Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to Law & Order: Criminal Intent but if Dick Wolf is feeling generous I'm always willing to take delivery. No financial gain involved in writing this story, so please don't sue.
Summary: Definitely B/A - but if you've read any of my other stuff you could have guessed that ;o) I've been rewatching my Season 1 DVDs and this is what happened in my head after some of the episodes. Hope you enjoy.
A/N: And so back to Bobby.
Bobby's POV
'Heaven help me', I feel a shiver run the length of my body me as her fingers move through the hair at the back of my neck.
"Why?" How can she possibly ask me that, especially when her voice sounds so damn sexy right at this moment that there's no way I can do anything in response but kiss her.
I tend to forget how physically small my partner is when we're working together, or at any other time for that matter. It's got nothing to do with the fact she almost always wears shoes with a minimum three inches on the heel and everything to do with the fact that no one in their right would ever mistake Alex Eames for a small person. Her presence tends to fill any room she walks into, which is very handy when I'm poking around a crime scene or a potential suspect's domain and she's doing her usual admirable job of distracting those around us from my 'activities'. That presence does not help with the physical limitations of attempting to kiss someone when the top of their head doesn't even reach your own shoulder.
Oh sweet Jesus, I'm kissing Eames. I'm barely touching my lips to hers but I can already feel my body responding to the contact. I know I should stop before it's too late. Ah hell, who am I trying to fool here, it was too late the moment I got out of my car.
'No don't do that, Eames.' My commonsense protests, as I feel her hand on the back of my neck trying to pull me deeper into the kiss. I can't stop my hands from leaving the counter and taking hold of her waist. I know this shouldn't be happening, I shouldn't be touching her bare skin but, damn, it feels good. My tough, no-nonsense Eames doesn't seem quite so tough as I lift her onto her kitchen counter. The delicate fingers of her free hand are almost tenderly brushing along my jaw and up over my cheek, I swear she's leaving a trail of sparks on my skin.
Some part of me is still winning the battle for control though. When I feel her try to scoot forward I grasp her more firmly, keeping her body away from mine. I think I might just spontaneously combust if I don't get a grip of my body's response to this woman who is so far removed from everything that usually attracts me. She's short and blond, I usually go for leggy brunettes; I don't dates cops, in fact, I've made a point of not doing so, too many potential complications and like to keep my relationships, if you can call them that, as casual as possible. I've never before been attracted to a woman who I knew, given the opportunity, could get inside my head as easily as I could get inside hers. No that's wrong, I can't even get inside Eames' head half the time, but I know she can read me like a book most of the time, it's a definite unfair advantage on her part.
She's stopped trying to move forward, which is a good thing considering the effect she's having on me, I haven't reacted to a kiss this way since I was in my teens. I can no longer resist the temptation to stroke her amazingly soft skin. My thumbs start to move in circles where they rest against her stomach and I feel her taught muscles quiver in response. It seems she's as effected by this as I am, especially given the wonderful aroma eminating from her centre, which is driving me just as crazy as the feel of her skin and the taste of her mouth.
The feel of her lips moving against mine is better than anything I ever imagined and, believe me, over the past four months I've done plenty of imagining when it comes to her lips. I need to taste her properly. I want to memorise everything about her; the feel of her, her scent, her taste and the sounds she makes. Like that, the soft moan as she opens to me when the tip of my tongue presses against her lip, seeking entrance. She is exquisite and I know, given the opportunity, I would happily never let her go. I squeeze her waist again, overcome by the sudden wave of possessiveness that goes through me at the thought of having to let her go, even as my tongue starts to explore her mouth. I don't know if this is going to go as far as I want it to, nevermind whether she'd even consider letting it happen again.
As my hands loosen they shift upwards on her torso. Damn that tiny little tank top she's wearing because now it's between my hands and her flesh. Still the weight of her breasts against the curve of my thumbs feels unbelievably perfect, just like the rest of her so far. As I stroke the underside of her breasts I can feel her heartbeat against my right hand, it's thumping like a jackhammer, which is a perfect match for my own heartbeat at this moment.
A/N: Thanks for sticking with me guys. I promise the really good stuff will be forthcoming soon.