I'm really trying to find out if anyone's reading my fanfic. Please review and let me know what you think. Should I continue? Am I portraying the characters accurately so far?
As Hotch backed Emily across the room, he shed his suit coat and his tie followed soon afterwards. Before she could stop it, Emily found herself backed up against the wall, clinging to her boss frantically. He was kissing her with reckless abandon and pulling her tight against him. For a moment or two, she had been hesitant to respond but when she realized that this wasn't an accidental, momentary comforting kiss, she'd let her lips move in sync with his as her hands slid up his muscular chest and around his neck.
When they finally broke apart, Emily leaned her forehead against Aaron's, gasping for air.
"That was…unexpected," she whispered, somehow feeling that being quiet seemed to fit the passionate moment.
"But not unwelcome?" Hotch wanted to know, running his hand down her arm lightly, making her shiver unconsciously.
She took a deep breath and sighed. "No, not unwelcome. Just unexpected. It seemed like you've been holding that in for a while."
Hotch gave her his famous half smile and lightly pressed his lips against hers again. "Are you game for this?" he asked, his fingers softly touching the bruises on her face.
Emily breathed in sharply. "Game for what exactly?"
"For us," Hotch replied simply. "For us to be together."
The slender brunette smiled seductively. "I thought you'd never ask," she breathed, just before she flung herself against him and the two FBI agents began making out like co-eds on Spring Break.
The next morning, Saturday, Prentiss woke up on the large leather couch with two strong arms still tight around her. Her head was resting on Hotch's broad, solid chest and it seemed to fit there naturally. Their legs were tangled up and she smiled when she remembered how they had made it to the couch and made out for over an hour. Each had wanted the same thing for a long time—it was like denying oneself something for years. One taste of each other and they were addicted.
Finally, they had fallen asleep in each other's arms, but not before Emily had cried again and Hotch had been held her tightly, stroking her back and kissing her hair. Despite the fact that all they'd done was kiss, Emily had never felt closer to any man in her life. She wanted to make this last. She sighed, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep.
When Hotch woke up, his watch said it was almost eleven o'clock. Emily was sound asleep in his arms and he kissed the top of her head softly. She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
"Good morning," he told her, smiling down. It was a real smile—not the partial one he gave so much all the time.
"So, we're doing this, I guess. After last night, I'm not sure I can go back," Emily told him. "I'm all yours."