So now we get to the chapter I was really looking forward to writing. I think you all know which one. I could have veered seriously into smutland here, but I wanted to stay true to the voice rather than changing gears and getting descriptive about the action. Good call, or bad ….?
Thanks again for sticking with me, and all the usual disclaimers apply.
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"How it is I know not; but there is no place like a bed for confidential disclosures between friends. Man and wife, they say, there open the very bottom of their souls to each other; and some old couples often lie and chat over old times till nearly morning. Thus, then, in our hearts' honeymoon, lay I and Queequeg—a cosy, loving pair."
- Moby Dick, Herman Melville
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He thinks, not for the first time, that she is so much braver than he is.
She's standing there, literally in the lion's den, Jamie Brennan eyeing her in a vaguely predatory way from the next barstool over, and she's offering … what, exactly? To step right into the big cat's jaws, if it means that she and Sam can steal a couple of hours inside his alternate reality.
She looks small and uncertain in that big down parka, and yet she's standing her ground.
It's the first moment that he's really positive that she wants him as much as he wants her. And something huge and warm and tingling starts to spread through his veins like a virus.
But his brain is a traitor. Or too well-trained, or something. When he opens his mouth he knows he's going to pay one helluva price for protecting her. Sending her out of the cave alone might mean she'll live to fight another day … but he knows with absolute certainty that she will also never forgive him.
And that he will never get another shot.
He hopes she can read the depth of the regret in his eyes as he shuts her down. He does it as gently as he can, but with an undercurrent of warning that she is seriously underestimating the degree of danger she's in.
He thinks maybe she knows, though, and doesn't care.
She doesn't let the devastation in her eyes reach the rest of her face, but he can tell he's just stuck a knife in her ribs by the clipped way she says, "Then I'm gone," and disappears back into the thinning crowd.
Just about then all he wants to do is curl up in the fetal position under the bar and let it sink in that he has finally lost her forever.
He takes a deep, shuddering breath that he hopes Brennan can't see, but his 'boss' isn't missing a thing. He's studying Sam – well, JD – like an entomologist examining a bug, but with magnanimous amusement.
"We have business, you and me," Brennan says with a wry smile, and Sam rallies enough to put his brain back in the game. "Yes, we do," he agrees, a little too emphatically, as if that's justification for having just shattered her mighty heart.
What Brennan says next is … unexpected. "We can catch up on that business tomorrow, or the next day. Or the day after that.
"A woman like that doesn't knock on your door every day."
If Sam hadn't read the case file, didn't know exactly what the bastard was capable of, he might have actually liked Brennan. In that moment, anyway.
He gets off the barstool so fast he knocks it over, and the sound of Brennan's laughter follows him as he bolts for the door.
He has probably missed her. She's probably long gone. He searches the alley with wild eyes, and then his heart stops for a second when he sees her standing stock-still, hunched a little against the cold, or maybe because she's choking back tears.
As he puts a hand on her shoulder, all he can think is, damn the torpedoes, I want this. She wants this. We want this.
And her face ripples from defeat and humiliation and produces a still uncertain, bashful smile, as if she knew on some level that he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked. Which he's pretty sure he will.
It's a bone-chilling four-block walk to his cover apartment, and she doesn't say much, afraid that security cameras might be catching them on the way or that Boyd will be cruising by in a black sedan. Which is ridiculous, but still, she's not really sure how these deep cover assignments work. She's being careful, trying not to blow it.
He doesn't say a lot either, apart from basic directions. Doesn't trust himself to. "It's just down that way. The red brick. Hang on, lemme get my keys." His voice comes out deep and sandpapery. It's bitterly cold, but he's just about breaking a sweat, his fingers tingling and warm just from guiding her home by the elbow.
She's so close to him in the doorway, her eyes searching his face for tells, but they don't touch. Everything feels like it's on hold for another few seconds. He ushers her up the stairs ahead of him. She's still swamped by that damn parka and he can't see much of anything of her except her hair trailing down to her shoulder-blades … and it doesn't matter, it's just like the navy blues and the vest, because his mind fills in all the blanks and she's the sexiest thing he's seen in forever. His mouth is dry, and all he can think about is quenching his thirst. She will quench his thirst.
Inside, the first thing he does is unplug the cameras and the mics. Sorry, Boyd, strictly need to know.
And as he's clutching her coat, his brain makes one last, hopeless bid for rationality. "I'm going to call you a cab. It's going to take you back to the station and you're going to get into your uniform," he tells her, like that's not the absolute last thing in the world he wants or needs.
He's not very convincing, and she knows it. And lord knows he doesn't have much chance of shaking McNally when her mind is made up.
She has enough courage for both of them.
And so, he surrenders. No going back.
Maybe he's still having trouble processing that she's right here, in front of him, and that she is finally his. His. Because it takes him a few seconds to will his hand to touch her face. There's this hesitation, too, before their lips and tongues connect … because it's really going to be real when he does it.
He's expecting sparks, but the reality exceeds all expectation. Tidal wave is more like it. The scent and the feel of her, the way her breathing catches and her eyes get heavy-lidded …. Ohhhh, he could lose himself in this. Jesus. Slow down, Swarek. He needs to take it slow. The build-up has been …. seriously, all these months, and if he's not careful he's gonna flame out and leave her wondering what all the fuss was about.
He needs more skin contact. Sam ditches his shirt and starts working on the buttons of hers, only to find she has beaten him to it. He needs to feel every inch of her, the contrast between the toned arms and legs and the insanely soft swell of her breasts making him absolutely crazy. So he sweeps her up in his arms and brings her to his bed, which at any other time would have felt like a stupid cliché, but tonight it doesn't.
He knows that by six a.m., she'll need to be back at the barn. But right now, it feels like they have hours and hours stretching before them. To do nothing but explore, and react, and pleasure, and get inside each others' skins. It's like some wide open vista, free of crackling radios and protocol and …. Luke Callaghan … and all the other baggage.
He wants to learn all the sounds she makes. What makes her tremble. What makes her scream.
He's not good at the words. Never has been, and even if he was, it's not the time. Last thing he wants to do is terrify her with lunatic declarations. So he just …. shows her. With every nanogram of honesty that he can muster. Which, as it turns out, is a surprising amount.
There are plenty of women he's had sex with, in his lifetime. There have been a couple with whom it was making love. But this is the first time he has worshiped someone.
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Afterwards, he realizes he had never thought about afterwards. That potentially awkward silence when both parties realize that the nature of their relationship has been altered and no-one knows where to go from there. He's been there, done that, with co-workers once or twice. Not pretty.
But this is Andy, and so it's just Andy, soft and naked in his arms as he traces lazy patterns up and down her back. He doesn't think he has ever felt relief quite as sweet in his life.
They banter, and laugh, and it's all so sleepy and easy and amazing that once again it crosses Sam's mind that he barely recognizes the guy he is with her.
In a good way.
The only downside being that the clock is ticking down, and she's going to get up soon and leave only a cold draft, in his bed and in his heart, when she walks out the door.
He's not ready to let that happen yet, and she feels so fucking good pressed up against him that it seems he's on record recovery time. The kiss builds from tender to passionate, and he's quickly finding out that she can give as good as she gets. This time, she climbs on top, and he gets to watch her face as she rides him until they both shatter.