Chapter Three

WARNING: Steamier than my usual stuff. If you think you may be offended, wait for the next chapter.

Jordan knew he was confused and to be honest she was trying to confuse him. He had no idea the thoughts that were running through her head….that she, of all people, didn't deserve him…his professed affections and love. Not her. Not after all she had done to the people she loved, including him. To think, that after all she had put him through in their pasts, that he still loved her, actually took her breathe away. It also startled her back to reality. He did deserve so much better. He could do so much better…despite the fact she loved him with her whole heart.

So she did go out with other guys…men she knew he wouldn't approve of, just to see if she could turn him off, turn him around, and get her out of his life. So she'd flirt, openly with these men, in front of him, and watch his reaction.

It nearly broke her heart when she saw a measure of distaste and disappointment flicker across his features. He was now thinking she was something she really wasn't, because she'd leave these men high and dry the minute the night was over. They were never invited up to her apartment. They never felt the warmth of her embrace or the sweetness of her kiss.

Jordan knew that Woody still had questions…every time he'd look at her, she knew…that one day, when the right opportunity arose, he'd ask.

And it happened…with the changing of the shifts at the police precinct and her pulling a weekend double at the morgue. Woody had to finish up the details on a homicide. He found himself walking back over to the morgue, to talk with the ME on duty. He pulled himself up short when he discovered it was Jordan's name written on the board as the weekend ME. The morgue was dark, the doors locked, and it was the early, early hours of the morning. Not even the security guards would bother them. After he finished up the detail of the homicide, he'd finish up the details of their relationship.

As soon as he found her, that is. She wasn't in autopsy, or the crypt, or trace. He walked to her office door and found the report he needed fastened to her door. He found the woman he needed inside, asleep on the couch. The opportunity was there…and the timing was perfect. Just roused from sleep, a barely awake Jordan would be easy to corner. He quietly let himself in her office, shut and locked the door behind him, pulled the blinds on her window, and walked over to her sleeping figure.

He had listened to the fairy stories his mother had told him as a child. He had always favored the ones about knights rescuing the fair maidens…picturing in his mind that somehow he was a knight…and would one day find the woman of his dreams and save her. When he was young, he always pictured it would be from a bully…or an overbearing parent. He never in his wildest dreams imagined it would be rescuing his lady from herself. Jordan looked so much like Snow White laying there on the couch, his dreams of fairy tales and knights were pushed forefront to his mind. But Snow White had only needed a kiss to waken her. Jordan needed so much more to wake up and face the truth. And now was the perfect opportunity.

"Jordan," he whispered, sitting on the couch and gently shaking her. "Jordan, wake up."

She mumbled something and made to roll over. He wouldn't allow it. "Jordan. I need to talk to you."

"The report's on the door, Woody." Woody, she thought. Oh, my God. It's Woody. She tried to turn over the other way. He wasn't letting her do that either.

"This is not about the report, Cavanaugh. It's about us. Wake up."

Tentatively, she opened her eyes, to find herself gazing up into a pair of blue ones….but this time, they weren't the color of the ocean after a storm. They had a tinge of coldness about them…like anger had set in with a permanent residence.

"That's better. So I think you owe me an explanation, don't you?"

She feigned ignorance. "But the report should answer all your questions – unless the DA is really hard-pressed for evidence."

"I told you, this is not about the homicide. This is about us. I think you owe me an explanation about why you decided to get up and leave my bed in the middle of making love."

She was thankful for the darkness that was masking the faint blush that was rising to her cheeks. She had rehearsed this moment many times in the past months, but had never really come up with an answer. The thought flickered through her mind that if she answered him curtly, even if it hurt him, he'd leave…and walk out of her life. "You wouldn't understand," she began.

"Try me."

"It just didn't feel right, Woody….I guess you're just not my type…I don't know…it just wasn't…."

"Really? I'm not your type? And what is your type, Jordan? You lead me on for three years and are just now discovering I'm not your type?"

"People change, Wood."

Woody could feel the anger that he kept at a simmer between them rage into a boil. "So…just what exactly is your type, Jordan? This?" And with that, he pulled her roughly to him and kissed her…hard. Not letting her come up for air or to pull away from him. The blinds were drawn in her office and the door was locked. No one was expected in the morgue for several hours.

Jordan's head was spinning from his assault. Her mouth tingled and ached from the hard pressure of his lips and the only way she could breathe was through his kisses. He caught her lower lip with his teeth and tugged her mouth forcefully open, invading her mouth with his tongue, using it to explore every inch of it intimately, not giving her a chance to protest or escape from his embrace.

It was only when he heard her whimper against his lips that he eased the onslaught momentarily, and let his lips become coaxing, teasing hers to stay with his…then his hands moved from her arms to her back, easing her back down on the couch and tugging her shirt up above her breasts. Her bra quickly followed. She stiffened when her bare flesh rubbed against his dress shirt. But he didn't relinquish his hold on her, pushing both further up her body and beginning to caress her breasts with his hands.

"Woody," she managed to whisper, realizing that her plan had gone wrong…horribly wrong… "Woody?"

He pulled away from her then, his breath unsteady and his voice ragged, "What? Don't ask me to stop, Jo. Not this time. Not again."

She shook her head. "I'm not. Just please….slow down a little?"

"Slow? Why? To give you time to think of another excuse? I'm tired of waiting on you Jordan." He kissed her again. "I care about you. I thought that might mean something to you. Evidently not. You prefer men that are just going to use you and leave you with no strings attached. But I'd like to bring closure to this," he ran his eyes down her body, "before I move on with my life. I think you owe me this much."

But his kisses and caresses did become more loving in touch…and she found herself responding despite her better judgment. He finally tugged her shirt completely off and then ran his hand down her body until this fingers found the tie on her scrub pants. He slowly undid the strings and pushed the pants down to her knees, letting his hand caress her bare thighs and seductively trace patterns right below her navel…before the top of her thong began. Jordan felt her breath catch in her throat. Woody heard it, and caught her gaze with his before he roughly tugged her pants the rest of the way off, leaving her bare, with only the scraps of her underwear on. He impatiently slid out of his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. His physical onslaught had been so intense that Jordan couldn't react…to take his shirt off herself. She could only try to keep up with him and respond.

And it was getting harder to just keep up. His hand slid back up her leg to her thong and touched her through the silky material. She felt herself buck against him. Her underwear quickly followed the rest of her clothes…finding a spot on the floor of her office. From somewhere far away, she heard the click of his belt as he unbuckled it and then the rasp of his zipper as his pants fell away. He bent over and softly whispered in her ear, "Jo…Jordan…you with me?"

She cracked her eyes open then, to gaze in his smoky blue ones, but didn't respond. "Would you rather I said something else?" he asked, and bent back over and whispered something in her ear she never thought she'd hear coming from his lips. Not her Farm Boy's. Not to her. She felt the tears prick the backs of her eyelids as he slid into her, his palms going underneath her bottom and urging her legs around his waist. Then his hands were everywhere and his lips stayed on hers…then trailed down to her neck…across her collarbone…between her breasts.

Jordan was still having trouble keeping up with him…her breath coming in gasps as she felt the tension in her building and looking for a release. He felt it coming…the telltale clinch of her body. One of his hands went over her mouth just as she came, stifling the soft cry she let out…incase any of the security guards were nearby, he didn't want them getting suspicious and coming around to her office to see what the problem was. He tilted her hips up just a little more, and she climaxed again, tightening around his body hard before he followed suit.

How long they lay there together afterwards, she had no idea. She remembered dozing off, then feeling him leave her…cold and alone on the couch. When she opened her eyes, he was gone…