Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.
AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, it really means the world to me! And a BIG special thank you goes to my amazing beta reader, the wonderful greeneyedconstellations!
.
XI
.
.
Two Steps From Hell
(The Color In Anything/Second Time)
.
.
He's on his way home late one night in the middle of November, when he finds her waiting next to his car in the FBI parking lot. He hasn't seen her in weeks, not since she told him to go home when he visited her at Yale.
She's leaning with her back against the driver's side of his car, wearing a tight black coat over a pair of fishnet stockings, and if he had to guess, little else beneath.
"How did you get in here?" he asks, only partly surprised by her sudden appearance. There probably wasn't anything she couldn't do.
"They got a serious security problem at the gate," Emily answers nonchalantly, a smile on her lips that makes it hard to concentrate. She's wearing lipstick today, a dark red that makes his imagination run wild whether he likes it or not.
"You should tell them," she adds, her teeth slightly grazing her lower lip as if she just read his mind. "This could get really dangerous."
I think it already has.
Clearing his throat and forcing himself to tear his gaze away from her, Aaron takes an involuntary step back. "What are you doing here, Emily?"
She was the one who told him to leave, after all.
"I missed you."
It's the seriousness in her voice that makes him turn his head again. There's a longing in her eyes Aaron wishes he didn't understand. A burning need he knows just how to satisfy. The thought alone is enough to make his pants grow tight.
He swallows, not sure what to tell her. Guilt already heavy on his shoulders.
"Emily-" he starts and stops. There's just nothing to say. Nothing that wouldn't be a lie.
"Tell me to leave," she says, her voice barely audible. "Tell me to go home and I will."
I can't.
I wish I could, but-
He closes the gap between them in two strides and with his hand on the back of her head he pulls her into a heavy kiss.
.
Hours later, his head resting on a pillow, Aaron watches Emily from his place on her bed.
She's sitting at the window of her dorm room, wearing nothing more than his white button-down, smoking a cigarette.
Freshly fucked, that's what she called her look mere moments ago when she slipped out from under the bed sheets, and Aaron couldn't have agreed more with that.
With her long, silk hair perfectly undone, her cheeks flushed and that unmistakable glow in her dark eyes she looked beautiful.
"What are you thinking?" she asks, her eyes curiously searching his from across the black painted room. An almost innocent smile playing on her lips.
You wouldn't believe me even if I told you.
He says nothing, keeps watching her instead. Wishing things would be different. Wishing the wedding band on his finger didn't mean anything to him.
But it did.
It always will.
By the time she makes her way back to bed, guilt has already taken a hold of him. But with her body so close and her bare skin against his, it's hard to remember what's right and what's wrong.
"Stop thinking," she whispers against his lips, before straddling him in one skillful move and making him forget all over again.
.
.
.
Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to its rightful owners.
