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Disclaimed, as usual. Own nothing, make no money.

Chapter 2

"Red, you have been to the tailor's hundreds of times, there's no need for you to go this time. I will be guarded heavily I presume, so your presence here is redundant."

They were outside of the tailor's shop and truth be told, Lizzie was nervous. She wasn't ashamed of her body, per se, she just didn't relish the thought of Raymond Reddington examining her so closely while she had so little clothing on. She knew how these fittings worked.

To be on display for Red in her underwear would be too revealing. She already knew exactly what her body's physiological response to Red was. She just didn't need Red to know it.

"Lizzie, I'll need make sure that the colors are just right. I know what others will be looking for. That make me the ultimate authority for your fashion. They will also need to be specifically fit to conceal your weapons."

"Weapons, as in plural? You act as if I am going to war."

He looked at her, deadpan "You are."

She shivered at his words. He wasn't kidding. This really was a war and she was on the frontlines.

Maybe she could make him too angry to want to come. "You know what? I think that you believe that I am incapable of making the right decisions!"

His head, tilted to the side as he searched her face, straightened and a smile lit his face. "That's not going to work, Lizzie. I am not sure what your problem is with me tagging along, but now I am simply dying of curiosity to find out."

She groaned and hurried from the vehicle. Hell: Party of one, she thought. This was going to be horrendous. Knowing that she had to distance herself, think of anything but Red, was going to be exponentially more challenging if he was going to insist on being in the same room with her.

Four hours, a tray of snack sandwiches, and approximately five thousand thoughts of Ressler naked had Liz feeling confident that she could make it through the last of this ordeal without letting Red in on her little secret. She avoided eye-contact with him, provided only mono-syllabic answers, and attempted to ignore his very existence.

Which was excruciating. Red filled a room and commanded attention like no other person she had ever come into contact with. Pretending that he wasn't there was one of the most difficult tasks she had ever had. And she shot the Attorney General of the United States. That was cake compared to this.

As Henry, the tailor, asked her back on the platform from another short break while he gathered fabric, Red stepped in front of her. Damn. "Lizzie, are you angry with me still? What have I done to upset you? I have been wracking my brain for the last four hours and I simply cannot think of what I might have done." The hurt in his voice was genuine. She had to reassure him. As much as she needed him to keep his distance, she hated the thought of him believing that he had failed at something again.

"Red, you haven't done anything. I am simply tired. You know as well as I do that I am not a shopper." She cupped his face as she spoke, hoping that this would be enough to reassure him. Already, she could feel her nipples tightening, her face flushing. She never should have touched him. She needed to move away. Immediately.

She moved around where Red was standing with every intention of excusing herself to the restroom to splash some ice cold water on her face, but Red caught her hand at the last moment and spun her back into his body. The impact was sudden, but not hard enough to move him. When he spoke it was barely above a whisper. "I am glad you aren't mad at me. I was hoping that this would be a new beginning for both of us."

The irises of his eyes were barely discernable. The pupils had swallowed them whole. He was even more aroused than she was. She had been avoiding looking at him, which spared her from having to gaze upon a Raymond Reddington that was very much enjoying the show.

He had opened himself up, let her see how much she affected him and found that she could offer him no less of herself. Breathing labored, Liz leaned into him, nearly touching her lips to his. "I am very not mad at you." She whispered.

His eyes closed and she swore she heard a soft, rumbling moan from his throat, but they were interrupted by Henry as he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with their floor show.

She twirled around and walked, no strutted away from the Concierge of Crime, shoulders back, hips swaying, showing him every inch of what she was discovering as the new Liz.

He was going to die. His fists were clenched at his side, his dick was uncomfortably hard in his pants, and his lips had almost touched hers.

If someone burst into the shop right now intending to harm him or her, his reaction time would be so slowed by his arousal, that he would be useless to protect her. And that, above all was unacceptable. He knew that he had let her see what his reaction to her body was. It wasn't a new reaction, though. He had wanted her the moment he met her. He had fallen in love with her the moment she stabbed him in the neck.

So it wasn't a fairy tale. Real life rarely reflected fantasy. His love for her was raw and jagged and just as flawed as he was. He was in too deep and that couldn't be helped, but he'd be damned if he let his feelings cause even one hair on her head to be injured.

Tbc…

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