A Room with a View (a little bit of smut for you, your-my-best)
The hotel receptionist couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from Greg's face.
"I'm sorry, sir. Can you repeat that?" She gave a timid smile that looked off with the rest of her wide eyed expression. He gritted his teeth when he heard Morgan attempt to stifle a giggle as she stood next to him, watching the interaction. He shot her a glare before turning back to the receptionist, a petite older woman who was trying too hard to hide her horrified appearance.
"We have two rooms reserved under the name Sanders. We're here for the conference. It might also be under the Las Vegas Crime Lab," Greg sighed. He moved his hand through his hair and silently cursed when he noticed more people staring at him.
Damn it! He should have demanded they go with the best two out of three when Morgan suggested they play rock, paper, scissors for the window seat on the plane. Instead, being the gentleman he was, he purposely threw the game in order to gain more favor in the eyes of his beautiful coworker, opting for the middle seat. The seat right next to the bratty eight year old who, while he and Morgan both slept, thought it was be hilarious to draw a goatee, mustache, and devil horns on Greg's face in permanent purple ink.
Sure, the boy's chaperone had been extremely apologetic. And Greg had tried to be gracious, even as Morgan's uncontrollable laughter rang out in his ears, but now his patience and good natured attitude were wearing thin.
"Sanders…Sanders…" The receptionist stared at her computer screen, obviously avoiding eye contact. "Oh, here it is. Except, it says you only have one room reserved."
"That can't be right," Greg's voice was almost a bark. "Check again."
The woman behind the counter jumped slightly and then turned to Morgan. "I'm so sorry. This is what we have and we are completely booked because of the conference. However, I can give you each a complimentary massage from our fabulous five star spa." The woman's eyes pleaded with Morgan, too scared to venture a look at Greg whose angry expression was made even more menacing by the purple ink.
Feeling pity for the overwhelmed receptionist, she offered back a smile. "That's fine. We'll made it work. Thank you," Morgan said, taking the room keys and grabbing at Greg's arm to pull him away as he begin to protest.
The room was smaller than she had expected, the queen size bed encompassing almost all of it. They both stared at the bed, holding on to the handles of their suitcases, neither speaking, slight glances sent in either direction.
"So, who is going to sleep on the bed and who's going take the floor?"Greg asked. Morgan looked down at the dingy bare-thread carpet.
"You don't seriously expect me to sleep on the floor?" she remarked. Greg turned to her, vengeance in his eyes.
"Morgan, I have a purple beard and devil horns plastered on my face. Come on. You don't expect me to be a complete saint here. What other option do we have?"
She bit her lip, trying not to laugh, but the drawings and his serious look clashed in the most comical way.
"We can share the bed." He raised his eyebrows at her suggestion and she completely lost it, doubling over in laughter. "We…can…sleep…facing…opposite ends." She struggled to catch her breath, wiping tears from her eyes as Greg rolled his. "I'm sorry," she continued. "I couldn't help it. You just look so-"
"Ridiculous. I know." Greg groaned. "I hope this wears before tomorrow. I can only imagine what Nick will say."
The forensics conference this year was being held in San Diego. Greg put Morgan up to begging Ecklie for the opportunity to have some of them from the lab go. She did, in exchange for being one of the ones chosen to attend. Originally it was suppose to be him, Morgan, and Sara, all of them excited for the chance to visit Nick, but a bad case of the flu brought the number down to two.
Morgan's hand on his arm brought him back to the moment.
"Come on," she said, leading him to the bathroom. "I think I have something in my make-up bag that can take that off."
He sat uncomfortably on the covered toilet as Morgan fished in her bag. A flash blinded him momentarily. He looked up to see her smirking as she placed the phone on the bathroom counter.
"Sorry," she said, still smirking as she turned back to her make-up bag. "I had to capture the evidence for future blackmail purposes."
He narrowed his eyes staring at her smug smile and twinkling eyes. "Very funny. Can we get on with this please?"
He watched her dab a cotton ball with a something that smelled potently strong. She walked over to him. With one hand, she lifted his chin and, with the other, she applied on his forehead the astringent he now recognized .
"Do you always carry rubbing alcohol with you when you travel?" he asked, trying not to think about how soft her fingers felt brushing against his skin.
Another smile crept across her face, her eyes focused on the smearing ink transferring from his face to the now purple cotton ball. "My mom was a nurse and my dad, a CSI. It was kind of a requirement that I bring a first aid kit with me wherever I went. Guess the habit stuck."
The pad of her thumb rubbed across his bottom lip as she worked on removing the goatee. He closed his eyes at the touch, only to open them and find her face just inches from his, studying her work. If he had felt braver, he would have closed the gap, brought those luscious lips to his. But she had already moved to the sink before he could react; not that he would have, would he?
"Is it gone?" he asked, a small catch in his throat.
"Come see for yourself," she said, drying her hands with the towel on the counter. He walked to the mirror, standing next to her as he examined her handiwork. Only a few faint purple streaks near his hairline remained.
"Not bad, Brody." His gaze moved to her. "Well now that I can go out in public again, how about we grab some dinner?"
"Sounds like a plan," she smiled, walking past him back into the bedroom. His eyes lingered on her backside as she left. He drew in a deep breath. He might be in trouble.
Morgan stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Originally, she had planned on sharing a room with Sara and, then as she packed, having one to herself. Never did she think Greg would see her like this, in the worn white t-shirt that was almost completely see-through and tight yoga pants she had thrown in as pajamas. As she ran her fingers through her still damp hair, another thought occurred to her. What did he sleep in?
The room was dark, the only light being the glow from the television. Maybe he was already asleep. Maybe she was just worrying for nothing. Maybe-
"What? No lacy nightgown?" He was sitting up in the bed, the top half of him bare, the rest of him covered by the sheets and hopefully some shorts. She blushed as she crawled in, her feet resting by his head.
"Only in your dreams, Sanders," she retorted.
"Nah, in my dreams, you're completely naked." She pulled up to stare at him from across the bed, the faint glow showcasing a mischievous grin on his face. She shook her head, smiling, and laid back down to sleep.
"Goodnight, Greg."
Something warm pressed against his thigh, riding his shorts up slightly on his left side. He woke up, adjusting to the light, about to move when the thing on his leg gripped him and what felt like fingernails scraped against his skin. God, that felt good. Then he remembered, jolting upright. Morgan. His quick movement sent the comforter slipping to the floor.
Morgan woke then, looking up at the foreign hairy body part leaning against her. Looking over the hill of Greg's leg, she met his eyes that went wide looking down at her. She followed his gaze as it make a fast shift to and from his cotton boxers. What was he looking at? Then she realized. "Oh!" she breathed, pulling away swiftly and falling clumsily onto the floor.
Scrambling to get up, she saw Greg was now standing, the comforter wrapped around his midsection, hiding his hard-on.
His gaze was on the ceiling as he spoke. "I'm just going to take a shower." Fumbling with the comforter, he made his way to the bathroom. He tried to shut the door, but it wouldn't close all the way. Damn comforter was stuck. He kicked it out of the way and then slammed the door. Leaning against it on the other side, his hands went through his hair as he exhaled a slow breath. Yeah, sharing the bed was a bad idea. And they still had two days left.
"Hey, how are my two favorite people?" Nick pulled Morgan into a hug, and then slapped Greg on the back. Morgan glanced at Greg. It had been an awkward morning to say the least. Neither had really spoken since the bed fiasco, both avoiding each other in one way or another, running to and from different seminars, but they knew they would have to face each other eventually. Especially since they had agreed to meet up with Nick for lunch.
"Great, except we miss you. How's it being the boss?" Morgan asked, her eyes shifting from Greg back to Nick.
"Well, I'm not one to lie. It busy, tiring, and worth every minute," he grinned. He looked at Greg, his eyebrow arching at the sight of his best friend. Greg's face was flushed and solemn, not his usual fun loving self, and his eyes were glued to Morgan. "What's wrong with him?" Nick asked her, jutting a thumb in Greg's direction.
Morgan laughed. "Have I got a story for you," she said, smiling as she watched Greg's whole body go tense. He froze, wondering what she was going to say next, but instead of talking she pulled out her phone, showing Nick the results of his disastrous plane ride.
"Not a bad look, G. Kind of suits you." Nick laughed, and Greg relaxed.
"Yeah, well I'll remember that when Halloween rolls around. Now what's good to eat around here? I'm starved."
They sat in a booth near the back of the Gardenwood Cafe, a quaint little lunch place Nick had suggested.
"That poor receptionist. Nick, you should have seen her face. Greg terrified her." Morgan laughed recounting the whole ordeal to Nick, conveniently leaving out the episode from earlier that morning.
"Sounds like y'all are having all kinds of fun." Nick smirked, glancing at Greg.
"You know it," Morgan smiled. A ringing came from her purse. She took out her phone, answering it. "Sorry," she said, holding her hand over the receiver. "It's my dad. I'll be right back." She stood and walked out of the cafe. Greg checked her out as she walked away.
Nick hit him on the arm. "So you two are sharing a room, huh? What's that like?" He wagged his eyebrows, laughing.
Greg face burned hot, a smirk creeping upon it. "Nah, it's not like that man. Besides, didn't you once tell me to not even think about it as far as Morgan is concerned?"
"Since when do you listen to me," Nick laughed. "If you're even halfway thinking about it- which let's face it, I know you are- you need to do something about it. Even if it's just telling her how you feel."
Greg let out shaky laugh as he sipped on his beer. "Yeah and when she rejects me that will make this whole sharing a room situation even better. Come on, man. Get real."
Nick turned serious. "This is as real as I get, man. You've been nothing but a lovesick puppy since you got here from what I've seen. You either need to snap out of it or do something about it." His voice dropped as Morgan approached the table. "You'll never know if you don't try."
"Hey guys, what did I miss?" Morgan slid back into the booth next to Greg.
"Nothing," he said, sending a knowing look Nick's way. "Ready to order?"
"Absolutely," she answered. "I know exactly what I want."
Nick stifled a chuckle when Greg answered back: "Me too."
The warm water cascaded over her, trailing down her slick skin in small waterfalls. After her massage, she needed this. Something to get her mind off the thought of Greg. The massage was supposed to do that, but instead it just fueled her desire for him, as she wondered what it would be like if he had been the one touching her, caressing her. Imagining what taste lingered on his lips. Great, now the shower seemed pointless too.
She turned off the water and wrapped a towel around her. She checked her phone. Greg went to some presentation about bugs in forensics that Nick was presenting. She had at least another hour before he was suppose to be back. That meant the bed to herself for a whole hour. She smiled and plugged her headphones in her ears and cranked up her music. Old school AC/DC. She danced and bobbed her head to the beat as she made her way into the hotel room and over to her suitcase. She found another pair of yoga pants and slipped them on, dropping her towel in the process. She searched for another t-shirt, tearing through her luggage, while she stood over it topless.
"Holy shit!" Greg's voice rang out above the music blaring in her ears, stopping her cold. She quickly grabbed the shirt she had worn the night before and threw it over her before turning around.
Greg's eyes were transfixed on her chest, and when she looked down, she realized why. She crossed her arms over her breasts, hoping to hide what the worn nearly sheer fabric hadn't.
"What are you doing here?" she hissed.
"Nick got a call from work and had to cut the presentation short. Sorry, I didn't expect…" His let his voice die off and his gaze fall to the floor. "I can go and come back later." He swallowed hard, hesitantly raising his eyes to meet hers.
"No," she smiled, "Don't do that. Let's just call it even from this morning. I'll just change in the bathroom and then maybe we can watch a movie or something."
Greg grabbed her by the waist as she moved past him to go to the bathroom. He pulled her against him making she gasp, startled. "I have a better idea," he rasped. And then, before he could think better of it, he brought his mouth down on top of hers. She moaned softly, her hands finding their way curling into his hair at the nape of his neck. "Morgan, I…" He inhaled her sweet perfume.
"I know. I remember from this morning." Her hand lowered to his pants, rubbing along the bulge in them. He groaned. That was more invitation than he needed. Suddenly he was on her, hands groping bare breasts, fingers sliding down pants, lips edging down her neck and along her collarbone.
She followed suit, hands unbuttoning his shirt, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of his pants and then boxers as both made their way to the floor, her lips brushing across his chiseled chest.
The bed creaked under the weight of them and continued to squeak as they made love up on it. The sound was drowned out soon by the couple themselves as they worked their way into a frenzy of ecstasy.
She laid her head against his chest as he continued to pant in the aftermath, trying to calm his breathing and heart. He shifted causing her to look up at him and smile. He brought her up to him, his lips meeting hers again.
"That was perfect. You're perfect." The words glided against her ear as his mouth moved back to her neck.
"So are you," she smiled, "devil horns and all."
"Haha…beautiful and funny." He stared into her eyes, returning the smile.
"Well I guess we don't have to fight over who gets the bed tonight." She snuggled against him, falling into the crook of his arm.
"True, but the window seat on the plane tomorrow is another story."
She laughed. "I love you, Greg."
He kissed her forehead, pulling her closer. "I love you too."