I find him perched on a stepstool, his head in his hands. I rest my hand against the back of his neck and kneel down beside him, my arm draped across his shoulder. "Hey," I whisper softly. I plant a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"That was close," he murmurs, not looking at me. In more ways than one. I nod in agreement.
"We're going to have to lay out some ground rules, Sarah," he continues. I'm pretty sure I know what's coming. It's not my office fantasy becoming a reality. "Especially if we're—if we're going to work together and be a couple."
"I know," I whisper. Even as I'm saying this, I'm trailing kisses along his profile. I'm not ready to hear "no" just yet, so I turn his chin to me so I can capture his lips once more. He gives in easily, as though he too isn't ready to set up boundaries between us and this new thing we share. I run my hand along his back, as his own hand slides along my thigh, just under the hem of my skirt. No, I'm not ready for boundaries, practical as they may be.
He groans my name—Sarah, not Mac—before he pulls away and cups my face. "We have to behave," he says."
"I know." He's right. We've both come too far along in our careers to be caught engaging in an embarrassing act at work. I have no intention of sending my career down the toilet, not after how hard I worked to make it—and not after that debacle with my ex-husband and the article 32. And Harm, I don't want Harm's career tarnished, either. He's had a wonderful, successful career, and we'll both need a steady income if we plan on fulfilling our baby deal. We're just going to both have to suck it up and act like adults. Responsible adults.
It's just so damn hard with both our hormones raging and our emotions running high, and that "us" that we've always longed to be finally within our reach. We can explore that at home though. We can.
**********
I'm still trying to catch my breath and get myself under control as we both consider our words and actions. If this was any other place or time, I'd bar the door and lose my senses in Sarah, though I did I have a more romantic location than the JAG law library in mind for such an event. I kind of wanted that to be special, and while the library certainly is somewhat unique, that's not the kind of special I was looking for.
I stare into Sarah's chocolate eyes, brushing my thumb lightly across her cheekbone. She's still flushed from our earlier…encounter, and despite her efforts, still somewhat mussed in appearance. It's a look I can definitely get used to and I definitely want to see again. We stare out each other for a few seconds longer.
"I'll try to behave," she says solemnly.
"I promise to try and behave, too," I return, just as serious. "Try" seems about as much as we can promise at this point.
Somehow after that declaration, we're in each other's arms again, mouths fused tightly together. Perhaps we're just sealing our deal with a kiss, I reason.
"Mac—"
"Just five more minutes," she pleads, cutting me off.
I chuckle, thinking if I even allowed her two we would be in serious trouble. I can just see the admiral towering furiously over us after finding us in a compromising position here in Maritime Law, volumes 26-124, stacks J and K. Still, it might be worth the risk.
"One minute."
She gives me a small pout, accentuated by her swollen lips.
"Four."
"Three."
"Three," I hear her agree, as we once again lock lips. Ohhh…you're going to have to utilize that famed aviator control Rabb, or you will most certainly crash and burn.
Mac's becoming quite well aware, however, that when it comes to her, I really have no control.
Not anymore.
**********
I'm seated at my desk, overlooking some briefs, while Bud paces back and forth in the small expanse of my office. Occasionally I mutter to myself, which halts the hurried pace of his circles, for a moment, as he tries to decipher and digest what I've said. Providing legal counsel has suitably cooled my raging hormones, and has almost made me forget the encounter in the library.
Almost.
This review of Bud's case wouldn't take half as long if I could keep my mind focused on it, and not on the feel of Mac in my arms, her lips, hot and demanding, on mine. Cripes, I'm never going to make it today if I keep dwelling on that.
This is precisely what I worried about whenever I thought of a relationship with Mac. The separation of work from us, which, admittedly the lines have always been kind of blurred, but if we're going to function together, and not too mention not draw the attention of the Admiral et al. we'd better get our act together.
Not that I'd change anything about my current relationship with Mac. And miss out on opportunities and experiences like that in the library? Hell no. My mother didn't raise no fool, as they say.
Hell, my mother has no idea about what's really been going on with Mac and I lately. I'm sure she wouldn't be all that surprised though. She just found out about Renee marrying that mortician guy. Naturally, after I disclosed that little fun fact she asked about Mac, which prompted me to have to explain about Mic no longer being in the picture. When mom visited me in the hospital, it was still assumed the wedding would be rescheduled. After mom figured out that we were both available (which was damn fast), I heard quite an earful in subtle and not-so-subtle hints that this was opportunity not to be wasted.
Tell me something I don't already know.
I've studiously avoided talking to my mother since. Not too hard to do with my work schedule. And caller ID and an answering machine.
"Sir?"
I stare blankly at Bud. When did he come into my off—oh, right.
I clear my throat, and resume my perusal of the briefs.
"Sorry, Bud…what were you wanting to know about specifically?"
"Uhh, never mind sir, I think I've got it figured out."
"Are you sure, Lieutenant, because I can make some sug—"
"No, thank you, sir, I've got them." He takes the briefs from me and gives me a small smile and exits my office.
Just as well. I think some actual intelligent suggestions would have required more thought than I'm capable of today. I look out my windows and see that the snow is still falling steadily, adding to the inches already blanketing everything. We must have eight inches already, and there doesn't seem to be an end in sight. I have to drive Mac home in this. Maybe we'll get snowed in, and be forced to spend the day together. Steel Magnolias (notwithstanding) coupled with Mac and a nice cup of mint hot chocolate is rather appealing.
Here's hoping.