"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter 1

Lizzie sluiced the water from her body and stepped out of the shower. She took the towel from its rail and began to dry herself. She imagined Hotch drying himself with this towel and felt a delightful, sharp tightening low in her belly at the thought. She smiled and chided herself for thinking about her boss in that way. She admired and respected him a great deal but had always thought he was absolutely gorgeous and couldn't help the odd twinge of lust sometimes when he made eye contact with her or flashed his amazing, but rare, smile. She'd worked for him for nearly three years, having applied only half-seriously, never really believing she'd be successful, shortly after having arrived in America from England, where she'd lived since she was a child, and in that time she had come to admire him more than just physically.

Lizzie brought herself back to the present and reminded herself that she shouldn't be dawdling. After all, she wasn't really supposed to use his shower but Hotch was away in New York on a case and she'd had to get the bus and walk into work as her car was at the garage. Well, she thought that Hotch was in New York – just then she heard his office door open and what could have been the sound of a bag being dropped on the floor. Damn it,she thought. If he'd been ten minutes later, or she a little quicker, she would have been dressed and sitting at her desk when he arrived. She hurriedly started to rub her hair with the towel when she heard him open the adjoining door to her office, but she obviously wasn't there so he closed the door again. A moment later Lizzie thought the floor had dropped out from underneath her as just then, Hotch opened the door to the bathroom and was standing in the doorway, a look of stunned surprise on his face. Lizzie was acutely aware of her nakedness but a small part of her brain registered the fact that his deep brown eyes had flicked down to her breasts and lingered there a moment before he remembered himself and met her gaze again.

"Jeez, I'm sorry Lizzie, I didn't expect to find you in here," he said in his beautiful, deep yet soft American accent and, before she could say anything in reply, he'd backed out of the room and closed the door.

Lizzie could feel her heart thumping fast inside her chest and then remembered to breathe. She hurriedly finished drying her hair, brushed it and put on her clothes, silently cursing as the zip of her skirt jammed in her haste. Then, after hanging the towel on the rail again and quickly glancing around the room to make sure she'd put everything back in its place, she took a deep breath and stepped out into Hotch's office.

"Hotch, I'm so sorry, I know I'm not supposed to…" Lizzie blurted out.

"It's okay, it's okay!" He interrupted. Hotch loved the way she said his name, her accent giving the O a clipped sound that no-one else used. "It was just a bit of a surprise is all. I'm… sorry for walking in on you." He looked genuinely embarrassed which was not an emotion that Lizzie often saw in him as he was usually so certain of himself, and she guiltily thought it made him even sexier. Lizzie should have been mortified about what had happened, indeed if it had been anyone else she would right now have been quite literally digging a hole for herself. But she couldn't help but smile at his discomfiture. She managed to control the urge after a moment but he'd evidently seen it and decided to change the subject. "I, er, didn't see your car in the parking lot so I didn't even know you were here," he continued.

"No, it's… at the garage. I got the bus in today." Lizzie was suddenly troubled as she realised that letting her imagination run like this, particularly when he was sitting right there in front of her, was not exactly professional behaviour. Okay, they'd never been coldly professional with each other anyway but even so…

"Ah, hence the shower," he said, now understanding her slight infraction of the rules and quickly smiling back at her to put her at her ease. She was grateful for the sentiment but it only served to make her more uncomfortable as the thoughts she was trying to suppress came back to her wilful mind.

"Erm, I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'd better get on… got a stack of work…" and turned to go.

Lizzie tried to walk calmly out of the room but felt like she was fleeing. She closed the door between the two offices, somehow reached her desk on legs that suddenly felt as though all the bones had been removed, and rested her hands on it, feeling both guilty and excited. She got on well with her boss – she liked him a great deal – and she knew he liked her too. For starters she got away with a lot more than most people did: flinging the odd flirty innuendo into the conversation and playfully joking with him. But today… Well, today he had seen her naked. Completely and utterly stark naked. She kept having to remind herself that that wasn't necessarily a good thing, despite what her libido might be trying to tell her. After all, she had to work closely with him every day – well, when he wasn't off in a different city working on a case, at any rate – and this could cause difficulties between them professionally.

But it couldn't be helped. Lizzie kept thinking back to his lowered gaze and the momentary flash in those startling eyes of… what? Admiration? Hunger? That's what she liked to think anyway. The rational part of her brain tried to tell her that, confronted with a not unattractive naked woman, most men would probably do just the same and she didn't exactly blame him. She grinned to herself as she briefly fantasised about him having taken her in his arms and kissed her feverishly, his hands softly roaming over the smooth skin of her back. Lizzie gave a small gasp as this vision sent that sudden familiar tightening through her again.

"No. Stop it, Lizzie!" she muttered to herself, straightening up and collecting herself. She sat at her desk as her phone rang. It was a college in D.C. asking for Hotch to do a guest lecture and Lizzie managed to lose herself for a time in the arrangements and finer details of the engagement.

Hotch watched Lizzie leave his office and smiled at her embarrassment. She looked like a lost little girl when she was embarrassed as the colour flew to her lightly freckled cheeks. All the same, he had always thought she was beautiful – he had done since the first time he met her. But he'd been married then – okay just barely married, but still...

He didn't mind her having used his shower anyway, in fact he was glad he'd been sitting at his desk while she was standing there with her hair still damp and the flush on her face as all that time a part of him couldn't stop thinking about her soft, round breasts and flat stomach, and he'd been worried that she would notice his arousal. That was the last thing he wanted her to know about. He'd been extremely conscious of keeping his eyes on her face and not allowing himself another glimpse at her chest. He guiltily shook his head and stood up to go and splash his face with water. He was tired after the flight back from New York and the case was still going around in the back of his mind, but when he opened the bathroom door again, he smelled Lizzie's perfume and he paused, trying to put it out of his mind.

"Jeez," he said quietly to himself, "get a grip, Hotch!" He turned on the tap and washed his face, then he noticed that the towel had fallen off the rail; in her haste, Lizzie must not have noticed it fall. He picked it up and started to dry himself but he could smell her even more strongly now: a calming, slightly floral scent that he'd detected on her in the past when she'd happened to come close. He leaned back against the hand basin for a moment, holding the towel in his hands and imagining her standing there again, demure yet alluring, with her perfect breasts that were not large but just the ideal size, and her nipples standing hard and erect from the draught he had let in from the air-conditioned room next door.

Later, Lizzie was sitting in her small office eating her lunch and enjoying a quiet moment to sit and read her book for a while. She often ate in her office as it was quieter than the canteen where it was simply impossible to read without being disturbed every two minutes and it also meant she was on hand in case Hotch needed her for anything. She had just finished her bowl of pasta salad when Hotch came in with a cup of tea.

"I'm sorry to disturb your break, Lizzie," he opened.

"Oh it's no problem," she replied, slipping a bookmark into her book and moving the empty bowl to the side. "What can I do for you?"

"Well I've been thinking about this morning and, er, got you this as a sort of apology. I'm sorry I burst in on you," he said, setting the cup down on her desk then sitting across from her. "I hope you don't feel too uncomfortable about it."

"Please, it's fine, Hotch. It was my fault anyway for being in there in the first place," she replied. "I do appreciate the tea though," Lizzie said with a grin. "Er... I'm afraid I used your towel though. I'm sorry, I didn't bring one with me. I'll take it home and wash it tonight."

"Lizzie, you're more than welcome to use the shower anytime you need to. And don't worry about the towel," he replied with a twinge of shame, not wanting her to wash her scent off it. "I can sort that out."

"Hey," Lizzie said with mock annoyance and a mischievous smile on her face that Hotch suddenly found incredibly sexy. "Are you trying to put me out of work? I'm your PA, remember? That's my job!"

"God forbid I should ever do that," Hotch replied smiling back at her, his hands raised in mock surrender. "I couldn't do a half of what you do. And the other half I probably don't even know about," he added after a pause.

Lizzie found herself melting under his gaze. The brown eyes were looking directly into hers and the laughter in them was something she saw so infrequently – that was why she had never curbed her sense of humour around him as others had. God knew, he needed to laugh; he encountered the absolute worst of humanity almost on a daily basis and was the rock that his team of expert profilers all leant on – she was sure that none of the team knew just how much he did for them behind the scenes. Not to mention that his wife, his high-school sweetheart, had left him after twenty years, taking his son away with her. She didn't know Hayley that well as the separation happened shortly after Lizzie had started her job, but it wasn't a secret as to why she'd left him; Lizzie just didn't agree with her reasons and she instinctively disliked Hayley for causing him pain. It wasn't entirely rational, she knew – she was bound to be biased in his favour – but all the same, she hated the effect it had on Hotch and couldn't forgive Hayley for that. It made her sad that such a strikingly handsome and good man should suffer that kind of loss. "Thank you," she said, a little embarrassed at the compliment and worried that she'd paused too long before replying.

Hotch smiled again in response then changed the subject. "So what are you reading now?"

Lizzie glanced down at her book and replied, "The Last of the Mohicans."

"Really?" he asked. "I'm impressed!" Lizzie looked at him quizzically so he elaborated: "I had to read it in my freshman year at school and I hated it!" he said ironically. "But here you are, reading it for pleasure?"

Lizzie grinned. "It's a wonderful story," she exclaimed, "but the language is pretty hard-going and there are altogether far too many commas and semi-colons for the narrative to flow properly. I'm surprised they gave it to a bunch of teenagers to try and decipher!" Hotch seemed amused by this and interested at the same time so she picked up the book and turned it to the page she was on then continued: "Here, listen to this: 'But Uncas, who had vainly sought him in the mêlée, bounded forward in pursuit; Hawk-eye, Heyward, and David still pressing on his footsteps. The utmost that the scout could effect was to keep the muzzle of his rifle a little in advance of his friend, to whom, however, it answered every purpose of a charmed shield. Once Magua appeared disposed to make another and a final effort to revenge his losses; but, abandoning his intention as soon as demonstrated, he leaped into a thicket of bushes, through which he was followed by his enemies, and suddenly entered the mouth of the cave already known to the reader.'" After a short pause Lizzie looked up again, saying, "I've read Austen, Shelley, Brontë and others of about the same period but the language in this seems a lot more archaic. Even Poe and Dickens weren't as stuffy as this guy!"

"Maybe I should give it another try then," Hotch said.

"Honestly," Lizzie replied, "if you can get past the difficult prose it's a great book and it's not a bit girly like the film!"

Hotch paused for a second then said, "the film wasn't all that 'girly', as you call it! Don't you remember the guy being burned at the stake?"

"Well, okay, maybe that bit wasn't girly," said Lizzie, grimacing at the memory of the character of Major Duncan Heyward being burned alive by the enemy Indians. "But all that gooey romance with Daniel Day-Lewis and Madeleine Stowe – there isn't a mention of it in the book. It's more about loyalty and nobility than love in that sense."

At that moment, JJ, the team's liaison officer, knocked on the door and came into Lizzie's office. "Hotch, we're meeting in the board room in five minutes." JJ was a pretty blonde who looked far too fragile to cope with voracious journalists and other stresses of her job, but she was a lot tougher than she looked and Lizzie had always admired her; although at this precise moment she was a little frustrated at JJ's timing – Lizzie couldn't remember a time when Hotch had actually sat down and had a real 'chat' with her!

"Okay," he replied, looked back at Lizzie with another smile that made her want to whimper, stood and went into his own office.

"Hi JJ," said Lizzie.

"Hi Lizzie. Oh, do you have the file on the Wagner case?"

"Yes, I think so," said Lizzie, getting up and walking over to the wooden filing cabinet in the wall behind her. Opening a drawer and looking through the files for the one JJ had asked for, she said, "here you go. Why do you need it?"

"Thanks. I've got a hunch there may be a connection to this new case we're taking on. There's something strange about the MO..." JJ tailed off there, looking at a document in the file. "Thanks," she repeated absently and left.

Another case, Lizzie thought, sighing. Probably means Hotch will be away again for a few days. Suddenly Lizzie knew she was going to miss him.

Returning to his hotel room in Bridgeport, NY, that evening, Hotch began to unload the paperwork he planned on trawling through before getting some shut-eye. He went into the bathroom to freshen up a little but the sight of the shower brought back memories of another bathroom and a certain little brunette standing with water dripping onto her beautiful breasts from her wet hair. Hotch shook his head to dispel the vision, splashed his face with water and went back into the bedroom and sat at the desk, preparing to work. He tried to concentrate for nearly an hour but all he could think about was touching that soft, smooth skin, lightly grazing a nipple with his fingertips…

Hotch stood up abruptly, angry with himself for not being able to control his thoughts. He paced the room a couple of times, then gave it up for a bad job and went to take a shower before going to bed.

The minute he began to relax under the stream of warm water, though, those thoughts came back, bombarding him with visions of Lizzie's gorgeous little body pressed against his own. He groaned in frustration as the blood began to rush to his groin and he knew he'd never get to sleep with that!

Reaching down to take himself in hand, he tried to think about anything but Lizzie. He knew that when he got back to Quantico and had to sit at his desk giving her instructions, his traitor brain would remind him of this and he'd feel ashamed that, if she knew, she'd think he'd objectified her in the worst possible way, when all he wanted to do was worship those sweet, plump mounds with his mouth and touch every inch of her ivory skin with reverence. Okay, she wasn't ever actually going to find out but he'd know all the same.

For a second he toyed with the idea of getting out of the shower and finding a porn channel on the TV in his room but rejected that thought immediately – the fact that it would show up on his bill was only secondary to the certain knowledge that none of those women could take his mind away from the tantalising glimpse he had had that morning.

"Fuck!" he admonished himself and just let his imagination take him where it would. He would just have to reconcile his conscience another time; right now, he knew he wouldn't get a wink of sleep if he didn't do something about his almost painful erection and he had to be on top form in the morning to work the case.

He closed his eyes and leaned one hand against the cool tiles of the shower while he began stroking his length with the other. He imagined Lizzie's elegant hand wrapping around his shaft, her thumb gently rubbing that drop of pre-cum over his sensitive head while he sucked and nibbled at the delicate skin of her neck and throat. He thought of the feel of her hard little nipples under his tongue and how he would kiss every inch of those incredible breasts.

He gave out a stifled groan when, in his mind's eye, he saw Lizzie position his cock at the entrance to her pussy and almost felt her hot, slick folds closing around him as he imagined slowly pushing inside her. His fist pumped harder and his hips joined in the rhythm, drawing him close to his end as, in his fantasy, he moved in and out of her, faster and faster until she cried out his name in ecstasy, driving him to his imaginary and actual release.

Hotch leaned his head on his forearm, breathing heavily and enjoying the feeling of euphoria for a moment before he had to wake up to reality. After a while he stood up straight and began to wash himself in readiness for bed, mixed feelings roiling through is brain. That had just been one of the most potent and realistic fantasies he'd had in a long time but, at the same time, he knew he couldn't allow himself to indulge in it again, not while Lizzie worked for him.

He got out of the shower, dried himself off and took his comfortable sleep pants from his bag, putting them on and slipping between the covers. After turning the light out, he fell into a deep sleep almost immediately.