Fiery Distractions
He had his lips pressed against her neck, in the hollow at her collar bone, and was flicking his tongue in the way he had learned made her shiver, when the phone rang. He disengaged sadly removed his lips from her shoulder to her great disappointment. "Not again," Catherine groaned and she hurried across the living room to the table where the phone cried, leaving Nick empty-armed and waiting on the couch. There was something distinctly odd, she decided, about answering a phone call from your colleague with flushed cheeks and a heat pooling in your belly. At least she was still dressed this time.
She rolled her eyes at Nick. He was bouncing up and down, slightly, on one of the couch cushions— brimming with bottled energy and looking a little pained. Thank God they'd managed to get her mother out of the house. Otherwise, Nick'd be looking like a lovesick and hungry puppy the rest of the night. "Catherine? Catherine? Hello?" Oh. Gil. Right.
"Sorry, I got distracted." She could almost hear the man blush. "No! Not like that!" Nick guffawed. On the other end, she heard a giggle. Woa, woa, woa, a giggle? "Gil, is there a woman there? Who is it? Sara?" Nick was wiping away tears of laughter at her expression that was something between exasperation and acceptance.
After a pause, in which she faintly overheard Grissom telling someone playfully to be quiet," the man answered, "I don't ask questions, neither will you. I called because we found some more evidence at the crime sc—I mean, at Nick's house. A Styrofoam cup. Guess whose DNA we found in it?"
She took a deep breath of air but was not calmed. All she could smell was Nick. Nick, Nick, Nick. His sweat, his shampoo, all of him in her house. And he was in danger. Again. Before she could say anything, Grissom spoke again.
"I want you guys to come in and see the other thing we found."
"Now?" Please not now, she thought, we're busy. There was also the problem of that nagging warmth in the pit of her stomach as Nick watched her with smoldering eyes.
"Yes, now."
"We…I had some, er, plans."
"Tell Nick he's going to have to hold it in for a few more hours. Meet me at CSI." And he hung up. Damn him. Slowly, Catherine set the phone back in its cradle and nodded her head in the direction of the driveway.
"Let's get this over with," he said on a sigh.
---
Of course, both Sara and Grissom were late meeting them. The lab was almost entirely empty save a few lab techs watching centrifuges hum with drooping eyelids. This left time for Catherine and Nick to talk alone in the break room but not much else. When the other two finally showed, both of them were flushed and smiling. Catherine gasped in envy and disbelief. Nick, rocking back in one of the plastic chairs, made a disapproving noise of agreement.
"Time management," the brunette said and shrugged. Nick and Catherine both groaned.
"Can we just do this please?"
Gil gave a smug half smile. Still fuming and aching for Nick, Catherine didn't miss the hot exchange of furtive glances between the other couple. Of course. Everyone had already guessed anyway. Sara smirked and set the box she was holding on the table. "So," Gil began, choosing his words carefully this time. No one ever said the man didn't learn fast. "I already told Catherine about the Styrofoam cup we recovered in the backyard. DNA results just came back."
"That fast?" Catherine crinkled her forehead in puzzlement.
"We got Greg to agree to come in for a rush, just for Nick," Sara explained and patted Nick's shoulder.
"And?" A pair of brown eyes looked up at her questioningly. Catherine hadn't told him, she couldn't bear to put more hurt in those soulful eyes, not yet. Grissom quirked an eyebrow but didn't call Catherine on her judgment.
"The epithelial sample matched Kelly Gordon's." The gasp from Nick was audible.
"Damn," he whispered, trying to hide the slight quickening of his heart. Catherine felt it too and wanted desperately to hold him and let him know he'd be okay. The florescent light overhead flickered on and off weakly, casting an eerie glow over all of them.
"We're probably going to be able to find her prints somewhere, too. I'm so sorry Nick."
It was hard for him to hear. Nick had hoped-- hell, believed, that Kelly would move on after prison. Move to something better and start anew. Maybe she was holding a grudge after all.
Sara's voice brought him back. "We have one last thing for you then you guys can…go." A pointed look was shared between Grissom and Sara. Then, with her back away from the other couple, Sara rustled through the box she had been holding and pulled out a square of paper in an evidence bag. "I should warn you," she said, pulling the bag out of Nick's reach, "this might make you cry." And she held out the bag once again. It contained a slightly singed photograph.
Catherine peered over his shoulder. Her hair, smelling of strawberries, tickled Nick's cheek, but he hardly noticed. In the picture, she could recognize his parents even without the wrinkles and creases for they radiated the same gentle love as always. Between them, they supported a laughing toddler with a shock of dark brown hair and wearing blue footie pajamas covered in spotted horses.
Nick felt his breath catch in his throat. Okay, he was not going to cry. He refused to cry. That would definitely not be manly. "And where are the rest? This was in an album."
A look that could definitely be called reluctant crossed Grissom's face. Hadn't Nick had enough?
Maybe not quite enough.
"Come on Grissom, I gotta know."
"We can't show you the other pictures because someone drew red x's through all the pictures of you."
---
As he pushed her to the bed, he tried desperately to forget everything. To let his mind go blank. Roughly, he tore away her lacy panties. They were both panting His mouth assailed hers in violent kisses that were almost bruising. He knew he was being rough, should treat her carefully, but she didn't stop him. Light, hot fingers played with his shirt buttons, teasing him and making him gasp.
His jeans were painfully tight. Catherine bucked her hips up and her pelvis jarred electrifyingly against his. His thumbs brushed her nipples gently through her bra.
"Come on," Cath urged, voice husky.
He didn't protest.