Shifting to lay on his side so he could look at her better, Neal smiled lightly as he observed Sara's chest rising and falling rhythmically, her breathing level as she slept peacefully. He reached out and brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, chuckling quietly as her nose crinkled as a response. She looked so vulnerable in this state, beautifully fragile in her serenity. It made him remember the first time he'd seen her.
It hadn't been for an interrogation in the proceedings prior to his arraignment. It hadn't been related to his case at all.
It had been a particularly muggy summer evening at the Museum of Modern Art's Summergarden, and an aspiring young cellist named Sara Ellis had been the opening act.
She couldn't have been more than 23 at the time, but as he was seated there in the front row (with Kate on his arm, no less), listening to her perform Bach's Chaconne with such grace, he knew there was something special about her. He watched her lithe fingers move along the neck of the instrument, noticed her little black dress shift higher and higher along her thighs as she became more engrossed in the music, saw the perspiration on her smooth, creamy skin, and he knew that he wanted her.
And now he had her.
Six years had passed since then, but she hadn't aged a day in his eyes. Looking down at her sleeping form, he smiled again, brushing his lips along the nape of her neck.
"What are you up to, Vincenzo?" He smirked at that, beyond appreciating the compliment implied by her nickname.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," he murmured innocently, tracing a deft fingertip along the soft curve of her inner thigh, smirking again as she purred. "Just admiring the Mona Lisa."
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* Vincenzo Peruggia stole the Mona Lisa, thus the nickname and implied compliment. :)