A/N: I am healing from surgery & in my drug-induced frenzy I started writing this chapter twice. Instead of scrapping anything, I went with a little flashback. Also, for the part toward the end, I'd like to thank puffpuffpuff718 for indulging in my creep ass thoughts of CM.

Olivia knocks gently and she waits a moment, listening for movement behind the door of his apartment. She knows he's there, thanks to both his daughter and his sergeant giving her the heads up. Earlier in the day, Kathleen dropped off her extra key and begged, "please, Liv. I know last time was insane." To say the least. "Please just go see him."

They had worked together to close two of the biggest cases of their lives, giving her at the very least, understanding about her brother's death. Unfortunately, Elliot is Elliot. Even after solving the mystery and learning that sometimes you don't always know the person you're sleeping next to, after finally fitting all the pieces together, he still is not coping well. He now is holding onto resentment for both her and Kathy and maybe Olivia has played a part in that. She'd prioritized herself over him, a decision she only regrets fractionally. It's her only option now. She's a mother first and a friend— or ex-partner? Whatever it is she is to him, whatever the label is, it doesn't trump her role as a mom. In order to give her son what he deserves, she has to first take care of herself, and in doing that she'd pushed him even further away.

Working so closely with him had brought a wealth of awkward moments. An uncomfortable stakeout, her repeatedly reminding him of her rank and the fact that she had the final say— in everything— didn't sit well with him. It never had and probably never will.

As she steps into the darkened apartment, her fist rapping on the door once more just to give him a heads up, she hears nothing but faint grunting. She drops her purse and her keys and she mentally prepares to see him again. She knows he's probably still upset with her. They'd exchanged texts, but she hadn't answered any of his calls. Knowing that he was alright enough to communicate, even if limited, had to be enough for her. She hears his voice in her head and it resonates even more now having been through it. If she'd heard his voice, she would've been over here a lot sooner, without the plea from his child.

The upkeep of his apartment is borderline filthy. There are sheets and pillows on the couch, empty beer bottles, water bottles, old takeout bags, and containers littered about.

She sighs. With Eli still gone, he isn't even trying to keep up appearances.

"Elliot," she calls softly. "It's me."

The further she walks into his place, the louder his grunts become. Down the hallway, past four closed doors and straight ahead to the left she sees a light on.

"Elliot, if you shoot me..." she mumbles to herself. "El?" Why isn't he answering her? When she rounds the corner and walks into the bedroom she is shocked to find the reason behind his grunting. He is hanging off of a pull-up bar, dangling for a beat before he is pulling himself up, his chin touching the top of the entryway. She sees the muscles in his arms flex each time he drops and rises, and she finds her fingers gently clawing at her throat because suddenly it's dry. All of the moisture in her mouth has left as she watches silently. His feet are crossed at the ankles, he is wearing only boxer briefs and a thin white tank top that is drenched in his sweat.

God. His life has fallen apart, but his body? He is a masterpiece. Her eyes focus on his traps. They are literally bulging with each movement and she wonders briefly how the hell he has any range of motion. It feels like if she had that much muscle tacked onto her own shoulders, there'd be some accompanying stiffness so it's astounding to her the way he moves so fluidly.

And his ass? She's always known he has a great ass. It'd been there right next to her for years. She'd seen him walk ahead of her, jog ahead of her, reach over desks, do squats and lunges in the gym, and is he squeezing it right now? She feels her head fall to the side as she leers at his plump—

"Liv?" He drops from the bar, bringing his arms down and when she looks up she sees her reflection in the mirror in front of him. When had she started walking toward him? Was it that thing they used to have? The thing where they'd absently gravitate to each other, without words or reason… or was this just her being a creep?

She decides she's a creep.

Her cheeks burn because he's probably caught her ogling him and she feels her heartbeat quicken with embarrassment. "Hi," she says, with an awkward wave of her hand. He pulls the earbuds from his ears and finally, he turns around to look at her. His hair has grown in, longer than she's ever seen it, but still sparse at the top. What shocks her though, is the salt and pepper goatee that's covering his chin, and coupled with the sweat and the unmistakable outline of his penis, she's never seen him look manlier.

When did this happen, she thinks. It's not like she hasn't been in the company of a man lately. Edgar had taken her on several dates over the last few weeks and while it wasn't serious, it was steadily growing. Edgar is attentive and caring and his body is a literal mountain, one of the greatest wonders of the world.

Yet, here she stands, looking at the balding, beautiful man that is her ex-partner and she's borderline objectifying him. His veins are prominent and his broad chest is heaving as he catches his breath. He grabs the bottle of water on the floor and he takes a long sip, his eyes never leaving her. He is silently questioning her sudden appearance and her eyes fall to the floor before she gains the courage to meet his eye line again. This is awkward. "Kathleen gave me a key. I wanted to come and check up on you."

"You care now?"

She chuckles and she has to drag her eyes away. She forces herself to look at the unmade bed with piles of worn clothes strewn about. When is the last time he's done laundry? Or used his bed for actual rest?

"What are you doing here?"

"Believe me, I'd have left you alone if I didn't love your children."

"I went to therapy, Liv. I see my priest. And you still won't let me in."

"That's good," she says, acknowledging his attempt at self-help, but ignoring his jab at the distance she's placed between them. She begins taking an assessment of his bedroom again, determined not to lock eyes with him before he conspicuously clears his throat. He doesn't need to ask her to look at him, she knows he's asking for eye contact. "Ayanna told me you're not working. You're on leave?"

"Ayanna? You guys are friends?"

"We speak."

"About me?"

"Yes, Elliot. About you. Are you ever going back to work? Are you going to get a bigger apartment?"

"What's wrong with my apartment, Liv?"

"You're sleeping on the couch."

"It's fine."

"You need a bedroom."

"I have one."

"How's Eli?"

"He's great. He loves it at Maureen's. I speak to him every day," he says, his tone defensive. "This is my bedroom, I just don't sleep in here. I let Eli have it when we first got here... since I couldn't—" he shakes his head. He couldn't what? Sleep in a bed alone? Without Kathy? "I've taken the master now. Eli's things are down the hall."

"I see."

"Look," he begins with a sigh. "Olivia, you've made it clear where we stand."

"Don't take everything so personally, Elliot."

"How can I not?!"

Their eyes dance for a moment. He's right. It's all personal between them. It always has been. "Shower. I'll be waiting." She dismisses herself, spinning out of the bedroom and when she gets to the hallway she finds herself lurched over with her hands placed onto her knees.

She's missed him. The craving to know that he was ok is insistent and it'd taken all of the strength she could muster to keep away. He has to know that, right? How much she loves him. How much she always, always wants to be near him. To help him. To fix him.

The time away has given her the space to heal. She's processed the loss of her brother with better understanding thanks to him. He'd been there, eager to help, willing to let her lean on him but she couldn't allow that then. Even after the kiss they'd shared, they argued and ruined what could've been the start to something greater than what they had ever been.

"I'm thinking about kissing you again."

"It won't solve anything."

"To kiss? I think it will," he says with a wry smile. He reads her quickly, watches as she shifts uncomfortably under his gaze, and his smile drops. "But we don't have to, Liv. You know that."

Olivia sighs and her eyes drift around her apartment, looking for something to focus on. She could get them drinks, but alcohol will only further complicate this. It might even make her take him up on his offer because even though she wasn't completely comfortable kissing him again, she did want to. It'd always been a desire of hers, to taste him, to feel his lips against hers, to have him hold her like a man holds a woman.

She still feels indignant toward him. He violated her privacy, ruined her date and he didn't even try to pass for apologetic. Even now, after a kiss she never thought she'd experience, she feels the anger seeping out of her. After a decade of nothing from him, he doesn't have the right, and maybe he never had. Maybe that is where their relationship had taken a turn for the worse. She'd given him too much say, put too much weight in his opinions and he ran with it.

"If you don't want to talk," Elliot begins, his voice dripping in caution. "Or kiss," he chuckles nervously. "What would you like to do?"

She wants to ask him if they're sixteen because it sure feels like it. "You want to watch some TV?"

"Yeah. Let's watch TV."

They both walk to the couch and arrive on either side at the same time. They look at each other for a drawn out moment before Olivia breaks the eye contact. She picks up the remote and turns the television on before she sits and she waits for him to join. She's still fully dressed from her date and when she sits, her dress inches higher up on her thighs. She presses her knees together and she tries to ignore the feeling he'd left between them. No matter how good he felt, she knows that sex and any other form of intimacy should not even be on their radar.

Elliot glances at her and then to the television before finally, he sits on the couch next to her.

"I started watching Everybody Loves Raymond," she says softly. "Everyone says it's funny. A classic. It's grown on me."

"Hate shows like this."

She ignores him and she puts the show on anyway. She picks her feet up and she plants them on the coffee table and she leans back into the cushions on the couch. She feels his eyes on her bare, tanned legs for a moment before he reluctantly looks up at the television. She has only made it to season two and Ray is explaining to his wife that his overbearing, borderline insane mother doesn't like her becasue she isn't a 'good girl.'

"I don't think my mother ever liked Kathy," Elliot mutters and she chuckles.

"Why would you say that?" she asks. "I'm sure Bernie loves her."

He laughs and it's terribly comforting to hear laughter from him. "She still asks about you. My mother."

Her eyes focus on the television as Debra calls Ray an idiot and she giggles softly. Next to her Elliot grimaces, mild disgust flashing across his face. "This isn't funny? At all?"

"Flashbacks. If you knew anything about marriage you'd know this is painfully accurate." He glances at her quickly. "How is this funny? It's more sad than anything. I told you I don't like this show."

She huffs. "Well, we're watching it. Sometimes after a long day, it feels good to just laugh." It is striking how normal she sounds and he wants to tell her that, but he thinks better of it. They watch the full episode and besides laughter from Olivia, they sit in comfortable silence. As the next episode comes on, Olivia yawns. "I'm tired," she whispers.

"Stay up with me."

"I told you I was exhausted, Elliot." She stretches her arms above her head and her dress inches even higher. "I should change. Grab a shower."

"Watch a few more episodes with me," he begs. She sees it in his eyes that he doesn't want to be left alone and she feels herself give in.

"Can we take this to my room? I'll never get comfortable on the couch." She pulls her feet off of the coffee table and she crosses one leg over the other as she begins unbuckling her shoes. This time his eyes are unyielding and she feels him shift next to her. She doesn't know if it is because she's basically offered her bedroom to him, or if it's her legs alone that make him so uneasy.

"You dress like this for all your dates?"

"Dress like what?" she asks. "Thought you said I looked nice."

"Jesus, you do. Too nice. I'm not a fan."

Olivia chuckles. "You're not a fan because I went out on a date."

"Speaking of date," he starts. "Who the hell was that?"

Olivia smiles. It's a little juvenile, but she's proud that Edgar, who is such a gorgeous man, is so interested in her. She's also a little arrogant because Elliot got to see the type of man she is able to pull and for some reason, it reinforces her confidence in herself.

She doesn't need Elliot, she tells herself. And now he knows it. He knows that she hasn't spent years alone, wallowing in self-pity because he'd left her. She has flourished and is still flourishing and even though he's here now, it means nothing. It's what she tells herself repeatedly, wishing for it to be true.

"He's a friend of Garland's," she finally answers.

"Oh, the chief is a matchmaker? Knew I didn't like that guy."

"You're jealous."

"Should I be?"

"No, you shouldn't be jealous. You have no business even thinking of me in that context, anyway." She wonders if she fools him when she says things like this. That he shouldn't be jealous, or when she begs him for space, she wonders if he knows she is just trying to fib her way into survival mode.

When she looks over at him, she finds that he is squinting at her with his head tilted to the side. "Do you remember that kiss?"

Olivia's eyes widen. Of course, she remembers the damn kiss. It'd just happened. Her groin is still buzzing, her mind is still swirling. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Don't you think that's been brewing for some time? You think that chemistry just started? Or has it always been there, Liv?"

She's shocked that he'd even ask such a question. "Elliot, I only allowed you to come inside with the promise that you wouldn't talk."

"I'd like to know I'm not alone in this, Liv."

She shakes her head. She won't ever verbalize it. She can barely even admit it to herself, so saying it out loud to another person, let alone him? It wasn't an option. "I respected Kathy."

"Oh, so it's just me? I'm the one who didn't?" He laughs. "Good to know what you think of me."

"Elliot, all I'm saying is we were just partners."

He nods his head. "You are a liar now. Good to know." His voice drips with sarcasm and Olivia feels the anger slicing through her.

"What do you want me to say?" she barks.

"That we were more."

"We weren't." She looks up at the ceiling and she thinks to herself if there was ever a moment they'd crossed that line? Not physically, but emotionally? She sighs, shifts uncomfortably, and God, why is he doing this? "I'm thinking back and no, Elliot, I do not remember a time when we were more than partners." It is a lie and they both know it, but she has to cling to some form of decency before the need between them swallows the both of them whole.

He chuckles humorlessly. "So you're not even going to admit to the friendship?"

"Of course we were friends, Elliot." She moves to the edge of the couch and she crosses her arms over her lap. She feels like she is not only holding herself together but him as well. "You were my best friend. You know how much you mean to me. So stop. I mean romantically—"

"I mortgaged my house for you when there was DNA evidence that—"

"I didn't ask you to do that."

They stare at each other for a beat before he continues. "Think about it. All the times we fought for each other, next to each other."

Olivia sighs in response and she nods her head. It was our job, she wants to say. But it isn't true. It'd just be another lie that she's told tonight. Of course, we were more, she wants to scream. But she doesn't, she turns her attention back to the television and she focuses on breathing.

She's never wanted this. To talk about the past or be confronted with feelings she'd been forced to bury. She didn't even want to see him tonight and it's just another reason for her to reinforce the distance between them.

The next time he speaks, he's quiet and contained. "Liv, if you'd like me to make a list, I will."

"It'd be for naught."

"Olivia, you are delusional."

"How?" She stands with her shoes dangling from her hand. "How am I delusional?"

"If you're not delusional, you're a liar." His tone isn't confrontational, but she feels her hands shaking like they're about to throw fists in a sparring match. "You can choose what you'd like to label it as. That's up to you."

She takes in a sharp inhale before she blinks once and then twice. "That's where you're confused. Elliot, ten years ago we were partners. That's it. I've never even... we've never." She finds herself stuttering. "We were partners," she declares softly.

"Who are you trying to convince?"

"I'm going to shower." She tosses him the remote control. "Then we can watch more of Everybody Loves Raymond, and you'll shut the fuck up or you can go home. It's really that simple." She doesn't even make it out of the room before she hears him speaking again.

"Do you remember what she said in the hospital?"

Jesus fucking Christ. Olivia doesn't answer, she just stands there, her body frozen and immobile defying her wishes to escape.

"She said she didn't believe that I could stop talking to you. Even after all that time, my wife knew what you meant to me. Why don't you?"

"Elliot, I got it," Olivia grumbles softly. "I mean the world to you. My voice has the ability to stop you in your tracks and best of all, you love me. You do realize that even with all that, you still left, right?"

She wonders if she'll ever be able to laugh at Everybody Loves Raymond, again, or if he's ruined yet another thing in her life. He's sitting on the couch still faced away from her when she turns around to look at him again. "If I didn't have abandonment issues before…" Olivia attempts to sound lighthearted, but it just comes off as accusatory and bitter. It's embarrassing, she thinks, to still be so affected by him.

He lowers the volume on the television, but he still doesn't make the move to look at her. Maybe it's easier for him to be this honest without having to actually see the pain on her face. "I didn't mean to abandon you. I just couldn't stop thinking beyond our partnership, beyond our friendship. I always wanted more."

"Shut up," she whispers. Why doesn't he listen? He just keeps speaking and it's not even like him to be this way. He never talks incessantly, especially not about fucking feelings.

"I'm drowning here, Liv. I loved Kathy," he says and he sounds defensive. Like he has to prove himself.

"You're getting upset and I told you to let's not do this."

"It's insulting, you know," Elliot says, his shoulders squaring. "That you'd stand there and pretend we were nothing."

"Well, I'm sorry about that."

"Do you even remember Ryan Clifford?" Olivia's eyes close immediately. Of course, she remembers.

"You have to stop." It feels like she's begging at this point. The shoes she's holding drop to the floor and her hands fit themselves over her face, sighing into them.

"You know why that happened. We both know why."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because we've never talked about it Olivia," he says, his voice rising. "We don't talk about a goddamn thing. How did we ever manage for so long?"

"Because you don't have to talk about what's understood," she blurts out quickly.

"That's a lie. You want me to get help? Fine. It starts here. Between me and you. Liv... look at me."

She turns her head but her eyes are closed. The 'Everybody Loves Raymond' jingle rolls in the background and he watches as tears roll down her cheeks. She blows out a breath before she flashes her eyes at him.

"I loved you, Olivia. Every part of you. For so long."

"You have to go home now. I can't. I'll go over whatever files I have and I promise we'll speak tomorrow. But please. Go."

He stands from the couch and they look at each other for a moment before he sighs and accepts defeat. "Goodbye, Liv."

She finds that his refrigerator is empty and there are dishes in the sink. She knows that his laundry hasn't been done in some time, and there are empty wrappers and cans on the coffee table. She'll clean, she decides. It's what she does at home. When she's upset or stressed, she reorganizes her home and it gives her comfort.

She opens his curtains, allowing sunshine to fill the darkness and she silently prays that today she'll be able to do the same for him. Shed some light on his life, brighten him up so that maybe she can be reintroduced to the man she once knew.

She orders groceries and cleaning supplies from her phone as she absently rids of the mess he's made. As she finishes the dishes, she walks back toward his bedroom, opening each door as she passes. A laundry room, a linen closet, another bathroom, another bedroom. It's smaller and she sees a made up twin bed, a few of Eli's sweatshirts folded and a few pairs of sneakers, but other than that the room is bare and clean.

When she gets back to his bedroom, the shower is still running and the bathroom door is still closed, so she quickly sorts through his clothes. It registers how intimate it is to have his worn underwear and t-shirts that still smell like him in her arms as she transports them to a laundry basket. She tries not to think of how good he smells as she loads the washer. When she get to the living room, she tries not to let his scent envelop her as she strips the sheets from the couch. As she sweeps, she hears the shower turn off and she mentally prepares for this, for him. Ten minutes later she hears him walking toward her and she braces herself.

"I don't get a lot of visitors," she hears him say from behind her. "If I knew you were coming..."

"I would've tried my hand at calling but I didn't think you'd answer since I hadn't been answering." When the doorbell rings she points to the door. "Make yourself useful."

He smiles to himself. She's bossy and straight forward and though she has a knack for getting under his skin, it's something he's missed. It takes him two trips from the door to get everything inside. "Olivia, what'd you order?"

"Food and other things," she answers softly.

"You didn't have to."

"Elliot," she calls. She's standing in the living room and she watches as he drops the paper bags onto the kitchen table he looks at her through the divider and she sighs. "I can buy you groceries. Just because I haven't been here physically doesn't mean I don't care."

"I could say the same."

"Oh, El," she cracks a smile. "We know just how much you care."

"We're still talking about that? I'm not apologizing for loving you, Olivia."

How did this conversation turn so serious so quickly? One glimmer of hope, of light, followed by the weight of their complicated relationship.

"It's not me you need to be apologizing to." She inhales sharply. She didn't have to say that. Maybe the time apart has left bits of her still reeling and though she'd bitten back her anger, took the time to reconcile with it, she finds herself jabbing at him unprovoked.

But it is true. Loving her has ruined him. She knows it. He knows it. And most obviously, his wife had known it, too.

"You don't have to be here."

"You don't get it. This isn't even for you." It's a lie, but she's convincing enough that his face falters.

"Good to know."

"You're an asshole," she says plainly. Surprisingly, he doesn't respond. Olivia turns her back to him and she continues cleaning. As he is unloading the food she continues on with the laundry, happy to at least put a modicum of space between them.

—

"Olivia, I'm sorry." She ignores him and she silently makes his bed. Angrily shoving pillows into pillowcases before stretching over the mattress, tucking the fitted sheet at the corners. "Why is it so hard for you to hear?"

She can't even look at him. "It'd be easier if I could trust you."

"With your heart?" he asks softly.

Her hands drop and her eyes close. Her back remains toward him and she's thankful because a tear betrays her and escapes, falling quickly down her cheek. "With everything."

"Olivia, it's me." He says it like an explanation for everything. It's me so, yes, you should trust me.

Maybe years ago. But not right now.

"I'm tired of our relationship being in passing," he whispers. "Tired of seeing you on my worst days. I'd like to fix this. I'd like to actually be in your life. Not just when Kathleen is begging you to check on me. I'm tired of you ignoring my calls and I get it. I know. I don't get to... I started it, right?" He chuckles behind her and they both know that nothing here is funny. He's nervous, just as nervous as she was when she'd walked into his home an hour ago. "Please, Liv. I know that I'm an asshole. I overstep and ask for too much. Or I push you away. I get it."

"You can't force this," she whispers. "Sometimes a kiss is just a kiss."

"You know that's a lie."

"I'm begging you." She didn't even hear him move across the room so it's surprising when she feels his breath on her neck. "I need more."

"More what?"

"Turn around, Liv."

She slowly turns to look at him and she sighs immediately. His eyes tell her everything that she needs to know. They always have. She tries focusing on anything but him and she tells herself to run, but she's stuck. Elliot tugs the comforter out of her hand and he drops it to the floor. His mouth becomes her focal point and before he's able to say another word, despite all the pushing she's done, now she is the one falling first. Her hands rest on his shoulders for a beat until her eyes rise and meet with his again. Before the fear settles, her hands guide him down toward her and she surprises both of them by kissing him. She cups his cheeks, reveling in how different it feels to kiss him this time. His beard adds texture and a bit of roughness she had no idea she needed, or ever wanted.

She whimpers into his mouth as his hands fit themselves on her sides, his thumbs grazing the underside of her breasts. Maybe it's the change in scenery, maybe because her son isn't sleeping in the next room, and they're here in his bedroom alone, but this is so different from before. He snatches his mouth away from hers and they stand there for a moment, their chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths.

"Get on the bed, Liv," Elliot says, his voice gentle yet authoritative.

Olivia sits without hesitation and her head spins when he picks up her left foot. He tugs her shoe off, before he reaches for her other foot, doing the same. "Lay back," he whispers and she falls onto her elbows as he steps between her legs. She sees own her chest still heaving, filling with air, and quickly expelling it and her mind reels onward.

"El?"

"Shh."

He doesn't need her to be responsible right now. They both want this. It's been exhausting trying to pretend that what's there isn't there. His fingers undo her pants and she smiles down at him as he inches them slowly off of her hips and down her legs. When she reaches for him, he grabs her wrist and he places a wet kiss on the inside of it.

"This isn't about me."

Her eyebrow lifts. Come again? "What does that even—"

"Liv," he says softly, his mouth lifting into a smirk. His fingers slip through the sides of her underwear and his eyebrows lift, asking silently before he ever opens his mouth. "Can I?" His eyes drop down to her underwear and then back up to her eyes and Olivia cannot help but laugh at how adorable he manages to look, even with his scruffy beard.

"It's a little late to ask," Olivia says lifting her hips for him so that he is able to pull her panties all the way down. She's gotten the hint, knows the direction this is going in, but seeing him kneel before her still takes her breath away.

His tongue sweeps from her opening, up to her clitoris before the slick underside of his tongue glides back down. "I knew you would taste good," he chuckles against her. "Smell good." The tip of his nose damn near buries itself inside of her before he drags back upward. His lips wrap around her clit, sucking at it, kissing it chastely once, and then adding his tongue the second time.

He looks like he's enjoying himself. His eyes are closed and his mouth is preoccupied, but when he pulls his mouth away, he smiles up at her. Without warning, he spits on her, and then he curses under his breath as he watches it slide down over her clitoris before disappearing into her folds. He doesn't waste any more time and he delves back in. He kisses her there in the same ways he's kissed her mouth and her fingers grasp at his still-damp hair, pulling him closer, telling him, "right there, Jesus."

No fingers, just tongue and she's already about to come from this. "Elliot." It's unbelievable. Never has she ever... no one has ever had her spiraling so quickly. She has to see it. She pushes herself higher up on her elbows, forcing her glassy brown eyes open, and there he is right between her legs.

He pulls back, allowing his tongue to flick over her and she is left gasping. His eyes pop open and they connect with hers immediately and they moan simultaneously. It feels just that good for her, just that unbelievable for him, because years after wondering and speculating he finally has her at his mercy.

Ten years ago blue had been her favorite color and she remembers precisely why. His eyes are just as insistent when he pushes her legs further apart and lips wrap around her once more.

I'm gonna come is on the tip of her tongue, but it's never uttered because her release is far too sudden, far too satisfying to even form the words. She falls back against the mattress, her hands clutching at the clean sheets she's just stretched over it. Her hips lift and undulate and she feels the rumble of his laughter against her.

"Jesus, Elliot," she whispers when the air returns to his lungs.

His fists land on either side of her shoulders, a self-satisfied grin splitting across his face, and she sees herself dripping from his beard and suddenly she loves it. She wants to tell him to never get rid of it, but her need outweighs her words and her sweaty hand wraps around the back of his neck and she pulls him in for a kiss. It's messy and she moans because he's right. She does taste good, he tastes good. They are scrumptious together. As she goes for his belt, he pulls away.

"I want to," he mumbles. "That was for you, Liv. We should take it slow."

Her face drops. "It's a little late for that."

Elliot laughs and he kisses her once more before he stands to his feet. Her legs are still spread before him and his eyes take a healthy roam over her, thankful, grateful that he was able to get her to glisten this way for him. He'd intended on going to the bathroom to clean himself off, but his hands cover her knees. "I just..." he doesn't complete his statement, his right hand instead glides down her left thigh and he swipes over her.

"El," she moans. She looks down and his grey sweatpants are doing nothing to conceal his erection. His pointer finger dips inside of her and she gasps sharply.

"So tight," he tells her, his eyes still on hers. "I knew it would be."

"Elliot, just come here."

"Not today, Liv." He plants a kiss on her knee, his moist beard scraping against her and she sighs defeatedly. He takes a step back, and he picks up her panties and her jeans and he tosses them next to her on the bed. "Be right back."

She listens as he runs the water and when he comes back he has a damp washcloth. She chuckles as he wipes her clean and her fingers slip through her hair as she shakes her head. What has this man done to her? She'd fallen in love with him without ever touching him, without ever kissing him. And now this? What the hell happens from here?