Author's Note: This is really sort of a second part for the last chapter…

WARNING: COARSE LANGUAGE

This was gonna be tricky. The woman was tough, and could call on her vast reservoir of strength to put up a barrier of pure reserve and disaffected attitude that he knew was bullshit but could never quite figure out how to call her out on it. She'd gone months without seeming to be adversely affected by him, despite her later confession that she'd wanted him badly the entire time. Maybe even, although he doubted it, as badly as he'd wanted her.

So in a pure abstaining-to-make-her-break strategy, Chris knew he would ultimately fail. Because he'd snap like a dry twig, show up at her door, possibly on his knees, begging for her to take him to bed. He'd barely kept it together before, even knowing, well, believing that it had been just that one weekend with her, and he'd never again get to taste the lingering flavor of her sweet-and-spicy skin on his lips. But they'd broken that rule of hers... spectacularly so.

And whether or not she was aware -that sly, wicked smile she sometimes gave him when no one else was looking spoke to her knowing precisely what she was at- Merri Brody owned his ass. He was like a cock-blind, pussy-whipped teenager, god help him. Only worse, because he could swear that she'd taken part of his soul like normal lovers clipped a lock of hair. And he wanted his own keepsake, his own charm off from her in return.

The question was how to get it? How could he truly make the woman his? Willingly and totally his?

It had gone so far that he would except nothing less than absolute surrender and submission from her. Because, hell, she'd already gained that from his -apparently, quite easy- ass. And weren't true partnerships based on equal give and take?

It was her turn to give.

He studied her as she filled out some paperwork, seemingly intently focused. But it was obvious to him that she was watching him out of the corner of her eye. He stared at her, the slender curve of her neck, the elegant lines of her profile, that cute nose and delectable mouth, stubborn chin, the swell of her breasts... He licked his chops, feeling a hunger that had nothing to do with his stomach, one that he had to keep under control if he truly wanted to make her submit. Her gaze hitched upon him even as she still seemed to be filling out the paper on the desk in front of her, and it was all too much of an invitation to resist.

He'd have to be careful. He'd have to play it cool and collected, and reserved, just like Merri herself would. He'd have to tease her until she was desperate for him to take her, and then walk away. Again and again. And again, until she was downright begging for him to own her.

Dear lord, when had he become such a sexist jerk? Maybe he could excuse his bone-deep need to dominate her with the fact that she truly had already done so to him, had taken him, had marked him in a way that would never fade away. He would be dreaming about her when he was old and grey, lying on his death bed. About the way she made him feel, exposed and yet perfectly safe. About the way she touched him, kissed him, responded to his touch and his kiss. The way her skin turned to gooseflesh, the small hairs on the nape of her neck raising to tickle his fingertips as he passed them over her bare skin once more, so lightly the pressure of his touch was detectable more by intuition than physical reaction.

She whimpered, a sound so quiet that he never would've heard it had he not been listening acutely for a sign that he'd cracked her stoic exterior. Agent Brody only ever allowed as much emotion show as she deemed acceptable in any given situation, which meant she had softened towards the very open and close-knit office of NCIS agents, taking a cue as to the appropriate sort of behavior from them. Well, King and him, they were perhaps a little to expressive of their feelings for the more 'professional' agent, but she'd warmed up to them and their ways. But never had she let even a hint of her attraction to Chris show while at work... well, in the presence of their coworkers. Because there had been that quickie in the bathroom that one day, which only proved that she was susceptible to teasing, to caving to her lust.

But perhaps even in her more reserved moods, the signs had likely been there. Only he hadn't known her like he did now, not even after that one intensely intimate weekend. After a good number more of such encounters, in which he may be willing to admit the possibility of having lost his heart, and definitely a good measure of his soul to the woman, he could read her like a book. And not even a complicated one, at that. No, that was wrong. She could never be called 'uncomplicated'. Definitely a complex volume, that woman. Just he had somehow acquired knowledge to understand her, like he had a doctorate -okay, not a doctorate, but definitely a master's degree in Merri Brody Studies.

"Can I help you with something, LaSalle?" she asked, her pen still furiously scribbling at the form laid out on her desk. Okay, that either meant he hadn't done enough to distract. Or too much, and she was trying to push him away before he did more.

"Nah," he said, leaning over shoulder, letting his lips brush against the delicate shell of her ear, as he reached for her empty coffee mug. He was rewarded with more than just the shiver across her bare skin. This time she shifted almost imperceptibly in her chair. "Just thought ya might wanna refresh."

He gave her a smile when her dark eyes pinned him with a suspicious look, and then quickly walked off to the kitchen. When he returned and handed her now steaming mug back, he made sure to let his fingers be stupid and sluggish, extending the contact with her slightly cool, slender hand. He made sure to stand too close all day long, to 'accidentally' brush against her, to touch her lightly whenever no one could see, and to allow his appetite for her show through in every look her gave her.

And it seemed to work, because at the end of the day, as they walked out the door, she whispered in that damned seductive tone of hers that made him dig his fingers into his palm in order to not cave entirely, "My place or yours?"

"Can't tonight. I'll hafta take a rain check," he said, surprised how very cool and collected he sounded. She was good, but even she couldn't entirely suppress the surprise that flitted across her face. After all, he had been coming on to her quite fiercely all day. He wondered how long it would take for his plan to work, since she seemed primarily confused, rather than disappointed or desperate.

Admittedly, Chris had always known he was a bit of a tease. It went along with possessing a flirtatious nature, in combination with not actually being a one-night-stand sort of guy. But after this, if he succeeded, he'd be a downright manipulative asshole. But the woman's barriers were so difficult to get through, he had to coax her out with a trail of tempting bait, and then snare her, claim her for his own.

Honestly, he hoped she would realize what he was doing, sooner rather than later, and then choose to leave her citadel to meet him on neutral ground, to stand together on equal footing. Or better yet, to knock down her walls and invite him in to stay. Hopefully, forever.

A/N: Will all the teasing and tempting yield the results Chris desires? Will Merri catch on to his game?