A/N: Your reviews continue to encourage and amaze me. Thank you so much! This chapter has a lot of "M", so be warned (Or excited. Whatever ;)
Chapter 3
When Lisbon awoke, her eyes flew to the bedside clock: 7:38. The room was bathed in the pale pink and gold of a fading sunset. She knew a moment of disorientation as she tried to remember what had happened before she'd apparently passed out on the bed with all her clothes on. The last thing she'd remembered was lying down on this bed. After that: blessed oblivion.
Outside, she could hear the sounds of New Orleans coming to life- jazz music in the distance, the hum of many conversations, the rumble of a streetcar, occasional bursts of laughter. She turned her head and saw Jane asleep on the bed beside her. He was facing her, and while it was an extremely usual thing to see this man sleeping, she allowed herself to admire him in the dimness. The pale light from the window burnished his hair gold, and his long eyelashes rested against his high cheekbones. His full lips were slightly parted, from which his breath slipped out in soft, regular puffs. She smiled, remembering how beautifully that mouth molded to hers. If kissing him was any indication of how well they would fit together, it made her tremble inside to contemplate how amazing it would be when they finally made love. Her eyes widened at the thought. It was going to happen, of that she had no doubt. It was a little surreal to even contemplate.
"A penny for your thoughts," said Jane, his eyes still closed. She flushed.
How the hell had he known I was awake?
She wondered why she questioned such things anymore. Whether he admitted it or not, the man had an eerie sixth sense.
"Although, there's a place down the street that charges much more to watch thoughts like that actually acted out…"
She threw a pillow at him. He jerked in surprise, then laughed, the sound muffled beneath the white mound of cotton covered feathers. Without missing a beat, he lifted his head and tucked the new addition beneath it. He turned to look at her, love and humor warring in his sleepy green eyes.
"Did you sleep well?" he asked softly.
She grinned, then stretched and yawned loudly for emphasis. "Like a rock," she proclaimed happily. "You?"
"Very well, surprisingly, though I admit it was difficult staying on my side of the room."
She felt her cheeks go warm once more, her pulse picking up speed.
"Then why did you?" she whispered.
His eyes darkened at her words, and a new, glorious tension filled the distance between their beds.
Lisbon frowned as a memory suddenly came back to her. Her fingers went to her lips.
"Did you…kiss me earlier, on this bed?"
"Having romantic dreams about me again, Lisbon?"
Her brows knit in confusion. "Well, I—"
He took pity on her. "I'm glad it was so memorable," he said wryly. "Frankly, I'm surprised you remember at all. It was like Sleeping Beauty in reverse. Somehow I don't think the handsome prince ever had that problem, at least not in the fairy tales I've read."
Her hands came up to her cheeks. "Oh, God. I fell asleep right in the middle of it, didn't I? I can't believe I was that tired." She chuckled and sat up, her eyes sultry, her hair mussed from her long nap. "How can I make it up to you?"
Jane's breath hitched as she moved to his bed and leaned down to kiss him. His hand came up to hold the back of her head, and he gladly opened his mouth to receive her sensual gift. This was the first time she'd initiated such contact, and it did crazy things to his heart. Nearly overcome, he pulled her easily down to the bed, then rolled her onto her back beneath him, his mouth never leaving hers.
His weight upon her, pressing her into the mattress, felt wonderfully exciting while his hands slid into her hair, his tongue exploring every hot recess of her mouth. Her arms wrapped around him, and when she bent one knee, he gasped against her as she cradled the fullness in his slacks. He drew away from her mouth to look at her, with dazed eyes and pounding pulse. He brushed the hair back from her face and at the same time, she raised her hips a fraction. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes while she smiled mischievously; she knew full well what she was doing to him.
Unfortunately, her growling stomach loudly broke the mood.
Jane grinned down at Lisbon's keen embarrassment.
"Let's get some food into you, woman, and then we'll continue this later."
Her stomach answered before she could. "Good idea," she said wistfully.
He kissed her softly one last time, rolled off her and onto his back. While she excused herself to the bathroom, he lay there, staring up at the ceiling, willing his breathing to slow and his arousal to lessen. But then he smiled. It had been a long time since he'd felt like this, been with a woman that he couldn't keep his hands off of. Off course, the last time had been when he was dating Angela, and in the early years of their marriage. His smile faded somewhat, but tentatively, he gauged his emotions as the once sacred memories suffused him. Taking a deep breath, Jane allowed himself to remember them fondly, and then, upon hearing Lisbon humming in the bathroom, filed them away to be revisited, and perhaps even shared, at another time.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
She found him on the balcony, a light breeze blowing in from the Mississippi, the smells of food and other unidentifiable (and not completely pleasant) odors wafting up from below. The earlier noises were even louder, and Lisbon frowned at all the people walking by with alcoholic beverages in their hands.
"We should walk to the restaurant," he told her, when she suggested they call for their car. "That's the only way to see the French Quarter. It's a place you have to experience close up."
She looked skeptically down at the street. "You sure your ankle can take it?"
"I'll be fine. We'd better go though. I was able to get us a reservation at Oceana."
"I hope it's casual. I left those dresses in my hotel room at the Blue Bird," she admitted sadly. She'd changed her blouse, but still couldn't wait to take a shower later.
He took her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "I'm sorry for that, Teresa. I know I said it before, but—"
"I'm choosing to forgive you for all that crap with the cold case and the made up letter and—and everything. That's all in the past for me. All I ask is that you promise never to manipulate me like that again, okay?"
There seemed to be no bottom to the well of her forgiveness, he thought, in awe. His eyes rested briefly on the golden cross at her neck, and he knew that her faith was where her goodness came from. He supposed there might be something to say about organized religion.
"Okay," he confirmed solemnly, meaning it with all his heart. He never wanted to see her cry again, especially not over pain he'd caused her. He kissed her tenderly to seal his promise.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Halfway to the restaurant, Jane wondered if visiting New Orleans with Lisbon had been a good idea. Despite having been to Las Vegas and Venice Beach, she still was uncomfortable around strange and raucous people. Jane, on the other hand, adored this city, probably because it reminded him a bit of a carnival. She clung closely to his side as they walked on the sidewalk, and he wasn't surprised to feel the weight of her sidearm in the holster beneath her blazer jacket.
"Relax," he said. "Enjoy the scenery."
"I do love the jazz," she admitted, as they passed by the open doors of countless bars and restaurants.
The French Quarter was beautiful and a bit mysterious, with the antebellum buildings and the secret gated courtyards surrounded by wrought iron fences and crape myrtle trees. Jane acted as unofficial tour guide, pointing out historic spots, haunted hotels, and some of the more notorious public houses. He purposefully took a meandering route to their restaurant, and they ended up in the heart of the Quarter, Jackson Square.
Jane stopped before the majestic St. Louis Cathedral. It was hauntingly beautiful, especially how it was lit at night, its towering spires reaching up into the cloudy sky, the nearby statue of Andrew Jackson casting an eerie shadow upon the historic church. Lisbon stood at the high wrought iron fence surrounding it, peering up at the cathedral in awe.
"Amazing, isn't it?" he whispered near her ear.
She nodded. "I wish we had time to go in."
"Another trip," he promised, kissing her temple.
A few moments later, she took his hand and they walked up St. Ann Street, then down the craziness that was Bourbon. At one point they saw a man lying across the sidewalk, tourists politely stepping over or walking around him. Drunks in New Orleans had a habit of staying where they passed out, and few gave notice to them, especially when there was so much else to grab one's attention in the Quarter.
Lisbon, however, was not your typical tourist. She squatted down by the man, blanching at the strong scent of rum. She felt his sweaty neck for a pulse, and satisfied that he was, in fact, alive, she looked up at an amused Jane.
"Help me move him out of the way," she said.
Jane obliged without comment, taking the drunk's feet as Lisbon took his wrists, and they dragged the poor soul against the wall beneath an awning. He didn't even stir. After a last pitying look at the drunk, she wiped her hands on her jeans, and joined Jane again on their stroll down Bourbon Street to Conti.
Jane didn't think it was possible to love her more.
Xxxxxxxxxxxx
After one of the best seafood dinners she'd ever had at Oceana, complete with traditional Louisiana fare of red beans and rice and zesty jambalaya (she'd even tried crawfish and fried alligator bites, on a dare), they ventured back into the night. The air was heavy now with humidity and the scent of rain, and lightning lit the sky around them.
"We'd better get back," he warned. "The sky's about to—"
A crack of thunder made them both jump, and then laugh at their own reactions. Then the heavens opened up and the rain poured down. People shrieked and laughed all around them, rushing into bars, restaurants, and shops to escape the deluge. Jane however, smiled and turned his face up to the rain, and then in no hurry at all, he took her hand and walked leisurely toward their hotel. Within a minute they were soaked through, and Lisbon could only laugh and push back the wet hair from her eyes.
Except for a few stragglers like them, most people had taken shelter indoors or under awnings, but Jane and Lisbon, having lived so long in California, cherished the rain when they were lucky enough to see it. And New Orleans certainly wasn't disappointing them. The thunder and lightning were incredible, infusing even more tension and excitement into the air between them.
Beneath a crape myrtle tree, he drew her into his arms and kissed her, while the rain continued to sluice through the branches like water through a sieve.
"I love you, Teresa," he said after a few passionate moments, having to raise his voice to be heard over the storm. "I never believed I would make it to this place with you."
"New Orleans?" she teased, straight-faced.
And he laughed, because after all his smartass answers from the past, he certainly deserved a comeuppance. When she pulled his mouth back down to hers and embraced his wet body, he felt the answering smile in her kiss.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"Wooo!" Jane exclaimed, shaking himself like a wet dog just outside their hotel. He took off his suit coat, which had offered little protection in the end, while Lisbon squeezed her hair out onto the sidewalk. The doorman laughed at the sight they presented, and as he held the door for them, together they walked into the swanky place with as much dignity as they could muster.
"Good evening," greeted the doorman.
"Isn't it though?" said Jane with a grin, and he took Lisbon's hand once more.
They dripped their way across the lobby to the elevator, and the moment the doors slid closed, he pushed her against the mirrored wall and ravaged her mouth. He found he couldn't seem to get enough of her. She tasted like sweet wine and the flavor he'd already come to know as distinctly her own, and he knew he was hopelessly and willingly addicted. And to think, he'd nearly lost his chance because of fear.
Tonight, he decided, as they entered their room, he wasn't going to let fear stand in the way of his moving on completely.
"That was crazy!" Lisbon said, toeing off her wet boots and slipping off her jacket. Jane bent to untie his water-logged shoes. He hung both their jackets on the backs of chairs to dry, well Lisbon laid her gun and holster on the nearby desk. She went to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels, tossing one to Jane. By then, they were both shivering in the air-conditioned room.
"I'd kill for a hot shower," she told him, blotting her face and neck. "Can I go first?"
He rubbed his towel over his hair while he walked closer to her, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "You know, we could conserve hot water if we showered together."
She blushed. "Jane."
"I'm serious," he said, his voice rough with emotion. Towel draped over his shoulders, he brought his hands to the front of her blouse, and while he stared into her eyes, he began slowly to unbutton her. "I just want to look at you," he told her, "to touch you. We don't have to go any further than that."
Despite her racing heart, she lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "Now that is a very persuasive line," she teased.
He grinned, but kept unbuttoning, his cool hands making her tremble even more as his knuckles touched the bare skin he'd revealed. He parted her blouse, his eyes dropping to her damp push-up bra and the delicately shadowed cleavage it created.
"Is it working?" he asked. His breathing was audible now, especially when she started on the buttons of his shirt.
She nodded. "Definitely."
He paused at the front closure of her bra. "Sure you can stay awake for this?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
"I don't know. You'll just have to keep me fully…engaged…oh, God…"
He'd opened her bra, his answer to her jibe a gentle tweaking of her hardened nipples. Her knees nearly buckled beneath her, and he bent to tempt her more with a kiss.
It became a slow, competitive dance as they took turns undressing one another, each reveal punctuated by gasps and soft cries of pleasure. Wet clothes made things a bit more difficult. More frustrating. More arousing.
Naked at last, Jane led her by the hand to the bathroom, delighting in her pale, lightly freckled beauty.
"Do you like it hot?" he asked gruffly, fully aware of the double meaning.
"Very hot. And extremely wet."
His chuckle released a bit of the tension, and he kissed her sassy mouth once more. She smiled, remembering how they'd watched that movie together years before, their shared love of the absurd having gotten them through many a rough patch. Above all things, Jane was her friend. Now, she thought with a thrill of disbelief, he would become her lover.
He reached inside the shower stall and turned on the water full blast, as hot as he could stand it.
He was conscious of her eyes on his body, and he was glad that his two years on the island had gotten him into the best shape of his life. His tan had faded, but he'd kept up his habit of walking the streets of Austin for miles every day he could, though it was no longer near the pounding surf. He swam a few times a week in the FBI gym, though he missed the sting of salt in his eyes. Lisbon seemed to like what she was seeing, he noted happily, although she blushed when he caught her staring at his erection.
He indicated the shower stall with a gentlemanly wave of his hand. "Ladies first."
She moaned in pleasure as the hot water hit her cold skin. "Get in here, Jane. This is wonderful."
She didn't have to invite him twice. He closed the glass door behind him with a click, then took her in his arms in the cramped enclosure, the water warming him almost as quickly as the feel of their slick, naked bodies pressing together. For the second time that evening, they kissed beneath a shower of water, but this time his hands moved to her bare buttocks, pushing her closer to his hardness; he moaned into her mouth at the sweet beauty of it.
They learned each other's bodies with soapy hands, gliding over planes and valleys until neither of them could bare the torture any longer. He brought her to release with his fingers, her hands on his shoulders for support, his mouth silencing her cries of ecstasy.
He wouldn't let her return the favor, moving her talented hands away just as he was on the brink.
"Later," he whispered tightly.
Jane secretly feared that if he came too soon, he wouldn't be able to pleasure her again later in bed. He had been celibate so long that he was surprised he'd held out in the shower as long as he had. As much as he wanted her, he didn't know how much stamina he could muster under the circumstances.
With a final rinse of their hair and body, Jane turned off the water. He stepped out first, unfurling a fluffy towel from the rack to greet her on her way out. She walked into it gratefully, her skin pink and glowing from the heat and the pleasure he had given her. He massaged her body dry with the towel before handing her a thick robe from the back of the door. He repeated the same actions upon himself while she watched, coiling the towel about her wet hair. Seeing him slick back his wet hair with his hands was one of the sexiest things she'd ever seen. He caught her eyes and grinned knowingly.
"Would you like a drink from the mini bar?" he asked, belting his robe with shaking hands. She noticed right away and wondered at it. Perhaps a drink would help relax him.
"Sure. Wine if they have it."
They left the steamy bathroom for the coolness of the bedroom.
Jane bent to open the small refrigerator. "I'll go you one better—they have champagne!" He held up two little bottles triumphantly. She smiled at his boyish excitement. They sat on her bed, drinking the sparkling wine from plastic cups while occasional thunder shook the French doors, rain pattering hard against the glass.
"Guess we won't be driving tonight in this mess," he said, not even trying to hide how happy he was about this development. As far as he was concerned, the attempted robbery and now the storm had been blessings in disguise. Maybe there was a God.
"Abbott's going to be pissed. No dawdling, he'd said."
"Meh. Don't believe his tough guy routine. Like I told you before, he wants us to cement your staying on in Austin. What could be better for his cause than a night stuck in a hotel room in romantic New Orleans?"
The champagne was doing the trick, and Jane seemed much calmer. His warm, steady hand came up to rest on her bare knee, fingers circling there a moment before sliding beneath her robe and trailing up her inner thigh. She shuddered at his touch, closing her eyes as the molten sensation she'd felt in the shower returned.
He tossed their empty cups into the wastebasket, and she lay back on the bed, watching him beneath lowered lids as he unwrapped her from her robe like a gift.
"Teresa," he breathed, "you are more beautiful than I ever imagined."
Her eyes opened a bit wider. "You imagined me naked?"
His eyes glittered wickedly. "Of course I did. I'm a man, aren't I?"
He caressed her breasts, cupping them with both hands, gauging her reaction by the new flush that spread up from her chest to her cheeks. Then his hands stilled.
"You couldn't tell I wanted you?"
"You gave nothing away," she told him. "If you'd only given me the slightest bit of encouragement, I would have attacked you on your couch."
He grinned. "And I would have let you."
His hands moved to her flat stomach, caressing the smooth muscles there, loving how they tightened at his touch. He paused again at her bikini line, tracing the trimmed, vertical strip of hair that began there and led his eyes to her core like an arrow.
"No you wouldn't," she argued. "You would have recoiled in maidenly alarm."
One finger followed the soft path to its end, and he stopped again, petting her lightly, experimentally.
He chuckled at her words. "Maybe at first," he conceded. "But I would have gone with it eventually, believe me."
Frustrated by his teasing fingers, she sat up now, her hands going to the belt of his robe. "I guess we'll never know," she whispered, untying him.
She released the loose knot and let his robe fall open, pleased to see his erection was alive and well. She looked up at him as her hands went round to his firm behind, felt him hold his breath, then release it in a shuddering sigh as she moved her head forward and took him into her mouth.
"Teresa," he moaned, letting her bring him to the edge before begging her to stop.
She continued a few more seconds, just to enjoy her newfound power over him, but he was too far gone to appreciate her amusement. He suddenly became like a man possessed, taking complete control, which she relinquished joyfully, reveling in knowing at last how much he wanted her.
Before she could comprehend what had happened, she was on her back again, both their robes gone, his body covering hers. He kissed her lips, delved deeply into her mouth before moving to her neck, then lower, taking the tips of her breasts into his mouth. He suckled her until she couldn't breathe, till she was the one pleading for relief.
Before he took her, he made himself pause to look at her, to make himself savor the moment when she became his completely. Her eyes were glassy with desire, her breasts rapidly rising and falling, her damp hair curling around her flushed face. Twelve years had led to this moment, though neither of them had ever believed it was inevitable. It had been twelve years of friendship, of secret longing, of fear, of heartbreak, of forgiveness. They knew each other better than anyone, the good and the bad, their faults and foibles. And no matter what life or Red John or the FBI had thrown at them, their unspoken bond had held them together, time and distance only strengthening it.
He reached between them, grasping himself and rubbing against her swollen sex, his eyes still holding hers in thrall. He knew she was very close as well, and sweat broke out all over his body as he forced himself to enter her slowly, his hands moving up to lace with hers.
She bent her knees so he could go even deeper, and she cried out when he made it all the way home. He kissed her again, and then, tentatively at first, he began to move. It took them only a moment to find their rhythm, and then it became as easy as breathing. She rose to meet each measured thrust, gasping with indescribable pleasure as he withdrew and plunged in again. He held her gaze the entire time, and neither of them could remember ever feeling so close, so in sync with another human being.
Her climax was sudden and strong, her internal convulsions spurring his at the same time. Their echoing cries filled the room as he rocked into her, his frantic movements enhancing and prolonging their ecstasy. She saw flashes of sparkling light, tasted copper in the back of her throat—things she had only read about in romance novels, had never believed were truly possible. Why was she surprised that with Jane, nothing was impossible? His hands squeezed hers almost painfully before he collapsed upon her, panting heavily in her ear.
When his fingers finally relaxed their grip, her hands came up to embrace him, holding him tightly. She whispered her love for him as she closed her eyes and tried to fathom how deeply she was moved. She didn't know how much time had passed before he withdrew from her body, only to rest his head on her breasts with a contented sigh. At first she thought it was just the dampness of his hair she was feeling on her skin, but she was amazed to discover it was the warm wetness of tears. Had this been too soon? Was he regretting things already?
"Patrick?"
He must have felt the anxious jump of her heart beneath his ear, for he moved his head to look at her. He was a little embarrassed to be caught crying in bed, but he wanted to reassure her that he was all right—more than all right.
He grinned and she reached up to smooth back his hair in relief. He pressed his lips to hers, the sweetness of it bringing forth her own tears.
"Say it again," he said. She smirked at the familiar words.
"My first name," he clarified. "I've never heard you say it in quite that way."
It was true. She had only used it to introduce him to others, or when they were undercover and using only last names would give them away. She blushed.
"I don't know if I can. You'll always be Jane to me, I'm afraid."
"And I don't know if I can stop calling you Teresa now."
"Now that's not very professional," she chided in amusement. "What will people say?"
"That I'm banging the Austin office's newest agent?"
He read the intent in her eyes, and stopped her hand before she could smack him. He laughed, a warm, gleeful sound, full of masculine satisfaction, and brought her hand to his lips, thoroughly enjoying the murderous look in her eye.
"I'm kidding," he said. "I'll endeavor to call you Lisbon at work, reserving Teresa for much more…personal moments."
"Thank you…Patrick." He had to admit he loved a sassy woman.
She could feel his renewed desire, and she arched an eyebrow wryly. "Don't tell me it excited you whenever I've threatened to hit you in the past."
He grinned, and rubbed against her, pleasantly surprised to discover he might not have been as old and out of practice as he'd thought.
"I guess that's something you'll never know, dear Lisbon."
Her snappy comeback was muffled by the passion of his kiss.
A/N: Sorry I didn't get more car conversation in this chapter, but as I've said, there will be more to come. Thanks for reading. I'd love for you to review.
PS: The conclusion of "The Psychic Next Door" will be up soon!