For the third time in less than twenty minutes, Teresa checked her small golden watch, asking herself if she should really be at Shaw's the night before her big consultant came from Malibu. And for the third time straight the answer was, yes.
Minelli had told her he'd be hard to deal with. Impulsive, annoying, with a lack of regard for the rules and an extensive file of complaints.
She'd be doing paperwork in her sleep if his record were anything to go by.
Last night of beers with no problems, she told herself as she took a swig of the cheap beer she got herself. Bud Light had its merits, no headaches, no hangovers, just the happy giggly state Teresa liked so much and if she ended up hooking up with a random guy she could still it blame on it. She really didn't have time for a hook up.
"No," The agent said to the tall Captain America type who stopped just in her personal space. He had that womanizer air to himself, steel blue-eyes trained on her every move and big hands signaling for the barman to bring him another of whatever he was having.
Teresa, who was leaning against the polished walnut countertop, took a second to analyze the man standing too close to her. Strong jaw line, thin lips, pointy-nose and what sure would be a killer body underneath the outfit every 20-year-old straight guy wore to clubbing, a black button-up, chino pants and the brownish hair in a faded haircut perfectly combed.
"No?" He asked eyeing her with one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows raised quizzically and putting a step between them. That was more like it.
"You're standing too close, your hand motioned to my lower back, but there aren't that many people here at the bar, so you could be away if you wanted to. That means you were about to ask if you could buy me a drink," She explained with a dry smile on her lips as Captain America's eyes went wide. "The answer is no."
"What are you? FBI?" The guy asked in horror before leaving.
Shrugging, the agent turned back the bar to ask Shaw himself for another beer and started to peel the label of her now empty longneck. That was when Teresa heard a low laugh coming from her behind.
Now, that's the type of guy she liked, she thought as she turned around to see who was laughing.
If the Captain America was handsome, this man, body turned to the bar and face to her, was stunning, all charming dimpled smile and mirth on his blue-greenish eyes. Even the crinkles on his eyes and the expression lines on his face were attractive, his just-had-sex golden curls begging to be even more disheveled by her hands and his 5 o'clock shadow covering his squared jaw making Teresa reconsider the whole 'ain't having an one-night-stand' policy.
The blonde man sat in a stool a couple feet away from the agent, his expensive looking graffiti pants and vest over a crisp white shirt with its sleeves rolled-up to his elbows only accentuating he did not belong to Shaw's. If all that weren't enough to draw Teresa in, his nonchalant posture while he took a sip and eyed her up and down from her wavy hair to her black combat boots, stopping a second too long on her low-cut tank-top cleavage, would have done it. His eyes made her hot all over and if it weren't for the flannel she was wearing over the tank-top, he would be able to see how the blush spread all over her shoulders and chest.
"You're one of those girls, aren't you?" His silky tone snapping her out of her daze.
"Girl?" Teresa raised one of her brows quizzically and flashed him an incredulous smile.
"Semantics," He shrugged and raised his beer to his lips.
"Tell me," She asked turning her whole body in his direction. "What type of girl am I?"
"Who's not trying to meet anybody. You just came to the bar to get that awful beer you're drinking," The blonde mimicked her action turning his body in her direction, and proceeded with a calculated smirk on his lips. "Judging by your posture and the way you handled number four, you're some type of cop and one who's worried about her job, so you're not trying to get anyone's attention."
How could that stranger know that much about her?
"Now you're asking yourself if I've been stalking you or if I have some sort of psychic power, but I assure you it's none of them," He nailed her thoughts precisely and Teresa couldn't help but frown at him. "I've been watching you from across the bar, dissing man after man, and I'm a very good observant.
"Oh, really?" Teresa said sarcastically, this guy had to have some shady business going on if he knew that much about her. "Then please enlighten me as to how you know that much about me."
"Easy. I got close as you sent number four away, you noticed small things regular people wouldn't. Then, there's your posture, not too straight for you to have been in the military, but not as relaxed as regular people, add one to the other and you're a cop."tl
Each word Teresa got more and more surprised with him, unable to believe someone could get that from watching her.
"And what else have you observed,-?" She stepped closer to him, not even realizing she did that.
"Patrick," He offered her his hand.
"Teresa," She shook his warm smooth hand briefly, her eyes never leaving his. "What else have you observed, Patrick?"
"A lot, Teresa," He waited for Shaw to give her beer and ordered a fancy one for himself, before continuing. "You dismissed four men, each very different from the one before and that told me you're not looking for young men for the night. The way you kept eyeing the pool table wistfully when frat boy made a move on you, you just might run it. No one here would be able to beat playing pool, am I right?"
As his answer, Teresa took a sip of the Bud Light and gave a small nod. She did indeed had been thinking of playing pool when frat boy stopped by, not even trying to make small talk, just asking if she wanted to go home with him.
"From what I've seen, you're not handing out your number, but you like to make the simpletons in this bar want you and have them wondering if they have a chance with you. The whole quiet girl who's sexy without even trying works well for you," Then Patrick was on his feet just shy inches away from her.
A small 'oh' escaped from her lips for she couldn't believe that gorgeous man was telling straight to her face she was sexy. Teresa really, really wasn't trying
"Come on, you have to know how alluring you are," His eyes growing darker as he let them fall on her lips for a brief second, causing her to lick them unwittingly. "All the pagans in this bar are hoping for a chance to worship you like the goddess you are."
"And you?" She asked stepping even closer, gluing their bodies making shivers run down her spine.
From this close she could smell his sandalwood and musky rose scent and it drove her mad with desire to get closer and just bury her nose on his neck to take a proper whiff of him.
"Me?" His hands came to rest on each side of her hips and she could feel his warm through her clothes. "I'm as pagan as pagan can get."
Thirty minutes later they were stumbling pass her door already discarding each other's clothes, kissing so deeply no one knew where one ended and the other one began. His hands left goosebumps everywhere they touched and there was no way they could make it to her room.
"I knew you'd scorch me," Patrick said from the couch, completely naked and just watching her slowly get rid of her jeans. "Look at you, so hot."
"Oh, you're a talker," Teresa answered straddling him and immediately kissing his neck with abandon, his hard-rock cock touching her wet folds drowning breathy moans from them both. As answer for her remark he buried his left hand on her hair and pulled it hard, making her yelp in surprise and a wave of pleasure crash through her body.
"Not denying," His free hand found her buttocks and grabbed it with enough strength for her to know it'd leave marks the morning after. She loved it. "And you, Teresa, always in command, you want someone to take over."
"Analyzing me in bed?" She put some distance between them and smirked at him.
"It's not analyzing," Patrick suddenly slapped her ass and she didn't have the time to react before he took one of her nipple in his mouth.
Throwing her head back, Teresa moaned loudly, sensations taking over. Oh he really knew what he was doing, his tongue sinful against her breasts and his strong hands gripping her hips.
"Now you gonna turn around for me, on your hands and knees, and I'm gonna fuck you till you can't walk."
Teresa didn't try to resist, the raspiness in his voice and the promise in his words killing every instinct she had of fighting back. She presented herself to him, out of her mind with desire. Come tomorrow she'd be so ashamed of letting herself go like that, putting so much control in the hands of a complete stranger, but in that moment all that mattered was how loud the sound of the tinfoil package being ripped was in her quiet livingroom and how good he felt slipping into her in one smooth trust.
Just a couple months before she had read an article that said there were a few types of sex everyone should have at least once in their lifetime. She had believed some were just there to fill blanks, specially the wreck-the-home sex. However, when Patrick started to trust hard and fast her hand went to her curtains to steady herself and it fell down.
"Touch yourself, Teresa," He commanded, both his hands on her shoulder using it as leverage to fuck the air out of her.
It had been a while since the last time Teresa had an intense orgasm, let alone three in before the man she was with had followed her. Well, if she had to be honest, that had never happened before.
Patrick rhythm never faltered and his hands were everywhere, whether were slapping her, grabbing her, touching and scratching. He had even played with her asshole, using her own wetness to slip the tip of his index finger inside her in time with his trusts.
Her neighbors would probably call the cops, she was positively screaming in pleasure and Patrick wasn't much different, calling her names, telling her to give more and, "Oh, I'm almost there, come for me again," while shoving his finger to the third knuckle in her and she came a fourth time with him following right behind and emptying himself in the condom.
The experience was so overwhelming Teresa just fell on the couch, unable to speak or move, or do much more than simply blacking out, which was completely unlike her.
When she woke up the next morning Patrick was nowhere to be seen, the vase on her centerpiece was shattered in thousands of pieces, her curtains were on the floor, one of her couch pads' was ripped to shreds and there was a punch hole on her wall. Wreck-the-house sex, indeed.
Her first instinct was to check if the blonde man had taken anything, but nothing seemed out of place, so she moved slowly, sore in all the right places, towards her bathroom.
It was so hard to move and to want to do anything else other than repeat the night before. Had Patrick left number, she could surely see them becoming each other's booty call, for she had never had sex as good as that in all of her life and, judging from the dent in her wall, she had felt amazing for him too.
Going to work was one of the worst experiences she had ever have and seeing the purple fingerprints he left on her hips while she was dressing only made things worse. Teresa had never dreaded going to work before, and now she wasn't ready to face her new impossible consultant, even more when she had been up late and fucked thoroughly, her every move reminding her she was still sore and horny.
She walked into the bullpen not realizing she was smiling or her team sharing a look between them when she gave them good morning before heading to her office.
"Boss," Van Pelt had said sticking her head through the door. "Minelli said he's coming down with the new consultant. Apparently the name is Jane."
The woman's name threw her off. Her boss had told her the consultant was a man and she had already created this image of him being this skinny nerd, huge glasses, greasy ginger hair and suits two sizes bigger than he was. Now she didn't know what to think of the man who was bound to make her life hell.
"Tell him to come straight here and I'll introduce this Jane guy to everyone after we have a chat," Teresa said preparing herself.
According to his extensive file of complaints the consultant had a thing for being inconvenient and pointing the absolute worst things at the most awful times. Would he see through her façade and tell her boss she had been sexed six ways from Sunday? She sincerely hoped not, she was his boss after all.
"Lisbon," Minelli opened her door and walked in followed close by... "This is Patrick Jane, he'll be working with your unity."
And there he was, just as perfect as she had been reliving in her mind, but he had a blue suit on and a white shirt, sans tie, instead of a vest. His golden curls looking less disheveled than when she had been running her fingers through it. Fighting to keep her reactions in line, Teresa forced herself to stand up, come around her desk and accept Patrick's hand shake. The same hand that had slapped her ass and left fingerprints on her hips.
"What a great pleasure it's to make your acquaintance, Agent Lisbon," He said with a polite smile, but the spark in his eyes told her he was talking about what they'd done the night before and not about working with her at all.
She was so screwed.
"Mr. Jane, the pleasure is all mine," She answered trying hard not to think about the double meaning of her words. It had been a pleasure indeed.
"Well, I introduced them to our general rules here and I was hoping you could show Jane around," Minelli said and didn't wait for her answer, leaving her office before she could even think of a reason not to.
"So, Teresa," Patrick polite smile immediately turned into a dangerous grin, the one that made her lose control just hours before. "It looks like you had a great night."
"Listen, Patri-, Mr. Jane," Teresa corrected herself, trying to be as professional as she could with knowing how good he felt naked. "I didn't know who you were yesterday or else I would've never taken you home with me."
"I know, but it doesn't mean it wasn't the best sex you've ever had," He said as a matter of fact and he really had to tone down that confidence, no matter how right he was.
"I have had better," She wouldn't give him the pleasure of knowing she hadn't.
"You broke the vase on your centerpiece and your curtains, has that happened before?" From the way he cocked his head she could see he already knew the answer to that was no.
"You left a dent in my wall," Teresa countered, none of them willing to lose this. "By the way, how did that happen?"
"The second time you came, just before I started playing with… well you know," He looked down and Teresa couldn't help but blush. She remembered that perfectly. "You were so hot moaning 'more' and I was trying not to come too, ended up punching your wall. And I'm not denying it wasn't the hottest sex I've ever had."
"Not the same."
"It is. Hands down, the best sex I've ever had," Patrick said stepping closer to Teresa.
"You didn't even let your number!" She was particularly mad about that. It didn't matter he was her consultant now, that morning she didn't know it and she really wanted to have him again.
"I fell asleep holding you, woke up late and had to run, but I knew where to find you," He explained stepping closer once again into her personal space and she couldn't find it in her to step away, not when she could still feel the vestiges of their night together. "I saw your badge on the cab when we were kissing. Of course, I didn't know then you were going to be my boss, but I guess I like the idea of you going authoritarian on me just for a change of air."
"That is never happening again," But the idea of bossing him around her bedroom did hold some appeal to her. "Is that clear?"
"Not really. You're lying," Patrick stated reaching to touch he cheek with his fingertips and she relinquished on the feeling for a second, before pushing him away and putting some space between them again. "It's going to happen, eventually. And you know why? Because I'm one of those men."
Remembering their time at the bar, with him asking if she was one of those girls, she allowed herself to ask him why.
"A devoted pagan who found a goddess."
Teresa suppressed a groan, trying to keep the memories of how he worshipped her at bay, but moved pass him to go back to the bullpen.
Just before she opened the door Patrick started speaking again, "We should do this again sometime soon. The bantering I mean… and the sex too. How about after the expedient, my place this time and you can break some of my new furniture."
Working with him was going to be hellish.
It didn't escape Patrick that Teresa had never said no.