Alex POV
"So is this what you had in mind?"
"This is…exactly…what I had in mind."
It was exactly what I'd had on my mind, too, when he'd mentioned that there was someplace else he'd rather be.
Of course, he'd elaborated.
Back at Steve-O's, he'd whispered into my ear things I would've never, in years past, imagined Bobby saying to anyone, let alone to me.
But I'd apparently gotten him worked up, although how specifically I'm not sure.
It didn't seem to take much, and I can't even begin to describe how that knowledge makes me feel.
And of course, it goes both ways.
I often find myself humming with want just from being in his vicinity.
And tonight…tonight he'd tormented me for most of the evening with his subtle and titillating touches, his whispering of suggestions into my ear, and his smoldering looks.
Suffice it to say, I'd reached my limit.
So as soon as we got into the apartment, I was all over him.
Which is how we ended up here, making love up against the front door.
We were both still half dressed, but the foyer looked like an explosion had occurred, with jackets and badges and shoes strewn about.
Our guns were on the table. Those were the only things we'd removed carefully.
But from there on out, it had been a battle of wills, each of us trying to get the other one undressed, each of us fighting for control.
I'd ditched the sling from the get-go, needing the use of both hands, and he hadn't argued, especially not when I wrapped my arms around his neck as he backed me into the door.
He'd immediately picked me up and, as he kissed me – everywhere – as though he couldn't get enough of me, he pushed into me.
Roughly…
Perfectly…
And then he'd paused with his forehead against mine.
And that's when I'd asked him the question.
His response had been shaky.
I thought that he'd stopped to savor the moment, because he liked to do that.
A lot.
But after hearing the tone of his voice, I realized that he'd stopped because he was that close and he was trying to buy himself a little more time.
"Don't hold back on my account," I encouraged.
"This isn't the Goren show," he argued lightly as he started up a slow, drawn-out rhythm that had me leaning my head back against the door and letting out a contented sigh.
"Sure it is," I replied, my voice sounding nearly as breathless as I felt. I was astounded by my ability to string words together at a time like this. "Are you forgetting that I'm a Goren, too?"
His movements faltered, and I opened my eyes to find him staring at me with such emotion.
"How in the world could I ever forget that?" he questioned in a deep, husky tone.
"Then let go."
Because for the past few weeks, he'd been holding back considerably. My shoulder injury always seemed to be somewhere in the back of his mind.
But it was mostly better now.
And as much as I love absolutely everything about Bobby, including his substantial repertoire of love-making techniques, I really love it when he loses control.
Knowing that I can do that to him, and that he trusts me enough to completely give in to his passion…well, that just does things to me.
And even though he worries about finishing ahead of me, that just doesn't happen.
Okay, so maybe it's happened a few times, but even then, he never leaves me hanging. In fact, usually in cases like that, he spends so much time focused on me afterwards, that he ends up being ready for round two before all is said and done.
"Alex…"
His voice was strained and he was still taking it slow, but every muscle was taut with the tension of holding back.
"I'm fine. My shoulder's fine. Do it."
So he did.
And things got kind of hazy for awhile.
And it wasn't over quickly, like he'd thought it might be.
In fact, we went at it up against the front door for quite some time before he grabbed onto me and turned us around, moving into the kitchen where he set me down on the counter.
He drove into me harder and harder as his lips moved feverishly over my skin.
He paused long enough to take my shirt off, and I love that he didn't hesitate before pulling it over my head.
He just did it.
His switch was definitely flipped, and it was all I could do to keep up as he continued to brand my skin with his teeth and whiskers while at the same time maintaining a frenzied rhythm that had already pushed me over the edge.
Twice.
And then the counter wasn't good enough anymore either because he suddenly grabbed onto me again and moved us down to the floor.
The tile felt cold on my back, but that was a good thing considering that my skin was on fire. It added to the nearly overwhelming sensations of the experience.
And then he practically growled my name in a tone I'm pretty sure I've never heard him use before, but one that I really, really like and he had me right there again only this time he was right there with me.
We laid together on the kitchen floor for awhile, with his body covering mine. I could feel his heart racing in his chest and his back was slick with sweat.
Of course, mine was, too.
And I had tears burning my eyes, which I've never understood why that happens sometimes, but it does.
Sometimes the intensity is just so much.
"Are you okay?" he asked at last.
"Am I okay?" I repeated incredulously. "Are you kidding me?"
He propped himself up on his forearms so that he could look at me, and I couldn't stop from smiling.
Did he really think that I wasn't okay after that?
If I was on death row, I'd request that as my last meal instead of any kind of food product.
"There's that smile again," he commented. "It makes me lose control."
"I'll have to do it more often."
"I think that's what it is," he said, gently running a hand along the side of my face. "The fact that you're so happy with me, it's just the best feeling in the world."
He brought his lips to mine, this time kissing me lightly, lingeringly and affectionately, conveying a much different emotion than our experience from minutes ago.
That had been about passion and desire and need.
This kiss was about love and adoration.
I had it all with him.
Was it any wonder why I smile all the time now?
"I'm kind of waiting for the phone to ring," I admitted when he slowly pulled away.
"It will," he agreed on a chuckle. "But at least it didn't ring earlier. I don't think I could've stopped."
"I would've had to hurt you if you tried."
He smiled broadly at me and got to his feet before holding out a hand to help me up.
"Your shoulder?" he questioned, as though he'd suddenly just remembered it.
"Is perfectly fine," I supplied. "I'm pretty sure I don't need that sling anymore."
"I might agree if you hadn't suggested to everyone that you've only been wearing it because I was providing you with sexual favors. If you show up without it now, they'll think I'm shirking my duties."
"I think the marks on my neck will provide adequate proof that I'm not hurting for attention," I teased.
He glanced quickly in the direction of my neck, and then looked sheepishly back at me.
"Sorry about that," he said without remorse.
"No, you're not," I replied, flashing him a smirk over my shoulder as I led the way into the living room.
It was late, but I wasn't ready to go to bed yet. So Bobby sat down in the recliner and then pulled me down onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around me and I relaxed against him.
We left the room in darkness. In fact, the entire apartment was still dim, with the only light being the one over the stove, which was one that we always kept burning.
It was the perfect end to a pretty decent day.
"You were awfully chatty with that bartender tonight."
"Who, Trevor?"
"That's his name?"
"He's in college. He wanted the scoop on the hottie who was with us the other night," I explained.
"Who was he talking about?"
"Lauren. I guess he noticed her the last time we were in there."
"So he wasn't about to give you his phone number."
"You thought I was serious? He's like…twenty-two."
"So?"
"So…I'm almost twice that."
"So?" he asked again. He had one hand trailing over my back and the other was tracing random patterns along my thigh. "You're a pilf, remember?"
I barked out a laugh and said, "Yeah, that's me. Every school boy's fantasy."
"Yes, you are," he agreed. "And every grown man's fantasy, too."
"Well then…lucky you."
"Exactly."
We were quiet for a few minutes as he continued his gentle stroking of my skin.
"What did you tell Trevor about Lauren?" he asked.
"I told him that she's in a serious relationship. And that she's too old for him."
"I hope you're right. About the relationship, I mean."
"I am. They like each other too much not to fix it."
He hummed his agreement and then moved his hand from my back to my hair, running his fingers through the strands in a manner that was bound to put me to sleep.
He has trouble staying still, but I love the way he channels that energy.
"Mike thinks his father had brown eyes," he remarked. His voice was now a low rumble, telling me that he was getting sleepy, too.
"He doesn't remember for sure?"
"No, which means they're probably not like his."
"That's true, but that doesn't necessarily mean the man wasn't his real father. I mean, my dad's eyes are blue and my mom's are brown, and mine are..."
"The most beautiful shade imaginable," he finished. "Like the color of really good Scotch. Or Brazilian Imperial topaz. Or…"
I laughed at his exuberant descriptiveness, but he tightened his hand in my hair, bringing his lips to mine for a scorching kiss.
I was breathless when he finally broke contact, and then even more so when he smiled at me and resumed stroking my hair.
"Sorry. I just…had to do that."
"Hey, any time the urge hits you…feel free."
"Good to know. So anyway, I think he's going to look into his paternity a little more. I mean, the nurse's recount did make mention that Shannon felt like she was looking at his father's eyes, but she never mentioned him by name. And that color…"
"Maybe she meant the shape instead of the color," I suggested.
"Could be," he agreed. "But it's still worth a look. And Mike said it would be nice to know that he has at least a little bit of decent blood in him."
"He doesn't need to pin down his paternity to know that. It doesn't matter where his blood came from."
"I told him something like that. And he's not upset. I think he's just curious."
We fell silent again, and I was almost asleep when the phone rang.
"Just one Friday night…" I commented as I reluctantly got up from Bobby's lap.
"It's okay," he said amenably as he followed me into the foyer. Our clothes were still strewn everywhere, and I did a visual search for my jacket that held my phone. "We had a nice night up until now."
It was hard to argue with that.
"And we're on the call-out list since we cleared our cases," he added. "Everyone else is still tied up with one thing or another."
I spotted my jacket under the kitchen table.
Nice distance, I thought as I retrieved it and pulled out my still-ringing phone.
"It's Ross," I confirmed as I glanced at the display. "What've you got for us, Chief?"
"I need a favor," he said. "And at the rate I'm going, I'm going to end up owing you guys a week in the Caribbean."
"A week? Try a month," I joked. "What do you need?"
"Can you two come to our house? Jeremy's not here, and he's supposedly out with a friend, but…Liz thinks something's wrong."
"Based on what?" I asked as I gathered my clothes so that I could get dressed.
"A text that he sent about two hours ago."
"And you waited two hours to call?"
"I'm trying to give him his space. And I thought she was overreacting," he admitted.
"And now?"
"Now it's after midnight and we still haven't heard from him, and I think I'd like to get your professional opinion."
TBC...
