Author's Note: Smut. Total, shameless smut. It's all I know, people.

Chapter Three

Rigsby woke up to bright sunlight streaming through the window and an empty bed that wasn't his. He blinked his eyes slowly, looking for his clock on his nightstand. It wasn't there. His bleary eyes fluttered and readjusted. Instead he was greeted with a small table with a lamp and a stack of books. He turned his head against the pillow in confusion and inhaled slowly. Grace. The pillow was infused with the wonderful smell of Grace. He could detect three distinct scents: her flowery shampoo, her breezy perfume and the indefinable, addictive essence that was her skin. He inhaled again and closed his eyes, grinning from ear to ear. He was in Grace's bed. His chest expanded with his intake of air and his infusion of happiness. He'd imagined waking up in this very fashion for months now and, as usual, the reality was so much sweeter than even his most incandescent fantasy. The only thing wrong was how he woke up. He was supposed to be in a warm, naked tangle of limbs with a mass of red hair scattered across his chest. He was supposed to awaken and find two copper eyes smiling back at him.

If he'd awoken in his own apartment and found himself alone, he would have instantly felt abandoned and scared that she'd run off in the night. Since, however, this was her own place, he was merely curious and a bit disappointed. Well, better get up and find out where she got to. He sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed his track pants, not bothering with his boxers. He looked around for his tee shirt, then remembered that Grace had stripped it off him in the living room. Another smile arced across his lips and a rush of warmth surged through his blood. Grace had stripped him. Grace had jumped him, literally. Grace had opened her entire body to him and cried out in pleasure as he drove into her. Okay, now he really needed to find her. His memories of last night were starting to spark a reaction and he didn't want to be alone when it burst into flames.

He got up and walked out to the living room. He could hear music softly drifting from the kitchen and very muted humming. He turned the corner and his heart stopped in his chest.

Grace was standing at the stove. She was cooking something he couldn't see, but from the smell, he guessed eggs. And pancakes. She was humming softly to herself as she stirred something in a pan. She was wearing nothing but a tee shirt. His tee shirt. It cascaded down her shoulders and tented around her body until it billowed around her mid thigh. Her hair was loose. Tousled. It fell in a tangled mane down her back. Rigsby knew that if he ever had the heart to take that tee shirt back, he'd never wash it again. He'd keep it in a drawer all by itself and only take it out when he wanted to inhale her scent and remember this moment. If he ever took it back, but considering how perfect she looked in it, he doubted he ever would. He'd rather go home half-naked and leave her with a reminder of him.

Almost done. Grace smiled in satisfaction as she starting shoveling her scrambled eggs and pancakes onto serving plates. She'd woken up early to find herself surrounded by Wayne's arms. She had always been a morning person, never dawdling and always out of bed by 7:00, but that morning she could easily have stayed curled up, snug and warm, in the hollow of his chest. The only thing that pulled her from his embrace was a serious need to pee. She tried to push through his arms, but he murmured in his sleep and tightened his grip on her. She ended up slithering underneath them. As she stood by her bed and looked down at him, her heart felt too big for her chest and she had trouble breathing. He was so beautiful. Laying naked in her bed, stripped of his suit and badge and gun, he was just Wayne Rigsby, so familiar and yet so completely out of context. She wondered what it would have been like to meet him out in the real world. If he'd walked up to her in a club or coffee shop, would she have talked to him? Let him take her out? Brought him back to her place after too much beer? Unlikely. She would have taken one look at him, pegged him for a handsome player, and shut him down. She sighed and thanked God she got to know him under different circumstances.

He murmured in his sleep again. He looked so peaceful. His dark head looked so…right on her pillow. And his arms looked so inviting that she was almost tempted to dive back into them. But now she was up, and once Grace Van Pelt was up, she moved with a purpose.

She wasn't normally much of a cook since it was just her, but she took special delight in making breakfast today. Especially since her guest had a bottomless stomach and undemanding standards. She'd wandered out into the living room and found some of their clothes discarded on the floor. She saw his tee shirt lying in the mess and picked it up. She brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. God, it smelled good. Aftershave, leather, and the light musky smell of a healthy man in his prime. She instantly pulled it over her own head and his scent settled all around her. Her body responded to the smell and she sighed as the sensation of want ran through her. She walked into the kitchen and got to work, occasionally stopping to lift the front of the shirt to her nose to inhale again.

Her thoughts about him took her so far away that her hand missed the handle of the maple syrup bottle and caught the nozzle instead. She cursed softly under her breath and brought her sticky palm to her mouth. She gasped when her wrist was caught from behind and she was whirled around. She was pulled up against a large, heavy, shirtless man who stared back at her with blue, hungry eyes. He said nothing, but simply brought her syrupy palm to his mouth, sucking and lapping her skin clean. Her eyes fluttered shut as his tongue made love to her hand.

"Good morning," she whispered, eyes still closed as she leaned into him.

He released her hand caught her around the waist. "You have no idea," he purred.

He bent down and grazed her lips with his. "You're in my shirt," he smiled. She pulled back slightly and grinned. "You don't want it back, do you? I'd have to eat breakfast naked."

His arms tightened around her. "Oh God, Grace." He growled and kissed her harder, slipping his hands under his own shirt and gliding his hands over her alabaster skin. Christ, he was going to lose it right then and there. He could smell himself on her. He could smell their sex clinging to her body. And as he tipped her head to the side to kiss her neck, he saw his love bite at the base of her throat. She was completely branded by him and it was driving him insane. He moved to pull the tee shirt from her, but she giggled and pulled out of his grasp.

"Be a good boy. You wore me out last night and I'm hungry," she informed him in a mock serious tone as she turned back to the counter and pulled out plates and cups.

"What if I don't want to be a good boy?" He was right behind her. Looming again. Oh God, give her strength.

She gave him her best flinty glare over her shoulder and pointed to her dining table. "Sit, boy. Sit."

He growled softly at her order before turning away towards the table, but not before he placed a well-aimed smack on her ass.

"Hey!" she half-shouted, half-giggled. "I said be good."

She brought the plates, cups of juice and two platters of eggs and pancakes to the table where he sat in teasing petulance. She didn't look at him as she set up their meal, but she could feel his eyes lasering across her bare legs and she tried her best not to shiver.

She sat across from him and smiled sunnily into his lecherous gaze. "Eat. And don't tell me you're not hungry. You're always hungry," she chirped as she started piling eggs onto her own plate. He chuckled and picked up two pancakes and proceeded to saturate them in syrup. He put his lust on hold and dug into his short stack. Sugar and spice hit his tongue and he grunted his appreciation. Grace was right, he was hungry, and not his usual I'm-a-guy-and-I-need-food kind of hungry. It was a genuine need for calories after hours of physical activity. He ginned and took another huge bite. Physical activity. Damn straight.

He watched as Grace took delicate bites of her eggs and small triangles of pancake. Even her chewing was adorable as she gazed out the window and moved her jaw in tiny, closed circles. She felt his gaze and looked back at him. "What?" she asked.

"You are so damn sexy." His answer came without thinking.

She blushed and looked down at her plate.

"What would you do if I shoved this stuff to the floor and took you right here on the table?" His question shocked both of them. Sure, he'd been thinking about sweeping his arm across the surface, crashing the dishes to the floor and dragging her to him, but actually saying it out loud? He must be crazy.

Her eyes grew round as saucers and she inhaled sharply. His words astonished her. Scandalized her. And turned her on such much she instantly felt wetness between her thighs. Her sweet, unassuming friend and partner was turning out to be a bodice-ripping rogue of a lover. She knew she ought to be thinking about the mess he'd make, about the broken dishes and spilled OJ. But looking at him now with his chest moving heavily and his eyes turning black with lust, she suddenly couldn't think about anything except getting him naked. Now.

He watched in agony as she sat in silence, considering him. After 30 horrifying seconds, he watched her slowly pick up the syrup bottle and hold it to her chest.

"I'd let you," she answered.

In a blur of motion he was out of his chair and knocking every item off her table with one sweep of his arm. As predicted, it all clattered to the floor in a mess of glass and ceramic. He reached for her, but she was already crawling across the table, standing on her knees in front of him and pulling him to her. As they kissed each other desperately, they were both amused by the novelty of Grace—with the help of the table—being taller than Rigsby. His hands moved over her body more easily and he liked the sensation of tilting up to kiss her instead of down. His busy hands found hers still holding the syrup bottle to her chest and he tugged at it gently, wanting it to join its friends on the floor. But she held onto it and broke their kiss, smiling down at him.

"Take off your pants," she ordered.

Now that's the kind of bossing he could get used to. "Yes, ma'am."

He shoved them down his legs and stepped out of them. He watched as Grace set the bottle down and pulled his shirt from her body. He gasped at the sight. Naked Grace. Would it always take his breath away? She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply once more, guiding him closer to the edge of the table. She could feel his raging erection pressing against her and decided to put her plan into action. She had no idea where the plan had come from and had certainly never done anything like it before, but hearing him ask permission to ravish her mid-meal had inspired her.

Rigsby felt her pull her hips slightly away from his body as she continued to kiss him with abandon. He thought nothing of it until he felt cool liquid dripping on his cock and he broke their kiss in confusion. He was met with a wicked smile and a bottle of maple syrup coating his hard-on. He inhaled to speak, but Grace pressed her finger to his lips.

"I'm still hungry," she whispered, and with that she kissed her way down his chest, tossing the bottle to the floor. He knew what was coming. Oh God, did he know. But he wasn't prepared for how. Rather than Grace huddling in front of him, she flipped to her back. Her head now fell just off the table and her body spread out in front of him in all of its glory. She pulled his hips toward her and, before he had a chance to even gulp, she took him in her mouth. Upside down.

His knees almost gave out.

Her hair fell along his thighs and knees and tickled him while she sucked and swirled her tongue around his cock. She couldn't move her head very much, so she guided his hips as she sucked him in and out. In. Out. She increased the suction, hollowing out her cheeks and moaning loudly as she took as much of him as she could.

Rigsby was a rubbery mass of pleasure and obscenities.

"Holy fuck!...baby, no…you don't need to…oh, shit...your tongue…you feel sooo good…Grace, Jesus…where did you…learn…fuck!"

She brought her hands and started to massage his balls and the base of his cock as her mouth continued to take no prisoners. His swearing increased in speed and volume.

God, he tasted sweet. From the second she pulled him into her mouth, her tongue went into overdrive to suck the sweet, sticky syrup from the sexiest lollipop she'd ever eaten. Her tongue was diligent, but the syrup was stubborn and adhered doggedly to his skin. She sucked harder and harder, pulling her inner cheeks along his shaft and pumping his hips faster in a delicious effort to get every last drop. His throaty cries only spurred her on as her body writhed and arched in front of him, wanting his cock in several places at once.

"Grace…baby…you need to…stop. I'm gonna…oh, Christ…Grace, please…I can't…shit!"

But she had no intention of stopping. She sucked even harder and gripped his ass, forcing him to stay in place. She deep throated again and moaned loudly, almost gleeful as his instincts took over and he fucked her mouth, shooting his load deep in her throat.

"FUUUUCK!" he roared.

Reaching for anything to keep him upright as a powerful orgasm ripped his body to shreds, his hands clasped onto Grace's forearms. They locked their hands on each other's elbows as Rigsby rocked and shuddered above her. He came down slowly, panting and swallowing in ragged gulps. He dropped to his knees and took her head in his hands, kissing her tenderly from her upside down perch. He could taste the salt of his come on her lips and he groaned in exhausted ecstasy.

"Mmmmm," she licked her lips and his. "Yummy."

He shakily got to his feet and gathered Grace up in his arms. He lifted her from the table and walked without a word back to her bedroom. He fell backwards onto the bed, holding her to his chest and tucking her head under his chin. His hands stroked along her sides, keeping her warm and ready. He could smell her desire radiating from between her legs and he was fuming that his dining room plans had been thwarted in favor of something totally mind-blowing yet completely one-sided. Okay, so maybe he wasn't fuming. In fact, he was over the moon that he'd gotten to watch his true love wrap her pouty lips around his cock and fuck it dry. But he wasn't so easily sated.

In ten minutes, she was gonna get it.

She pulled her head back and looked at him. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. He had no words. She'd sucked them out of him. She'd sucked him stupid. And once he rallied his troops, he was going to return the favor and fuck her into the same state of blissful nothingness.

He just needed a minute...