A/N: So sorry to have left you hanging from that cliff for so long. Real life intervened, I'm afraid. I'm a teacher, and this is the end of the first quarter, so I had seemingly endless essays and tests to grade and scores to post. In return for your patience (and wonderful reviews), I've honored Littlemender's wish and written an extra-long chapter. Be advised that the last part is most certainly rated "M". I hope it was worth the wait!
Chapter 7
Jane put his hands up, his eyes zeroing in on Lisbon. She could tell he was more annoyed than frightened. She shook her head at him to try to prevent him from doing something stupid. An idiot with a gun was the most terrifying, in her opinion. He was more unpredictable, less stable, and Jane should be very afraid at that moment, not in any way cocky.
"Put the gun away, Clive," Lisbon said calmly over Jane's shoulder. "You hadn't broken any laws up until now, but you're racking up the charges every second you hold that weapon on a state agent."
"Back away from her, Patty," Clive ordered, ignoring her appeal, "and both of you, keep your hands where I can see them."
Jane did as he was told and backed up a few steps, then turned slowly to face his old partner.
"Don't be ridiculous, Clive. Put the damn gun away."
"Jane—" Lisbon began, her voice low with warning.
Clive chuckled. "Yeah, listen to the lady, my friend. Now, here's what's gonna happen. We are going to walk casually to your car, Patrick, since I don't want to spook the valet. I'll be right behind you, aiming the lovely Agent Lisbon's gun directly at your backs."
"That's your gun?" Jane asked, raising an amused eyebrow.
"Yeah," she said angrily. "He apparently took it from my purse, which I left on the table inside along with my cell phone. I forgot it in my haste to get out here and save us from certain disaster of your making." Jane felt instantly contrite.
"Any other weapons on you?" Clive asked, amused by her anger with Jane.
"No. I didn't think I'd have anything to fear from you," she told him, hoping he'd feel a little bit guilty. "But I always carry a gun, just in case."
"Pardon me if I don't believe you." He pointed the Glock at Jane while he moved to frisk Lisbon with his other hand. She gritted her teeth and bore his invasive, fondling search, while Jane clenched his hands into fists and made faint growls of protest, especially when Clive's hand slid up her inner thighs.
"How the hell could she be hiding something there?" Jane ground out.
"You can never be too careful with these law enforcement types," he said with a leer, enjoying Jane's rage, along with the feel of Lisbon's smooth dress and smoother skin beneath his hands. His fingers slid to Lisbon's lower back, and he felt the small transmitter of her wire. "You were recording me?" he said in disbelief. He yanked the device from the back of her dress, breaking the wires and tossing them uselessly to the ground.
"Yeah," Jane lied. "The rest of our team has been monitoring our entire conversation. They should be here any minute."
"Well, then we'd better get going, hadn't we? I know how much of a pussy you are about weapons, Patty, so I figure you're not packin', but I'm pretty sure you have a cell phone. Hand it over." Jane reluctantly complied, then Clive motioned at them with the gun. "Now, move."
"Where to?" asked Jane. "I took a cab."
"The hell you did. That old sixties mobile sticks out like a sore thumb. I saw you following us all the way from Teresa's apartment. I figured you were just being jealous, but now I suppose I've been conned by the expert."
Damn Cho makes it look too easy.
They began to walk, pausing at the street corner before crossing against the light. Both of them were trying to think of how to overpower Clive without getting one of them killed. Lisbon decided to comply as much as possible, and wait until a more opportune moment, when Clive was less on his guard. She only hoped Jane would let her handle this and not try anything reckless. She began to pray to herself. Hard.
They stopped in back of Jane's car, and Clive ordered him to slowly remove his keys.
"Now, open the trunk. Sorry, Teresa, but I'm afraid you'll be riding in much less style than you arrived. I wanted to do this the easy way, but I'm going to have to adapt my plans to changing conditions. You used to say that's why you hired me, Patrick—my ability to change directions midstream."
"Yeah. But it's not too late to change your mind now, Clive. Let us go, go get your car from the valet and get the hell out of here. You could be halfway to Mexico before anyone knew where to look."
Jane looked at Lisbon regretfully, then at his spotlessly clean trunk. There wasn't even a crowbar back there to aid in her escape. He glanced at Clive for permission, then took off his suit coat and laid it in the bed of the trunk. He held Lisbon's hands while she climbed inside, squeezing them consolingly.
Sorry, he mouthed as she lay down, curling her knees up in the small space.
"Shut the trunk," Clive told him. Jane did so, his last view of Lisbon in the pale glow of the street lights was of her mouthing: Don't be stupid.
He nodded, unable to prevent his grin at her lack of faith in him, and shut the trunk door.
"Now what?" he asked Clive.
"You drive. Head north."
"Where are we going?" Jane asked as he got behind the wheel.
"I'll let you know when we get there. And don't speed or do anything to attract attention, or I shoot her through the back seat."
Jane drove awhile in silence, a disconcerting experience with a man pointing a gun at him from the passenger's seat. He worried about Lisbon in the trunk, trying hard not to hit any potholes and keeping the vehicle on as steady a course as he could.
"So, you've committed kidnapping now," Jane said conversationally as they merged onto the north-bound freeway. "What do you expect to come of this? Ransom? Nobody from the CBI will pay ransom, least of all for me," he mused.
"No, money isn't what I want. Tomorrow, I'll take Teresa to Bonnie's bail hearing and she'll put in a good word for her just like the original plan. You'll be safely tucked away as collateral until I get Bonnie out."
"But if bail's denied, that could be weeks, if at all," said Jane.
"Yes, it could," he replied coldly. "That's why Teresa had better pull out all the stops." Jane didn't want to hear anymore about that, so he changed tactics.
"Come on, Clive. This isn't your sister. You told me once you had no siblings."
He chuckled. "You always had a great memory Patrick. I should have known I couldn't fool you. You're right, of course. Bonnie is in fact my lover, my soul mate. I saw how her husband treated her—didn't appreciate what he had at all. Beautiful wife, beautiful daughter. I took her right from under his nose. When she got pregnant with my child I knew I had to get her away from him, but he hid her from me until she had the baby. I practically went out of my mind, you can imagine. Bonnie escaped and we were going to meet in Oregon, but the cops got her, accused her of kidnapping her own children. She's being held in San Francisco awaiting her bail hearing. When I get her out, we're just going to disappear."
Jane contemplated his sad story, realizing of course that Clive had surely romanticized much of it, had likely left out some key elements too.
"You were conning her husband, weren't you? He found out about that, found out about your affair with his wife, and took her away. Am I right?"
"Now, Patrick, why do you have to ruin such a beautiful love story? Yeah," he admitted wryly, " I took him for about half a mil—not that he would really miss it. Oh, and another thing…Bonnie shot her husband in order to get away. Not dead, unfortunately, but injured enough to piss him and the DA off. She's been denied bail."
Jane shook his head. "You still make the same old mistakes you used to, Clive. Getting involved with your marks. I'm not surprised it finally came back to bite you in the ass. So do the cops want you now?"
"Nah, no proof that I did anything other than knock up his wife. I covered my tracks with the investment scam. Still no convictions, Patty."
"Yeah, I'm sure your mother would be very proud," Jane said sarcastically.
"And so would your dad, if he could see you're working for the CBI."
Their comments silenced both of them a few moments, as Jane tried to focus on the drive.
"Where are we going?" he asked again.
"Someplace where I can keep you two safe until Teresa does her job for Bonnie. I really wanted to do this without force, but you two sort of made that impossible with your little plan to undermine me."
"Let us go, and she might do it for you anyway, if she finds out Bonnie is as innocent as you say. Lisbon is a very fair person," reasoned Jane.
"Sorry, I think I like my new plan better. She cares about you, so she's not going to do anything that would risk your worthless hide."
"Hmm," said Jane inexplicably.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
In the cramped trunk, Lisbon could only catch muffled words and phrases coming from the front of the car. She got the gist of Clive's new plan, and she started trying to think of ways to poke holes in it. He was right though; she wouldn't do anything to risk Jane's life, so she'd speak for Bonnie if she had to, and nail Clive to the wall later, once Jane was released unharmed. Besides, there might be plenty of opportunities in a court house to get a message to her team somehow. This was a last-minute idea of Clive's, so she was certain he hadn't had time to think of everything, to prepare for every eventuality. That was how she would get them out of this, by waiting and watching for the right opportunity.
An hour must have passed, and she found herself thinking of her time earlier with Jane, lying on his motel room bed, his lips devouring hers. Then later, in the alley, as his hand caressed her breast and she felt so aroused and lightheaded she thought she might faint. It was amazing to her how quickly things had changed between them. Her feelings of friendship had twisted into something infinitely more intense, exciting, and a little bit scary. She had no idea where this could possibly lead, no idea where she might fit into Jane's life, but she was intrigued enough to find out. If they got out of this alive—when, they got out of this, she amended-there was definitely something there worth pursuing.
But first she had to dig them both out of this hole Jane had dug for them.
Xxxxxxxxxx
Clive had directed Jane to a house on a remote rice farming road ninety minutes north of Sacramento. It was an old farmhouse, and Clive had dubbed it his childhood home. It seemed abandoned and on the dilapidated side, and Jane looked on it with much trepidation. His eyes strained in the darkness to see any signs of nearby humanity, but there was nothing but a faint scent, similar to popcorn, leftover from when the farmers burned the rice fields at the end of the growing season. Jane couldn't see any lights from nearby farms, and the farmhouse was dark save for the single outdoor security light near what looked to be a barn.
"Can we let Lisbon out?" Jane asked.
"Certainly. Go ahead. But don't try anything stupid, Patrick, or someone is liable to get hurt."
"Why does everyone seem to think I'm going to do something stupid?" Jane mumbled in irritation. He went round to the trunk and opened it. Lisbon took his hand thankfully and he reached in for his suit coat to drape over her shoulders against the cool night.
"Thanks," she said softly. Then, to Clive: "Where are we?"
"The house I grew up in. Isn't it lovely?" He took a deep breath. "Smell the cloying fragrance of my youth."
But he didn't seem particularly nostalgic. Being here seemed to irritate Clive on some deep level that Jane hoped to capitalize on later. Their captor directed his hostages toward the front steps of the old home, then he reached into his pocket for a set of keys, flipping through the key fob until he found the right one. "Here, Patty, unlock the door. And don't—"
"I won't try anything stupid. Geeze, has no one any faith in me?"
He heard Lisbon's faint snort, and he grinned, squinting into the blackness of the porch to use the borrowed keys. He pushed the door open, and behind him and Lisbon, Clive flipped on a light. The illuminated interior was as Jane had expected: dusty old antique furniture with crocheted antimacassars spread everywhere in abandon. It smelled of settled dust and ancient newspapers. Clive wasn't distracted in the least by their surroundings, and the gun was constantly trained on one or both of them at all times. Jane certainly knew Lisbon could take Clive out with her bare hands, but she seemed content not to try anything yet. He figured she was waiting for a moment when Clive was off his game, but as of yet, Jane hadn't seen him fumble in any way.
"Walk down the hall," Clive ordered, and they did, passing old photographs on the walls of what they presumed were Clive's ancestors and even Clive himself. They came to a small bathroom not far down the hall and to the left.
"Welcome to your chamber for the evening. Get in, please."
Jane turned on the wall switch, surveying their new home. He and Lisbon walked inside, and Clive promptly shut the door behind them. They heard the finality of an old-fashioned key turning in the lock on the outside. Clive spoke to them from the other side of the door.
"As you will find, there is nothing inside that will help you escape, so you may as well just get comfortable and get some rest, especially you, Teresa. I'll try to find something of Mom's she might have left that would be suitable for your big day in court tomorrow. Sorry I can't offer you any refreshment, but the water's on so you won't die of thirst."
"Won't your mother care that you have strangers in her house?" Jane asked.
"Not a bit," Clive replied cheerfully. "She's in an assisted living facility now, and would be pleased this old place was housing company again. I would have sold it long ago, but she wouldn't hear of it. Now I'm glad I didn't sell it. It makes a perfect hideout. Very remote. Not a neighbor for miles to hear you call for help."
He paused, and they could hear the mischief in his voice. "Sorry that our date ended so abruptly, Teresa—I was so hoping for another kiss…"
Jane shot Lisbon a look, although he wasn't surprised by Clive's intimation. He'd suspected Clive had kissed her the day he'd interrupted their Sunday plans.
Lisbon shrugged. "I've had better," she called back to Clive spitefully, smiling at Jane, whose answering, slow grin made her heart beat faster. For once she didn't mind boosting his already impressive ego.
Clive's answering chuckle faded down the hall along with his footsteps on the old wooden floor, and despite his advice to the contrary, Lisbon and Jane began scouring the small, windowless room. But he had been right; the medicine cabinet was completely empty, as were the drawers and cabinets beneath the sink and above the toilet, save for a few old bath towels. The bathroom had no windows, not even a mirror that could be broken and used as a weapon. Jane tried the doorknob of the heavy old door and attempted to turn it slowly, but it wouldn't open. There was nothing in the room or on his person that he could use to pick the keyhole, either. Lisbon's hair was down, so he had no hope for a hairpin from that quarter. They were apparently locked in for the duration.
Through unspoken agreement they gave up their fruitless search, Lisbon sitting on the covered toilet seat, Jane the lip of the curtainless bathtub. He ran his fingers through his hair with some agitation.
"Will apologizing again make any difference?" he asked her with a sheepish smile.
"No, so don't even bother," she replied tiredly.
He reached across the short distance between them to her hands, and looked down at them, so small next to his. He laced their fingers together experimentally, still amazed that she was letting him, that it felt so natural. He brought one of her hands up to his mouth and kissed it, meeting her eyes. They were soft and moss green, her mascara smudged, the faintest trace of weary circles beginning to appear beneath them.
At the touch of his warm lips, she squeezed his hands, and he felt her pulse jump a little. It made him smile.
"It may seem inappropriate, Lisbon, given our situation and location, but I feel the intense desire to tell you how beautiful you are. I don't think I ever have done you justice in that regard, and I feel I've been quite remiss."
She looked around the old-fashioned bathroom, the theme of the décor Victorian, in keeping with the house. Everything was mauve and flowery, from the wallpaper, to the rug on the floor, to the matching, fluffy toilet lid cover she sat upon.
"You're right, it is inappropriate, but leave it to Patrick Jane to profess his admiration while I'm sitting on a commode in the middle of a kidnapping."
His eyes twinkled at her. "It just seemed right somehow."
"Well, thank you," she said wryly. "You're not so bad yourself."
Impulsively, she leaned forward and touched her lips gently to his, and he reveled in her first time to take the initiative in their budding physical relationship. It was simple and sweet, and he felt it all the way to his slightly sore groin.
"Speaking of commodes," she began shyly, pulling away just when things were getting interesting. "I sort of need to…" He looked slightly confused after their kiss, but then it sank in after one slow beat.
"Oh," he said at last, his eyes widening almost comically. "Oh." Despite her mild embarrassment, Lisbon chuckled. He looked almost panicked.
"Sorry, I had two glasses of wine," she explained.
"No, uh…I'll just go stand facing the door, while you…"
"And plug your ears," she instructed.
"What?"
"I won't be able to go if I know you're listening."
It was Jane's turn to chuckle. "Performance anxiety? I never would have thought that of you, Lisbon."
"Just shut up and turn around."
He did so, and could hear the slight rustling of taffeta. He squeezed his eyes shut at the idea that she was half-naked behind him.
"Ears, Jane," she reminded sternly, pausing in her task.
"Oh, of course." He raised his hands to cover his ears, and then he smiled when she turned on the water at the sink for good measure.
Lisbon quickly did her business, flushed the toilet and washed her hands, feeling relieved at least in that regard. She turned off the water.
"Okay," she informed him.
"Huh?"
"Oh, stop; you heard me."
Jane turned around in amusement. "Feel better?" he asked politely. She just gave him an annoyed look. Jane resumed his seat on the edge of the tub.
"How long before anyone will miss us?" he asked her gravely.
"Might be sooner than we think. Also in my purse was my badge and ID. If Clive didn't think to dispose of them, I imagine the restaurant won't delay in contacting the CBI to tell them an agent of theirs disappeared without taking her stuff."
Jane nodded. "Good to know. I seriously doubt Clive thought to take your purse. He isn't always the sharpest tool in the shed, as you can tell by this hastily planned kidnapping. "
"Then why did you work with him?" she asked curiously.
"He was a good actor, and willing to overlook basic morality in the pursuit of the almighty dollar. At the time, that was good enough for me. Besides, I only used him occasionally. I was basically a one-man show. I'd had enough of teamwork when I'd had to work with my father."
"The Boy Wonder had an overbearing Dad Wonder."
Jane's lips quirked. "Something like that." But the last thing he wanted to talk about was his father. He steered the conversation back to their current predicament. "Maybe our team will get hold of the restaurant security tapes and trace his car's tag number."
"With that information, they might be able to determine his possible destination, say an old family home?" she suggested. Then a thought occurred to her. "Is Clive Edmonds his real name?"
"Yes. He still uses it because he's never been convicted of anything, the bastard. Until after this debacle, that is," he said hopefully. "I sincerely hope he rots in jail for this."
Lisbon tsked in mock censure. "One should never cast stones, Jane."
He conceded her point with a smile. Lisbon reached down to unstrap her high-heeled sandals, setting them neatly on the floor. She flexed her feet in relief.
"I don't see how women can wear these things all day."
"They make the sacrifice because it makes their legs look so good," Jane explained in appreciation. He reached for her foot and began to massage her aching arch. She couldn't help the soft moan of pleasure, as his strong, warm hands worked at the tired tendons. She leaned back against the back of the toilet. Jane watched her face relax and occasionally contort into an expression of intense bliss, and he swallowed a little, thinking this must be what she looked like in the throes of passion.
"You know," he said casually, "I've always wondered about the merits of reflexology. Some say it's bunk."
"What do you mean?" murmured Lisbon languidly.
"If I press on certain areas of your feet, it's supposed to positively affect corresponding areas of your body. Here, for instance-" and he began ministering to the area around her big toes—"should ease your shoulders, where I know you must hold a lot of tension." She emitted an encouraging little sound at his manipulation. "So," he asked curiously. "Is it working?"
"Oh…absolutely…"
He smiled. "And if I press here—" he moved to her other tiny toes—"you should feel relief between your eyes, where I can see one of your headache's been coming on."
"Mmmm…"
He continued in this vein for some time, his voice infinitely soothing, naming the parts he hoped to relax in her, switching feet and chuckling when she protested a little. He worked his way to her ankle, and when he hit a certain spot, her eyes flew open and her legs trembled a little.
"What—what was that?"
She met his eyes, hers suddenly glazed with sensuality, his fiery with excitement that perhaps reflexology wasn't bunk after all.
"What did it feel like," he asked hoarsely. She flushed in embarrassment.
"Maybe you should uh…avoid that area." He happily went back to the other parts of her delicate feet, his pulse still pounding at his own daring. He'd certainly be exploring the wonders of reflexology again sometime…
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Hours passed, and they both moved to the floor, dragging the bath mat closer to the cold, cast iron bathtub so they could stretch out a little and lean against it.
Lisbon cuddled up to his side, and Jane felt the immense joy of having her fall asleep, her head resting on his chest, one arm wrapped around her to pull her closer. He reached for his discarded jacket and draped it over her, kissing the top of her fragrant head as he too closed his eyes and tried to rest.
Sometime in the night, while they both dozed, Jane heard the distinctive sound of his own car starting. A few seconds later, the engine's purring faded away, the tires crunching on the gravel leading to the county road.
"Lisbon," he whispered, hating to wake her, but realizing this might be the break they'd been looking for. She stirred, but shifted and snuggled closer.
"Teresa," he said, more loudly, jostling her a bit more. "Clive's left us."
"Huh?"
He repeated himself, and she was suddenly wide awake. He helped her to her feet and they both stretched aching muscles.
"Any ideas where he might have gone?" she asked.
"No clue. But now we should try breaking down the door, don't you think?" They hadn't attempted it for they knew Clive would have been drawn by the noise and would threaten to shoot them if they didn't stop.
Jane tried first, although there wasn't much room in the little bathroom to build momentum to slam against it as hard as he would have liked. He ended up with just an aching shoulder out of the bargain. The heavy, solid door would not budge.
He tried kicking near the door knob, but to no avail.
"Let's try ramming into it together," Lisbon suggested. Jane had his doubts, but humored her anyway. They didn't even make a crack.
"Sheesh," Jane commented in reluctant admiration, "they should armor all the CBI vehicles with whatever the hell that door is made of."
"Here, I have an idea," she said suddenly, turning to the toilet. She removed the heavy lid to the tank, and Jane rushed to help her with the heavy piece of porcelain.
"Interesting battering ram," he grinned. It was as solid and old as the rest of the house, but it might very well do the trick. They both held one end, then, on a count of three, they slammed it into the door. It made an awful racket, but did nothing except jar their arms and shoulders painfully. They tried it again anyway. And again. And again. The last hit broke the toilet lid jaggedly in two, and they stepped back quickly, lest the shattered porcelain land and injure their feet. Lisbon looked spitefully at the broken lid on the floor, dangerously sharp and pointed where it had broken apart.
"At least we have some sort of a weapon now," she said without much conviction, bending to pick up then brandish a wicked looking shard. She threw it down in disgust.
"Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!" Lisbon exclaimed suddenly, and began pounding fruitlessly on the door with her fists. Jane moved behind her, stilling her hands and turning her around. Without missing a beat, he picked her up at the waist like she weighed nothing and set her and her bare feet safely back on the bath mat. He pulled her shaking frame into his arms, holding her as her chest heaved in silent aggravation and hopelessness.
"Shh," he said against her hair, his hand going up to caress its softness, while the other massaged her back consolingly. "Clive needs us, and when he comes back, we'll see our chance, and you can pummel him as hard as you did that damn door."
He felt her smile against his chest.
"Thank you," she said, her voice muffled against his vest.
"You're thanking me now?" he said ironically. "I thought I was to blame for all of this."
She pulled away to look up at him with some affection. "You are, but I wouldn't want to be kidnapped by a con man, stuffed into a trunk, and locked in an old bathroom with anyone else but you."
"Why, Lisbon," he grinned coyly, "are you trying to tell me you've forgiven me?"
"No," she said. "But you can go ahead and kiss me anyway. I can tell you want to."
"Don't go attempting your amateur mentalist tricks on me, missy," he cautioned, his eyes sparkling down at her.
"I'm right though, aren't I," she said, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, then to his nape.
"Just a lucky guess," he said, before he pulled her closer and planted his full lips firmly against hers.
He's seducing me, she thought in wonder, as his mouth toyed with hers. Patrick Jane is seducing me. And I'm letting him. Happily.
He was building the tension to a fever pitch, each arousing thrust of his tongue meant to draw her in more deeply, each caress of her back an irresistible invitation to take more of what he was giving. And she did, her hands slipping recklessly into his curls, her mouth opening wider to his demanding explorations. He was an expert at this, as he was in most everything else, and her legs weakened, then bent as he guided her to her knees on the rug beneath their feet, following her to the floor with a sensual grace. He continued his forays into her hot mouth, not once breaking contact, while his hands slid around her to pause questioningly at her zipper.
She moaned and deepened their kiss even further, which Jane took as an unqualified yes. The sound of the zipper and their ragged breathing echoed loudly in the small room, and Jane released her lips so he could witness what was for him a monumental moment. He gently pulled down her dress, and nearly laughed with glee at what he'd revealed: a strapless bra of deep red lace.
His excited gaze rose to meet hers as she blushed a similar shade of red.
"Would it be too weird to mention how much I adore your friend Amy at this moment?" he asked, his voice breaking a bit as he gauged her reaction.
"Yes," she said, and brought both his hands up to cup her breasts through the soft fabric.
"Amy who?" he grinned, inordinately pleased by her forwardness. He caught her lips again, and brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She gasped and began unbuttoning his clothes with an eagerness that had Jane smiling against her mouth.
Jane could hardly believe this was happening, and without warning, he felt a twinge of guilt as a vision of his wife flashed before him. He remembered the very last time he'd made love to her, the day before her death, and that memory had been permanently etched upon his mind and heart. Her sighs, her soft moans, the feel of her skin, her smell…He'd lived off those moments the past five years, as painful as they were, for he'd convinced himself that that would be the last time he'd ever want another woman. His movements must have stilled as the memories flooded back, for Lisbon paused and drew back from him.
"Are you all right?" she asked. "We don't have to—"
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine. It's just…" He swallowed against the unexpected lump in his throat. "It's been five years, Teresa," he finished simply, but the ramifications of what he'd said were felt deeply by both of them.
"I thought so," she managed, her hand caressing his now bare chest. "I mean, I know how much your wife meant to you. I know this is happening fast between us—"
He brought his hands up to rest on her cheeks. "I want this. I want you. I will always miss her, but you are my now, okay? You aren't her competition, I swear."
She was glad he'd said that, for his feelings for his wife must have been significant indeed to keep him celibate until now. Lisbon had an overwhelming rush of something akin to…honor. She knew he wouldn't take this lightly, and it was perhaps a little frightening just how meaningful it would be for them both.
"I'll be gentle with you," she teased, her humor setting them both at ease emotionally, at the same time reviving the heated mood of moments before.
He grinned, and the sweetness of his smile made Lisbon quiver inside.
"I'm sorry, Lisbon, but I can't make the same promise."
With renewed vigor, he attacked her mouth again, his hands releasing her bra clasp and moving to feel her naked breasts with desperate hands. She shuttered and his mouth left her lips to glide down her neck, lingering at her collarbones, nibbling with clear intent toward his handfuls of creamy, warm flesh.
Lisbon had never known anything as erotic as Jane's incredibly soft hair against her bare chest, that is until his mouth found one taut nipple, and he began teasing and rolling it with his tongue and teeth.
"Oh, God…Jane…"
She clasped him to her bosom, her heart pounding against his cheek as waves of pleasure rushed over her. He moved to her other breast, devoting equal attention there, the sounds of her pants and whimpers turning him on as much as the exposed skin she was allowing him to caress with abandon.
He laid her gently to the deep rug, watching her half-closed eyes as he pulled her dress down her slim hips, his breath catching as he saw the matching lace panties. But Lisbon's hands weren't idle either, and they moved to his fly, undoing the metal fastener of his slacks, drawing down the zipper with as much eagerness as he had her dress. She reached inside and stroked him, the air hissing sharply through his teeth at the pleasure one touch had brought him.
"Are you in pain?" she whispered, looking up at him with smoky eyes.
"Not the kind you mean," he reassured her, his voice shaking with feeling.
He lowered himself over her, while her hands reached beneath his boxers and around to his behind, cupping his firm buttocks with thrilling hands. He kissed her deeply again before getting quickly to his feet to remove the remnants of his clothing and shoes, tossing them aside to join her dress and bra, his eyes never leaving hers. He stopped short as he saw her slide her panties down her toned thighs, revealing at last the complete beauty that was Lisbon, a vision he never had allowed himself to even imagine.
"You're a work of art, Teresa Lisbon," he said, awestruck and trembling. Her answer was to pull him back down to her waiting body, immediately entwining her smooth legs with his lightly furred ones. She felt his hardness pressing against her core, and she was breathing so hard that she felt the edges of her world begin to go black.
"Damn," he muttered against her mouth.
"What?" she asked blankly. She felt bereft as he left her a moment, fumbling for his pants and the wallet still in the back pocket. He opened it and withdrew a small packet.
"I uh, bought this yesterday," he explained nervously.
She observed his sudden insecurity with amusement. "You were that certain of me, were you?"
"No," he said, tearing open the foil with a small smile, "just hopeful."
She was actually both touched and turned on by his forethought and care for her welfare.
She took the condom from his hands. "Here, allow me."
He practically came unglued as she slowly slipped on the latex barrier, drawing out the task with deliberate torture. He was certainly going to make her pay dearly for that. His hand slipped between them and he slid one finger over her moist heat, circling there until she groaned in impending climax. He moved to join with her body, pausing to look into her face.
"Teresa," he whispered. "I need to see your eyes."
She opened them as he commanded, and she looked upon him with a glittering green gaze.
"Now," she begged him. "Please, Jane. I feel like I'm dying here…"
With one more kiss, he moved into position and entered her slowly, achingly, until she grasped his buttocks in frustration and pushed him all the way inside.
He made a strangled noise in his throat, which quickly turned into a moan as she bucked her body against him, pleading with him to pick up the pace and take her harder. As he felt her enclose tightly around him, he couldn't have slowed down even if he'd wanted to.
"Awww…Teresa…" her name spilled forth mindlessly, symbolic of the endless joy he felt to be so completely connected to her at last.
They began a rhythm as in sync as their every past argument, as in time as their every spate of good-natured banter. Just as they had always done, each gave as good as they got, their mental and emotional bond manifesting in the most physical way possible. It was a melding of all aspects of their relationship, a culmination of minds and bodies so complete Jane felt his own tears mingling with the sweat of exertion.
Within minutes, Lisbon cried out, her convulsive movements bringing him over with her, shuttering through him as he rode out the indescribable ecstasy built up from five long years of self-denial.
Jane panted into her damp neck, then gathered her into his arms, holding her tightly, their bodies still joined, their hearts near bursting in shared elation.
A/N: Phew! I don't know about you, but I for one feel much better now, lol.
Thanks for reading this monster of a chapter. I'm on Fall Break next week, so hopefully I'll have time to add more very soon. As always, I really appreciate your kind feedback!
P.S.: I know that rice farmers don't burn rice fields in California much anymore, but I was raised partly in Colusa County, and I couldn't resist including a distinct memory from my childhood—burning rice fields that really did smell like buttered popcorn.