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Jack sat at the foot of the bed and bent over to tie his shoes, smiling as he listened to Sam humming in the bathroom. He couldn't place the tune, but she could be humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic and he'd like it.
As he sat up, he caught his image in the large mirror on the opposite wall. He had only a brief passing thought about the unique placement of the mirror in relation to the bed, before his own face made him stop.
What the hell was he thinking? What the hell was either one of them thinking? If General Hammond – or any ranking officer, for that matter – found out about this little weekend getaway they both would be court martialed so fast their heads wouldn't have time to spin.
Jack shook his head before setting it in his hands. They were walking a damn fine line. Technically, nothing had happened that hadn't happened before. They had slept beside each other on countless missions. They had spent time together outside the base. They had shared meals, both on base and off. They had even kissed. But this... this willful choice to push the regs aside... if even for two days...
He stood and paced the floor from the bed to the window, his hands set at his waist.
Neither one of them had to spell out the rules. He knew she knew. Things could only... would only... go so far. No matter how much he wanted more. The responsibility fell on him.
He had managed to keep it all under control – well, kinda – until she kissed him. Then that was it. All bets were off. Stick him with a fork cuz he was done.
There had been a time when he didn't think he'd ever 'want' for a woman's touch again.
Enter Captain Samantha Carter.
And gradually, over the last few years, it had grown harder and harder to ignore what she did to him. He hadn't been completely honest with her when he told her that times like this – when they both let down their guard – were what kept him sane. They were, in fact, the moments that drove him to the point of insanity. But what they did do was keep him going.
Fighting.
Living.
His gut told him something was coming. Something big. Something nasty. Something he wasn't so sure he was going to come out of. The why and how of it, he didn't know. But threads were unraveling, and his instincts didn't like it. Ever since they lost the Doc – Janet – he knew nothing would be the same.
So... two days. He had two days to find a balance between holding on to what he needed and not taking too much.
The bathroom door opened, and Jack turned. He was staring... knew he was staring... but found no reason to stop. Sam walked towards him, slipping an earring into her right ear, a smile on her lips. She wore a sexy red dress that bared her shoulders and dipped just low enough to nearly cause Jack to actually groan. The fabric creased and stretched over her torso and hips, accentuating her waist, only to flare out in a skirt that draped down her legs and did unmentionable things to his imagination. Her hair was done in big, chunky curls that made her neck look all the longer and more kisseable.
Sam stopped several feet from him. He finally forced his eyes back up to look into her face. With a grin, she turned slowly, and he nearly choked. The back of the dress connected with one tiny button at shoulderblade level, then opened up to reveal her entire back down to the base of her spine. He couldn't figure out how in the world the thing stayed on – and in place – but he was damn happy it did.
She turned again, and the skirt flirted around her legs. The high heels she wore gave her feet a sexy arch and only accentuated the strength and shape of her calves.
"Are you going to say something?" she finally asked.
"Wow is the only thing that comes to mind," he managed to say.
Her expression seemed to shift, to something more wary and tentative. "I don't get to dress like a girl very often. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it."
Jack took one broad step to close the space between them, taking her chin in his hands before he covered her mouth with his own. She hummed against his lips as her hands touched his waist, just slipping beneath his sweater to touch the shirt beneath.
Layering... who's brilliant idea was layering?
They were both breathless by the time one of them found the strength to pull away. Jack held his hands against her throat and cheeks, resting his forehead against hers, as he stroked her skin with his thumbs.
"Khaki tank tops will never hold the same appeal to me again," he said before raising his chin to kiss her brow.
Sam swatted his side gently, laughing softly. It was an old joke, and one that never failed to get her ire up. All the more reason to tease. He loved the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.
"We'd better go or we're going to be late for dinner."
As she walked away, the faint purple blue shadow of a bruise caught his eye from the edge of the dress around her shoulderblade. He touched the spot, and she looked at him over her shoulder.
"What? Can you see it? I hoped the dress would cover it."
"It's not bad."
"This from a man who has seen me with how many bumps, bruises and contusions?"
He moved close to her, but stayed behind her, staring into her eyes. Jack brushed the darkened skin with his fingertips as he held her gaze.
"And each time, I've wanted to do this..."
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her skin, just beside her spine. Sam sucked in a sharp breath, and he smiled. When he stood, he noticed her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted as she took in each quick breath.
"We really need to go..."
She took his hand, and he let her lead him from the hotel room. There would be plenty of time for self-recrimination and doubts later. Tonight, the rest of the world be damned.
Jack sat at the foot of the bed and bent over to tie his shoes, smiling as he listened to Sam humming in the bathroom. He couldn't place the tune, but she could be humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic and he'd like it.
As he sat up, he caught his image in the large mirror on the opposite wall. He had only a brief passing thought about the unique placement of the mirror in relation to the bed, before his own face made him stop.
What the hell was he thinking? What the hell was either one of them thinking? If General Hammond – or any ranking officer, for that matter – found out about this little weekend getaway they both would be court martialed so fast their heads wouldn't have time to spin.
Jack shook his head before setting it in his hands. They were walking a damn fine line. Technically, nothing had happened that hadn't happened before. They had slept beside each other on countless missions. They had spent time together outside the base. They had shared meals, both on base and off. They had even kissed. But this... this willful choice to push the regs aside... if even for two days...
He stood and paced the floor from the bed to the window, his hands set at his waist.
Neither one of them had to spell out the rules. He knew she knew. Things could only... would only... go so far. No matter how much he wanted more. The responsibility fell on him.
He had managed to keep it all under control – well, kinda – until she kissed him. Then that was it. All bets were off. Stick him with a fork cuz he was done.
There had been a time when he didn't think he'd ever 'want' for a woman's touch again.
Enter Captain Samantha Carter.
And gradually, over the last few years, it had grown harder and harder to ignore what she did to him. He hadn't been completely honest with her when he told her that times like this – when they both let down their guard – were what kept him sane. They were, in fact, the moments that drove him to the point of insanity. But what they did do was keep him going.
Fighting.
Living.
His gut told him something was coming. Something big. Something nasty. Something he wasn't so sure he was going to come out of. The why and how of it, he didn't know. But threads were unraveling, and his instincts didn't like it. Ever since they lost the Doc – Janet – he knew nothing would be the same.
So... two days. He had two days to find a balance between holding on to what he needed and not taking too much.
The bathroom door opened, and Jack turned. He was staring... knew he was staring... but found no reason to stop. Sam walked towards him, slipping an earring into her right ear, a smile on her lips. She wore a sexy red dress that bared her shoulders and dipped just low enough to nearly cause Jack to actually groan. The fabric creased and stretched over her torso and hips, accentuating her waist, only to flare out in a skirt that draped down her legs and did unmentionable things to his imagination. Her hair was done in big, chunky curls that made her neck look all the longer and more kisseable.
Sam stopped several feet from him. He finally forced his eyes back up to look into her face. With a grin, she turned slowly, and he nearly choked. The back of the dress connected with one tiny button at shoulderblade level, then opened up to reveal her entire back down to the base of her spine. He couldn't figure out how in the world the thing stayed on – and in place – but he was damn happy it did.
She turned again, and the skirt flirted around her legs. The high heels she wore gave her feet a sexy arch and only accentuated the strength and shape of her calves.
"Are you going to say something?" she finally asked.
"Wow is the only thing that comes to mind," he managed to say.
Her expression seemed to shift, to something more wary and tentative. "I don't get to dress like a girl very often. I'm afraid I'm not very good at it."
Jack took one broad step to close the space between them, taking her chin in his hands before he covered her mouth with his own. She hummed against his lips as her hands touched his waist, just slipping beneath his sweater to touch the shirt beneath.
Layering... who's brilliant idea was layering?
They were both breathless by the time one of them found the strength to pull away. Jack held his hands against her throat and cheeks, resting his forehead against hers, as he stroked her skin with his thumbs.
"Khaki tank tops will never hold the same appeal to me again," he said before raising his chin to kiss her brow.
Sam swatted his side gently, laughing softly. It was an old joke, and one that never failed to get her ire up. All the more reason to tease. He loved the flush in her cheeks and the sparkle in her eyes.
"We'd better go or we're going to be late for dinner."
As she walked away, the faint purple blue shadow of a bruise caught his eye from the edge of the dress around her shoulderblade. He touched the spot, and she looked at him over her shoulder.
"What? Can you see it? I hoped the dress would cover it."
"It's not bad."
"This from a man who has seen me with how many bumps, bruises and contusions?"
He moved close to her, but stayed behind her, staring into her eyes. Jack brushed the darkened skin with his fingertips as he held her gaze.
"And each time, I've wanted to do this..."
He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her skin, just beside her spine. Sam sucked in a sharp breath, and he smiled. When he stood, he noticed her cheeks were flushed and her lips were parted as she took in each quick breath.
"We really need to go..."
She took his hand, and he let her lead him from the hotel room. There would be plenty of time for self-recrimination and doubts later. Tonight, the rest of the world be damned.