THE ICEMAN COMETH*
Four days. Four damn days. I cannot believe I have lasted that long without either killing him or her. Donovan had taken refuge in his office because if he had to look at Pax and Graham together one more second, he would probably lose his mind. Jesus. How many times in how many days had he thought that? His mind should already be gone by now. He could hear the activity down below. Most of the noise was the hushed tones of their voices. For the last few days, on more than one occasion, he had watched Graham and Pax as they sat huddled together. He had watched as they whispered back and forth. He hated it, loathed it, and ached to murder it. Thank God Graham spent most of his time with Alex and Jake. If Graham hung around more than that, Donovan was certain to lose control. Could his fists withstand it? Shit. How many more days would it take? Each day, Donovan went over Pax and Graham's notes meticulously, searching for something wrong, searching for the missing pieces. Within that time, he hadn't gotten Pax alone for three seconds. Graham wouldn't leave her side long enough. He didn't dare go to her apartment. If he saw them there together again, he didn't want to consider the consequences of his behavior. He stood and approached the window, looking down upon the conference table. Pax and Graham were still seated together, discussing whatever they discussed as they sat side by side. If he touches her…if he places one finger on her… It didn't appear that either of them noticed him and he was relieved. He could stand up here all morning and stare at them until they saw him. What the hell did he care if they saw him or not? This was his domain, not theirs, and he could throw them out whenever he felt like it. However, they hadn't broken one rule he'd set forth almost a week ago. He was actually disappointed about that. He had expected one or the other of them [Pax] to fail. Of course, if they failed, he wouldn't have to watch them.
Pax didn't have to look up to know that Donovan was watching from above. He had been watching for days now, and it irritated her as well as unnerved her. She knew it was his jealousy driving him more than anything. For the most part, she had been playing her role to the hilt and hadn't stepped out of character once. The only thing different was her 'meetings' with Graham. They didn't have much time to brief each other after tirelessly observing the agents. The two of them would take whatever time they had, and it normally happened in the morning before everyone arrived at work. To the untrained eye, it might appear as if they couldn't keep their hands off each other. However, to hers, she thought she might puke if Graham even acted like he wanted to touch her more intimately than he already did. The dating cover was the first thing she'd blow as soon as possible. The other would have to hold out for a little longer. She had to remember that their job was to compete a mission, not drive Frank Donovan to distraction. Yet, part of her 'old self' wanted to come out of hiding just long enough to tweak his nerves. It wasn't a bit funny, but she couldn't help it. She didn't like his attitude, but was also very frightened. Again, she couldn't imagine what he'd say once he knew. She wasn't ready to leave Chicago; she didn't want to leave. Was that so bad? Did wanting to stay sound so horrible? Wake up, Jonella, wake up and smell the caffeinated coffee. It can't happen. It won't happen. The first game she played involved running out on him after he asked her to marry him. The second was the façade of her 'new life.' The third was this psychotically deranged mission. The final was the lies she'd told to a man she supposedly loved. It was completely stacked against her. There was nowhere to run or hide. For a moment, she had to look away from Graham's face. If she didn't, she might puke all over the table. When she looked up, she noticed that Donovan was still right up against the window. He was staring down upon her, seemingly trying to will her to look at him. Raising her chin defiantly, she stared at him. She would not let him stare her down. If he thought he could, he had another think coming. After a seeming eon, Donovan had had enough of the staring game. He moved away from the window. I win this one, Spankie.
Later that morning, Graham had left with Jake and Alex as Pax stayed back with Cody, Monica, and Donovan. Pax had smugly thought she had known everything there was to know about the UC operation inside the nest, but she was sadly mistaken. She took an immediate interest in profiling and was a little surprised when Monica allowed her access to her files. Quietly, staying out of the way, she moved around and became engrossed in the files, glancing at profile after profile. She was actually impressed and it came to her as quite the surprise. She wasn't aware that as she made her trips from here to there, Donovan was watching her. He stood as far back in the depths of the room as he could, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. He was tempted to run in behind her and demand to know what was going on between her and Graham. She had yet to tell him in the two weeks he had known she was back. She had never elaborated, only stated that it was none of his concern. She hadn't exactly said they were lovers. Yet, he saw enough to convince him. He was so lost in thought that he didn't realize that Pax had met his gaze. When he noticed that she had caught him, he turned away and marched up to his office. She didn't doubt that he'd resume his game upstairs, as he had done for the last few days. If she hadn't been so afraid to approach or speak to him, she might have asked what his problem was. Actually, she knew what the problem was, but she couldn't say a word about it. She turned her attention back to the numerous profiles. She couldn't stand much more of this. It hurt entirely too much. She took one last glance over her shoulder and saw Donovan staring down again.
* * *
Sighing heavily, Pax shoved Graham out the door. It was late and she was in no mood for an endless bull session. She was with the little jerk off more than she had ever desired to be, and once she settled in, she didn't want to see him again until the next day. Actually, she didn't want to see him at all, but she had little choice about that. Graham would make an excellent agent, Dicky loved him, but he irritated the piss out of her. Jesus. How many times have I thought that since I started working with him? Hundreds? Shaking her head a little, she laughed. She wondered if she had affected Donovan in the same way? Hadn't she acted just as cocky as he? Hadn't she been as smug? Dear God. I was a shit. She hadn't made the connection until that moment. How had Donovan resisted killing her? Jesus, now I know how he felt. She dove for the kitchen and contemplated pouring herself vodka, but decided against it. Since leaving Miami, she had slowly tapered off, but now and again, she took a shot. She moved away from the kitchen and took her hair out of its braid. She hated braiding her hair, but she had to keep it in some kind of order to work with the persona. She took off to her bedroom and slipped out of the uncomfortable suit. Donning her favorite pajama bottoms and sleeveless tee shirt, she came back into the living room. She wasn't into TV and didn't feel like reading. She wrote all day at work, so that was out of the question as well. What should I do with my time until morning? Her days were spent dodging Donovan and her nights dodging dreams of him. God. I've never felt so fricking mushy inside. What the hell is happening to me? Admitting that I loved him was bad enough, but now I'm damn well obsessed. When the doorbell rang, she groaned aloud. She had no desire to see David Graham again tonight. She forced herself to rise and then she stumbled to the door. She swung it open, ready to curse indignantly, but when her eyes fell on Frank Donovan, she was taken aback.
Before she had the opportunity to say one word, Donovan opened his mouth first. "You left today without showing me your notes," he said flatly. "Your BT turned his in, but somehow you slipped past me. Do you mind letting me see them now?"
"Couldn't this wait until tomorrow," she asked. He didn't answer her. Instead, he fixed his eyes on her as if saying 'what do you think?' She made a sound deep within her throat [grrrrr]. If it weren't Graham bothering her, it was Donovan. She would never be so glad to get rid of two men in her life. "I suppose not," she said, exasperated. She moved out of the doorway and allowed him to enter. She closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She would show him her notes and shove his ass out the door. Four straight days of his ass was enough. She couldn't stand much more. He stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed over his chest. Pax moved over to her briefcase and popped it open. She dug around inside it and reached out with a notebook in her hand. "I scribbled on four or five pages toward the middle. It's titled 'Profiles.'"
With a complete lack of interest, Donovan took the notebook and flipped over to the section she indicated. He gave each page a cursory glance. Without a comment, he tossed the notebook onto a low table at the end of the couch. "Don't forget to do it tomorrow. I won't be making very many of these house calls."
At that moment, she thought he would make his leave, but he didn't. He didn't move one step closer to the door. "As if I care that you came over? You wasted your time, Frank. You could have easily checked it out tomorrow. There was no need to be here tonight. Makes me wonder why you're here at all. Tell me, Frank, don't you get enough staring at the nest? You don't think I see, but I do. I've watched you the last four days and you can't take your eyes off me. What is it? What's the purpose? I'd really like to know. You don't talk to me; you stare. I'm sick of it, Frank. Right here, right now, I want you to tell me what the hell you're doing."
He laughed bitterly. "You turn it around on me every time, Jonella. Why should that not surprise me? There is something I would like to know." He noticed that she had rolled her eyes. Apparently, she thought he was going to pressure her for more information regarding the true deal. However, he had other things on his mind at the moment. "Jonella, what the hell is going on with you and Graham? Every day, I see you together. Every day, Jonella. I hate it that I'm obsessing about this, but I can't drive it out of my mind no matter what I do." Mocking her a little, he said, "Tonight, right now, I want you to tell me what it is. I don't think you love him; I don't think you want him. I'm not leaving until you tell me. After that, I'll go away."
His plea should have melted her, but it didn't. It angered her. She felt her own arms crossing over her chest and she glared at him. "I've told you repeatedly that it's none of your business. I don't understand why you think it is. Why do you care?"
Donovan shook his head and approached her. Bang. Her back hit the door. He glared down at her. "Well, if it hasn't slipped your mind, we're engaged," he said bitterly. "I count a month, how about you?"
She snarled up at him. "Engaged," she replied just as bitterly. "You're such a stupid ass, Frank. Engaged. That's rich. I don't see a fucking engagement ring on my finger. Do you?"
Although he was angry and hurt, her words shook him the slightest bit. Their words were shouted bitterly and sarcastically, but hers were just as hurt as his. There had been a hidden message in it, one that came out loud and clear. He had been so wrapped up in his own hurt that he'd totally overlooked the fact that he had broken her heart. His anger abated a little. "No," he said, his voice lower, less tense. "I don't, but you have the silver ring. I've never seen you without it. It's not an engagement ring, but I know it means a lot to you."
Pax sighed a little. She wished he wasn't standing so close. She could feel his heated breath and could hear the beating of his heart. She wanted to be angry, to shout at him, to tell him to get out of her face and her life once and for all. However, she couldn't, not now. I can't believe I'm going to say this. I cannot believe it. "Frank, David Graham means nothing to me."
Donovan made a noise that could only be described as a growl. He backed away from her and ran his hand over his face in disbelief. "Jonella, I don't believe that. I've seen you with him. I've seen you here, at the nest, and at that restaurant. You can't tell me that he doesn't mean anything to you when I know damn well he does."
It was Pax's turn to laugh bitterly. "You don't know shit, Frank. Do you? What you've seen are images you've created in your own mind. Think about it for a minute. If I were into him, wouldn't you see more? Wouldn't he be here right now? Have you ever seen me kiss him? Have you ever seen me touching him? Have you? Change the light bulb in your brain, Frank. Stop letting the testosterone rule you. I'll say it again. David Graham means nothing to me. Nothing."
Donovan thought about what she'd said. He worked her words over and over in his mind. No. He had never seen her touch him in any way, innocent or otherwise. It was all in his head. Jesus Christ. She was right. She had laid her finger on him and called him correctly. He stepped up to her again and took hold of her forearms, but did so gently. "Jonella? Why do you keep doing this to me?"
It was such a loaded question that deserved a myriad of answers, but there was only one answer running through her mind. "Because you didn't mean it."
He shook his head. "No, Jonella, you're wrong. I meant it. I meant every word. Do you want me to ask again?"
She said nothing. Instead, she tilted her head up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. He made a noise, as if he wanted to force her hand, but it was no use. He returned her gentle kiss, not intending to push it further than that. The moment his lips touched hers, hers parted against his, and he felt himself responding. Oh God did he ever feel himself responding. The kiss went from gentle to consuming in almost three seconds. His hand plunged into her hair, cupping the back of her head. The other held onto her arm as he felt hers snaking around his waist. His tongue entered her mouth, darting in and out in an almost rhythmic pattern. Hers dived and fluttered to meet his. He broke the kiss after several moments and moved his hand to the small of her back to support her as his mouth moved to the side of her throat. He hadn't wanted to go this far with her, but he couldn't prevent it. It had been more than a month since he'd touched her like this and he was hard pressed to stop. In fact, he probably wouldn't stop unless she didn't want him. She did. He sensed it. It had come out in her kiss.
Pax's hands took hold of his sweater and began pushing it up. He pulled back just a few steps to give her access. As she pushed, she ran her hands along his smooth, warm skin. How she missed touching him, inhaling the scent of his flesh, and feeling the heat of his body. She worked the sweater up and up until it was off. Not hesitating a moment, her mouth went immediately to his naked chest. Her tongue swirled around his nipples, nipping them. Oh God she had missed him so. As her mouth worked on his chest, her hands drifted down to his slacks. She unbuckled his belt, undid the snap, and pulled down the zipper. Her lips moved back up to his for a brief moment as her hand made its way inside his opened slacks. He groaned against her lips as her hand fell on him. He tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back just a bit. Immobile for a moment, he stood and gazed at her. She smiled up at him gently and took his hand into hers. Mutely, he followed her to her bedroom.
She came down to the bed first and he came after, inserting his knee between her thighs. He kissed her again as his hands slid down each side of her body. She still had every stitch of her clothing on, but his hands burned her with their touch. Her body arched up just a little and his thigh pressed against her, laying her down bit by bit. She worked her hands into his slacks and slid her hands into his briefs. He broke the kiss as little by little, they rid him of his clothing barriers. He came down again, once more inserting his knee between her thighs. It was maddening feeling him against her clothes. She gasped a little as he brought his bare thigh against her again and again. They switched positions very briefly as she straddled his waist. He kept constant eye contact with her as she removed her shirt. She took his hands and laid them against her breasts. As his thumbs began brushing against her nipples, she released his hands and began to undulate against him slowly. This was something he had little patience for. He sat up to meet her and his lips found hers again. His hands drifted down her naked back and then inside her pajama bottoms. When she felt his fingers brushing gently over the crease at the very top of her buttocks, she realized that he didn't play fair, either. He worked his hands further inside them, managing to draw them nearly past her hips. His hand went to the small of her back again as he lowered her to the bed. Once the pajama bottoms were past her hips, the rest of the journey was short and uncomplicated.
Skin against skin, he came down on top of her, leaning his body just slightly on one arm. He ran his hand over her cheek and through her hair. She drove him insane, she played mind games with him, she had done so much damage in such a small amount of time, but he loved her. Dear God, he loved her. He leaned down to kiss her again, and without the benefit of touching her or her touching him further [it wasn't necessary], he entered her slowly, taking his time, feeling no need to rush. She cried out softly, the noise muffled in their kiss. All it took to convince him of her love was that moment of entrance, that initial thrust, when she emitted the soft noise. It wasn't something she did often, but he knew it was attached to her feelings for him.
At the moment of his release, his body stilled against hers, and he closed his eyes as he rode wave after wave of intense euphoria. When the feeling began to subside, he lowered his body atop hers, his ear very close to her lips. In a low whisper, she said, "The iceman cometh."
He leaned up just a little. There was a devilish little smile curling her lips. "Hmm, yes," he said, agreeing with her. "He might cometh again before very long."
"Is that a promise or a threat," she asked.
"Take it any way you want," he said with a smile before he kissed her again. "I love you, Jonella. I missed you so much," he whispered against her lips.
Say it back. Say it back. You feel it. Say it back. "I love you."
He kissed her again, but kept his body connected to hers. As he lay against her, she wondered how in the world she could tell him now.
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To be continued…
*Thanks to Dreamy for allowing me to borrow her little quip. It was too funny to ignore!