Author's Notes: I try to make my writing as much like the tv show as possible, so therefore, this chapter is a car commercial. (Because I find it funny)
As for any comments of any recent twitter posts or news... I'm still collecting my thoughts on that.
"We're home early. What are we going to tell Johnny?" Mike asks, glad that the fight seems to be over, though it's going to still take him a while to cool off. The adrenaline is still singing in his veins, but he can feel his blood pressure and temper slowly beginning to lower.
"What do you mean?" Paige asks.
"Well we're supposed to be out on our date night and we're home at eight o'clock. We can't tell him the real reason we called the night short and came home early, so what should our fight be about?" Mike asks.
"Who said we have to be fighting?" She asks.
"We left at seven, we were barely gone over an hour." Mike points out, "He's going to know something went wrong."
"I'm just saying there are other reasons…" Paige puts her hand purposefully on Mike's thigh and rubs it up and down so he gets her point, "... other reasons we might come home early."
Mike glances down at her hand on his thigh and considers her proposition for a moment. He knows what she's suggesting, and he knows she's serious. He runs it over possible outcomes and plans in his head. It was a dangerous game she was suggesting.
He thinks back to how empty their wedding night had left him feeling. How worked up he'd felt after their fake morning romp together. He knew this was a dangerous slope that could lead to nothing but him longing for what he couldn't have, but his blood is still thrumming from the fight, and he's feeling more bold than normal. A part of him, a dark part wants to punish her. To take her to the edge and then back off, leaving her wanting for once. To remind her of what it was she was trying to give away at the bar. The only problem is, if he takes her to that edge, there's no guarantee he won't fall over it himself.
He shouldn't do this. There are other excuses.
And yet...
"Ok." Mike says gruffly.
Before Paige even has a chance to process his words, he's out of the car and walked around to her side of the car. Paige gets out as well, but before she can say another word, Mike opens her car door and pushes her flush against the side of Mike's Toyota Camry.
The surprise more than the car knocks the air out of her. She expected him to hesitate. She didn't expect him to take control in this way, and for a moment she wonders if she made a mistake in this suggestion. Mike glances around the empty garage for his roommates, but seeing no one, turns his piercing gaze back to Paige.
"So if we're not fighting... what's our story?" Mike says, his voice husky as he leans in close, pinning her against the car.
"We were out to dinner and you kept saying how nice I looked..." She was at first taken off guard by his dominate move, but she quickly recovers from the shock. She can play this game...
"No, I didn't say nice. I said you looked fucking incredible." Mike corrects her and leans in close to whisper in her ear, "Which you do by the way."
"Mmm..." She moans softly, arching against his car behind her as she feels his breath in her ear, "When you pulled out my seat for me, you copped a feel when the waiter wasn't looking."
"At the restaurant, you couldn't stay on your side." Mike murmers, as the two of them rewrite the story of the evening, his fingertips trace lightly up and down her thigh, "You kept teasing me under the table. Your foot kept sliding up my leg."
"The waiter filled my glass of wine too full and I spilled a little on my fingers..." She says in a seductive voice, looking up at him from under long lashes.
"Mmmm... Yes, I remember. Here." Mike says, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss her palm and down her wrist, following the invisible trail of spilled wine. He can almost feel her pulse racing under his lips, and it spurs him on to add in a soft voice, "You spilled here too..."
With those words he leans down and gently brushes his lips across the top of her breast right above the collar of her low cut, button-down dress. She gasps, her finger coming to the back of his neck and gripping him in surprise. Mike grins against her skin at her reaction as he feels her nails digging into his neck, leaving small crescent moons indents on his skin.
"I could barely make it through dinner." Paige gasps as his lips teased her, nipping at her collar bone, "When the waiter asked if we wanted dessert, I said I had something better at home. You just left money on the table. You couldn't wait for the check."
"I rushed you out of there, and almost swerved off the road trying to get you home." Mike agrees, trailing his lips up her neck to her ear. "It's a good thing my Toyota has that pre-collision safety system..."
Advanced automobile safety features have never sounded so sexy.
"It's a miracle we got home alive." Paige agrees her voice breathless, her lips now a mere inch away from Mike's.
"And now here we are..." Mike stares down at her lips, his arms caging her in against his car, waiting for her to tell him how this story is going to end.
"Here we are..." Paige sounds just as lustful as Mike, her breath ghosting over his lips, knowing he expects her to make the next move. Instead of pressing her lips to his, she ups the ante even more, "You had my panties off before we even walked through the door."
She brings her fingers under her dress and slides the lacy material down her long legs, stepping out of them and holding them dangling from one finger, giving him a smug smile. Mike's looking down at her, gaping for air, like he may drown if he doesn't kiss her soon.
"And then we-" Paige begins to continue the narrative, seeing as Mike's lost his powers of speech, but then his lips are on hers before she can say another word.
He kisses her desperately pushing her up against the car door. His hands are roaming everywhere. She responds to his heat with her own fire, kissing him back just as passionately. It had been so long, too long, since they were like this. This was the beginning of the makeup sex of a thousand unresolved arguments. This was the beginning of the end, or maybe it was really the end of the beginning as their bodies pushed towards some new unknown future.
The sound of their lips against the others, the sounds of their involuntary moans, echo through the garage. Paige's hands come up to hold Mike's face even closer, and Mike grabs the lace in her hand and throws it somewhere behind him. The scrap of fabric lands obscenely on the windshield of Jake's car, but neither of the agents notice.
Mike begins to try to walk backwards, in the vague direction of the house, without letting go of her. She follows him, and the two bump against cars, and trip over steps as they work their way clumsily towards the entrance of the house. When they reach the door, Mike finally has to pull away for air and to enter the code.
Paige's lips nip at his neck right below his ear, making him punch in the wrong code and have to start over.
"Do you think you can sell this?" She taunts in his ear, her hand slipping into his back pocket and giving him a squeeze.
Mike finally gets the code on the third attempt and opens the door triumphantly. He then immediately reaches down and rips open her dress so the buttons fly and the fabric hangs loosely baring her bra and tan stomach, only the bottom of which is still in tact. He grabs her hips and pulls her back flush against him.
"Realistic enough for you?" He asks, but claims her mouth in a deep kiss before she can answer. The two stumble into the house, trying to kiss and grab each other as much as possible as they nearly fall in the fountain.
"Mike. Bedroom." She groans as his hands slip down below the skirt of her waist. She tries to guide him back towards the stairs.
"You said you wanted it in the kitchen." Mike growls against her lips.
Her eyes widen momentarily and Mike stares at her. His eyes glazed. His head fogged by lust. While normally Mike would be all for moving this to a more private location, he suspects the second they enter a bedroom the show will be over. If he can keep her in a public area, he can keep up the ruse. He can continue pretending the only reason he wants her lips on his is to keep his roommates from getting suspicious.
Anything he does now is part of the show. He can kiss her, hold her, tell her he loves her, and it's all done under the guise of deceit. It's like his fingers are crossed behind his back with every swipe of his tongue between her lips. He begins to wonder how far she'll let him push the line. If she'll let him do anything and everything he wants to her so long as she can justify it as part of the show. She allows him to walk her backwards towards the kitchen, but suddenly she grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks it to the side, steering their bodies to the right.
"This is closer." She says, detouring them to the side in the living room.
He assumes they're going for the couch, but she backs him up to the coffee table and when the back of his knees hit it, she keeps going. Pushing him back, magazines and coasters are shoved to the floor as Mike lies on the . She straddles his jean clad hips, yanking at his shirt which he quickly removes and throws across the room before pulling her lips back down to meet his. They kiss frantically, all the anger from earlier needing to be released as they both desperately claw at the other.
She's so close, but his jeans still separate them and in one quick move Mike pulls her close to his body and then flips her over so now she's on her back on the table. He comes back over her, caging her in against the table, devouring her as she writhes underneath him. He can feel her fingernails dig into his back, and he lets out an almost inhuman howl, biting down on her neck to give her the same pleasure/pain he's receiving. His hips buck against hers, her skirt inching up dangerously high on her hips as he rocks against her.
He needs more, and the angle of the coffee table lets him rock back onto his knees so he's kneeling on the floor between her legs. Her hands reach for his belt buckle, but his are even swifter as he loses his belt and quickly undoes his pants. In one fluid motion he brings himself back up over top of her, his lips connecting to hers, as he pushes his pants back to his ankles, positioning himself between her thighs which she readily wraps around him. He can feel her damp as his hardness rubs against her, searching for entry.
There's no turning back now, any thought of show is gone for him. All thoughts are gone for him. The only thought in Mike's mind is he needs her to take him inside her now. Mike doesn't care how much this will change things. He has no concept of past wrongs or future problems. There is only the now and in this moment Paige is his. He rocks his bare sex against hers, searching for entry, needing to feel her heat engulfing him. Her hands are on his back, pulling him closer. Her mouth meets his with a hunger she can't fake.
"Mike, please..." Paige moans softly against his lips.
"Almost there..." Mike assures her as he reaches between them to guide himself inside her.
"WARREN GET YOUR WHITE ASS OFF OF MY COFFEE TABLE!"
