed her purse from the front of the cart and slipped into the driver's seat.
"Thanks, John."
"You're welcome. Be careful going home." And with that he shut her door, moved the cart from behind her car, and stood out of the way as she backed out, briefly waving to her as she pulled off.
He swallowed. That lonesome feeling. It was a real bitch sometimes. He felt it at that moment as he took his bags from the cart before parking it in the receptacle. He didn't want his time with her to end, but like with all good things, it did. It had to. Because he was feeling much too content while he was with her. In a grocery store of all places. The last time he felt happy, spoke it aloud in fact, things had gone south. In a big way. And he'd nearly brought her down with him. Still, it wasn't enough to keep him away from her. It should have been, but it wasn't. And he wasn't too keen on analyzing why. He had enough on his plate to worry about anyway.
He pulled his keys from his pocket and got into his car. But his mind wouldn't let it go.
She was his friend and he didn't have many. She was attractive. His other friends, well, weren't. Not in that way. There was Zoe Morgan. Beautiful, smart, but not for him. Not for anybody really. Kind of like he thought he was. Off limits, unattainable.
She had risked everything to help him. To keep him from going down for crimes he did and didn't commit. Without him asking. And she had had a hell of a lot to lose. What had he ever risked for her? Truly? Nothing really. Bottlecap, that HR goon, Elias' armed henchmen, none of them were any match for him. Not really. None of what he did took anything out of him. None of it was outside of the norm. None of it anything he wouldn't do for anybody else. What could he risk for her?
It was beating in his chest. That was what. And he knew it. His most prized possession. In spite of himself, in spite of it all- his sordid past, his complicated present, his uncertain future- it was what he wanted. It hadn't hit him until days after his incarceration and kidnapping had ended. And when it did, he forced it into the darkest recesses of his mind, refusing to let it out. Having latent feelings for her didn't mean she had them for him. It didn't mean he should act on them. It didn't mean everything would suddenly be right in his world if he did.
But still, he'd been given yet another chance. Another chance at life. What could he do differently this time? What should he? He finally turned the key in the ignition and headed home.
"The things people do for money." Two weeks later, John stood at the board in the library, helping Harold remove the photos, scans, and printouts related to their last stressful case involving a mother wanting to murder her own child.
"Or for power." Finch shifted his torso to look at his friend before turning back to his task. Even he had been shocked at the turn this case had made. While it remained true that having children was a crapshoot as far as how they turned out; he had fast learned there was no telling what kind of parent certain people would turn out to be either.
Handing his paperwork to Finch for disposal, Reese walked over to where Bear was lounging. The dog perked up when he realized he had company and Reese knelt down to roughhouse with his partner in crime.
After the dog knocked him onto his back a few times, he rose and walked over to where Finch stood shredding documents. "Want to go get a drink?" Anything to get the taste of this last one out of their mouths. He watched as Harold sighed deeply and stiffly turned toward him.
"Another time, Mr. Reese? I have the faintest of headaches burgeoning right now." It was an understatement really. He wanted to swallow a bottle of ibuprofen, slide under the covers, and not emerge until next week.
"Drink'll help with that."
"Somehow I doubt that, Mr. Reese." Finch watched as a Well, I tried smile crossed Reese's features. His friend needed to expand his social circle. Somehow, he didn't think John was meant to be a loner like he was. But how to go about expanding it, considering what they did? He didn't have an answer to that one.
Reese tapped his ear piece when he felt his pocket vibrate. "Carter? I was just trying to find something to do and someone to do it with." He smirked to himself.
"I have your cake ready."
A surprised look spread across his face. He wasn't expecting his cake so soon. He hadn't forgotten, but he was planning on giving her a little more time before he began to tease her about it. "That was fast."
"Yeah, well, you know I had a half day today. When are you coming to get it?"
It was strange. Talking to her like this. No business. No case. Just cake and an invitation to go to her house. It was throwing him. But he liked it. He turned and looked at Harold for a second. "Uh, give me thirty minutes." He hung up with her and headed over to the cluttered shelf in the corner. He soon walked back over to where Finch was seated, placing a bottle of water and Advil in front of him. He turned on his heel and headed out. "Don't stay up too late, Finch." He gave Bear a farewell ruffle. "You too, Bear."
He descended the stairs in short order, maneuvering his way out of the slightly dilapidated building before reaching the sidewalk. Turning the corner, he was served a mini shock: Carter. In relaxed attire once again. Purse slung over one shoulder. Cake holder in the crook of her arm. How do you like me now? look on her face. He walked several more feet until he was standing in front of her. He plastered a smirk on his face to hide his surprise. She was good. She was damn good. He couldn't care less but he wasn't so sure paranoid Harold would feel the same. Guess they would find out soon enough. His raised eyebrow must have asked the question. Because she answered.
"How did I know? I'm a detective, John." She handed him the cake cover.
The slight cock of his head asked the other question.
"How long? Few months." After he took his cake, she placed her hands on her hips, quite satisfied with herself. She had thrown him for a loop, knocked him off balance a little for once, and would wow him with her baking skills in short order. Yeah, she was good.
"What are you doing out here so late by yourself?"
She looked at him incredulously. "How old am I, John?"
He thought about being a smartass and actually telling her her age. But he weighed the cons and decided against it. He started slowly walking and she followed suit. It was nice out. And he wasn't ready for her to take off now that she'd delivered his cake. "Still shouldn't be out here alone."
Was he forgetting she was former military? And a cop? It was nice, though. Having someone worry about her when she was out late. Damn, she needed a man. "I wanted to surprise you but I don't know where you live. You bought me over a hundred dollars' worth of groceries, the least I can do is deliver it to you." She shrugged. "Besides, figured Harold might want some."
"Yeah, I'm not sharing, Carter."
She made eye contact with him briefly and smiled.
"How'd you get here?"
"Drove." She pointed straight ahead to her car. They were already walking in the right direction.
"So you know where we work but you don't know where I live?"
"None of my business really."
He didn't know why that bothered him. She cared enough to find out where he worked but not where he lived? "You know where your other friends live, don't you?"
"Yeah, but you're not like my other friends."
"Really."
She looked up at him before facing forward again. "You're not exactly forthcoming about things, John. I don't exactly hang out with you. And my other friends don't have me breaking the law I swore to uphold. At least not all the time." Oh, it sounded worse when she said it out loud. How was he getting her to do the things she did? How did he get her to do the things she did inside Rikers and before? Had to be some kind of mind control. Some kind of mental jujitsu. No telling what they taught them to do to unsuspecting individuals in the CIA.
They reached her car. He was quiet so she asked him how he got there to break the silence.
"My bike." He looked at the cake in his hands and frowned.
She would have offered to give him a lift. But she truly suspected he didn't want her to know where he lived. Their arrangement being what it was, it wasn't necessary, so she never bothered with trying to find out. Even though he knew all of her business, personal or otherwise.
"Mind giving me a lift?" It wasn't necessary in the least. He could take one of the cars in Finch's private garage a block down. But maybe it was time to be a little more forthcoming.
"You want me to drive you home?" Skepticism. It was all over her face.
He stepped closer to her, shattering her personal space perimeter- she swore she actually felt the glass shards- and reached into her purse, withdrawing her visible keys to unlock the doors with the remote. He then reached around her to open her door.
And damn if she didn't feel like dropping her panties right there. The maleness was just dripping off him in that moment as he looked down at her. Still in her space. With a damn cake in his hand. Only him. Lord have mercy. Swallowing- it happened without her consent- she escaped the inferno and settled into the driver's seat. She stared straight ahead as he closed her door, opened the back door to deposit the cake, and rounded the vehicle to occupy the front passenger's seat.
Well, she'd had a few seconds to get it together anyway. And they were going to have to be enough. Because she needed to drive without causing an accident. That would be good. Getting them to their respective destinations in one piece.
"It's not far from here." He pointed straight ahead and she pulled out into traffic.
It took about ten minutes until they reached his building. He directed her to the underground garage. It was in a swanky part of town. And she immediately became certified jealous. "Nice, John." She pulled into a spot next to a car she recognized as one of his. She wondered how many damn cars he had. Putting the car in park, she waited for him to get out. He did, rounding the vehicle once again to open the back door and retrieve his cake. She reached her hand out for the button to roll down the window in order to say goodnight but the door opened instead. She looked at him quizzically. Was he really about to take her up to his place? Was it wise for her to go? He had her wanting to drop her drawers in the middle of the sidewalk; what the hell would happen if they were in private? She looked at the clock on her dash. It was only nine-thirty. She couldn't realistically pull the It's late, I gotta go card. And her sixteen-year-old son knew not to let strangers in. She watched as he settled the cake in the crook of his right arm and held his left hand out to her.
Jesus, he wanted her to take his hand. Physical contact. Good lord have mercy not now. Not when she was suddenly feeling some kind of way about him. Reaching down to grab her purse, she shouldered it, took the key out of the ignition, and took his proffered hand, thrilled she didn't combust at the contact. Once he helped her out of the car, he dropped her hand. Thank goodness.
She stole a glance at him as he led her into the building. He was looking so attractive tonight. So very attractive. Tall, lean, acting chivalrous, wearing the hell out of his suit. Worrying about her being out by herself at night. Was he always oozing sex and she just didn't notice? Was she wearing blinders before?
It wasn't long before they reached his door. He reached into his pocket for the key, unlocked the door, and waited for her to enter before he followed. When the light came on, she swept her eyes around the perimeter, that jealous pang hitting her even harder. Lucky bastard. She walked until she was centered in the open space and watched as John walked past her, grabbed a remote from the coffee table, and the blinds over the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows came down. He then turned and headed toward his kitchen, cake in hand. She turned in a circle to take the entirety of the place in. "So, when can Taylor and I move in?" She moved to the couch and deposited her bag.
"Anytime," he responded from the kitchen, grabbing two plates and setting them on the bar before washing his hands at the sink. The cake Carter made for him? He wanted it in his mouth yesterday.
She headed over to the opposite side of the bar. "I'm gonna have to ask Finch for a job application."
"You won't like the hours."
"Taylor'll be off to college in a couple years. I think I can swing it."
He held a knife in his hand and was preparing to cut the cake. "Want some?"
"No. I already overdosed on it a couple weeks ago." She watched as he cut himself a slice and placed it on one of the plates. She was fascinated by the simple act. Once again, seeing him in such a different setting was making her see him in a new light. One she really liked. It was still weird, but in a way, slightly less so. It was less jarring now. She was already becoming desensitized to off-the-clock John.
"Want anything to drink?" He headed toward the refrigerator and opened the door. "Water, beer, Dr. Pepper, chocolate milk..."
Chocolate milk. The man drank chocolate milk. She had to smile at that. And she had to give him ten mental brownie points for the Dr. Pepper. It was her favorite soda. "Water's fine." She accepted the bottle of water he offered her. "Thanks." She watched as he stood there and took a bite of the cake, suddenly nervous that he might not like it. It wasn't like her. The only things that made her nervous were shootouts and dental appointments. Now she was going to have to add something else to that list. She was going to have to add him.
John chewed slowly, wanting to savor and appreciate her efforts. The "a lot of work" cake she baked from scratch. For him. It was different, to be sure. He was more of a white or chocolate or marbled cake kind of guy. But it was delightful. He watched her watch him, a look of nervous anticipation on her face. That was a new one. Carter wasn't one he associated with nervousness. It was beautiful, though. She was beautiful.
He decided to put her at ease. "If you ever decide to quit the force, and you don't want to do law, you have a future in baked goods, Carter."
She smiled, a self-satisfied smile, and didn't realize until she let it out that she had been holding her breath.
He rounded the bar, plate in one hand, fork in the other, and parked his lean form beside her. He leaned his back against the counter and took another bite. "Why did you give it up?"
"What?"
"Law."
She didn't remember telling him anything about that. But for a second she forgot who she was talking to. She took a swig of her water. "Got bored halfway through law school. But I always have to finish what I start so..." She let her voice trail off. That was part of it anyway. Her father had been so proud of her embarking on it in the first place. He was positively determined to have a doctor and a lawyer in the family. Her parents didn't get the doctor, but one out of two wasn't bad. Or maybe 0.5 out of two since she wasn't practicing. After he passed, she made a promise to herself to finish in honor of his memory. After her discharge, when she thought she needed some calm in her life, she finally took the bar exam, thinking a nice, safe job was what she and her family needed. It didn't last long, though. Not at all.
John looked down at her, still amazed that she'd found the time between deployments, policing, and motherhood to become a lawyer. Intelligent, passionate, compassionate. Tough, feminine, sexy. He didn't deserve her but who did? Maybe, just maybe, the guy who wanted her. "Just weren't meant for a desk job."
"Exactly."
Silence permeated the air around them and she took another sip of her water while John polished off the cake. As he reached behind himself to set the empty plate on the counter, her voice, soft and determined, brought him out of his reverie.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Six words he never liked to hear directed at him. They always led somewhere. Somewhere he often didn't want to go. But he would tamp down that part of himself that wanted to immediately withdraw and take the risk. Be more forthcoming. He turned so he was leaning his side against the bar, facing her, standing probably a little closer than what most people considered comfortable conversation distance. But he couldn't help himself. He wanted to encompass her, the air she breathed. Giving her his full attention, he took a shallow breath. "I'm an open book, Carter." The smirk was planted firmly on his face. His defense mechanism. He figured he was allowed that much.
"Why the suit? All the time? Like every damn time I see you?"
He absolutely could not stop the laugh that poured out of him. That he was not expecting. His whole body had been braced for imminent soul searching, and that was what she asked? He laughed due to the absurdity of it all. And in relief. He stood there for a moment, watching her try to keep herself from laughing. She'd known exactly what she was doing. This woman...
Regaining his composure, he kept the smile on his face. "It's a uniform, Carter. I have to blend in. White guy in a suit; I can pretty much go anywhere."
She finally won the battle against her own laughter and pushed it back. Because, dammit, she really wanted to know. "Yeah, I get that. But it's the same one. Why not switch it up? Gray? Blue?" She needed to see him in a blue one before she died. She really did. She watched as he shrugged and reached out, tugging at one of her earrings.
"Same reason you always wear the same earrings."
She rolled her eyes. He got her there. She was lazy about her accessories, and the earrings went with everything. Her job didn't allow for flashy anyway. He was probably lazy about his clothes in the same manner. Didn't get easier than a black suit and white dress shirt. He probably thought he wasn't being flashy, was blending in with the common folk. Poor fool. Someone should tell him he was too pretty for that. "Yeah, okay, I get it." She wondered if he'd let her see his closet. The likely endless rows of black and white. She wondered if there was any color in there at all.
He continued to smile. Just looking at her as she looked at him. Wanting something from her and trying to decide if he was going to take it.
She sighed. "Let me get out of here, John." She reached out to grab the water bottle cap and screwed it back on. It was time to go. She was feeling that crackle in the air. The one that signified that things between them were definitely a-changin.' She needed to do some thinking before she even remotely considered taking that detour. She could have sex with him. But then what? She headed over to the couch to grab her purse. "I'm sure you have some white dress shirts you need to be ironing or something."
He let another chuckle bubble out of him as he turned to face her. He was doing that a lot around her lately. His eyes followed her. She was making her way toward his door. She must have thought she was about to make a quick, clean escape. She thought wrong. He slowly followed her. "Carter, wait." She stopped and turned. His stride didn't falter as he met her in the center of his loft. He cupped her face in both hands as he took what he wanted.
This must be the high people felt when they won the lottery, he thought. He traced the perimeter of her mouth with his tongue, savoring it like he'd savored the taste of her cake. He angled his head, wanting more. Needing to take more. Her purse was sliding from her shoulder. He moved one hand from her face to take it from her arm and drop it to the floor. His hand went back to her face as he sucked the last of her hesitation into his mouth. Her hands lifted to his head and desperately clawed at his hair as he slowly, expertly coaxed her lips apart, slipping his tongue inside. Molten lava shot through his veins straight to his groin.
This must be what heaven felt like.
He slipped his tongue from inside her mouth for only a moment, changing his angle once more before he tangled it with hers again. He let his hands fall from her face. They slipped from her shoulders to her back then down and around her hips. His lower half was begging, screaming, for more contact. He pulled her into him, quelling the visceral urge as best he could with their clothes still on. He felt her suck his low, guttural groan into her mouth before swallowing it whole. When he realized he was half a second from separating her from her clothing, from taking them to the hardwood floor without ceremony, he brought his hands back up to her face, forcing himself to make the slow descent from the clouds. Forcing himself to slowly tame the hunger, the thirst. To take just a few final sips of her lips. Until he was finally able to pull away without the brutal separation killing him.
Her eyes were wide and searching as the breath tried to find its way back into her body. His chest rose and fell rapidly but he managed to keep his whisper steady and strong. "Thank you for the cake." He watched as she swallowed, her throat probably as dry as his was. She was struggling with finding her voice. He could tell. She only nodded. His hands finally left her face as he leaned down to pick up her purse, slipping it back over her shoulder, letting his fingers slowly caress her bare arm as he slid it back into place. The minuscule distance between them didn't change. Her breasts still brushed his shirt. "I'm going to walk you to your car."
She found her voice. It must have been on the floor with her purse. "Okay." Her chest still heaved as their eyes continued what their lips had ceased.
"I want you to be careful going home."
"Okay." Okay. Okay. Okay. She was sounding like an idiot. She knew she was. But he had short circuited her brain. It was fried. She was left there with nothing to work with. She couldn't be blamed for that. She couldn't.
He took a tiny step forward. Just a shift really. So that their bodies were pressing into one another again. So that she could feel the bulge that still strained his pants. She had to crane her neck up even more to maintain eye contact with him. "The next time you come, Joss...Jocelyn...I'm going to make love to you." He tilted his head to his right. "In that bed." He didn't lie. He never lied. He was not a liar. He was giving her fair warning. Letting her know his intentions. Leaving it up to her. Giving her the chance to turn it, him, all of it, down. If she came back, when she came back, it was on. Full speed ahead. If she didn't...
She turned and looked at his bed, throat even more bone dry than it was before. She felt an impossibly large gush of warm liquid pool between her legs, surprised there was any still left in her at all after that kiss. Though it was still overloaded and frazzled, her brain finally decided to stop leaving her hanging. "Okay...then what?" She turned back to him.
"I'm going to do it again." He was serious. He didn't smile. Just kept that intensity pulsating from his eyes, from his entire body. He wasn't even inside her yet and she felt the fantastic fusion of their union.
He waited until she nodded. Waited until he received the acknowledgment he was looking for. The nonverbal agreement to his terms. Satisfied that he'd fulfilled his agenda, he placed his right hand on her hip for a brief moment to turn her around and escorted her to his door. He had to keep his hands to himself. It was critical, paramount to keeping his word. Next time. Not now.
Though it was wordless, surprisingly, the trek down to her car wasn't uncomfortable. A lot had been unleashed upstairs. Even though a tectonic shift had been made in their relationship, there was a quiet peace in knowing. That their attraction was mutual. That they were adults with busy, complicated, dangerous lives who still had desires. For sex, companionship, love. That life was short and they were too old for games.
For the second time that night, he opened her car door for her and waited until she was settled inside before closing the door.
She turned the key in the ignition, far enough so she could roll down the window. He leaned in and watched her. Her brain was back. At eighty percent power. Good enough to get her home in one piece. And just in time to deliver some snark. "Share some of that cake with Harold, John."
He sighed and grumbled, "I'll take him a piece tomorrow."
She reached out and patted his cheek. "Good boy."
Damn. No wonder Bear fell in love with her the minute he met her. "Call me when you get home."
She rolled her eyes. Did she have to remind him again? Who she was and what she did for a living? In spite of the fact that, right now, it was making her giddy inside?
He sighed again. "At least text me."
"Okay."
"Thank you." Like pulling damn teeth getting her to accept he wanted to look out for her.
She turned the key to start the car. "Goodnight, John." She smiled softly to him, a promise in her eyes. A decision.
"Goodnight." He backed away so she could pull out and take off. He waved her off and stood there a moment, quietly wondering how soon she would be back. He smiled to himself.