The elevator ride up to her suite was short. Reese stood close to Carter's side feeling very aware of her and what she was making him feel. He enjoyed the lingering fragrance of her perfume, how her clothes fit her body. He memorized the way she walked and moved. Words failed him when her butt brushed against his hip as she pressed the digits for her floor. He told himself to calm down, told himself to breathe and be patient.
He'd always been so good at compartmentalizing things. Habit had helped him keep his work separate from his personal life. It was a routine that was second nature, but she came along and had done a good job of filling both spaces. He couldn't get her out of his mind. He had most definitely tried, but she wasn't somebody who was easily forgotten.
They walked off the elevator and down the corridor to her room. The brief moment she had touched his hand at the table was responsible for the heat growing in his body. He couldn't resist touching her again; his fingers found her wrist as she lifted the key and slid it through the lock. Her head turned toward him at her back as she pushed the door open. She took his hand, twined their fingers together and led him inside.
He took a glance over the room, noticing the bed, the bar to the far left that seemed fully stocked, and the flat screen on the wall. He wondered idly who was footing the bill. Since she'd been temporarily assigned to the FBI's task force, he guessed it must be the bureau. He couldn't see her precinct setting her up in a hotel as expensive as this one.
The snow was steadily falling now. The light flurry had given way to a moderate dusting. Pretty soon, it would fall in sheets and blanket the ground. The heat from the room surrounded them, providing a warm cocoon from the cold outside.
"How'd you find me?" she asked, facing him.
His lips curled into a smile remembering his request to Finch and the confused look on his face. His boss couldn't imagine why he'd want to chase after the detective who had been pursuing him for months. To him, it was only logical that he would run in the opposite direction. But he'd acquiesced, tracked down her location, and here he was.
"I have some very resourceful friends that can get me important information whenever I need it," he answered. He reached for her other hand, thumbed his finger across her palm.
"That friend wouldn't happen to be the driver with the glasses would it? Tightly wound? A little…paranoid?"
Her description of Finch was spot on, he thought. She was quite perceptive. "Maybe."
"How'd you two meet? How long have you known each other?"
An interrogator through and through, he thought. She couldn't turn off that part of her if she tried. "Let's just say, he bailed me out of a tight situation before, and I've been doing what I can to help him out ever since." She seemed semi-satisfied with his answer and didn't probe further. "I called your room earlier."
She grinned, and her face lit up. His desire to kiss her came back, started to positively overwhelm him. "You did? Okay, what would you have done if I'd answered?"
"I would have asked you if you remembered who I was, and if you wanted to meet me for a drink."
"If I remembered who you were?" She shook her head as she walked over to the bar. She reached for an already opened bottle of Bourbon and poured a little into two tumblers. He followed her, watched her move and the way her fingers handled the glasses.
How soft would those fingers be as they moved over my skin? he wondered. Would they feel like silk, or like the soft plumes of a feather?
He pictured her nails digging into his back, moving over his scalp as he kissed her hard. He swallowed.
"I came here looking for you," she said.
"Remember when I told you months ago that you should stop looking for me?"
"How could I forget?"
She couldn't have, and neither could he. She'd been like a dog with a bone after they'd first met. Always staying just a step or two behind him. At first he'd been annoyed despite knowing that she was a good cop. But after a while, he'd gotten accustomed to finding her hot on his trail.
Her voice over the walkie talkie that day in front of the courthouse had been too much to resist. He'd raised the unit to his mouth a few times, so tempted to respond. His restraint broke eventually, and he answered, suggested she give up. Of course, for her, that wasn't an option. "I'm glad you didn't"
Their eyes held over the rim of his glass. "I'm glad I didn't too."
The errant curl moved over her cheek again, and he walked toward her to sweep it off her face. She turned her face towards his hand, let her mouth slightly graze his knuckles, and he felt the blood rush to his cock with lightning speed. He set his glass down on the bar, took hers away and led her to the seating area.
The suite was quiet. The hum of the air conditioner provided the only noise to their moment. He took her hand and moved with her while she stood in his arms. Her hands settled over his shoulders while he held her about the waist. He couldn't help but think how perfectly they fit together. Like a hand slipping into a warm, snug glove.
"So what if I'd agreed to meet up, but instead I had Donnelly and his whole task force waiting for you?"
He admitted to himself that that was a possibility if he came here. He knew the consequences of letting his guard down. It could lead to incarceration. It could lead to his death depending on how the circumstances. He had weighed all of the possibilities and felt he still needed to take that chance.
He cocked his head to the side. "You're worth the risk."
His words set the butterflies loose in her stomach and she quivered between her legs. Damn, he knew all the right words to say. "You like to take risks," she said, realizing that they were swaying. No music was playing in the room, but their bodies were moving to a rhythm all their own.
"So do you."
Her heart was racing. His gaze was constant. He wouldn't take his eyes off her, not for more than a few seconds. She could see him mentally undressing her, thinking about every sensual thing he wanted to do to her, and she liked it.
She wanted to slow things down, she wanted to preserve this moment. He was right when they were in the bar earlier. This - whatever this was between them - it didn't happen often, and she wanted to prolong every second of it for as long as she could.
"You know, sooner or later…" her voice trailed off, but she didn't break his gaze.
"Sooner or later, what?"
She felt blood rushing to her cheeks again. "You are wearing the hell out of that suit."
He made a noise deep in his throat. It was gravelly, low. But his smile let her know that he liked the compliment. "That wasn't what you were going to say."
She leaned her head against his chest, felt his hands move up and down her back. She closed her eyes. He was filling up all of her senses in such an intoxicating way; she just couldn't get over it.
She thought about how talkative he was in the car trunk. He must have been nervous at the time, or just really relaxed. She'd learned that he was a man of few words. He conveyed what he needed to with brevity and didn't waste time with small talk. But in the trunk, it seemed the moment afforded him an opportunity to say what he'd been trying to hold back. She felt like he was being real with her now, too.
She felt his index finger lightly flick against her neck and back much the same way it had in the trunk.
What was he doing to her?
"I saw you in Lyric Diner a few weeks ago," he murmured.
"Hmm…yes, and you waved at me."
"I wasn't sure you knew it was me. You were with a young boy, tall, about fourteen years old."
"Sixteen. My son, Taylor." He'd figured out her usual haunts. Probably knew she went there often to eat. "You followed me."
"Maybe, I did." He shrugged. "Maybe I didn't want to be the only one with a file of personal information."
She grinned. He wanted to level the playing field. That was understandable. She'd spent hours at a time staring at a board of information about him. Photos and video footage of sightings of the Man In A Suit. Wondering what his next move would be, where he'd turn up next. Wondering just who he was underneath this persona.
What had he seen? she wondered. Did he know where she lived? Who her family was? Did he follow her home at night and watch her before she went to bed?
"Where's his father?" he asked.
"He's in New Jersey," she replied, noting the questions that still lingered in his eyes.
"And you two are?"
"Done," she assured him. "For a long time, now."
Reese was relieved when she said that. Not that he should even hope that whatever this was could turn into something more, but it made him feel good knowing that she didn't belong to anyone else.
"After the ride together…after you and your partner dropped me off…I started to think. Started thinking what if we could take a time out."
"I thought the same thing," he said. "Like what if we could take a time out and just…get to know each other. Just spend some time together. I wanted that. So much."
She raised her head, and he was still looking at her. With him leaning in this close, their lips were just a fraction of an inch apart. Her fingers grazed his cheeks as he gently touched his mouth to hers. The touch triggered an electric current inside her, making her gasp. He didn't take more, but he didn't move away. Her eyes fluttered shut while he tenderly pressed his lips to her cheeks, her eyelids and forehead.
She made him feel eager, light, and different somehow. Reese had done and seen so many bad things in his lifetime. His time in the CIA had been a series of unforgivable acts that he felt would haunt him forever. But she made him feel like one day, maybe in the distant future, he just might be able to find absolution. He realized he was putting her on a pretty high pedestal but compared to her partner and a lot of other cops in her precinct, she was a beacon of light.
After months of mourning Jessica and being burned by the Agency, he'd been aimless. He'd pretty much given up on himself. He'd wanted out. Out of his misery and out of a world where he felt he didn't have anything else to offer anyone. But she'd changed his mind in an instant. She'd made him want to try again, live again, find a purpose. If that wasn't a miracle in and of itself, then he didn't know what it was.
He was different. He felt different, and he knew that newfound feeling of optimism had everything to do with her.
What if he'd never met her? What if he hadn't gotten into it with Antoine and his crew on that subway? He couldn't even remember where he was headed that night. What he did know was that her entrance into his sad little existence had been the catalyst for one of the biggest transformations he'd ever undergone.
He just had to find out….what if?
The time for conversation was over. That one thing was clear to Carter as she moved her hands over Reese's broad shoulders. She could feel his cock roaring to life as he started to kiss her. Her stomach clenched as his tongue sought hers out, her breath started to quicken at the sweetness of his mouth. His fingers played along her back softly, while he pulled her close. His lips moved to the side of her mouth, her cheek, then down her neck.
She wanted his lips again and tilted his face towards hers to claim his mouth again. She stood on her toes, letting her fingers move over his scalp and opened herself up to the flood of sensation that was pulling her under. When their lips parted, he didn't let her go right away, and she was glad she wasn't the only eager one in the room. She slowly stepped out of his grasp, felt his hand slide across her stomach and walked towards the bedroom.
