Have Tomorrow
Still got no stake in psych other than my own enjoyment and that I provide to you lovely readers. TPTB got everything, nothing on my end, blah, blah, OMG we're almost at the end, because… yeah, these pesky characters. They want a proper epilogue after this.
Warning: we're going into unabashed M territory again.
Goddamn son of a bitch.
Carlton slammed his car door shut and jabbed at the remote lock with maybe a bit more force than strictly necessary. Screw that—it was necessary. Because it was nine-thirty. Nine-freakin'-thirty he was finally rolling his exhausted ass home when the woman he loved and hadn't been alone with for two months had been waiting for him since seven.
The Universe, Unknown, and Hope had some 'splainin' to do.
At least he'd been able to text and warn her that he'd be late. He couldn't deny the deep sense of satisfaction he'd received as he hit "Send" on the text, just from knowing he could. That he had the right to say "Hey, honey, I'm sorry, those douchecanoes who've been holding up the area jewelry stores hit again and I'm going to be late." Hell, he'd take O'Hara's astonishment and gentle ribbing over the fact that he'd actually allowed her to drive so he could send the text ten times over. If Spencer said another word about it again, ever, he'd lock his ass in the trunk for any and all future cases.
But now, he was finally home. And so was she. He turned the key in the lock, pushed open the door, and froze. The small lamp by the door had been left on, bathing the living room in just enough light to feel welcoming. Likewise, in the kitchen, the light over the range was on, revealing the Dutch oven on one of the burners, clearly the source of the oh, God, so good aromas that filled his condo. Carlton sniffed the air appreciatively as he closed the door behind himself and locked it. Short ribs, if he had to guess—French style, with a lot of wine. Looked like during their time apart she'd been developing patience with more recipes. Not to mention, menu planning, judging by the bottle of wine on the kitchen island, uncorked and coming to temperature along with a wedge of cheese, a loaf of bread resting alongside.
For the first time since she'd left two months earlier, Carlton felt like he was coming home instead of just returning somewhere he spent non-work hours. Except for the one thing he'd most looked forward to.
Where was she?
Instinct had him turning toward his bedroom, his breathing coming easier as he saw her, wrapped in familiar blue plaid flannel and curled up on the bed, a book lying facedown just beyond where one hand rested on the mattress. Jasmine and vanilla teased his nose and now... now, he was well and truly home. As quietly as possibly, he set the items he'd been carrying down on the bedside table and eased himself down to the mattress, careful not to wake her as he studied her relaxed, sleeping features. With the tip of one finger he brushed a damp lock of hair back from her face, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead.
"God, I love you."
Words that had never come all that easily to him—even with Victoria, he'd struggled until the point where he knew he'd lost her and what did that say about their relationship, really? With Karen, though, he'd known so quickly, and had felt the urge to say the words to her, long before he had any right to. And now he could.
Probably be more effective when she was awake, though. Although judging by the small smile that curled the corners of her mouth and the way she edged closer, she'd heard him on some level.
Damn, but it was tempting to wake her fully only to kiss her senseless, but the fresh clean scent of her made his sweaty, work-worn condition that much more obvious. Besides—best to let her get as much sleep as possible now, given there wouldn't be much in their immediate future if he had anything to say about it.
He allowed himself a small grin, thinking how far he'd come. One would've thought as impatient as he tended to be, not to mention, after two months of waiting, he'd be just this side of crazed and yeah, he was, but at the same time, there was something to be said for anticipation, allowing a pleasant burn to build low in his belly as the day's stresses washed away beneath the shower's spray. He walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist and every nerve-ending on alert, to find her still curled on her side, but facing him, her wide dark eyes following his path.
"I take it these are actually intended for me, this time and not just discards?" One finger trailed along a dark glossy leaf of the floral arrangement he'd left on the nightstand, the exotic tropical flowers vibrant even in the low light.
He cringed as he perched on the edge of the mattress beside her. "I was such an ass."
"Yes you were." Her hand dropped to his thigh, her thumb rubbing the sensitive skin just inside his knee. "But it was a different time." One shoulder lifted in a shrug. "We were different people."
"Thank God." He reflected on the desperation of those days—so certain that he and Victoria had finally turned the corner and yet when she'd finally presented him with the divorce papers, the utter inevitability he'd felt. The calm resignation as he'd scrawled his signature across the pages. "I wouldn't ever want to be that man again, Karen."
"You won't be." She gazed up at him, her quiet strength and certainty wrapping around him with the security of a blanket. Her hand continued caressing his thigh, equal parts soothing and arousing.
"So."
He followed the direction her stare was taking. "So."
"I take it that's intended for me, too."
"It is." His heart thundered so hard, his hand trembled as he reached for the small box sitting alongside the floral arrangement. "But only if you want it." His fingers clenched around the box. "Maybe it's too soon, but I'm absolutely certain, Karen and I wanted to…" He swallowed hard, searching for the words. "To do something. Because it's not so much about the ceremony or the piece of paper as it is about the promise." Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to unclench his fist.
"This is my promise." With his free hand, he slowly lifted the lid on the box revealing the ring he'd known was perfect for Karen the minute he'd seen it. "I'm yours. Always. If you'll have me."
With a trembling finger, she traced the antique imperial topaz solitaire, the unique reddish stone set in platinum and rimmed in tiny, perfect diamonds. "I never had an engagement ring," she said wonderingly. "We were too broke and I was still in uniform, so it seemed impractical."
"Different people," he reminded her. He reached out and cupped her face, making her look up at him. "So—?" His heart wasn't just thundering now, but going at a speed that he was fairly certain wasn't safe for extended periods of time. But that's what this woman did to him.
"So." Karen smiled in a way that made him feel as if the Universe, Unknown, and Hope had finally gotten their shit together enough for the heavens to part and angels to sing and every other smarmy uplifting cliché he could think of. She shifted, offering him her left hand and damn if his own hands weren't shaking so much he could barely wrestle the ring from its slot. Finally it came free and that was when everything changed, his breathing settling down to normal, his hand steady as he slowly slid it into place, looking as if it had always belonged.
"Carlton, you're not the only one making promises tonight." Her urgent gaze found his, the low light reflecting the multifaceted shades of amber and green and gold normally hidden in her eyes and making them sparkle like the stone he'd just put on her finger. "And I know you said all that about it not being about the ceremony or the piece of paper so as to not put what you think might be undue pressure on me, but that's not you—"
As he opened his mouth to protest, she put her fingers against his lips. "It's not me, either. I want that piece of paper, dammit. I'm just old-fashioned enough to want to be yours in all ways." Then she grinned. "And modern enough to want to make sure everyone knows you're mine—in all ways."
"So… you thinking maybe a brand, then?" he murmured against her fingers, the tip of his tongue coming out to tease her fingertips. "A tattoo or an embedded chip?"
"Shut up," Laughing in a way he couldn't have imagined two months earlier, she pulled his head down to hers, her tongue demanding immediate entry. And after two months without this—with nothing but the memory of her touch, with making do with late night phone calls that left the sound of her voice so indelibly imprinted on his brain he could recognize her from more than a room away and sometimes made it damned difficult to work—he was in no mood to go slow. Shifting a knee to the mattress, he moved over her, pressing her down into the bed as he kissed her like he had that afternoon in her office and beyond. Braced on his elbows, he twisted his hands in her hair, holding her steady as learned her all over again, the sweep of her lower lip, the fragrant hollow at the base of her throat, the sounds she made as he trailed his tongue along her neck and down the V of the robe, nudging fabric aside to reveal more skin. As his mouth explored the contours of her breasts, her hands moved to his waist, pulling the towel off with an impatient jerk and urging him to settle more completely over her.
"Need to feel all of you," she whispered, wiggling her way out of the robe and making him groan at all the different ways she was touching him—the glancing brushes of skin against skin, her smooth thigh sliding against his, her nails digging into his shoulders as she pulled him to lie flush against her, her breasts pressed against his chest, their heartbeats vibrating against each other.
For long moments they lay together, the anticipation building even as their breathing slowed.
Tracing her fingertips down the line of his nose until they caught on his lower lip, she asked, "When did you know?"
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he kissed her fingers. "When did the first of those jewelry heists happen?"
Her brows drew together at the seemingly random question. "Um… a few days before I came back to work, if I recall correctly."
Nodding, he said, "Thursday morning. I saw your ring at that first store. It was one of the pieces the thieves didn't take and I knew it was yours." He smiled at the memory–spotting the ring in one of the few cases that hadn't been destroyed and just knowing— "Told the owner to hold it for me and I'd be back as soon as the store was released as a crime scene."
Eyes narrowed, Karen stared up at him, long enough to make him feel uncomfortable in a whole different way.
"What?"
"Well, that would explain why he looked so nervous when he came in to the station for the follow up." One perfect eyebrow rose. "Please tell me you didn't threaten the poor man."
He couldn't answer—not that he needed to, because he could feel the telltale heat building at the base of his throat.
"Oh, Carlton."
"I didn't really," he protested. "I just stressed it would be in his best interests to make certain the ring remained available. No specific threats were ever uttered. Just… implied."
"I should be angry, you know."
Carlton grinned as she tried to frown but utterly failed, her features softening as she brought her left hand up again, turning it so the light could play off the dozens of brilliant facets.
"It is perfect." Her hand lowered to his head, her fingers playing through his hair and teasing the sensitive skin of his neck, making him shiver. "I'm really not a diamond girl."
"No, you're not," he agreed, his thumb playing along her lower lip, his groin tightening as she nipped at the pad. "The jeweler told me while it's not popular for engagement rings, topaz is actually incredibly appropriate." He lowered his head, putting his mouth right against her ear, whispering, "That the spouse of the wearer will be faithful and loyal forever."
Her breathy, soft "Oh," played across his skin and lifted her chest against his, making him groan as he attempted to gather his scrambled brain cells.
Forget it—he was dying here. "Karen, I need to—"
"God, yes."
All it took was a slight shift on her part, an adjustment on his, and then they were finally, completely, utterly together. Sweat beaded along his shoulders and pooled at the base of her throat as slow and deliberate grew into faster and harder with gasps of yes, please, as their bodies came together again and again, hers surrounding him in an almost unbearable heat, shuddering powerfully around him and drawing him even closer to the edge.
By some miracle, he was able to hold off just long enough to hold himself suspended above her.
"When did you know?" he demanded.
Taking a deep breath she steadily said, "When I had no choice but to leave you." She lay beneath him, flushed and wide-eyed and absolutely stunning and he knew this was it. There wasn't ever going to be anyone else for him. He drove into her one final time, gasping as she held him close, murmuring his name as he shuddered and lost himself in her.
Silence fell over the room as their breathing slowed. Rolling to his side, he gathered her close, brushing her hair back from her face. "I love you, Karen. I hope you enjoy hearing it, because otherwise, I'm liable to drive you nuts."
"You're liable to drive me nuts anyway," she murmured, the fingers of one hand walking along his chest, tugging lightly at the hair and making him entertain thoughts he had no business entertaining—at least for another fifteen minutes or so. "But not because of that."
She reached up and kissed him, slow and lingering and making him entertain thoughts he really had no business entertaining. For at least another ten minutes. "I love you, too, Carlton. It's crazy how it happened and maybe we're crazy, but I can't think of anyone else I'd rather go crazy with, so I hope you've got the next fifty, sixty years cleared on your calendar."
He grinned down at her, trying to count all the different colors living in her eyes. "You think it'll take us that long to go crazy?"
"Oh, hell no." She kissed him again—this one lighter, sweeter, and full of promise. "But it'll take me at least that long to show you all the different ways I love you. So long as you're game."
So it only took five minutes. He rolled to his back, pulling her over him and grinned.
"Game on."