He lay down next to her and looked into her eyes. As if on cue they both
leaned in and shared a beautiful, slow, breathtaking kiss. As he pulled
away he let his fingers linger around her stomach where her sweater had
allowed him access. He drew lazy circles around her bellybutton and then
leaned down and placed a circle of kisses where his fingers had just
occupied.
He looked up to see that she had closed her eyes. He knew that she was enjoying herself.
He slowly began to make his way back to her lips. First kissing her stomach again and then slowly removing each button of her sweater and leaving a kiss where the button had just been removed. He could feel her arching her back to receive his kisses which slowly drove him crazy. He opened up the sweater and found Sarah MacKenzie clad in a simple white lace bra. He kissed the top of each breast and made a trail of kisses from her neck to her lips.
When he finally made it to her lips she was fully prepared to return his favor.
(Harm's POV)
"Sarah, I love every part of you," said Harm as he descended to her lips once again for another heated kiss. He loved the feel of her skin on his finger tips. He loved the way that he could elicit moans from deep in the back of her throat by grinding his hips against her. He wanted to make love to her until the end of time. Until..............
..................Eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek
"Damn it!" He screamed in protest to the insistent sound of his alarm clock and squinted as the bright green 0600 shone in his eyes.
'Great, another bright and shining morning, started off with a freezing cold shower.' He thought to himself.
The worst thing about his dreams involving Mac was that they were always so real. Not just the sex dreams (which were by far his favorite), but also the dreams he had had where she would be hurt or killed. He could see the look in her eyes and feel as if she were mere inches away. But as always, it was just a dream.
Every dream that he had of Mac since Paraguay, no matter how wonderful, had always left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. 'If I had only said the right thing. She deserved to be angry with me. I get jealous and put my foot in my mouth. She deserves someone better then me, but I don't want her to be with anyone else. I love her too much to pretend to be happy for her.'
He walked into the bathroom and turned on the water as cold as it would go. Then he walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee and hoped in the shower. He let the cold water cascade down his body and he felt his tension flow down the drain. He couldn't even feel how cold the water was, he was numb, physically and emotionally.
He had been on a couple of missions for the CIA and liked the idea of not having to give himself fully to a case. He liked that he could be cocky and not care. He liked that he didn't have to feel for the client like he did in the court room. He liked having Beth as a partner. She was beautiful and trustworthy. A replacement Mac. The good thing was that there was no possibility of romantic involvement; Beth's girlfriend would kick his ass.
But honestly, he hated it. He hated the fact that his life was on the line every second of every day. He hated the fact that he felt no connection with the people he worked with (other then Beth). He hated not being able to come home every night to his apartment. He hated the fact that the Admiral finally put his foot down. He hated not being able to walk through the bullpen and see Mac every morning. He hated the fact that every time he closed his eyes she was there, in all her glory. He hated that he gave up everything for her. He hated that he would do it all again without question. He hated that he loved her. But most of all he hated that he could not live without her.
He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He walked over to his closet and opened the doors. There he saw his past staring back at him. His covers were placed neatly on the top shelf. His uniforms were hung up, freshly pressed from the cleaners, still in bags.
He reached into his dresser and looked for a white undershirt to wear underneath his suit. Then he saw them, Mac had always left a pair of shorts and a t-shirt over at his place, just in case anything was ever to happen and she spent the night. He pulled the cloths out of his dresser and brought them to his nose. They smelled like her, granted they were clean, but they smelled of her laundry detergent. Her perfume lingered. He remembered the day she decided it would be smart to leave a change of cloths at his place. 'She took the shirt and shorts out of her dresser and held them close to her chest as she rifled through the remaining drawers.'
He woke from his revere and put her cloths back where he found them; in the same place he put them every morning. This had become his ritual.
He finished getting ready, grabbed some coffee to go and then got in his Lexus and prepared himself for the morning traffic on 495 that he hit every day on his way to Langley.
The hell that had become his life would return tomorrow; same time, different place. The only freedom he found from this hell would be a mission, but those were a hell in themselves. Always questioning the possibility of survival and further dragging out the seconds until he would have to look at her face and see the disappointment in her eyes. It would be a vacation from his own heartbreak, a continuation of the constant numbing that he felt. This new mission would be a break from the hellish reality that he had quickly become accustom to.
A/N: Thanks for everyone that reviews. I appreciate it and I know all of the authors do as well. Remember to review and I hope to have another chapter soon. I wrote this story a good week ago, but my apologies to seema (Nostalgia), apparently we had similar thoughts.
He looked up to see that she had closed her eyes. He knew that she was enjoying herself.
He slowly began to make his way back to her lips. First kissing her stomach again and then slowly removing each button of her sweater and leaving a kiss where the button had just been removed. He could feel her arching her back to receive his kisses which slowly drove him crazy. He opened up the sweater and found Sarah MacKenzie clad in a simple white lace bra. He kissed the top of each breast and made a trail of kisses from her neck to her lips.
When he finally made it to her lips she was fully prepared to return his favor.
(Harm's POV)
"Sarah, I love every part of you," said Harm as he descended to her lips once again for another heated kiss. He loved the feel of her skin on his finger tips. He loved the way that he could elicit moans from deep in the back of her throat by grinding his hips against her. He wanted to make love to her until the end of time. Until..............
..................Eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek eek
"Damn it!" He screamed in protest to the insistent sound of his alarm clock and squinted as the bright green 0600 shone in his eyes.
'Great, another bright and shining morning, started off with a freezing cold shower.' He thought to himself.
The worst thing about his dreams involving Mac was that they were always so real. Not just the sex dreams (which were by far his favorite), but also the dreams he had had where she would be hurt or killed. He could see the look in her eyes and feel as if she were mere inches away. But as always, it was just a dream.
Every dream that he had of Mac since Paraguay, no matter how wonderful, had always left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. 'If I had only said the right thing. She deserved to be angry with me. I get jealous and put my foot in my mouth. She deserves someone better then me, but I don't want her to be with anyone else. I love her too much to pretend to be happy for her.'
He walked into the bathroom and turned on the water as cold as it would go. Then he walked into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee and hoped in the shower. He let the cold water cascade down his body and he felt his tension flow down the drain. He couldn't even feel how cold the water was, he was numb, physically and emotionally.
He had been on a couple of missions for the CIA and liked the idea of not having to give himself fully to a case. He liked that he could be cocky and not care. He liked that he didn't have to feel for the client like he did in the court room. He liked having Beth as a partner. She was beautiful and trustworthy. A replacement Mac. The good thing was that there was no possibility of romantic involvement; Beth's girlfriend would kick his ass.
But honestly, he hated it. He hated the fact that his life was on the line every second of every day. He hated the fact that he felt no connection with the people he worked with (other then Beth). He hated not being able to come home every night to his apartment. He hated the fact that the Admiral finally put his foot down. He hated not being able to walk through the bullpen and see Mac every morning. He hated the fact that every time he closed his eyes she was there, in all her glory. He hated that he gave up everything for her. He hated that he would do it all again without question. He hated that he loved her. But most of all he hated that he could not live without her.
He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He walked over to his closet and opened the doors. There he saw his past staring back at him. His covers were placed neatly on the top shelf. His uniforms were hung up, freshly pressed from the cleaners, still in bags.
He reached into his dresser and looked for a white undershirt to wear underneath his suit. Then he saw them, Mac had always left a pair of shorts and a t-shirt over at his place, just in case anything was ever to happen and she spent the night. He pulled the cloths out of his dresser and brought them to his nose. They smelled like her, granted they were clean, but they smelled of her laundry detergent. Her perfume lingered. He remembered the day she decided it would be smart to leave a change of cloths at his place. 'She took the shirt and shorts out of her dresser and held them close to her chest as she rifled through the remaining drawers.'
He woke from his revere and put her cloths back where he found them; in the same place he put them every morning. This had become his ritual.
He finished getting ready, grabbed some coffee to go and then got in his Lexus and prepared himself for the morning traffic on 495 that he hit every day on his way to Langley.
The hell that had become his life would return tomorrow; same time, different place. The only freedom he found from this hell would be a mission, but those were a hell in themselves. Always questioning the possibility of survival and further dragging out the seconds until he would have to look at her face and see the disappointment in her eyes. It would be a vacation from his own heartbreak, a continuation of the constant numbing that he felt. This new mission would be a break from the hellish reality that he had quickly become accustom to.
A/N: Thanks for everyone that reviews. I appreciate it and I know all of the authors do as well. Remember to review and I hope to have another chapter soon. I wrote this story a good week ago, but my apologies to seema (Nostalgia), apparently we had similar thoughts.