Thank you all guys for reading, kudos and your kind comments! It always make me so happy!This chapter is shorter than usual and has not been reviewed by my lovely beta misswinterseat (for a very good reason ;-) ) then all errors and attacks against english grammar are entirely my fault.

As always, your comments, thoughts and kudos will be very appreciated!

#

Clara gave a quick glance at her watch and turned her attention back to her computer screen, typing fast and furiously. Things had gone crazy in the morning. With Dave out of the city due to a family emergency, Skinner's speech for the next day's conference had fallen onto her lap. Not to mention that she had been called to replace Dave and accompany the minister to Brussels for the conference, meaning that, as soon as she'd finished the speech, she would have to run back to her place to pack a bag for the next two days and meet the minister at the airport later for a night flight.

It would be just another day in the office if not by Malcolm. It was true he had looked better in the morning, but yet, it had cost her a lot to leave him by himself after he had been so miserable the night before. She had called him earlier, close to noon and when he hadn't answered the phone, she had texted him. His answer had come after some time, telling her that he was feeling better and thanking her again for last night.

Clara knew she shouldn't be so worried. He was a fully-grown man, completely capable of taking care of himself and everything would be just fine if he could force himself to rest, eat and drink properly. And that had been exactly the problem, she sighed. Clara was pretty sure that had been just the lack of all that that had caused his misfortune the day before.

But a familiar voice coming from the end of the corridor interrupted her train of thoughts and made her practically freeze in her place. It couldn't be, could it?

She couldn't avoid glaring at him while Malcolm crossed the room straight to Skinner's office, phone pressed to one ear, a pile of files under his other arm, so concentrated in avoiding eye contact with her that she would've laughed if it were any other situation.

Of course Malcolm couldn't stay at home and rest for one day, the freaking workaholic he was. Even if he was evidently looking better, he still didn't look like himself either, the dark circles around his eyes and his pale skin still worrying her.

He stopped at Skinner's office's door glancing at her, his eyebrows moving up just a little bit as if he didn't have the faintest idea why she was still staring at him like that. Clara couldn't decide if she wanted to smack him on the head or take him to her place, tuck him in her bed and cuddle him until he became to look like a decent human being again, the idiot.

She moved her eyes back to her computer screen, her cheeks flushed, feeling something between annoyed and concerned. But then, unable to contain herself anymore, she grabbed her phone and texted him, consequences to be damned. Besides, it wasn't like Malcolm's phone buzzing in the

middle of a meeting would surprise anyone anyway.

"What are you doing here?"

Through the glass wall, she saw when Malcolm pulled his phone from his trouser pocket to peek at it and excused himself to walk out of the room. For a moment she froze, thinking that he was coming to talk with her, but then he turned to the left and got into the empty office next to Skinner's, closing the door at his back.

Her phone buzzed in her hand making her almost jump out of her chair and she answered it quickly before someone could see Malcolm's name blinking on the screen. Maybe it was time to choose him another identification in her phone contacts. From the corner of her eye, she saw his lean figure at the farthest corner of the office, back turned to her, head slightly bowed.

"Bitching around," he said as soon as she answered the phone, voice low and full of humor. She blinked. He really could be quite infuriating sometimes.

"You should be at home. Resting," she kept her voice low and her eyes fixed on her computer screen, pretending that she was still typing.

"I'm fucking fine. Don't need to worry."

She let out a defeated sigh, knowing that there was nothing she could do now he was already there. He wouldn't come back home unless he was dying. Probably not even then.

"Have you eaten?"

"Yes boss," the smile in his voice made her more at ease, even if she was still concerned. There was a moment of silence before he continued, in a gentle tone.

"Gotta go now. Talk to you later, yeah?"

"'Kay," she said knowing that it was a lost battle.

He came back to Skinner's office in three long strides without looking at her, though she had seen the small smile on his lips that made her hide one of her own. Looking back at the computer screen, she tried to focus on the task ahead of her. There was still a lot of work to be done until she could consider that speech finished. And now, that at any moment she could be called inside Skinner's office to discuss it with the PM Director of Communications himself, she needed to be prepared. For more reasons than she would like to admit.

#

The taxi was on its way to the airport when she finally found time to call him after her not so well succeeded hectic day, not unsurprisingly the only moment she hadn't been running like a mad person.

"I was almost losing hope," he said, his voice sounding tired and sleepy and she felt that urge to pull him into her arms and stroke his hair like she had done the night before.

"You push yourself too hard," she leaned back against the seat, watching the night-lights out of focus through the window. "They don't deserve your sacrifice."

"It's my fucking job," he grumbled, too quick making it sound more like that kind of thing people tell to themselves to make things easier; a too well-practiced answer for all his troubles and sorrows. And it stung her.

"The country will not stop if you take one day off, you know."

"Not sure about that," his tone was lighter, almost teasing, a smile sounding among his words. "Besides, it was a fucking good excuse to see you again."

"As if you need an excuse," Clara smiled despite herself.

"Don't I?"

She could almost see that cheeky smirk on his lips. "You're truly impossible, do you know?"

His low chuckle on the other side warmed her a bit, making her feel less guilty for having scolded him.

"I was thinking more like fucking irresistible, but I can do with that too."

Clara closed her eyes thinking about him, in the blues and greens of his eyes, in how they twinkle when looking at her, his fierce eyebrows and soft curls, and in his smiles, the true ones, the ones that reached his eyes and always seemed to make her melt from inside. She smiled. Irresistible. Surely. Too much for her sake.

Her voice was soft when she finally asked him. "How are you feeling? Honestly."

"Tired, but better," he sighed. "How long would you stay away?"

"Two days," and for a moment it sounded like a too long time for her. "Can I call you?" "I will if you won't."

That definitely put a smile on her face. "Deal. Please, take care, Malc."

"You too, love."

Clara stood there pathetically staring at her phone screen for a long moment after they had hung up. It had been the first time he had called her like that and she knew that she shouldn't be giving so much importance to it because it was just a way of speaking, with no particularly meaning intended. Yet, her foolish heart just skipped a bit.

#

He kept his promise and phoned her while she had been away and a couple of other times more in the days following her coming back when he had been practically locked in his office under piles of work, unable to meet her. Until, he unexpectedly showed up at her door one Thursday evening when she was already in her pajamas, preparing herself for another lonely night curled up on her couch in front of the telly wondering when they would be able to see each other again.

He stood at her door inside a gray fleece jumper, his curls darker and slightly damp from a probably recent shower. A boyish grin curled his lips up, dazzling as ever even when he didn't want it to be, and Clara felt her heart fluttering.

"Thought you had some arses to save," she stepped away to allow him to get in and smiled against his lips when he pulled her into a kiss. He smelled like soap and aftershave and fresh laundry and

something else that could only be him. And it was just like heaven.

"Yeah," his lips twitched in a smug smirk and his hands slid down her arms until he took her hands in his after she had closed the door. "It happens that I'm just too fucking clever for my sake."

"So you're telling me that you are unexpectedly free for tonight?" He slowly pulled her into him, his hands came to rest on her waist.

"I'm telling you that I'm yours for tonight," he leaned into her to kiss her lips tenderly before he whispered in her ear making a shiver run down her body. "All yours."

"Hmmm... I like the sound of that," there was a small grin on her lips while she placed one hand flat on his chest and pushed him backwards until his legs hit the backrest of her couch, making him lean against it.

"I thought you would," he smiled pulling her into another kiss, his tongue brushing her upper lip asking for passage. She stood in between his legs, arms around his neck, fingers playing gently with the hair that rested at his nape, lips parting to welcome him. Until her teeth came out to graze his lower lip gently, breaking the kiss to look at him.

"But first," she extended one of her hands, palm up, "your phones."

"Ah," a smirk crossed his face. After waiting for so long for some time together, after so many interruptions, none of them was willing to take any more risks. Tonight would be theirs, and only theirs.

Malcolm grabbed the two phones from inside his pockets and turned them off before he tossed them carelessly over his shoulder, without even look to see where they would land. He cocked up one thick eyebrow prompting her to let out a small laugh before she leaned into him to brush her lips on his.

"Coffee?" she asked him, turning around to head to her kitchen, but his hands on her waist prevented her from moving any further.

"You," he slowly turned her around, making her face him again. "I want you," he swallowed hard, his voice hoarse and low. Despite his clear intention, there was a certain hesitation in his eyes while he watched her as if waiting for any kind of sign that showed she was still on the same page than him. It had been too long since their almost first night, after all.

She gave one step closer to him and it was all the answer he needed because his mouth came down on hers and he kissed thoroughly. And it was different from all the other times they had kissed before, longing and restraint commanding their actions, his tongue eager and demanding, asking for passage, parting her lips. Her response was as hot and passionate, fingers grasping his jumper in search of support when she inclined her head to give him better access. His greedy lips explored the soft skin on her neck, his fingers fumbling with her clothes and buttons in search of any bit of bare skin he could graze.

Her top came out first, quick followed by her pajama bottoms, leaving her only in her pants in his arms, her skin on fire under his kisses and touches. His long fingers played with the hem of her pants, teasing her, stroking her over the soft fabric making her moan in his mouth. Slowly, he pulled it down to her knees and she let it slid down until she kicked it out of her feet. His hands hovered over her back, light feather touches leaving a trail of goose bumps on the outside of her breast and down to her stomach and she shivered in anticipation when his hand approached whereshe wanted him the most.

Then, without any warning, he pulled her away a little, leaving her dizzy and momentarily confused, her entire body tingling and missing him instantly.

"What?" she asked, breathless and just a little baffled by the way his eyes lingered over her body as if he wanted to commit to his memory every single detail of her.

"Just wanted to look at you," he whispered, long fingers gently running down her cheeks, tracing the curve of her bottom lip to the line of her jaw. "Do you realize how fucking beautiful you are? I could drown in you."

She opened her mouth to answer but no words came out. Instead, her body swayed towards to him and his arms enveloped her with strength when he kissed her deeper and rougher this time, like a thirsty man. Clara opened her mouth to welcome him, her tongue searching for his, tasting him, the feel of his wanting already hard and hot against her middle.

His lips traced a path of fire down from her lips to her collarbone, teeth nibbling at her exposed skin, soothing the spot with his tongue before his lips moved down.

"Clara..." He whispered against her skin, a hoarse pleading, his fingertips mapping her skin. "Clara..." he said once more at the shell of her ear and she found herself over wobbly knees.

Pulling him by the hand, she led him to her bedroom, taking off his jumper and t-shirt before she took him down on the bed on top of her, relishing in the feeling of his skin against her breasts.

"Come on," her hand slid in between them with a small smile in search of the button of his trousers. "Let's make this a more fair game."

Malcolm gave her a lopsided smile and helped her to undress him, his discarded clothes forming a pile on the floor next to the bed. He knelt on the bed, beside her, watching her for a moment before his body came to cover hers, his mouth claiming hers in a slow and sensual motion.

There was nothing in between them now, only the warmth of his skin against hers, the feeling of his clever tongue and fingers mapping the curves of her body, like fire, making her seethe underneath him. It didn't take him longer to bring her on the edge and, as much as her entire body claimed for release, she wanted him with her, she wanted to feel him inside her. A gentle pull on his hair, a touch on his chin and he was back to her, eyes locked on hers intently when he finally slid inside her, a low moan in the back of his throat.

And it was just as the world just stopped. There was nothing in the Universe, just the two of them and that moment and then Clara understood that there had never been something so right in her entire life as to be there, with him.

He kissed her long, pulling one of her hands to the top of her head, their fingers entwining before he started to move again and they easily found their rhythm together. Though they struggle to make it last longer, there was no way back from where they were, too high, too close.

She came first, hard, losing herself completely and falling apart and Malcolm followed her close behind, her name on his lips like an enchantment. They stood there, ragged breaths, a mess of limping limbs as the waves of pleasure crashed over them and slowly faded away. He rested his damp forehead on her shoulder, weight supported by one arm, breath hot against her chest. She slowly ran her fingers through his hair, eyes opening to see his face when he finally lifted his head.

#

Malcolm thought her even more beautiful now, flushed cheeks, messy hair, a hint of a languid smile on her swollen lips and the fire of the sun in her eyes. He placed a tender and slow kiss on her mouth and felt her lips curling into a smile against his. Moving away, he let himself fall on the bed next to her and pulled her closer, gently, relishing in the way her head came to rest on his shoulder, in how her leg covered one of his and her hand so easily found its place over his heart. As if it always belonged there.

"That was..." She trailed off as if she didn't know how to finish. And she really didn't because he knew exactly what she was trying to say. So he whipped his head just a little to look at her, a low chuckle shaking his chest before he enveloped her in his arms.

"Yeah," he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, still feeling his heart beating faster. "Couldn't have said it fucking better, love."