Adrenaline
The scanner crept agonizingly over Olivia's palm, a few seconds becoming a millennium as she darted a nervous glance over her shoulder. A thousand thoughts, some of them soaked in betrayal and others tinged with disbelief, ran through her mind before the light finally turned green and the elevator dinged.
She was lunging inside as soon as the glass door whispered open, Lincoln close – too close? – behind. The elevator was tight, really only meant for one, (a ridiculous design, she had always thought), but there was not a stitch of time left to be concerned with comfort.
Somewhere below their feet, Colonel Broyles was committing treason.
She surged forward without a thought, arms flinging around his neck and lips seeking his with a wild, erratic determination he certainly never saw coming. He did respond to it though, hands sliding onto her waist without hesitation and mouth opening what might have been construed as a bit too eagerly in another time and place.
Short nails scraped over his hours-old stubble, her tongue swiping just as voraciously against his before she tore away. Her hands came down to rest at his jaw as she self-examined her swollen lips. "Sorry," she murmured, voice heavy and breathy, having run all the way from the ferry to the elevator.
"Don't be. Adrenaline." Lincoln smoothed her clothes down with his hands and let go of her, gentlemanly retreating as much as he could in the tiny shuttle.
Only on their way back up, twenty minutes later, Broyles on his way to a secure facility and Lincoln's hand in the small of her back, did she feel the rush of adrenaline that had made her launch herself at him begin to fade.
A new rush made her skin tingle though as he leaned forward, words brushing her ear chastely, "But just for the record, when the time is right, I'd like to ravish you in one of these elevators."
Olivia smirked, shimmying a little closer to him, words unnecessary.