AN: Thought I would hurry and get this out before CM tonight... As for the story... these two pairs are starting to need a room! Hee hee!
Chapter 7
As JJ stood in line right behind Hotch at Chin's Mongolian, she pondered what she was going to eat—bamboo shoots or water chestnuts, chicken or beef, noodles or rice—and was coming up with a fast solution.
The other problem she was pondering didn't have such a quick resolution.
She wanted to do a massive facepalm. How could she have been so stupid, leaning into Hotch like he was her man? He was her boss and her friend; he most certainly was not her man. She winced at how possessive and kind of tacky those words seemed to be. They sounded archaic, like something Garcia had done with Morgan—her man and his woman—long before they ever started dating.
As JJ ogled Hotch's tight buttocks and long legs—oh, those gorgeous legs!—she started thinking she was being really desperate. True, it had been a very long time since she'd made love to a man, but—
"JJ?" Hotch asked, unexpectedly turning to face her...and giving her an eyeful of his crotch.
With flaming cheeks, she shot her gaze back up to his, but not before she'd noticed how sizable he was. Good Lord...
"Yes?!" she practically shouted, trying to appear nonchalant and failing miserably.
Oh, God...
The corner of Aaron's mouth quirked slightly. "I was wondering if you had a suggestion on sauces?"
"Um..."
Sauces. Hotch, her wicked mind teased her, conjugating things in rapid fashion. Hotch's "sauce"...
She blanched internally, turning on her propriety filter that usually never failed her. Garcie's failed her on a regular basis—so much so, it was expected—but not her.
Never her.
She clenched her eyes shut for a moment. No, JJ...don't go there...
When she opened her eyes, she noticed that one of his dark brows was raised in concern. "JJ...are you okay?"
"I'm fine! Great!" she answered, wanting to crawl under a rock. Lord, the clawing, indecent, downright sweaty things she was thinking!
He was smiling at her. "You look a little flushed."
Feeling her cheeks heat even more, she clutched her stomach. "Maybe it's low blood sugar?" she offered helpfully. It wasn't a fib. Not exactly...
"Ah, I see." As she watched him like a hawk, he reached into his pocket, causing his pants to form around his...
JJ closed her eyes again. What was happening to her? She hadn't had sex in months before Will left, but Hotch was not the person to be thinking about ending that abstinence streak with. He had someone he was interested in, someone he seemed to really like. She wouldn't throw herself at him; she had some pride. She was not pathetic or desperate!
She opened her eyes to see him holding a peppermint lifesaver. "Here," he said softly. "This might help while you're waiting."
She winced again. Was her breath terrible? Oh, man, add insult to injury. "Help?"
He smiled again. "Your blood sugar, JJ."
Her mouth fell open, but she quickly shut it. "Oh." She'd forgotten her excuse completely. With a smile of self-derision, she reached for the lifesaver in his palm. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
He turned back as the lunchtime crowd started to move forward in line, and JJ let her shoulders sag helplessly. She needed to get herself together. She'd spent time with Hotch many times before, talking, sharing parenting skills, laughing, and relaxing. He was a wonderful person; she adored him...as a friend. It needed to stay that way. Just because she was suddenly free didn't mean things had changed to something sexual—and it didn't mean that he was free, either.
Now if she could just convince her libido and her attraction to this delicious man of their platonic status before she threw herself panting at him, she'd be peachy keen.
Slowly, Dave placed a gentling hand on Erin's back, much as he would a skittish colt, and led her into the lingerie store.
"Is everything okay?" the young sales girl asked, concern in her heavily made up features. This girl was less than half of Erin's age, yet she was wearing three times the makeup of the woman by his side. There was no doubt who was more naturally beautiful; Erin won that race hands down. He realized he wasn't at all attracted to the salesgirl, who had given him an interested look. She was young enough to be his...best friend's daughter. Maybe he was growing up?
"We're fine...Brekka," he said, squinting to read the girl's nametag. He needed bifocals for reading, another surefire sign of his maturity. "We're just going to search around for a spell."
Brekka beamed. "Okay. If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask me."
As he stepped farther into the store, the ultra feminine scents of powders, florals, and fruits rose around him. The scents were meant to be intoxicating and arousing, like the scantily clad mannequins and photos of supermodels in their skivvies.
Almost immediately, Dave began to smirk to himself. Young, anorexic tarts, Erin had called them. He'd never looked at them that way before—he was an average guy with average guy lusts—and now he highly doubted he'd ever be able to look at them again without thinking about those words. They looked decidedly young, with ridiculously pumped up lips in a perpetual pout, trying too hard to look sexy.
Sexiness was an acquired attribute in his opinion.
Again, Erin flashed in his mind, arching and flexing beneath him as he drove home into the hot, tight heaven between her legs, her blue eyes darkened to sapphire, glittering with fire as she approached an orgasm—
"I'm sorry, David, but I cannot be in here," she said stiffly, interrupting his thoughts.
"Shh, cara," he whispered, putting his fingertip against her lips. He reached for a pair of panties on the nearest table. "These are silk—"
"I know what fabric it is," she interrupted icily.
Ignoring her, he continued, "The finest Italian silk, meant to caress the body they're put on. They're soft, delicate, tender...meant to ride against your skin in equally tender areas." He brushed the fabric against the inside of her wrist, murmuring low, "I know areas on your body that are softer, smoother, silkier than this..."
He watched as the fine hairs on her arms rose, goose bumps of pleasure erecting themselves on her limbs.
"It's a pity to abrade those sweet, sweet areas with harsh cotton," he said, drawing the panties back and putting them on the table. "Isn't it?"
He realized then that was what was driving him so much to get her in this store. He wanted her to be draped in silks and satins. She'd earned the best, put in her time. Life was too short to wear substandard things. She was worthy of the very best... A worthy opponent, and a worthy lover.
When he met her eyes again, she was staring at him blankly. "So you are saying that my underwear should do homage to my tender areas?"
"More than that," he said, taking her hand and dragging her to the next table. "I think it should be a highlight to your beauty. Case in point." Dave reached for a pair of lacy bikini panties, with the front panel nearly completely lace.
Erin pulled a face. "Scratchy, miserable fabric."
"Soft, high-quality fabric," he said, holding her wrist and running the fabric on the inside again. "Sweetheart, this is delicately knit...so soft...and the color..."
Dave's voice had grown husky, and he closed his eyes, picturing in his mind what he would see. The peach fabric would contrast perfectly with the warm, golden brown curls between Erin's legs. The peeks he'd catch of the curls through the lace...
"I understand."
Dave's eyes shot open at her words. Erin was staring at him, the cool blue of her eyes lit with amusement, emphasized by the slight smile curving her lips.
"You do?" he croaked and then cleared his throat. Christ, he sounded like a pubescent boy!
"Yes," she drawled, fingering the lace like he wanted to finger her, wickedly...teasingly. "I think I may have been too rash when I judged this store in the past."
A faint warning bell sounded in Dave's head. Erin never changed her judgment that quickly on anything, much less something he'd suggest. No, she definitely had something in mind.
"I don't follow, Erin..."
"In fact," she announced, turning to the saleswoman. "Excuse me...Brekka?"
The perky, helpful girl came bouncing over. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I would like to try on that outfit, please," she said, pointing to a mannequin wearing a low-cut satin camisole top and matching tap pants.
The flash of Erin's eyes bespoke of triumph when she turned back to him, and at that moment, David Rossi knew he was in trouble...
