Frankie lay contentedly in Horatio's arms, and felt like purring. His strong arms were around her, her back leaning against his warm chest, and she could feel his breath tickling her ear. She wondered if he were still awake, he had been quiet for so long. Once again, this was not a time for logical reasoning – that could wait. For now, she simply wanted to enjoy the feelings that his embrace created.
Horatio wasn't asleep, but rather doing exactly the same as her, just enjoying the silence that came from the peace of being with her. Her skin reminded him of satin, except that satin had never felt so soft and smooth in his experience. Slowly, gently, he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her stomach, delighting in every sensation. Frankie leaned her head backed, unconsciously arching her back, urging his hand to roam lower and moaned in delight when he obeyed her unspoken request. His fingers skilfully played over every nerve, making her squirm and whimper with need, before he gave in to his own growing desire and made love to her again.
In the afterglow of their mutual pleasure, he ran his fingers through the silken strands of blonde hair that framed her face and kissed her tenderly. Her grey eyes were foggy with contentment and met his gaze without hesitating. She was so beautiful, he thought, committing every feature to memory.
"Francesca," he said slowly, savouring every syllable. His velvet voice made sent shivers down her back as she watched his face. His eyes weren't as veiled as normal, but he was still far from the openness he had shown her when they first kissed. "You have the loveliest name."
She laughed softly. "I've never liked it. But then, I've never met anyone who liked their name. I bet you hate yours."
He gave her his quirky smile. The one that had the power to reduce her to a puddle on the floor. "Guilty as charged. But yours is lovely. Francesca, Chessie, Francesca Nelson. Lovely," he repeated. She licked her lips, unaware that the action sent a wave of desire through him, and smiled. Chessie. No one had ever called her that before.
"Between us, we make one whole British hero," she said. "Horatio Nelson. I have to ask, who were you named after? Or did your mom simply like the name?"
Horatio instantly looked less comfortable. Frankie didn't look away though. This wasn't even a big question, and she would get an answer. In the end, he answered her. "Horatio Alger, while Ray was named after Raymond Chandler. Mom loved to read." Frankie smiled encouragingly, trying to show him that memories need not always be painful.
"Do you? Love to read, I mean," she added at his confused expression.
"When I have the time," he replied lightly. On a roll, Frankie decided to ask a more personal question.
"Do you play the piano?"
"Hmm. A little."
"Would you play for me?"
Horatio moved off her, leaning on his side next to her instead. Although it was a natural enough movement, Frankie sensed this was his way of creating some space between them. He didn't meet her eyes as he replied, "I don't play in front of anyone."
Keeping her tone light and playful, she ran a finger down his chest as she spoke. "I had hoped I wasn't just anyone."
"I don't play in front of anyone." It was the tone as much as the words that enraged her. The flat finality that said this was not up for negotiation. No matter what she did, he was never going to open up to her. Anger and hurt coursed through her, and she stood up, pulling on her clothes as she found them. "Where are you going Chessie?"
It was the use of that name that really pushed her over the top. It hinted at a private knowledge between only them, when he would never share anything with her. She turned and glared at him. "I'm going home. I don't think I want to stay here anymore."
"Come on, what do you mean?" Horatio's tone showed he had no idea what she was thinking. Well, that makes two of us, she thought angrily.
"I'm good enough for your bed, but not your life, that's what I mean!"
That hurt him, and he blinked a couple of times before he spoke. "Is this because I won't play the piano for you?"
"No, Horatio! This is because you want me sometimes, but you won't let me know anything about you! You hide behind your bloody intelligence, and your bloody professionalism, and keep me at arms length, except when you want to screw me!" She was crying with rage now, her eyes glowing with fire.
He sat bolt upright, anger beginning to spark in his eyes. "As I remember Frankie, you were the one who asked to come home with me tonight."
"Only because I can't think straight when you're near me!"
"So this is my fault?" Horatio was getting really angry now, an icy fury blazing in his eyes. "You in my bed – that's all my fault?"
"Yes!" she snapped, pulling on her last piece of clothing. "Now, I left my car at CSI, so I will be taking the Hummer to get home. I don't care how you plan on getting into work tomorrow. I think you've made it perfectly plain that nothing you do is any of my business."
"Hey!" Horatio leapt out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans as he did so. He caught up with her in the hall, and tried to snatch the keys back from her. "You shouldn't drive in this state." He would have said more, except that Frankie's temper finally bubbled over and she hit him hard across the face.
"Don't you dare pretend to be concerned for me!" she hissed. "Stay away from me Horatio, just stay away!" He let her go without further comment, stunned into silence by the vitriol in her voice. Frankie drove back to her condo, fulminating all the way about the iniquity and stupidity of all men, and managed to get inside her bedroom before she collapsed, sobs wracking her whole body.
