When they got back to their hotel room, Lisbon immediately sorted through the clothes she'd put in the dresser, acquiring pajamas to slide on after her evening shower.

Jane sat on the bed, watching her with those curious eyes of his. Lisbon pretended not to notice as she grabbed a pair of underwear, though his gaze burned like fire in the back of her.

"I'm gonna take a shower," she announced, as if he couldn't see the clothes in her hands.

He nodded once. "Alright. May I make a suggestion though?"

She blinked at him before saying, "sure?"

His eyes flicked to the clothes she picked out. A pair of black underwear, a tank top and sweats. His eyes met hers again, a suggestive smile tickling his lips. "Those satin green panties in your drawer would really bring out your eyes."

She blanched, wheedling back as if he'd just shoved her. What the hell?

Before she could find insults to spew at him about how inappropriate his suggestion was, he held up both his hands, palms upturned as if he were surrendering. "It was just a suggestion. The black pair is perfectly fine also."

Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging deep into her palms. She wasn't angry, per se— if anything she was in shock. Shocked that he would ever comment about the undergarments she wore. The thought of him caressing her skin and kissing down her body popped into her brain, and she swallowed a gasp.

"Go to hell," was all she said, mostly because she didn't have the strength to say anything else. Her mind was too fuzzy. She hurried to the bathroom and shut and locked the door, glancing at the mirror to find that her cheeks were flushed. Great.

She turned on the water with a shaky hand, the water spraying the floor of the shower like a steaming waterfall. She shucked off her clothes and stepped inside, shivering despite the heat enveloping her.

She allowed herself to think about the last few hours she'd spent in Chicago. The day had gone quite nicely. Jane had been polite with Stan and Karen and was a joy around their kids. Their act as a couple seemed to have been almost perfect, since nobody suspected a thing. It was more of Jane's doing of course, with his insistent hand holding and wanting to sit next to her at all times. She was grateful for how hard he was trying.

But then they got to the hotel and he was commenting on what pair of underwear she should wear? Where did that even come from? He was just messing with her, he had to be. Messing with her was one of his favorite things to do. He jumped at the chance to see her skin flush. God, what an asshole.

An attractive, charming, intelligent asshole. Was there even such a thing?

There was, apparently, and he went by Patrick Jane.

Shaking her head, she shampooed her hair, washed her body and stepped out of the shower, the entire bathroom fogged by the heat. She dried off and slipped on her clothes, wrapping her dark hair in a towel before exiting the bathroom.

Jane laid in his bed with a book in his lap, his eyes lifting from the pages to see her walk in. Her body quickly grew hot at his gaze, his eyes roving over her before returning to his book silently.

"Are you gonna take a shower?" She questioned as she sat on her bed, fidgeting with her fingers.

He looked up from his book again. "Are you saying I smell?"

Deciding to play along, she grinned. "Yes. You smell like shit."

His eyebrows raised and he tossed his book to the side. "Why, Agent Lisbon, you've really hurt my feelings. Whatever shall I do with your harsh commentary?"

She rolled her eyes and flopped back on her bed, folding an arm behind her head. "Take a shower, stinky."

Before she knew what was happening, Jane was hovering over her, his fingers pinching her sides, eliciting a tide of laughter from her. He tickled her until she was begging him to stop, tears of laughter leaking from her eyes while he continued his ruthless assault on her sides.

"Jane! Stop!" She cried, uncharacteristic giggles escaping her parted lips. "You ass! S-Stop it!"

"Apologize," he ordered, a wide grin playing on his lips. He stared down at her, drinking in her flushed cheeks and big eyes in awe. He always knew her eyes were beautiful, but up close they were so much bigger than what he was used to. Her elfin features accentuated her Irish eyes nicely.

"N-No!" She thrashed, suddenly regaining her strength and flipping them over so she sat atop him, panting heavily. Her legs were pressed on either side of him, her dilated eyes locked on his. The towel that had been wrapped around her head was strewn somewhere on the floor, her wet locks of dark hair hanging like a curtain between their faces.

The position was so sensual, yet neither of them noticed until his body shifted and she realized a certain part of her was rubbing against a certain part of him. Gasping, she rolled off of him despite his groan of complaint.

He folded both his arms behind his head, his breathing slightly erratic. "I have a feeling those criminals you attack and pin down really enjoy the assault."

Her mouth fell agape, brows shot up to her hairline. "Jane!"

"What? Who wouldn't love having a beautiful woman manhandling them?" His voice was teasing, but his blue-green eyes were completely serious.

"You're incorrigible." She shook her head, ignoring the flush of heat coursing through her body. What a flirt this man was. She should've been used to it, but she still felt the heat that blazed her whenever he looked at her with those enchanting eyes of his, the aftershock his touch left after he'd pulled a hand away from her shoulder.

Jane just grinned, still reclined in his position on the bed. He loved seeing that blush on her cheeks. He loved it even more when he was the one to make it appear.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, padding across the room to her own bed. "You should take a shower and do the same."

"Dying to get away from me, are you?"

"Aren't I always?" She casted him a look, a gleam in her jaded eyes.

"Hmm, no. I think you secretly love my presence. You just have too much pride to admit it."

"No way," she protested as she climbed into bed, pulling the covers up over her body. She looked incredibly small burrowed beneath the covers, only her head peaking out.

He smiled to himself. He never realized how adorable she was until now. Her green eyes were large in her face, her dark hair blanketing her pillow like a spiral, her lips slightly pouted as if they were begging to be kissed.

He wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. Were they as soft as they looked? Did they taste like the morning coffee she insisted she have everyday? Or did she taste like her favorite fruit, strawberries? He wanted to know.

But then reality slammed into him like a freight train. What was he doing? He couldn't be thinking about Lisbon like that. They were close friends; she was his boss. He'd never even thought about the brunette that way. Sure, she was as cute as a button, and he enjoyed flirting with her to see her flush prettily, but he never once wondered what it would be like to kiss her.

Until now.

He remembered suggesting she slip on the green satin panties he'd seen in her drawer after her shower and cursed under his breath. It was supposed to be harmless teasing, just to see how she'd react, but as an image of her modeling those panties for him branded his mind, his heart skipped a beat and he exhaled a shaky breath.

His eyes flew back to Lisbon. She was now sound asleep, snuggled beneath the covers, breathing softly. She looked peaceful. His chest ached.

He couldn't have feelings for Lisbon. He just couldn't. He was still on the road to catching Red John, he still wore his wedding ring, and he still thought about his family every night before he fell asleep. Falling for Lisbon would complicate things. She'd get in his way of finding peace.

Sighing to himself, he slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom, hoping that a blistering hot shower would put his mind at ease. He desperately needed to get a certain brunette out of his mind.

But even as he lathered his blonde curls and washed his body, a pair of emerald eyes popped into his head, and he knew he was screwed.