Chapter 8

Lisbon's POV

She patted barefooted into her kitchen, the tiny light from above the stove providing a soft yellow glow. When she was home alone, she used very little lighting; it kept the bills down and it helped her relax for bed.

She was starving; she looked in the fridge, but the take-out Jane brought over was nowhere to be found. She glanced at the time on the microwave; 10:17 pm. She shouldn't eat anything too heavy if she wanted to get good sleep.

She grabbed an apple from the fridge and walked across her kitchen to grab a knife from the kitchen island. She opened the patio door to let in some fresh air on her way there as she usually did every night. She loved the crisp smell of the outdoors at this time of night. She paused staring out into her yard and smiled. It was dark out and with the light behind her, she couldn't make out anything in the scenery.

She turned her back to the darkness and started peeling her apple, her mind back on Jane.

She heard a creak. The hairs on her neck stood on end, every muscle in her body ready to attack, as she heard the screen of her patio door slowly slide open. Her blood drummed loudly in her ears; her breathing went shallow to listen to the motions of the intruder to deduce his proximity to her. She braced herself, knife in hand; none of her guns were at hand. As she heard the prowler step inside, she turned suddenly, hurtling her apple in that direction as hard as possible announcing that she was FBI at the same time.

"Ow!" the obscured intruder who sounded like Jane whined in pain and stumbled to a darker area of her kitchen.

"Jane?"

She froze for a moment as her brain registered that it was Jane grunting in pain and she rushed the few steps to his side.

"Oh my god! Jane! Are you okay?"

"No! You hit me in the eye! What was that?" he asked clutching the left side of his face.

"My apple! Let me see."

He flinched away from her and she blinked in surprise. His rejection hurt her feelings.

"First, put down the knife before you gauge my remaining good eye with it."

She didn't realize she was still holding the knife as she had reached up for his face. She placed it on the counter as he regarded her with his good eye, the left one closed tight as he pressed his fingers along his cheekbone checking for pain.

He seemed fine and her anger flared suddenly.

"What the hell, Jane! Why were you sneaking up on me like that? I could have killed you! You never do that to a cop! Ever!"

Her heart was racing and she was hopping mad. She could have hurt him much worse than she did and that thought was very upsetting. She marched back up to him, fighting the urge to hit him for scaring her half to death.

"Woah, woah, slugger. No need to inflict more damage," he eyed her wearily.

She flicked on the light behind him, both of them squinting in the newly brightened room.

"I wasn't going to hit you."

She pulled a chair from the table, her anger dissipating quickly. She softened her tone.

"Sit down, let me have a look at the damage," she said gently but firmly, not ready to let him see how his pain was affecting her.

He smiled crookedly at her and did as she asked. She moved into the v of his legs and observed his injury. He still kept his left eye closed tight, the other one watching her face. He was good at playing up his injuries; she'd seen him in action so many times over the years. She skimmed her finger gently over the reddish area around his eye and he winced when she applied a bit of pressure just below it.

"Sorry," she said regrettably, letting her hand drop from his face.

Her heart squeezed in her chest that she had caused him more pain.

"It's okay. How does it look?"

"It's red. Can you open it?"

He slowly opened his eye and she was relieved to see that the white of his eye was a bit red, but not bloody. He must have read the relief on her face because he smiled and that was her undoing. She had no defenses when he smiled at her like that.

"You earned the right to wear that baseball jersey you were wearing last night. Your aim is very accurate."

"I raised three brothers; you pick up skills," she added with a chuckle.

She wanted to lean in and kiss him but still felt unsure about being so familiar with him; they'd only become lovers last night and she wasn't sure how to be with him now that their relationship status had changed.

"Close your good eye... can you see okay?"

"Hmmm… Yes, I can," he answered in a flirty tone.

Both his eyes were tracking her when she felt his hands grab her hips, then circle back to her buttocks pulling her closer to him. In his current position, his head was at her upper chest.

"I'm really enjoying you playing nursemaid," he said playfully, his voice a bit husky as he took in her appearance. "Much more pleasant than the treatment I got before."

She slapped his shoulder playfully in fake indignation, grinning at his handsome face. She stroked his hair behind his ear, a small intimate gesture to test the waters. It felt strange to touch him like that still.

He pushed her a bit away from him, observing her fully. Then a huge smile cracked across his face as he eyed her attire.

"The matching robe? Are there any other accessories to that dreadful shower cap you wore last night?"

He was teasing her, his hands slowly massaging her from her hips to her backside as he observed her hungrily.

"A washing mitt," she replied, her voice thicker than expected.

He was rubbing the fabric enthusiastically, watching his hands as he molded it to her body. She was mesmerized by the way he was looking at her; he wanted her and a thrill of anticipation zinged through her body.

"I do like the feel of the fabric of this monstrosity and its very short design."

His hand came to rest on the knot of her robe, toying with it a bit. She was ready to jump him when his next question took her by surprise.

"Why did you throw an apple at me?"

"What do you mean? You surprised me?"

"How? You looked right at me."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

"No… I didn't."

"You looked straight at me, smiled, and opened the patio door."

"What? No! I never saw you. Why were you out there anyway? I thought you were gone."

He looked as puzzled as she was.

Hours earlier...

Jane's POV

Lisbon had barely said two words to him since she'd returned from wherever she'd gone. She wouldn't tell him where she'd been and her smiles for him had disappeared. She was visibly upset but was trying to hide it from him.

During the briefing meeting with Cho and Fischer, she'd been distracted, letting him have free rein which she rarely allowed. He'd found a possible lead into the motives of the murder of the victims at the museum, but she hadn't pushed back on his theory as she usually did no matter how hard he tried to get a reaction from her.

He adjusted himself on the sofa again. He just couldn't get comfortable, Lisbon's behavior making him feel unsettled. He glanced at the time again, impatient to get her alone to talk to her. It was almost six-thirty now and Lisbon was still sequestered in Fischer's office to discuss his lead and other possible motives.

He gave her another half hour and realized that she was in it for the long haul. Lisbon had a high tolerance for long work hours but he didn't. He knocked on Fischer's door and indicated his departure. Lisbon didn't acknowledge him and he became more worried.

Lisbon's POV

Someone honked their horn at her, jarring her from her thoughts. She tried to pick up the thread again, but it was lost. She replayed the scene with Simms again and how Jane tried to talk to her after. She'd been too confused about her feelings to engage with him and had shut him out. She was concerned that he'd figure out what had happened before she had time to sort out her feelings first.

Instead of trying to recover where she was in her thoughts, she decided to run through the scenario again. It seemed unlikely that Simms had sex with Jane. Last night, he denied even having kissed her and he had said that he was out of practice in the shower, although, it didn't seem that way to her. That was another issue entirely; she realized that she didn't know anything about his sex life. She had assumptions, but that's all they were. Either Simms was lying or Jane was. Maybe Simms was just displaying some bravado at being called out and being embarrassed at the ball? That was likely, but Jane could have been lying too. She couldn't tell with him. But why lie? He had no reason. They weren't together at the time. He was free to have sex with whomever he wanted; it's not like he would've been cheating on her. It bothered her that he might have slept with Simms, but not as much if he lied to her about it.

She expelled a frustrated breath. Even if she asked him again if he had sex with Simms, she had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth. He lied so easily; just today in the briefing with Cho and Fischer, he had lied about where he was last night and she only knew it was a lie because he had been with her. She was in an impossible situation; she had no way of ever knowing the truth for sure because she didn't trust Jane or her own judgment around Jane.

She pulled onto her street, her house visible in the distance. She'd driven herself home mindlessly, not realizing she'd forgotten to pick up take-out. She was too tired to turn around now and not really hungry anyway. She checked the time on her car radio; it was almost 8 pm. She'd spent her entire drive home trying to sort her thoughts and still had no resolution.

She entered her driveway to a familiar sight... Jane was sitting on her porch stairs waiting for her. Her heart accelerated with anticipation, butterflies overtaking her instantly. She didn't expect him to be here.

He got up as she parked and showed her the take-out he had in his hand. He had a tiny smile; he seemed unsure and her heart melted. She was anxious. She wanted to just forget everything and pretend but Jane never forgot and she knew he would want to talk about what happened today.

"Hey," she greeted him with a tiny smile of her own. "You read my mind."

"I figured you'd be hungry."

He was observing her and she knew he would start digging if she didn't give him something plausible for her behavior at the office earlier today. She opened the door and he followed her in, his unique manly scent enveloping her as he waited beside her.

"Where should I put this?"

"Umm... anywhere... coffee table is fine."

He walked over to her coffee table and placed the food on it, turning to face her. She rubbed her hands together, her breath catching, panic playing havoc with her nerves. The way he was looking at her, she knew she was in trouble and she wasn't ready, so she blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.

"I need to go for my jog."

She surprised him with her statement but she had to follow through.

"Umm... okay."

He looked confused and dejected. She didn't want him to feel rejected.

"I won't be long. You can wait for me... if you don't mind?"

He smiled at her words and she felt relieved. She didn't want him to go. She just needed time to get her head on straight and figure out what to do next.

She thought about kissing him, but she wasn't sure what the protocol was between them. Everything was still so new and with everything that happened today, it felt awkward.

"I'll go get ready."

He nodded and sat on her couch.

"I'll just take a nap then."

She entered the house in a rush and looked at the clock for the time. Dammit, it was almost 9:30 pm. She lost track of the time when her phone died, but she didn't realize that she'd been gone that long. The house was dark, Jane wasn't on the sofa and the food wasn't on the coffee table. She walked around her main floor quickly, then looked upstairs, he was nowhere to be found.

She went back downstairs and put her phone on the charger and waited for it to come on, but it was completely dead and would take a few minutes to boot back up. She sighed in frustration and headed back upstairs to take her shower.

She'd call him to apologize when she got out.

She wiped the steam from the mirror revealing her face and opened her door to let the rest of it escape. She stared at her reflection as she brushed her hair, talking to herself to cement her decision from her time in the shower.

Last night, she propelled herself head-first into a romantic relationship with Jane. For better or for worse, there was no going back now. She would have to live with the doubts Simms planted; there was no point in confronting either one of them on it, she would never know the truth beyond a shadow of a doubt. She needed to move forward and deal with the very real situation she found herself in; a relationship with Jane and what that would look like. This relationship wouldn't be easy and was most definitely very fragile, but she wanted it. She wanted him. She eyed herself in the mirror and said it again; she wanted him.

She rolled her eyes at herself. She had a very different talk with herself years ago about not feeding her feelings for him. She had listed all the reasons that falling for him was a bad idea and that he could only ever be a friend. Those reasons were still valid today, nothing had changed except the one thing she hadn't accounted for… she was defenseless against his advances. She thought she was the one in control all these years but it was clear now that this wasn't the case. She groaned inwardly at her naiveness where he was concerned. She had made all these plans for a new life with Marcus and Jane decided he wanted her and here she was… just like six months ago when she came running back to him; quitting her job and abandoning her new life in Washington. He had all the control.

She took out her hair blower and started drying her hair into straight tresses, but her mind wandered again, giving the stage to new doubts. Why did he suddenly want her after all this time? She stopped and leaned into the mirror, taking in her features thinking about how Jane perceived them.

She wasn't Jane's type, Simms was; classically beautiful, slim, sexy, sophisticated, chestier... unscrupulous or criminal she mentally added, remembering all the women in the past who had captivated Jane's interest while they worked together. She was never really sure of what had transpired between him and those women but they definitely had a hold on him back then. She pushed the thoughts of Lorelei out of her mind; that situation still haunted her. Jane definitely had a type and they were usually brunettes, like his wife. Simms was a redhead leaning on the darker shade but his type nonetheless.

She took in her features and remarked that the only thing she had in common with his type was the color of her hair; she wasn't mysterious, she didn't use her feminine wiles to attract men, she didn't dress provocatively or spend hours at the salon getting her nails and hair done. She was a straight shooter, who valued practical clothes, short nails, and sensible shoes. She preferred a gym to a spa and jeans to a skirt. On the occasions where she did have to doll up, she felt like an imposter playing dress-up.

She was attractive, she knew that; men were constantly after her, but she just didn't understand Jane's sudden interest in her after all this time.

Simms's proclamation that she had sex with him shined a spotlight on her insecurity about Jane's feelings for her. Could he be confused? He thought he was losing her and then he thought she died. Maybe he misread his feelings for her? If he did... how long before he realized his mistake? That thought upset her immensely. He may be confused, but she wasn't; she loved him.

Losing him now would hurt but she would be okay so long as she didn't get more attached to this romantic version of Jane. Every time he told her he loved her, it physically hurt; it was strange but all it did was foreshadow the pain she would feel when all this fell apart which was a very real possibility. She needed to be cautious with her heart because if he truly was in love with her, and ready for a relationship, he wouldn't still be wearing his wedding ring. She had to guard herself or he'd break her with his goodbye.

She finished drying her hair then headed into her bedroom to grab her robe. She cinched the belt and thought that this was a perfect example of why she wasn't Jane's type… the women that attracted him would never wear this. He would laugh to see her now… her robe matched her shower cap, the one he teased her about last night in the shower… she bought it as a set. It was a chintzy silky material and not very practical as it only reached her mid-thigh but it had rainbows and cute kittens and it made her happy to wear it.

She smiled at the little kittens in the pattern reflected in the mirror. She loved cats but refused to get one because she didn't want to become a spinster cat lady stereotype. She also loved dogs but was away too much to care properly for one. So, she bought this stupid thing because it made her happy and allowed her to indulge her love of furry kittens.

Her tummy rumbled in hunger. She headed downstairs to find something to eat and to call Jane to apologize for being gone so long.

Back to the present...

Jane's POV

"You thought I was an intruder?"

"Yes! Why would I throw an apple at your head otherwise?"

"I thought you were vexed with me. You seemed upset this afternoon and you obviously wanted your distance earlier."

She tensed in his arms, her eyes averting. Whatever happened she still did not want to talk about it.

Her stomach grumbled and he realized that he needed to feed her before he prodded her further. Lisbon was always easier to handle after she'd eaten.

"Let's eat!"

She looked surprised by his announcement and moved out of his hold, a small frown gracing her forehead. He went to the oven and retrieved their take-out. She followed him into the living room wordlessly with plates; they both preferred eating on the sofa and had done so many times over the years on overnight trips for a case. It was habit and he thought it was best to keep her in her comfort zone.

They dug into the lukewarm food, silently selecting their favorites and settling themselves on opposite sides of the sofa. He preferred sitting with his feet on the floor, his arm on the armrest holding his plate while he ate. She sat as she always did, her feet tucked under her, sideways, her plate balanced on her thigh.

He turned on the tv, another ritual of their bygone days, and continued to eat in comfortable silence.

He was about to comment on what was happening in the show when he noticed she wasn't watching it at all. She was staring at her food with a frown.

"What's wrong," he asked casually.

Her eyes sprang to his guiltily.

"Nothing."

"You're not watching the show. I can change it to something else if you like?"

She shrugged pushing her food on the plate.

"No, it's okay. I'm just not that much into tv anymore."

"Oh?" He nodded. "What are you into?"

She blinked rapidly, obviously taken by surprise, her cheeks turning crimson.

"R-reading," she stuttered.

"Reading?" he repeated, unable to contain his smile.

She was hiding something from him. He knew she used to watch romantic movies and serial dramas although she thought he didn't know. Maybe she started reading romance novels and he was itching to confirm his suspicion and tease her about it.

"What kind of books?"

She blushed harder if it was possible and broke eye contact.

"All kinds," she said nonchalantly, but he wasn't buying it.

Whatever was making her blush, its source was on the bookcase near the fireplace. He sprang up from his position, placed his plate on the coffee table, and headed in that direction.

Lisbon scrambled to her feet, chasing after him.

"What're you doing?"

"Checking out your reading material," he announced with a huge grin.

"No. Stop."

Her eyes darted to a shoebox on her shelf and it was clearly the source of her embarrassment. He walked over and picked it up, shaking it gently before she had time to block his way.

"Give it to me," she said reaching for it.

He lifted it in the air out of her reach with a grin as she tried to wrestle it out of his hands.

"Not before I get my prize."

"I mean it, Jane. Give it back. It's not funny."

"Now, now, Lisbon. Finders keepers," he teased.

She reached up again, but this time he caught the look of panic on her face, her eyes were tearing up in frustration.

"Just give it to me."

She sounded on the verge of tears this time and he handed her the box without further resistance.

"Teresa, what's wrong?"

"You can't just barge in and, and… do this. I asked you to stop. Just because you can read me doesn't mean you should. I don't have to tell you everything. I'm allowed my privacy! You can't just force it because you want to know!"

"I didn't mean any harm," he said gently, confused by her reaction.

"There needs to be boundaries between us if this is going to work."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize this was a sensitive subject."

Whatever was in that box, she didn't want him to know about it. In the few seconds he held it, he noticed it was light and the contents shuffled inside like loose papers. Her ask was difficult because even though he wanted to respect her wishes, his mind was already trying to deduce the contents as they spoke.

She held the box tightly against her chest, her anger long gone. She was looking around and it was clear she wanted to hide the box.

Lisbon's POV

She clutched the box with his letters inside tightly in her arms. All the longing, wishing, worrying she poured into these as she read them coming to the surface. All these letters had memories and emotions attached to them… he wrote them, but they were hers. She read them almost every night since the first one arrived. She had her favorites and she hadn't stopped the ritual when he re-entered her life a few months ago, in fact, she had scoured them with a new eye trying to uncover new meanings in them. This was because she'd been confused about her feelings for him and his behavior since he'd been back. She didn't want him to know about her attachment to his letters… it made her feel uncomfortably exposed.

"I promise I won't look," his voice startled her from her thoughts. "You can put it back on the shelf."

She eyed him warily, considering his promise.

He expelled a breath, running his hand through his hair.

"You don't trust me."

"I want to. It's just… it's not like you have a good track record."

"I know. I promise I won't look in your box but… I can't promise to never snoop. It's my nature, you know that. Don't you snoop at other people's places?"

The question was a statement on human behavior… she knew that most people snooped. But her pride made her utter an indignant 'No' to his statement.

"You don't look in the medicine cabinet while in the washroom?" he prodded.

All at once, a different realization hit her. In her rush to escape him earlier, she forgot the reason she never invited him to her home… she didn't want him snooping through her things. She'd left him alone for hours to do just that.

"Oh my god… you've already snooped haven't you?"

"No. Actually, I didn't."

"I don't believe you! You were alone a long time. You said it yourself, it's what you do."

He shrugged shaking his head at the same time.

"I guess I was hopeful that I wouldn't need to. That you'd be more open with me."

She wasn't expecting that response from him but she believed him. She placed the box back on the shelf and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket at his wrist, tugging on it in a swinging motion.

"You're not exactly a big sharer yourself."

"I don't have much to share."

"You're worse than I am. Maybe we can start small."

She was standing in front of him, waiting for his response.

"Like what?" he asked with a compromising smile.

She pulled him back to the sofa and sat back down with her plate.

"What's your favorite number?" she asked around a mouthful of noodles.

She hadn't finished eating and she was obviously still hungry.

"That is small," he chuckled. "Ummm, I don't have one."

Jane's POV

"Everyone has a favorite number."

"Not me," he quipped, unable to take his eyes off her.

She'd surprised him earlier with her willingness to open up to him and now, as he watched her in her tiny ridiculous robe, her thighs exposed to his view, her hair falling like a curtain as she ate, all he could think about was holding her.

"What?" she asked, meeting his eyes. "Do I have food on my face?"

"No."

"Why are you staring at me like that then?"

"You're beautiful."

She frowned at him, chewing more slowly as she observed him.

"Just come out with it, Jane. You don't need to butter me up."

He smiled wryly at her statement.

"Call me, Patrick," he reminded. "And why can't I tell you you're beautiful?"

"Because, Patrick," she emphasized his name. "I know you."

"No. You know me as a partner, a friend… not as a lover."

She choked a bit on her food, her eyes going round. She seemed tongue-tied, undecided on what to say next. He put his untouched plate back on the coffee table and leaned over to grab hers to dispose of it for her. She stared at him with greater confusion.

"Com'ere," he said, patting his lap.

She looked adorable and he couldn't resist the urge to hold her anymore.

"I want to hold you."

He pulled her to him and she hesitantly got up and walked the two steps to stand beside him. He reached out and placed his hands on her hips; she was stiff as a statue.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I'm not sure what you want."

He smiled and pulled her onto his lap. He adjusted her a few times until she was sitting sideways on him causing her to have to lean on his chest.

"Comfortable?"

"Not really."

He chuckled and she smiled, but just a bit.

"I've been thinking about holding you all day," he said, running his hand along the soft creamy skin of her thigh.

He kissed her exposed neck, extracting a moan from her. She tasted so good, her silky skin on his tongue, her scent filling his senses. He pulled her closer and moved his hand higher up her thigh, grazing her sex casually. She was completely naked under her robe and that thought kicked up his lust into overdrive. She squirmed, her arm going around his neck to hold him to her.

"What happened today to upset you?" he asked against her neck.

She quickly extracted herself off his lap, shaking her head at him.

"It's nothing. I don't want to talk about it. Can we just forget about this afternoon?"

He was considering her request, her eyes set on him stubbornly. He would have to tackle this issue at a later time, her walls were way up. So, he conceded and she visibly relaxed.

"Thank you," she offered and took his hand.

He yanked her back down on him needing to hold her and wanting to reestablish a lighter mood.

"What's your favorite color?" He asked kissing her neck again.

She giggled as he tickled her with his lips.

"You know that already, don't you?"

"I do; it's green, but I don't know why," he responded, kissing her neck again.

She leaned into his kiss giving him more access as he devoured her. He was enjoying himself immensely. But then she grabbed his hand; the one that was gripping her thigh and he stilled when he felt her fidget with his fingers. She was nervous. He watched her in silence, waiting for her to speak.

"My aunt Sarah, my mom's sister, died of cancer when I was 15. She was the only mother figure in my life after my mom died and she loved it when I wore green. There was rarely money for clothes, so I made due. I often wore my brothers' clothes; they were all bigger than me by the time I was 13. When my aunt would visit, she'd take me shopping, 'just the girls', she'd say. She would encourage me to wear more girly clothes and I wanted to but my pride wouldn't let me. I didn't want her to know how bad it really was at home," she said slowly as though each word she revealed required an effort. She played with his fingers a while longer before resuming her thoughts. "Anyway, she would always buy me a green shirt of some kind. She said it complimented my complexion and my eyes and I should always have 'a nice girly green shirt' in my wardrobe. And every time I'd try on a green shirt she would say that the color made my eyes shine bright like my mom's. I missed my mom a lot. I dressed like a tomboy and my dad would always say that I was nothing like her. So that meant a lot to me."

He had no words but he understood her pain. Most people gave inane reasons for their choice of favorite color and because they were keeping it light, he expected the same from her.

He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, touched that she had shared that with him.

She finally looked at him, their eyes locked and connected on a new intimate level. He wanted more… he wanted to know every single little thing about her and he wanted to make all her past hurts go away.

He kissed her softly, wanting to soothe her but when he pulled away her eyes held his with trepidation. He could see that she was starting to regret her openness. He kissed her again, pressing his lips firmly against hers wanting to absorb her pain and reassure her. He kept repeating 'it's okay' against her lips. She clung to him, receiving his kisses but he feared she'd run if he stopped.

Suddenly, she took over their kiss, straddling him as she did so. He cupped her face with both hands to get a read on how she was feeling. Her eyes held his steadily speaking to him the words she would never say out loud. He opened his mouth to tell her he loved her, but she kissed him, as though she knew the words he would speak and wanted to silence him. Then she stopped and gazed into his eyes again, uncertain. She was letting him read her and all the words she would surely deny reflected back at him in her eyes. It was a small victory.

She leaned in to kiss him again and a fire ignited between them. They kissed each other hungrily, as though trying to absorb the other's essence. He held her tightly against his chest, both arms wrapped around her tiny frame. The longer they kissed, the more intensely their bodies reacted.

Their needs merged, pursuing one purpose as their bodies started moving in perfect unison seeking greater contact. They both worked together to release him from the confines of his pants, their mouths continuously seeking the other unable to separate even for a brief moment. They moaned in relief against each other's lips when their bodies finally joined together.

Their connection was powerful as he held her tightly against him, moving slowly and purposely inside her, stretching her fully with every stroke. It felt so good to be inside her velvet heat. He broke their kiss, needing to look in her eyes as he claimed her. He paused their rhythm forcing her to look at him. He could see it; her love for him. It was in the tenderness of her gaze. She couldn't hide it when she was making love to him.

Her soft hands came to rest on both of his cheeks, her eyes continuing to hold his as he restarted his slow possession. Her eyes closed in pleasure, and he stopped again, wanting the connection to her heart through her eyes. He saw understanding flicker in their depths and he resumed his cadence, mesmerized by the emotions he saw flittering there. 'I love you' danced on his tongue and echoed in his brain, but he knew she wasn't ready to hear those words again.

His skin prickled as his pleasure built to unsustainable heights, his body wanting to take over and drive into her faster. Lust clouded her eyes as her body also sought mindless control. She leaned her forehead against his, her breathing as labored as his, her lips a whisper away. She was struggling, fighting her body's instincts to close her eyes. She was giving him what he wanted, the heart connection she couldn't say out loud. Her love for him shined through in that small act and he wondered how he never noticed how much she loved him.

He couldn't hold it anymore. His body and mind synchronized in their solitary goal to make her his. He claimed her lips savagely, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, tasting her. She returned his ardor, nipping and dueling with him. Her soft moans every time he thrust into her and her taste cut off all rational thoughts. She must've sensed his need because she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck for support allowing him to thrust faster inside her, begging for his release while chanting his name.

He closed his eyes as he came hard inside the uppermost part of her, his entire body spasming with the effort, strangled groans escaping him as he squeezed her to him.

His heart felt like it would burst out of his chest it was beating so hard. He tried to regain his bearings as he continued to hold her to him not ready to let her go. She placed soft open-mouth kisses along his jaw and his neck as she snuggled close to him. When his body was finally done pulsating inside her, they both went limp in their respective positions.

She laid her head in the crook of his neck, her breathing coming in soft pants and slowly transitioning to a steady pattern. When his heart rate had returned to normal, he found that she'd fallen asleep in their intimate position. He stroked her back, cherishing the time he got to hold her while she slept.

Their lovemaking had been intense and beautiful. He couldn't help but feel a chill at the thought that he might have never experienced her love if he hadn't woken up and recognized his feelings for her. She was heaven-sent. His last salvation. He didn't deserve her but he was thankful for every day he got to be with her. Being her lover was the cherry on top.

Lisbon's POV

She was uncomfortable, her hips were stiff. She tried to move but was stuck; her memory rushed back and she realized she passed out on Jane right after their intense lovemaking session, drained from the emotional intimacy.

"Hey, sleeping beauty."

Her cheek was wet and she was mortified when she realized it was drool.

"I'm sorry," she offered as she tried to wipe it frantically.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"About twenty."

"Oh."

He was smiling sweetly and she returned his smile then kissed him unable to resist indulging in his taste. He moaned as he returned her fervor shifting slightly under her. That's when she became aware of their intimate situation.

"You're still inside me?"

"I tried to pull out but… came across some challenges," he chuckled and she blushed.

"I don't think my legs work."

"I'm quite numb too."

They both chuckled at the silly situation they found themselves in.

"You should've woken me up."

"Not a chance. I'll hold you while you sleep any chance I get. You're too adorable."

She held his gaze, struggling to believe his words. She was many things, but adorable was never a word associated with her. She must've been frowning because his features turned serious.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah… yeah," she offered with a smile. "Just tired."

She slowly and painfully extracted herself from Jane's lap, sure that her legs wouldn't hold her once she was up. Jane was still fully clothed. She closed her robe and was about to cinch it up when he spoke.

"Leave it open," he said huskily as he stood up, his eyes set hungrily on her. "I'm not done with you."

He pulled her against him and gave her a searing kiss, his tongue dominating her.

"Let's go upstairs."

Once in her room, he laid her on the bed and kissed her again. When he stood up, she pulled her robe closed a bit and sat up. Their love-making on the couch had been intense; she'd never experienced that kind of connection before. She let herself be vulnerable with him and now she was feeling raw and exposed.

He frowned at her and wordlessly pushed her back on the mattress and opened her robe to expose her to his view again. The male appreciation in his eyes and the very big bulge in his pants re-established her equilibrium as she recognized his pure sexual interest in his eyes as he raked them all over her.

"You're so beautiful," he said in amazement.

He undressed quickly in front of her and she quickly forgot her state of undress as she took him in. His strong muscular frame still surprised her and she could hardly wait to touch his naked skin.

He leaned over her again bracing his arms on either side of her, a small crooked smile teasing his lips, his eyes filled with renewed lust.

He kissed her lips softly, then her neck, creating a trail of open-mouth kisses from her collarbone to her belly. He stopped to lap at her navel, tickling her and making her giggle. In her struggle to escape his tickling kisses, she'd opened her legs; he took advantage of her defensive position gripping her thighs with his strong hands. She immediately stopped struggling, fascinated by the way he looked at her and touched her, his long fingers skimming her flesh, his eyes devouring her. He kissed the mound above her manicured curls, then spread her to his view, his breath hitching as he did so. Her body buzzed with anticipation, her heart racing as he stared at her core, exploring her intimately. His breathing was audible to her now as it came in short pants. He inserted his fingers inside her and moaned in pleasure, his eyes closing then focussing on hers.

"I'm still leaking out of you," he said huskily, his eyes glazed over with passion.

She was mesmerized by him in this state unable to unlock her gaze from his as he thrust his fingers rhythmically inside her. Her climax was building, her skin getting tight, her pleasure center taking all her focus as her eyes rolled back into her head and her back arched as he precipitated her towards the edge.

She moaned in disappointment when his fingers vacated her but her body soared in renewed ecstasy when his hot mouth took over. He dangled her over the edge over and over again until she thought she would surely die, then he reinserted his fingers and pushed her into an intense orgasm that racked her body leaving her a twitching limp mess.

Just when she thought she couldn't possibly feel more pleasure, he pushed inside her, possessing her completely, his silky tongue plundering her mouth at the same time. The sensation made her bones melt.

His possession was frantic, his breathing labored, words tumbling out of his mouth chronicling how her body made him feel as he took what he needed from her to reach his own climax. He'd lost control and she reveled in it as he savagely took her. Knowing her body had that effect on him contributed to yet another explosion of pleasure inside her. Her spasming core gripped him as he emptied himself inside her again, a series of groans escaping his lips with its intensity.

All spent, he collapsed on top of her, his breathing erratic, his heart beating wildly against her chest. She couldn't move and didn't want to. She felt wanton and content, her heart full with his weight on her. She loved him.

They were both limp from exertion but she could still feel him pulsating inside her, his body in full control of that mating function, the heat of his essence coating her inside. It was a very intimate act meant to create life. Her heart constricted. She pushed that thought from her mind but no matter how hard she tried; it fought its way to the front of her mind demanding attention. Why was she thinking about that now?

A soft snore came from behind her; he was asleep. He'd whispered goodnight to her as he pulled her into his arms but she'd been too wrapped up in her thoughts to register his intent. She closed her eyes, but sleep continued to elude her. Her thoughts were battling inside her; it was too hard to control so she decided to let them flow in the hopes that she could put them to rest after.

She let go and the truth bombarded her. In her mind's eye, she saw a beautiful baby with blond hair and green eyes in his arms. She wondered what it would feel like to know she was creating a child while they made love. She wanted to experience that miracle with him. Her heart filled with sadness as the weight of her diagnosis obliterated all those thoughts.

She was in an impossible situation. Things were too complicated with Jane; with Marcus, it had been simpler. She still remembered that appointment two months ago when her doctor was reading off the results of her tests; she'd been struggling with all kinds of symptoms around her menstruations and her energy levels. She didn't expect him to tell her she was in early menopause at the age of 38. He continued to explain that her condition was time-sensitive; to stimulate what was left of her fertility, she would need to start hormone therapy right away. But she couldn't remain on these for too long because of her high risk of developing breast cancer like her aunt so IVF was her only option. He quickly outlined that process; that the doctor would harvest her eggs and her pregnancy would originate in a lab with the hope that she could carry the child to term.

She'd taken the news in stride at the time because she'd never considered having children but it had made her feel like she was less than. When she discussed the diagnosis with Marcus, he'd indicated that he wanted children and since she was ambivalent about it, she agreed to receive treatment to keep their options open in the future. The plan was set, once they were in D.C., she was going to begin the process; her doctor had already sent her file to the top specialist there. When she broke up with Marcus, she closed that chapter in her mind pushing it far down into the dark recesses of her consciousness.

But now there was a throbbing ache in her heart and she had to give voice to it. With Marcus, she'd been taking practical steps to conserve her eggs in case she wanted children in the future. With Jane, she wanted to carry his baby. The whole situation seemed impossible.

She couldn't imagine putting that kind of stress on her fragile relationship with Jane. They were barely on solid ground. She couldn't put that kind of expectation on his shoulders so early on when he was still wearing his wedding ring. But the longer she waited, the more her chances at fertility deteriorated.

She needed to take her time with him. As much as she was suddenly aching to have his child, to experience that with him, she couldn't hit him over the head with all this. They both needed time. She wasn't even sure how this would all turn out. It was too soon in their relationship... too soon in any relationship.

She took his hand laying in front of her and intertwined their fingers. She's never felt so confused in all her life. On the one hand, although she wanted this relationship to succeed, she wasn't very hopeful that it would. On the other hand, she loved him, and being with him like this was all she wanted.

She'd heard the expression – he makes me want to have his babies – but she never understood it until now. Did she really want the responsibility of a child or was it simply because she wanted a piece of him. Was it a biological imperative making her feel like this, a byproduct of being in love?

Did Jane even want kids again? He was so good with them. But in all the years she'd known him he'd never indicated that it was something he wanted. She wasn't even sure how to tackle a question like that between them when she was confused about what she wanted. All she knew was that whatever his answer would be, it scared her.

A/N: Hi everyone - sorry for being out so long. Just when the world was returning to something normal, more scary events started. Life is very busy and I'm trying to spend as much time as possible with my kids so the chapters are coming along more slowly than I want. But I am committed to finishing this story and am still very excited about writing it.

I want to thank everyone that's been reading my story and following and I hope it's bringing you some joy during these unsure times. I also want to thank everyone that's been commenting on the story; this platform makes it hard to feel connected, but when you comment, it makes me feel more connected to you and this fandom that we love. I also enjoy reading your comments and they keep me motivated to write when I get writer's blocked. So thank you for that.

I know what it feels like to wait on the next chapter of a story but we are in this story together. When I'm writing I think of all of you who are going to read it and wonder if it will meet your standards. So I push myself.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter; the next one has some more angst coming to Lisbon and Jane and things will take an unexpected turn.