"You're ok with this, now, right?" Hotch's breath had backed up in his throat. "I didn't inadvertently pressure you tonight, did I?"
"Hotch…if I didn't want you to do this," One delicate hand waved to encompass the stairs and them, "I wouldn't—you wouldn't be here, right now."
"So what changed your mind?" He asked, trying to straighten his leg when it cramped up. He was definitely too old for stair-acrobatics. Even if it was with her.
"I don't know. Having you pressed up against me? Being tired of being alone, maybe? Hormones versus head?"
Her voice rang with an uncertainty that told him the truth. She was lying. "Emily? The truth."
"I don't know the truth, right now." She squirmed beneath him, inadvertently rubbing against his groin. He felt the inevitable reaction taking hold. "This is so complicated, Hotch."
"But I thought we decided one night at a time." He reminded her. He reached a hand out and grabbed her hip, pulling her closer to his lower body. He ran a string of kisses over her forehead then backed up, just a bit.
"And how long will that last, before..one…of us…starts wanting more?" She asked, bringing her feet up to rest on the step below his knee. She sat up, her nose an inch from his. "I'm not made for casual affairs, Hotch. Never have been. And when you combine that with our job, our positions—this is the clichéd recipe for disaster. A big one."
"I know. But when I'm not with you, it's all I can think about." He told her, brutally honest with himself and her. They both deserved that. "Even at work. I look for you. Watch you. Want to drag you into my office and lock the door, and then I want to open that door and shout to every other man in the building that you are mine. I've never had that happen to me before. It's exciting and frightening for me as well, sweetheart. I don't think I can stop. I don't think I want to."
"I know." She whispered. He ran one eye down her length. He'd gotten her completely naked, he realized. She sat before him, apparently completely comfortable naked with him, but emotional involvement was apparently enough to terrify her.
He wondered, then, just what had happened in the past to make her so closed off. Was it just the product of her mother's career and politics, or was it something more?
He wanted to know the answer to that and every other question he would ever have about her.
It wasn't just one night at a time for him. He'd known that before she'd even arrived at the bar this evening. Slow, he reminded himself, go real slow. Don't frighten her.
"One night, Emily. Let's not worry about anything else. Just know that this isn't just a casual thing for me. Far from it, but I'm not going to put any pressure on you, am not going to take anything you're not ready to give me."
She just looked at him, nodded. "Well, how about we clean up our mess, and I show you the shower. Because I think I definitely need one."
"That's doable." He smiled, bending down to pick up his pants. He folded them neatly, hanging them off his arm. She padded back down the stairs and grabbed their shirts and other various pieces of clothing, carrying them to the washer and dryer behind the French doors in the kitchen. She sat them neatly, the move shouting to him obsessive compulsive.
He smiled. Her need for details was almost…cute…he decided.
The fact that she walked around naked in her condo was more than cute. It was downright hot. He stepped up behind her, one hand wrapping around her shoulder, the other wrapping around her stomach. He pulled her back against his chest, then nudged her in an awkward crawl toward her window.
The monument stood out against the night sky.
He knew from intimate study that her windows were tinted, that only a vague outline could be seen from the outside—and even then only when the sun was shining directly on the glass.
So he didn't worry about anyone on the street below seeing them.
"Watch out the window, Em. What do you see?" He whispered the words against her shoulder, then bit—remembering that the woman in his arms liked it a bit rougher.
"Hmm? What am I looking for?" Her head arched back.
"Do you see the world?" He ran his tongue over her collarbone once, then twice. "Well, as long as we're in here, nothing out there can touch us. In here—it's just you and me, and what we do to each other. For each other. With each other. No one, nothing else exists in here. Just me and you and how we make each other feel."
As he spoke he ran his hand down her body, starting with her breasts and crossing over her stomach, ending near her most vulnerable spot. She arched against him, moaning.
He had her trapped there, between his hot body and the cool glass, with the monument shining in the distance. He took her there, remembering all the nights he'd sat on that bench below, wondering what it would be like to be the man to share that spot with her.
Now he knew. And if he had his way, he'd spend every night he could with her. Starting one night at a time.
But for now, he'd go slow, convince her with his words, his hands, his body, and most importantly—his actions—that there was nothing on Earth he wanted more than he wanted her.