Author's Notes: Wow, thanks for all the great reviews!! I'm glad so many of you like my stories. I'm sorry for those of you who want more than 3 chapters--after I wrote the first, I planned out the rest of my story and decided that 3 chapters would round it out perfectly. Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging at the end. For those of you who like my writing, I'm flattered and pleased I could entertain you, and I will definitely be writing more of this ship. Again, thanks to all the kind reviewers.

Disclaimer: I don't know if I'm supposed to put one of these on every chapter, but to be safe, I will. The Mentalist and these characters do not belong to me, as much as I wish I could wrap them up in a box and keep them all to myself. =] they are the property of CBS.

Ch 2

The kiss was perfect. His rough fingers caressed her face gently, his lips smooth and warm on hers, his hand clasping hers so lightly that when he lifted it, she felt as though it were floating. When the initial shock wore off, Lisbon found herself responding to his every touch like static shock. She slid her cold hands up the front of his shirt, and the heat of his chest burned her sensitive fingers. Jane smiled against her lips, parting them slightly, and Lisbon moaned in the back of her throat. Jane deepened the kiss, and in seconds, his arms were around her waist and hers around his neck, their mouths fused together in searing passion. It was the perfect kiss. It was too perfect. Just the way Jane would do it. Jane, master manipulator of thoughts and feelings...

It took everything she had to pull away.

Jane only stared at her. No shock or disappointment crossed his face. He only stared, his eyes filled with concern and curiosity. Lisbon had to look away. She wanted to read him, to see if she could find any feelings buried inside his eyes. He could read her so easily. There was no emotion he couldn't see. He knew what she felt, and now he was playing her. Or was he? How could she tell?

With a heavy heart, Lisbon realized he was right. "I don't trust anybody," she admitted softly.

"And that includes me," Jane acceded. Lisbon eyes flickered over to his. Did she detect a hint of hurt in his tone?

She opened her mouth, but found herself unable to form any words. Instead, she shrugged nervously and ran her fingers through her messy hair. With a rush, she realized the state she was in, and felt even angrier than before. Here she was, completely vulnerable, no makeup, no mask, no barriers to hide behind. She might as well have been naked, since he could already see through her like she was made of glass. Her face was a novel, her body, a manual. What others couldn't see, she displayed for him in large-print picture books, no matter how hard she tried to cover it up. And there he was, still dressed in that dapper suit, still wearing that solid expression, his body as still and unreadable as a block of concrete. It wasn't fair. She wanted to see him, too. With other men, Lisbon had been afraid that they'd look past her boundaries and dislike what they saw. With Jane, she felt violated—he could look past her boundaries whenever he liked, whether she was ready for him to see her or not. And if she was going to accept that, she wanted to see past his, too.

Jane moved toward her, slowly. He lifted his hand to her cheek. Lisbon jerked away. "Stop," she murmured.

Jane dropped his hands. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Lisbon covered her face with her hands. "I don't want you to look at me."

Jane's boyish grin got the best of him, but his tone remained sincere. "I like looking at you."

"Why?" Lisbon almost laughed. "I'm a mess."

The smile vanished. "You're beautiful."

Lisbon's cheeks flushed bright red. She fought a smile as the voice scolded her. What, are you an idiot? Do you actually believe him? He knows how to push your buttons. He's a mentalist, remember?

"No, I'm not. Especially not right now," she murmured in response.

Jane reached up and pulled her hand from her face. He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head, forcing her to look at him. "No, especially right now," he murmured back. "You push me away so much—you're always hiding. You never let me in."

"You get in anyway!" Lisbon burst out.

"Why do you think I try so hard?" Jane exclaimed with a chuckle. "I wish I didn't have to learn about you that way. I wish you'd open up to me and just tell me sometimes, but you don't. You don't trust me. And I don't know if you ever will."

"Trust is earned," she recited, "Not given away."

"What, did you read that in a textbook?" Jane asked playfully. "Of course trust is earned. But there are no guidelines for earning it. Only you can decide when you're going to start trusting somebody." Jane slid his hands down around her waist, but instead of just holding her close like before, he smoothly picked her up and sat her on the counter. Lisbon gasped in surprise, and Jane stood between her knees, his face still close to hers. He reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her eyes.

Lisbon's heart was pounding erratically. She felt kind of ridiculous, trying to keep her composure when he obviously could read her nervousness. Still, she attempted to keep her voice steady—and her dignity intact—as she retorted, "You know, if you really want my trust, you could stop trying to make me open up and start opening up yourself."

Jane frowned, and in that moment, Lisbon knew she had scored. She was up to one point from zero when he was ranging in the hundreds, but even the smallest bit counted. It wasn't often she got under his skin.

Jane relocked her gaze. "I could try."

That was unexpected. Something occurred to her. "Why do you want me to trust you so badly?" she asked. Without thinking, she raised her hand and touched his lips. Now that she was sitting on the counter, she was a full three inches higher than him, and as ridiculous as it sounded, this angle was making her feel particularly sensual.

Jane's gaze moved from her eyes to her mouth, then back to her eyes. His face changed, and the mask was gone. There was nothing between their eyes—no air, no space, no stupid virtual screens to draw shapes on. Lisbon had never his face so true. "Do you love me?" he asked.

A million words were spoken in that sentence. A million feelings were conveyed in that tone. A million emotions were shown in that expression. His words were sincere. His eyes burned with questioning and there was fear in his voice. It was an honest question that he truly wanted an answer to, but he was also afraid of what the answer might be. Lisbon's shock was nearly irrepressible, but part of her was still baffled. Why was he scared of the answer? Wasn't it obvious? How could he, Patrick Jane, observational psychic and mind-reader supreme, not already be aware of the answer? "Don't you know?" was all she could say.

Jane reached his hands around to the back of her neck, pulling her head down mere centimeters from his. Lisbon sucked in a breath. The smell of him was intoxicating; his eyes, smoldering with passion. In a second, she was reminded of all the reasons she was in love with him to begin with. Their eyes locked. "That is the one thing," he whispered, "I have never been able to figure out."

And with that, he pulled her in for another searing kiss. Unlike the first one, this kiss was immediately strong, without the gentle prelude of hesitation. Lisbon refused to fight it. She kissed him back with all her strength, wrapping her legs around his torso and running her fingers through his hair. Jane continued with just as much enthusiasm. He parted his lips and ran his tongue across hers, begging for the entry she soon gladly granted. Jane pulled her off the counter and stumbled across the room. Lisbon soon found herself with her back against the wall by the door. Jane's lips traveled to her jaw and down her neck. Lisbon could feel him hardening against her pelvis, and she suddenly knew two things: first, this was headed for the bedroom, and second, they were never going to make it there uninjured in this state.

Lisbon pulled Jane's head up to face her, and she kissed him tenderly before sliding out of his arms. She turned away from the wall and began to slowly walk backwards, pulling Jane along in front of her, unbuttoning the buttons of his vest as they headed for the stairs. They ascended the stairs together, no more than three inches apart, undressing one another painfully slowly, never breaking eye contact as they leaned in for the occasional kiss. Lisbon had been with several men in her life, but she'd never felt anything compared to the intimacy of this.

"Teresa," Jane murmured when they reached the bedroom. He sat down on the bed, pulling her on top of him so she straddled his lap.

"Hmm," she replied, pushing him down on his back and leaning in to lay sweet kisses in the hollow of his throat.

Jane grinned his typical boyish grin and flipped her quickly, kissing her from above and making her gasp. "What?" he whispered between kisses. "Don't you trust me?"

It may have been playful, but there was a real question in there. "Trust is earned," she whispered. Then she grinned and lifted a bare leg to wrap around his hip. "Show me how bad you want it."

Jane chuckled, then dipped his head to nip at her neck. "Will do."

TBC

I had fun writing this chapter. Please review! Final chapter will be up soon. -MizMiri