I debated writing something like this for the end of Way Out. Ultimately I decided it wasn't really necessary for the story. I debated whether or not to include it here, but figured I'd go for it. I originally had this rated M, but after thinking about it, I'm not sure that's really necessary.


(Final excerpt from Way Out.)

"I love you, too." She whispered. Even with his eyes closed, he could tell she was smiling. He could feel it, as though her smile were part of him. He smiled broadly in relief and surrender, pulling her closer and trailing his fingertips through the short hair behind her ear.

"It's getting late." She murmured.

"Stay." He said. "Stay with me tonight."

He kissed her again.


Spencer pulled away, breathing hard, his eyes closed as he rested his forehead against hers. He held her tightly to him, as though knowing what he wanted to do but unsure of continuing.

"Hey," Avery whispered. She ran her fingers through his hair, tracing her fingertips delicately along the back of his neck. "It's okay." She assured. "It's-"

She couldn't finish, as he once again kissed her passionately. Desperately. Months of hidden emotion, denied lust, poured into it as though somewhere inside him a dam had broken. The intensity of it took her off guard and stole her breath.

His hand wandered to her hip, slipping under the blouse she wore and trailing along the soft skin of her hip. She breathed a shallow sigh. Spencer thrilled at the sound and took it as encouragement. Her fingers moved to loosen his tie while his body pressed against hers, guiding her backward through the door and toward the bedroom as she tugged at his shirt and fumbled with the buttons.

Avery's fingers felt cold, her hands tingled, her core boiling frenetically. Whereas anticipation made her hands clumsy, it had the opposite effect on the lanky doctor. A low moan escaped her as his lips grazed along her neck, his fingers slipping the blouse from her shoulders before helping her remove his own shirt.

His hands, long and slender, were surprisingly strong, and even more surprisingly assertive as they moved along her body, keeping her close, seemingly guided by a plan months in the making.

"Spencer," she muttered breathlessly, pleadingly, warm against his neck.

Nobody had ever said his name in that way before. He liked it. His spine surged as though electrically charged as her fingers traced thin lines down it and along the line of his belt.

The back of her leg brushed against the edge of the bed.

"I love you." He repeated as she trailed fevered kisses across his collarbone.

"I love you, too." She assured him again, an excited frustration building in her as he slowed, his enthusiasm once again reined in by doubt. His fingertips trailed gently up her side, grazing over the thin lace of her bra and up to her shoulder. She closed her eyes, melting into the feeling of his hands touching her that way. Her skin, hypersensitive to his touch, prickled and chilled in excitement.

"Are you cold?" He asked in quiet concern, his fingers tracing along her neck. She smiled, shaking her head only slightly and pressing herself closer to him.

"No." She whispered, her eyes still closed, drinking in the feeling as she explained the goosebumps sweeping over her in waves."It's you."

Never in his life had Spencer Reid seen himself as the kind of man who could give a woman goosebumps.

"Is this okay?"

She opened her eyes to meet his, studying her with desire hampered by concern.

She reached up, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him to her, kissing him as though the world were ending.

He replied in kind, and together they tumbled back, losing themselves in each other; uncertainty and trepidation uncoiling and melting away, replaced by new, wholly consuming sensations.