Chapter 7

AN: Been thinking this early AM. Posting this now so I can "fix this" on Valentine's day. Might throw something really sweet out there, too. I love holidays!....

You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.- French Writer Jeanne Julie de Lepinasse

Penelope was scowling in the front seat of Derek's car. He had a stupid Prius in New York, so different than the SUV he drove back in Quantico. Everything about him was different. He was an asshole here, too. He wasn't in Quantico. Well, not always.

She took another sip of the bottle of water he got her. He insisted he drive her to the hotel. She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but she didn't have the energy, and she didn't know anyone else that would drive her back. She thought about asking that tramp Derek was dating; she seemed friendly enough.

She almost winced at what she just thought. She didn't want to be catty or have any feelings about him. She just needed to be civil. She was going to do this job if it killed her, and go home to lick her wounds. She was going to win, she had no doubt about it.

He didn't say a word. His jaw was flexing and his eyes were narrowed. She supposed it had to do with what she said before they left.

"No, really. I insist," he said. There was regret and worry on his face, but she didn't care.

She stayed quiet.

He shifted uncomfortably. "Please, Garcia. It's the least I can do."

That tripped her trigger wire again. Maybe because she had just lost her cookies or maybe because she was tired from the flight, but she decided she was done playing nice with him for the day. "No, Morgan. The least you can do is send someone more palatable to take me home."

He blinked at her for a second, then smiled a smile she didn't think he had in him. It wasn't handsome; she thought all of Derek's smiles were thousand watt charmers. "I'll get you a water, then we'll go."

As he walked away, she thought, Point Garcia. Funny. That didn't make her feel any better.

Now as they sat quietly, not able to form a sentence without the other going off, she felt miserable. She missed him. She glanced at him, staring out the window. He looked like she felt. What was wrong with them?

She rolled her eyes, there was a lot wrong with them, but they needed to be civil. Especially now, more than ever, they had to be able to interact peaceably. She placed her hands on her stomach, rubbing gently again.

"Nauseous again?" he asked. She was surprised he was watching her that closely. He never glanced her way. "I'll pull over if I have to."
　
"I'm fine. Just a little sore," she said, turning to face her passenger side window.

Thankfully, the drive to her hotel was short and sweet. He pulled up to the valet and grabbed her bags. She didn't want him getting out, she wanted him to go immediately. "You can go. I have it from here."

"We have your accommodations. I'm checking you in and seeing you to your room."

"That really isn't necessary-"

He glared at her. "I don't give a damn. I'm bringing you up, making sure everything is fine, and then I am going. I would do it for anybody; you're no exception."

The elevator ride up was hideous. She was pinch lipped; a muscle in his jaw was ticking. She felt sorry for the foreign man who walked in and rode up part way to the floor with them. He smiled at them, a friendly greeting, and immediately lost the smile.

She started to snicker. She couldn't help it, it must've been the stress of the day or something. The giggle started to come out, and it wouldn't stop. They hated each other so much, they frightened the tourist who had joined them! Soon, she was shaking from trying to hide the laugh.

Morgan glared down at her. "What the hell?"

That made her laugh harder. Soon, she had to hold onto the elevator rail to keep standing. Her eyes were watering; this was too much.

She glanced up at Derek. He was trying not to smile, but it wasn't working. He started to snicker too, before it burst into a full laugh. They laughed until they reached the thirty-eighth floor.

She took a deep breath, and smiled the first real smile she had for him since they arrived in NYC. "We scared that poor man."

"I know," he said, still grinning. He walked her down the hall. She opened the door and he brought her bag in.

Awkward silence filled the room, but they had gentle smiles. She didn't know how long they stood there in the silence, it could've been forever. She glanced at him. He had a wistful look on his face, and she knew she mirrored it. More than anything else, she missed laughter, and she missed him. She didn't laugh with anyone else like she laughed with him.

"Look, Penelope, we-"

Panic set in. She didn't want to discuss anything, not yet. She wasn't ready. "Derek, I'm really tired. You should go."

He frowned immediately. "We really need to talk, P."

The hurt from this afternoon came seeping back, cold and unwanted. "Go talk to your baby girl, not me."

His eyes snapped at her. "You've avoided me for months. I'm not leaving until I get some answers."

"You don't deserve answers. And I avoided you?" she said angrily. "You moved away."

"I called-"

"Yeah," she said, mocking his voice. "Central park is nice. Times Square is nice. Union depot is--."

The tension in the room was rising with each sentence they said. He grated out the next sentence,"I wanted you to know I was doing okay, so you wouldn't worry."

"Believe me," she said, glaring at him, a nasty little smile on her lips. "I didn't."

He glared at her. The room was deathly quiet, the anger so palpable, there was no need for words. Beyond that, there was something else she couldn't describe, something alive and intense.

He was thinking, staring at her with a predatory intensity. After a moment, he growled out, "Are you saying you don't feel a fucking thing for me?"

It wasn't a question, it was a dare. As much as she wanted to lie, she couldn't do it. "Just leave," she spat. "This time, don't leave a note."

He ignored her, just advanced on her until she was backed against the door. "Not before I get an answer."

The air was thick between them, sparks flying and ready to ignite. She couldn't draw a decent breath. She shook her head.

"Not good enough," he said, leaning against her body. "I need you to say the words, Penelope. Do you feel anything?"

She tried to move away, but she was no match for him. She was desperate; she forced the word out. "No," she lied with a whisper, and his eyes narrowed.

"Damn you, I want the truth," he said, looking down at her mouth. "And I'm going to take it."

With one hand he grasped the nape of her neck and pulled her against his chest, before his mouth crushed hers with feral intensity. It was hot, searing, demanding pressure against her lips, she had no choice but to comply. She gasped, and his tongue slid inside, sweeping and claiming her mouth.

It started nearly immediately, that dizzying, tingling feeling that came over her when he kissed her. She didn't know what he did that was so different from other men, he just had whatever it took to turn her on and give her pleasure. His kisses were better than everything other men had in their repertoire.

What was hard, bruising force turned into soft, persuasive skill. His became gentle, playing and soothing. His tongue caressed, his hands massaged. Her hands rested on his chest, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt.

Originally, she was stiff in his arms, but that changed. His hands roamed over her back, holding her gently, he nearly cradled her in his arms. All the while, his mouth consumed her with soft, sweet kisses.

His hands came up to cup her face, and he rested his forehead against hers. "God, baby girl, I-"

She stiffened in his arms immediately, like he slapped her. She pushed away until her back was against the door, as far away from him as she could go. She couldn't stop the tears that fell from her eyes. "I want you to go."

"Penelope-"

"Get out!" she cried. Her face crumpled, and she ran past him into the sanctuary of the bathroom. She cursed herself. How could she have let her guard down again around him? He was going to test her every day she was there. She wasn't going to lose again.

A moment later, she heard the room door close.