AN
I AM SO SORRY YOU GUYS! I NEVER imagined it would take this long for me to upload! I hope you guys are still following this story and again I'm very sorry! Just a refresher, the last chapter ended with them ice skating and the not-kiss and this chapter will feature the long-awaited party. Okay, so before we get started I just want to point out that they might be a little bit OOC, but keep in mind that their older now and it is AU so its not imposible for their characters to mature and change just a little.
Disclaimer-I own nothing.
Warning-From here on out, it's going to get pretty angsty and cover rather mature subjects. I'll try to change the rating.
Chapter Eight
Never, in the many years Yoruichi had been coming to the Kunas' Christmas parties, had she arrived at one in a car that bristled with so much tension. Rukia looked like a princess; no stranger would ever have guessed she was a cop. Ichigo always looked handsome to Yoruichi, but tonight she had to admit he'd outdone himself. Rangiku, as usual, looked stunning in one of her more revealing dresses.
Wedged thigh to thigh with Rukia in the confines of the back seat, Ichigo couldn't seem to take his eyes off her... and she couldn't seem to look at him. Yoruichi, preoccupied with her own thoughts, was silent. But, of course, Kisuke was his typical quirky self as he drove the group to the Kunas' house. He even joined Rangiku, perched in the back seat on the other side of Rukia, in a few loud bars of "Deck The Halls."
The Kunas' large house was a cheery sight this evening, rising like a beacon from the snowbanks that lined the road. Streams of people were pressing toward it, happily gossiping about Mashiro's last party at the house, and what might have happened to Meiko. Several people openly praised Mashiro's extensive eferts to decorate the house.
The main entrance was bedecked with pine boughs and holly. In the very center of the living room stood a rather tall Christmas tree glittering with lights and decorations. In one corner a live band played Christmas carols and dance tunes. The spacious kitchen was set up with a long table that held many different drinks and snacks. As always, Marechiyo Omaeda was dressed up as Santa, but the red suit seemed a bit loose on him this year.
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From the first instant Rukia had seen Ichigo's face in the car, she knew she'd made a terrible mistake. It was bad enough that she'd let Rangiku do her hair in dramatic curls and sexy waves that billowed half-tamed around her head. Worse yet was her decision to follow Yoruichi's advice to buy this magnificent emerald satin gown, cut low in the back and lower yet in the front, where an enticing glimpse of her modest cleavage drew Ichigo's eyes away from her face. The dress had sleeves just long enough to cover the bullet scar on her left shoulder.
No fabric could have consealed the turmoil in Rukia's heart. She had told herself that dignity forced her to look her best for the evening. The truth was-she had to face it now-she'd wanted to feel radiant and ultra-feminine for Ichigo. She'd wanted to feel beautiful the way a woman feels when she sees her own beauty reflected in the eyes of the man she loves.
Just once. Just tonight. She wanted a harmless fantasy to remember. But the tension on Ichigo's face told Rukia that her fantasy was anything but harmless. Her memory of his hand on her face last Saturday on the ice was all too keen. She could still feel the force of his hard body against her legs. There was no way she could pretend that he had not wanted her. Rukia was grasping at straws when she tried to believe that he didn't know by now how desperately she wanted him.
She'd been assailed by unbearably erotic dreams the night before. Ichigo had slipped into her room wearing nothing but a towel and walked with purpose over to her bed. Then he'd leaned down and captured her lips in a steamy and sizzling kiss, bringing her to full arousal and causing her dream self to flip him onto the floor. Rukia knew she'd have to keep Ichigo at arm's length. And by the look in his eyes, he had no intention of staying at arm's length tonight.
Rukia had barely stepped foot in the house with Ichigo trailing behind her, when Rangiku called out in a loud, teasing voice, "Well, Ichigo, looks like you finally caught that girl under the mistletoe!"
In unison, Rukia and Ichigo glanced up at the doorway, where a lovely sprig of mistletoe had been hung. Ichigo blushed while Rukia looked tense and pale. She was suddenly furious with Rangiku. Just because there was a mistletoe on the door didn't mean she had to point it out! They hadn't even noticed it until she'd gone and opened her big fat mouth! Not to mention how uncomfortable and tense they were with each other at the moment. This was the exact sort of situation Rukia had been avoiding last Saturday. But Rangiku had left them with little choice. To avoid the kiss now would draw a great deal of attention.
"Hurry up, Ichigo! We've got another carload of people behind us," Rangiku pointed out, grinning happily. "It's Christmas. Everybody gets a kiss under the mistletoe!"
Ichigo's eyes met Rukia's almost apologetically. He took a tentative step forward. Rukia, looking terribly tense, leaned slightly toward him. She could have offered him her cheek, but she met his lips uncertainly with hers instead.
It was a brief kiss, a Christmas kiss, a kiss that any man could have given any woman in the midst of the holiday season. Yet it sent a bolt of electric energy through both of the participants. When Ichigo pulled back, his eyes didn't leave Rukia's. And Rukia's hands were shaking.
After that, Ichigo made it a point to keep close to her. He hadn't left her side once since they'd arrived at the party, introducing her politely to everyone in sight. He couldn't seem to say Rukia's name without laying a hand on her arm, nor anyone else's without touching her own. If he'd been anyone but Ichigo, Rukia would have been oblivious to his courteous, platonic touch. But she was anything but oblivious to this man who had reached her so deeply, who made her sizzle with no more than a heated glance. By the time he stepped away to fetch her some punch, she knew it would take all of her strength of will to get through this evening without doing something she would sorely regret.
"Thank you for the punch, Ichigo," Rukia murmured when he returned with her glass.
"Careful there, Captain. You almost sounded friendly," he teased her playfully. "God forbid you should act as though you're enjoying my company this evening."
"I always enjoy your company," she replied with feigned nonchalance. "It's a nice party, isn't it?"
"I hadn't noticed." His voice was husky. "I thought we were here all alone."
Rukia swallowed a breath of panic. There were many times that Ichigo had come too close, times when he'd said things it was hard to ignore. But he'd always given her room to dodge his innuendos. He didn't seem to be giving her room to back off now.
"I agreed to attend this event with you because you assured me it was... dateless."
"Dateless?" he echoed with a dimpled grin. "Do you want me to pretend that you took hours to look drop-dead gorgeous tonight for the general public?"
Rukia gulped back a protest, but she had less luck with a blush. "This is a formal event, Ichigo. Your Aunt told me it would be rude to show up looking shabby."
"You're a long way from shabby, bunnyhead. You look good enough to eat."
"I thought I made my position clear, Ichigo! My professional reputa-"
"Rukia," he cut her off, his voice commandingly low and sexy, "Stop fighting me. This is a party. It's Christmastime. Everybody's in a loving mood. Nobody's going to think we're having a raging affair just because you're nice to me tonight."
At that moment somebody bumped into Rukia, forcing her to step closer to Ichigo. When her breasts grazed his chest, she lost her grip on the punch glass in her hand. Rukia winced as the bright liquid seeped quickly into the beautiful Oriental rug. I'll have to pay to have this rug cleaned; it's the least I can do, she told herself as she leaned down to pick up the glass, which at least hadn't broken. But Ichigo leaned down at the same moment, taking the glass with one hand as he brushed her arm with the other.
She waited for him to step away, but instead he moved still closer. Rukia couldn't meet his smoldering amber eyes, afraid they might ignite something inextinguishable within her. "You've made me feel welcome," she admitted shakily. Then, in a fair imitation of her Captain's voice, she suggested, "Now maybe it would be best if you welcomed some other guests."
For a long moment Ichigo didn't answer, didn't protest, didn't step away. Then he ordered softly, "Dance with me, Ru."
Rukia shook her head. She struggled for breath. The mere idea of touching him made parts of her body tingle. He was already way too close.
"I don't think that's a good idea." She tried to sound strong and haughty, but her voice came out in a squeak.
"I think you're wrong." His voice was husky now.
She tried to walk away-run away-but she could not. The band was starting up a sentimental Christmas tune that had a curiously melting effect on her resolutions. She wanted to reach up and put her arms around Ichigo's neck. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to press her breasts against his broad chest and pull him close.
Then, to her astonishment, Ichigo confessed, "I'm not going to make it another five minutes without putting my arms around you, Rukia. Don't you think it'd be less obvious if I did it on the dance floor?"
A wild swirl of need erupted somewhere within Rukia. Against all common sense, she was thrilled by his words. God, how she wanted him to hold her! How she wanted the kiss she'd turned away on the ice!
Suddenly she could not protest. She could not speak. Worse yet, she couldn't look away. She knew it was foolish not to run or fight; she knew Ichigo would take anything less as a sign of surrender.
And then he smiled. It was that amber-eyed dimpled smile that had melted Rukia the first time she'd ever seen it. It was twice as devastating now. It was a lover's smile, a smile of need and promise, a smile that begged her to give in.
Through the low-cut satin, Rukia felt a broad, warm male hand guide her toward the dance floor. She could feel hot fingerprints on her spine as Ichigo stopped to introduce her to an old friend on the way. She didn't catch the man's name. She wasn't even sure if she responded to his greeting. All she knew was that her senses were on overload.
The room was stuffy, but she knew that wasn't why she could hardly breathe. The heat from Ichigo's hand was spreading up and down her legs. Rukia felt too shaky to stand, let alone to dance in a roomful of people. By the time they reached the dance floor, the band had started playing an old love song in waltz time.
"I don't know how to waltz," Rukia said, surprised to hear the quavering in her own voice.
"Neither do I," Ichigo answered. He took her in his arms, anyway.
Rukia knew there was some vital reason why she shouldn't feel so light-headed, so flagrantly aroused by his touch. It had to do with her career, which meant her life. It had to do with some vision of herself that she'd left at home when she'd slipped into this emerald dress... and forgotten to don her armor.
Mercifully, Rukia and Ichigo weren't the only couple on the dance floor mixing the dance styles of generations; besides, the corner of the room was so dim and crowded that nobody seemed to be paying any attention to them. Rukia told herself she would be courteous and stay for just one dance before she tore herself away from him. Surely she could last a few minutes without plastering herself against Ichigo and begging for a kiss!
The music was a sad, aching melody with lyrics that revealed how the singer had reached the edge of his endurance.
How long can I pretend not to love you? How cruel, baby, can you really be? How long can I live without you? How long can you live without me?
Rukia did her best to ignore the lyrics, even though Ichigo started to caress her bare back when the chorus started. She felt herself moving closer, struggling to keep from pressing her forehead against his chest, struggling to keep from pressing her lower half against his thighs. Even when she felt the top of her hair brush his chin, she couldn't seem to pull back from him.
The hand that had claimed her fingers began to tug her closer, the hand on her back nudged her closer, too. Rukia was drowning now... fighting wild bursts of longing... certain she had to escape him... utterly unable to.
By this time she was trembling. Worse yet, Ichigo was trembling, too. When Rukia foolishly glanced up at him, she saw naked hunger flame in his eyes. Urgently he pulled her nearer. Every line of his face confessed the potency of his desire.
Rukia didn't need a road map to see where Ichigo was heading. He was a virile man who'd run out of patience. The kiss under the mistletoe had only made things worse. If they'd been alone, Rukia knew he would have been tearing off her clothes by now. She also knew she couldn't count on her own self-control tonight. Her only protection was the crowd of people in this room.
The second time the chorus started, Ichigo began humming. It was too subtle a message for anyone nearby to understand, but to Rukia, it was as though he were singing the aching words right along with the anguished lover in the song.
How long can I pretend not to love you? How cruel, baby, can you really be? How long can I live without you? How long can you live without me?
By the time the song mercifully ended, Rukia was shaking. She knew she was out of control. Her panic was like that of a wild bird trapped inside a room; she was ready to throw herself against a window.
"Ichigo, I want to go get something to eat. Alone," she declared desperately, struggling to free herself from the firm, erotic hold he now had on her waist. "I'll talk to you later-"
"Come to me, Rukia. Come tonight to my room."
Her eyes flashed up in pure terror. Was she really so transparent to him? Could he feel the rush of desire he triggered just by that suggestion. Did he know what he was doing to her?
His amber eyes were blazing with the same desire he surely read in her own pools of violet. His frustration was palpable, his need a living thing she could almost see and hold.
"Ichigo, I can't!" she begged in panic. "I've told you and told you-"
"Then I'll come to yours."
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Ichigo wasn't sorry he'd pushed Rukia so hard. For a while there-for most of the past week-he'd wondered if he'd imagined that she shared his feelings for her. But most of his questions had been answered on the ice; the rest had been answered tonight. The last of Rukia's resistance had cracked during that dance. If they'd been alone, he'd have claimed her by now. He was damned well going to claim her by morning.
He decided to mingle while he gave her a little time to collect herself, but he didn't get very far before he was buttonholed by Mashiro. The dress she wore was pure Mashiro-neon purple, strapless, with a wild shooting star display of rhinestones across the miniskirt. As soon as she got close enough to Ichigo, she started right in with her teasing.
"Where's your roomie tonight, Ichigo?" she asked with a cocky grin.
Ichigo played along with her, knowing that in Mashiro's case it was high spirits, not insight, that caused her to tease him about Rukia.
"Lost her to some other man. We were dancing and then-whoops! Some tall, dark and handsome stranger cut in."
Mashiro giggled, then dropped her voice. "She's a real hardnose, Ichi. Came out to see me Friday. About the burglary last week, you know?"
The news surprised Ichigo. Rukia hadn't mentioned her follow-up visit to Mashiro. Of course, they hadn't been talking shop tonight. Police work was the last thing on his mind.
"So, what happened?"
"She wanted to know about some old suitcase that got stollen from the garage. I didn't even know about it. Kensei just remembered it because last summer he used it to prop up his worktable."
"And?"
She didn't meet his eyes. One ankle dipped, as though she were resting a sore foot. "Ichi, she wanted to know all about the suitcase, how long it had been there, what was in it... stuff like that."
He waited.
"She wanted to know all sorts of things that nobody ever asked before. After she left I got to thinking..." Her eyes flashed up at his with an expression he'd never seen on Mashiro's face before, a look that resembled a mix of fear and apprehension. "Ichigo, drop by when you can, okay? I don't think we should go into this here."
Before he could reply, Lisa joined him as Mashiro slipped away.
"Yoruichi asked me to relay a message to you from your Captain," Lisa said soberly. "Apparently there's been another robbery that she felt needed her immediate attention. She told Nanao to send a cruiser to pick her up, but she wants you to stay here and represent the station, so to speak. She'll get her own ride home."
Ichigo wasn't sure how to answer. Since when did a police Captain have to leave a party just because there was a robbery? Only one or two reasons would justify sending out a cruiser. Suddenly afraid for his men, he asked, "Was there an officer-in-need-of-assistance call?"
Quickly Lisa shook her head. "Oh, no, Ichigo! Nothing like that! I would remember. Actually, I think Yoruichi did say something about reassuring you that nobody was injured." Before he had time to relax, she added, "She also said something about a van, but I don't think she understood quite what Rukia meant by that."
Clearly the van had no significance to Yoruichi or Lisa, but it meant a lot to Ichigo. It meant that those two punks were leaving a hell of a lot of egg on the faces of Karakura's finest. Worse yet, it meant that Rukia was grasping at straws in a desperate, last-ditch attempt to run away from him.
But she'd never run fast enough. Not in the mood he was in tonight.
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Rukia knew that she was behaving like a coward. She'd escaped from the party on the flimsiest of excuses, and sooner or later she'd have to go home and face Ichigo. But she couldn't live at the boardinghouse. Not anymore. Not after tonight. She'd never intended to stay there very long; she'd always planned to buy a little house. But she hadn't intended to run out and buy any old place just to get away from the only man who'd ever made her wonder whether her career was worth the price she'd always paid for it. She had to escape from the man who had the power to soften her hard edge, melt her ice cold heart, ruin her reputation and destroy her life.
In the private cocoon of her office, Rukia tried to think clearly. Before she saw Ichigo again, she simply had to have a plan. It wasn't cheating to put him on the four-to-twelve shift until they nailed the two punks in the van. Even Nanao, who'd posted the new roster, said it was a logical assignment for a second in command. If Rukia could just keep away from Ichigo in the evenings and pretend to be asleep when he got home... yes, that might buy her a little time.
First thing tomorrow she would call a Realtor. Thank God they worked on Christmas Eve! After that she'd come back to the office and volunteer to ride patrol for one of the guys who'd asked for time off over Christmas. She didn't want to think about the lonely holiday, anyway-when the loss of her father seemed so hard to bear-and there was no way she could join the others who congregated at the Uraharas.
It was a great plan, but Rukia knew that none of it would help her when she went home tonight. Ichigo hadn't been kidding when he'd said he would come to her after the party. She'd heard the need in his voice, felt the hunger in his hands. Worse yet, he'd felt her own raw need, seen it on her face. He was all too sure she'd welcome him.
She hadn't come up with any scheme short of locking her bedroom door when Ichigo himself barged into the station, exchanged a handful of words with Nanao, then stormed into Rukia's office without so much as a preliminary knock. At once he filled the room with his great size, his barely capped anger and his potent desire. Furiously he slammed the door and locked it.
"Crawled into your burrow to hide, did you, Rukia? Are you planning to sleep here, too? Maybe even lock yourself in a holding cell for safekeeping?" He didn't give her a chance to answer before he plowed on. "Funny, I didn't take you for a quitter! I thought you were the type to face life head-on!"
He'd circled Rukia's desk as he shouted at her, giving her no room to escape. She couldn't remember a time when she'd felt so small and helpless. Certainly not since she'd been a cop.
"I don't need to explain myself to you, Ichigo," she retorted as stiffly as she was able. "What I do is none of your business!"
He edged closer still, his movements smooth and predatory. "Gonna buy a dead bolt for your door? Or are you planning to use that loaded gun you keep by your bed if I try to break in tonight?"
She knew he was angry, knew he had a right to be. She hadn't been honest with him. She'd given him every reason to believe she returned his own passionate feelings-and not just tonight-then had slunk away like a coward.
But she had the right to her feelings, too. A right to her own life! And she most certainly had a right to her own office! It was inexcusable for a subordinate officer to make her quiver in this private room.
"Ichigo, I don't attempt to interfere in your off-duty hours. I don't know why you persist in meddling in mine!"
"Oh, yes, you'd never meddle with my off-duty time! Nanao tells me that you've changed the roster this week so I'll work evenings while you're still working days. How convenient!" he burst out. He leaned forward, glaring at her as he grabbed the arms of her chair. "What an underhanded thing to do! Just like a woman, too!"
It was the last line that made Rukia begin to sizzle in a slow, angry burn that rose as Ichigo kept yelling at her, revealing his disrespect for her with every word. It was obvious he'd never come to terms with her Captaincy or her inner strength as a person; even now, he expected her to turn tail and run at the first sign of danger. Yet Rukia knew she'd done just that as a woman faced with the demands of the man she loved. Was Ichigo really so off base, fearing she'd try to wiggle out of a tight spot the same way in her role as a cop?
"For your information, Lieutenant, I have moved your shift because I need my best man to put an end to these ongoing break-ins," she informed him crisply, rising to her feet and pulling her courage tightly around herself like a blanket. Ichigo didn't back off. He stood almost as close to her as he had on the dance floor. "We had three more tonight! No man on this force is better equipped to figure out what's going on in this town! But if you don't think you're capable of-"
"Stop it, Rukia!" he ordered, his voice low and deadly. "Don't you dare "lieutenant" me! This isn't about my job or yours! This is about you and me and what we want when we're out of uniform!"
Panicking, Rukia cried out, "What I want out of uniform is the same thing I want when I'm in it! The knowledge that I'm working to the best of my capabilities! The respect of the community! The support of my men!"
Suddenly she felt two broad male hands on her waist. "None of that's going to keep you warm at night, Rukia. None of it's going to put out the fire burning deep inside you."
It was in that moment that Rukia made a deadly mistake. She was so stunned when he touched her-right there in her office with Nanao outside the locked door-that she couldn't at once think of scathing words. And while she was wrestling with the sudden rush of longing triggered by his magnificent male hands, Ichigo cheated. He broke all the rules.
She didn't see it coming; couldn't believe he'd be so bold. But suddenly she felt his lips on hers, lips she'd dreamed of for the past three weeks, lips that claimed Rukia as Ichigo's woman and shook her, heart and soul. She tried to fight him, tried to remember all the escapes she'd learned for such a hold. But each and every one required the firm belief that her safety was in danger. A firm belief that what this man was doing to her body was all wrong. But her body was singing that Ichigo Kurosaki's flaming touch made the whole world seem damn perfect.
Fiercely he pulled her tightly against him, and for just a moment, Rukia rejoiced in the heat of his hard male body, sought his mouth as he crushed her in his arms. She nearly buckled with the force of her own desire. It was so right, so incredibly, unbearably right to merge with him this way!
It was also incredibly, unbearably wrong.
She pressed her hands against his chest with some vague intent to push him away, but her fingers tugged loose his tie and stroked his throat instead. She told herself to hammer at his windpipe, to break his hold at the wrists, but her brain short-circuited the command. The Captain in her could not put her arms around him and pull him close, but the woman, in her passion, could not bear to push him away.
And then, in the misty distance, Rukia heard a voice squawking on the police radio. It was an ordinary message-there was no sound of panic-and Nanao, out in the squad room, answered the same way. But the simple exchange rocketed Rukia back to reality. And reality meant that if she yielded to this turbulent emotion-if she let her love for this man break her iron will-she'd never trust herself to be a steely cop again. She'd never trust herself to be Captain Rukia Kuchiki. And if she wasn't her father's daughter, who on earth could she be?
Resolutely she told herself that she was the Captain of the Karakura substation of the Seireitei Department. The Captain could not allow a man under her command to kiss her in her office! Even at home, she could never yield to a man who had the power to bring her to her knees.
Bleeding inside, Rukia wrenched away from Ichigo. It took all the strength she had. More strength, in fact, than she'd believed she had within her.
Ichigo was breathing hard, and she could feel the power of his longing in the hands that gripped her once again. She could see confusion and despair in his eyes... and love for her in his virile face.
"Babe, don't tell me this isn't right." His voice was low and ripe with passion. He didn't command her. He beseeched. "I'd never press you if I didn't know you loved me, Ru. I won't give up unless you swear this isn't what you want."
Rukia stepped back. She had to look away. She was flailing, struggling for her life. She could not meet his haunted eyes. If she weakened now, he'd win this battle. And if he won this battle, she'd lose the whole war.
Summoning all the strength she'd inherited from her father, Rukia faced Ichigo with a mask of ice. In sharply measured tones, she decreed, "Lieutenant Kurosaki, you are out of line. Get out of my office. Report to duty tomorrow at four o'clock."
Abruptly his despair flared into anger. "The hell I will! Ru, we can't go on like this! I know this isn't the place to be kissing you-" once more he reached out and urgently grabbed her hand "-but I had to make you see-"
"What you have made me see, Lieutenant, is that you are capable of totally unprofessional behavior and willful disregard of the chain of command." She jerked her hand away from his, then leveled him with the frosty expression she reserved for unruly criminals. "I'm only going to say this once, so I suggest you commit it to memory." She leaned forward and dropped each word like a rock tumbling off the edge of a riverbank. "If you ever touch me like that again, Lieutenant Kurosaki, I will have your badge."
AN
Dun dun dun! Damn you Byakuya for influencing Rukia from the grave! It's so hard to right angsty drama like that. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway. FYI, I made up the lyrics for that song, unless there really is a song out there like that I just don't know about. Oh yeah, and the date this takes place on is December 23rd if you're wondering. So now can you please, please, please review.