Hotch's Find 2
(I do so humbly apologize that this has taken so long. I've been working very hard and have not had any time to write…plus since the season finale I've had almost no inspiration!)
A lion's work hours are only when he's hungry; once he's satisfied, the predator and prey live peacefully together.
Chuck Jones
Emily chewed her bottom lip nervously. Her eyes darted to the man currently sitting beside her. He'd removed his suit coat, loosened his tied and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. He looked casual and rumpled, and if she was completely honest, damned good.
And when he thought she wasn't looking, he was watching her. With calculation, speculation, and a great amount of heat. He'd used Jason Collins as an excuse. And she had let him. Because she wanted him there. A far cry from how she used to view him, but now she saw him as so much more. But he wasn't pushing her. He was just sitting, waiting. Hotch was probably a very patient man. And what he was waiting on was…her.
"Would you like something to drink?" Her voice came out assured, a gift from the ambassador's years in the limelight.
"Soda would be fine." His words were innocuous but his tone set her skin on edge. A predator, that's what he reminded her of right then. And this time, Emily was the prey. It had been a while since she'd felt that rush of excitement.
And she'd never felt it quite like she did in that moment.
Hotch must have read her mind; he stood with determination, moved smoothly around the island to where she stood. "Emily."
"Hotch." It was all she could think to say—his name in a breathless whisper. Her hands rose, whether in protest or to grab on. Her fingers wrapped in the material of his ice blue shirt.
"I've missed you." His words were hot against her neck, the slightest of stubble brushing her skin.
"Missed me, I've been with you nearly every day for the last two weeks." She released a little laugh.
"No. You were with Dave in California. I barely saw you. And before that—" He stiffened, his hands tightening on her back.
She immediately went into soothing mode. "Before that was Colorado. But I'm ok, now."
His face had a seriousness she wasn't used to seeing. Even for him. "Colorado hurt. Hurt us all."
Before she could respond, his lips were on hers. This wasn't like their previous kiss the night of the children's carnival. This was hot and hungry. This was a kiss of familiarity, of caring, of reaffirming that he had the right to kiss her. Emily knew it was more for him than anything. So she just held on, just kissed him back.
Hotch tasted the heat and spice that was Emily Prentiss and it was as good as he'd imagined it would be, as good as he remembered from nearly two weeks earlier. She was real and alive in his arms. Safe, and he'd made a vow to keep her that way from that point on.
She'd never go anywhere without knowing that he cared. He'd never have to stand back and know she was being hurt—he'd never go back to that. He pulled back a moment to catch his breath, running small kisses over her cheeks, her nose, her lips. "Emily."
She moaned, her lips seeking out his. "Hotch."
She looked up at him, her eyes large, dark, and clouded. He laughed; he'd pegged her expression correctly when he'd imagined how she'd look with passion taking hold. He wanted to see more.
He scooped her up, set her down on her kitchen counter. It was the perfect height. His hands went around her waist, resting there for a moment as he deepened the kiss again. Several moments passed before he slipped one hand beneath the cotton material.
Her skin was smooth, hot, and the softest damned thing he'd ever felt. It took him less than three seconds to have the shirt unbuttoned and the feminine lace underneath exposed. Her skin was pale and perfect. He dropped a kiss over her heart, his fingers making short work of the bra's back-clasp.
He wanted her naked and he didn't care where—or even how.
He'd waited for Emily Prentiss long enough.
He guided her legs around his waist, pulled her from the counter top. He wanted her upstairs. In her bed. He wanted to put that primitive stamp on her home. His presence, her bed. Could it get any clearer than that? Even if he was the only one to realize the significance of the location? "God, Em. I've waited forever for this!"
"A whole month is forever to you?" Her words came out with a laugh, but her hand was buried in his hair, the other fisted over the small of his back. She held him tight, which told him she was of the same mindset.
"It seems so much longer." Had it only been a month since his feelings for her had changed? It did seem so much longer. It felt like she had been an integral part of him for years. At least since that moment he'd found her waiting in his office, her face and words nervous but determined. To believe he hadn't wanted her!
He carried her through her living room, intent on the stairs. Thank God he kept himself in shape, because even though she was light, the stairs were steep. A damned mountain that stood between him and his primary objective.
Still, Hotch was a determined man. He had her flat on her bed within a minute, and then stepped back just long enough to unbutton his shirt and remove the white undershirt. "Emily."
She hadn't said anything, just lay looking up at him with an echoing hunger in her dark, dark eyes. God, she was beautiful!
And he was going to show her just how much.
She watched him take off his clothing, impatience and good old-fashioned lust burning through her veins. Had it only been a month since St. Louis? Emily was momentarily awed at how her life could change so quickly.
Her supervisor was stripping naked in her bedroom. And she was watching. That wasn't something she'd ever planned on. Ever even dreamed about—until the last month, that was. "Hotch."
He looked at her, eyes dark and hungry, but he stopped his movements. "You sure about this?"
The momentary flash of uncertainty on his face actually surprised her. She moved, rose to sit on the bed. She wasn't going to be a passive participant. If she was going to make this life and career altering decision, she was going to do it fully. Actively.
Her hands replaced his on his belt buckle.
He actually trembled. She smiled, thrilled that she had that much control over the so controlled Aaron Hotchner. It gave a woman a thrill of power. "Completely sure. But you'd better hurry—just in case my mother calls. Cody should be in bed, which means if there are any nightmares they'll be happening at any time."
He didn't need any more encouragement.
The next twenty minutes were a blur of sensation, of taste, touch, hot kisses, soft caresses. Emily couldn't keep track. Didn't want to keep track. And somehow she knew the man with her didn't either. It wasn't about Emily and Hotch, single parents, federal agents, profilers—it was about Emily and Hotch, two people wanting each other and acting on it.
And as they struggled to catch their breaths, lying entwined in her queen-sized bed, she laughed. He smiled, snuggled her closer. "What's so funny?"
"Us. This. A bit out of character, wouldn't you say?" She sighed, ran one hand down his arm. "We're not exactly the kind of people to have a wild office affair."
"No, we're not. And this isn't an affair. Of any kind." His tone turned suddenly serious. "It's more."
"Yes." Her eyes drifted closed as her head rested on his chest. "It is. And Hotch?"
"Hmmm?"
"I'm glad." She kissed his chest once, then peeked up at him. "I never imagined it, but I'm glad this happened, is happening."
"Me, too. Now, we'd better get some sleep. I plan on keeping you busy all day tomorrow. We are team-free and kid-free, and I plan on taking advantage of it."
Before she could reply, the phone rang.
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