"Sorry for being rude and interrupting your very interesting conversation," he said, looking at the young secretary, "but miss Lisbon is required to keep on impressing more rich people," he shot her a knowing smile and she melted.

Lisbon apologized to the young woman and walked with Jane to the other side of the room.

"Thanks," she leaned close to him as they got to a secluded spot close to the stage. The spot was clear and the lights barely reached that corner.

"Anything for you, Lisbon," he said and smiled. "I'm surprised you held the conversation for that long, knowing how you don't like fashion shows and purses talk."

"How did you know….?" She began to ask but stopped. It was Jane. How can he not know? "Mentalists," she murmured, smirking. "Thank god you looked at me," she replied, staring at him.

How can I not look at you, with that dress and your endless beauty that's killing me?

He cleared his throat and faked a cough. "Want more champagne?" he asked after emptying his glass.

"Sure," she answered, hiding her amusement. "You know what? I'd like to dance," he raised his eyebrow, clearly surprised. "What?"

"You surprise me," replied Jane, and even if it was dark, he knew she was blushing. Smiling, he took the half empty glass from her hand and left it on the floor next to his, close to the wall.

Patrick put a hand around Lisbon's waist bringing her to him, and with the other he took her hand and they started moving to the rhythm of the slow music. Teresa was on fire, feeling his perfume and heat invading her senses and her being. One of her hands gripped his shoulder and her fingers were tingling, wanting to slide on his nape and to touch his curls, but she resisted it. She felt comfortable on his chest, feeling his heart hammering on her ear. She was conscious that they were on a public place, but probably the team was around and even director Bertram, but nothing matters to her, not tonight. Her objective was one at the moment: having Jane close, feeling his heat and letting herself feel.

That's why she closed her eyes.

The movements were soft, slow. The music embraced them and, even if her shoes felt tight, Teresa wanted to live this moment forever. Suddenly, she felt an electric shock and had goosebumps on her skin when she heard a voice very close to her ear.

"It's strange that you haven't left yet."

"Well, I was waiting to get invited to dance," she said, smirking. "But it looks like nobody dared."

"Maybe they felt unworthy of even talking to you. You know, too much beauty for their eyes."

Having said that, Jane made her spin to change positions. Now, both hands were on Lisbon's waist and she, surprised, wrapped her hands on his neck. Her fingers couldn't resist it and got in contact with his curls at his nape. The sensation almost made her groan; they were so soft to touch and the closeness with which they were dancing wasn't helping at all to control herself. However, she knew she was achieving more than she'd expected.

"How about you?" she asked, "How many women have flirted with you today?"

"I'm not counting," he replied. "But certainly, you are the first one that asked me to dance."

"I didn't ask you to dance," she huffed. "It was just a comment. And you took my drink."

"You wanted to be asked to dance, but given that no one did, you took matters into your own hands," he said. Then, he lowered his voice and leaned over her. "You can't fool me, Teresa."

Lisbon forgot how to breathe. Her heart felt like it was about to explode. Her eyes moved to her consultant's lips, and unconsciously bit her lip. Jane noticed the gesture and repressed the urge to kiss her. He was sure that all this flirting and closeness was allowed only because they'd had a few many drinks, but regardless, Lisbon would never allow him to cross that line.

The song was over and another one started, much catchier, breaking their personal bubble. However, none had the intention to move. They were so close, their breathing was irregular, and they could feel each other's breaths on their lips. Lisbon wanted to kiss him right there, go crazy and burn with his kisses, but she decided to be the rational one; if she wanted things to well, they had to get out of there. So, she cleared her throat and pulled away a bit.

"I think it's time for me to go."

"Yeah, I think that's enough champagne for one night," said Jane, making them both chuckle.

Lisbon searched her drink with difficulty and, even if she was a bit dizzy, she exaggerated a bit, making Jane react instantly and catching her in his arms.

"I think I had too much to drink," she commented, making him laugh. Finally, Jane picked up the drinks and left them on the table on the way to the exit.

"Should I call you a cab?" he asked, looking at the traffic to look for one.

"No, don't worry. I'm staying at the hotel across the street."

"Ah…," he replied, thinking. "Hey, are you sure you can go up in this state?"

"In what state? I'm not that drunk, Jane," she huffed, walking down the street and pretending to trip. Both laughed at the supposed tripping of the agent.

"Let me walk you at least to the door. I don't trust you walking into your room."

"Fine, whatever."

They crossed the street and got inside the hotel. The receptionist handed her the keys to her room and they walked to the elevator. At all times, Jane had one hand on his friend's back, which made her even more nervous. She'd managed to manipulate him into caring for her and walking her to her room, which started to make feel self-conscious, but suddenly the feelings of guilt faded away when they stepped out of the elevator. Her hands were sweaty. Now the hardest part came; making Jane stay. She was risking everything, so if she failed, at least she knew she'd tried.

"Okay, you are safe and sound," he said while they stopped in front of her room.

"Yeah."

Lisbon wasn't smiling anymore and her stare was more intense. Jane felt worried, maybe it was time to go without making stupid jokes. It was a very long night, the jokes and the flirting felt good, but now it was time to go back to reality.

"Well," he sighed, "I'll see you tomorrow at the office. Goodnight."

He turned around ready to leave, but a sudden shock of electricity ran through him when her soft fingers grabbed his hand.

"Patrick," she said. He turned around and, in that movement, their fingers intertwined.

Both looked at each other for a moment that seemed endless. Words weren't needed to know what they wanted, even if for Jane that was not a thought. No, he couldn't put her in danger like that.

"Lisbon…," he said, but familiar voices echoed in the silence and he couldn't continue.

The agent recognized immediately who they were and without thinking twice, dragged Jane inside her room. Glued to the door, they heard the voice of a very drunk Rigsby, laughing and barely expressing himself, together with the unmistakable voice of an equally drunk Grace.

"Wayne, how do you mistake a room?" she asked, chuckling.

"I'm sorry, all the doors are the same. The designer of this hotel sucks," they bursted into laughter and disappeared inside the elevator.

Teresa let out a breath she didn't know she was holding and look briefly at Jane before she started giggling.

"Looks like they're having fun. Shouldn't you report this secret relationship?"

"Yeah, I should," she replied, rolling her eyes but smiled still, "But you know I won't do that."

"I know."

And again, they fell into silence, their eyes on each other. They only lost eye contact when Jane noticed that their hands were still intertwined. He moved his hands with hers upwards and touched his friend's face, barely grazing the smooth skin of her cheek with the pads of his fingers while he placed his other hand on her waist. Teresa melted with his touch; her hand covered his, preventing him from taking it from her face, and with the other she gripped his arm. She wanted them to stay like this, to have his hands burn her alive, to have them electrify her every nerve, every atom, every cell of her body, of her soul.

"Teresa…" he whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Jane," she interrupted him. She knew what he was going to say, she saw it in his eyes: the fear, the impending danger, the shadow of an evil man that played non-stop, the bloody smiling face. No, she didn't want to stop. They've come this far, and his blue eyes told her there was something deeper than the simple worry of a friend. No, now she knew; he loved her too, and that's why she couldn't stop, not now.

"Teresa, I…"

"Patrick," she got closer to him, their lips centimeters away.

They hearts were hammering and both of them didn't know how to breath properly. Lisbon guided his hand from her cheek, slowly descending to her cleavage.

"I don't want you as a friend," she said. "And if you want to know, I only bought this dress so you could take it off."

He lost the ability to think, to talk, to breath. After such confession, there was nothing more he could do but act on instinct. And so he kissed her.

TO BE CONTINUED.