DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I ONLY OWN SAMANTHA ROSS. DON'T LIKE HER, DON'T READ. 'NUFF SAID.
TIME TO PLAY NAME THAT EPI AGAIN! THINK THERE'S TWO OR THREE MENTIONED IN HERE! FIRST ONE TO NAME 'EM ALL GETS A CYBER COOKIE!
THANKS TO ALL OF YOUR FOR YOUR LOVE AND WELL WISHES DURING A DIFFICULT TIME! ESPECIALLY TO LAURA, CASS AND HEIDI. HUGS AND KISSES TO YOU ALL.
AND AN EVEN BIGGER THANKS TO CASS FOR ALL OF HER HELP AND SUGGESTIONS AND FOR JUST SUCCEEEDING IN CHEERING ME UP AND MAKING THINGS EASIER TO BEAR. LOVE YA!
What happens in Vegas….
"I love your black dress, your red lips, your long legs, your high heels
I love your thigh high boots, your snakeskin one piece suit
Yeah you really get me going when you put it all on
But I like it a little better when you take it all off
Baby
C'mon put it all on
Baby
C'mon take it all off
I love your leopard spot bikini and your black kangol
I love it when you hop out of bed and dance to the radio
Yeah you really get me going when you put it all on
But I like it a little better when you take it all off
Baby
C'mon put it all on
Baby
C'mon take it all off
I love the way you keep me moving every time your standing still
I love the look in your eyes when your licking your lips
Yeah you really get me going when you put it all on
But I like it a little better when you take it all off."
-Bounce, Danko Jones
She was stunning.
Even in just that plush bathrobe -he hadn't been lucky enough to see what kind of bra and undies she'd slipped into before covering herself back up, but judging by the sultry items she already owned, his imagination was working overtime - she was nothing short of alluring. She'd used the hotel provided curling iron to painstakingly style her hair into tight ringlet's and then had styled her tresses into a half up, half down style held in place by long metal, crystal topped hair sticks. Bouncy ringlet's tumbled down on either side of her face and her smooth, delicate face bore a touch of shimmering shadow, smoky eyeliner, a coat of mascara and a light dusting of bronzing powder.
There was no question that she was a beautiful woman.
What was in question was what he'd ever done to deserve her.
"You look amazing, baby," he said from the doorway, admiring her as she sat on the edge of the whirlpool tub, putting a coat of polish on her toe nails.
She looked over at him and smiled. "You're prejudiced," she said, then eyed him as well. Feeling the flush that quickly crept up in her cheeks and the unmistakable flutter that took up residence in her stomach as he stood there, impossibly sexy in a pair of well tailored dress pants, his belt and button still undone, a baby blue dress shirt that was un-tucked and unbuttoned over a wife beater. His feet were bare, and his hair was still damp and slightly spiky from his shower.
God…how easy he can get to me, she thought.
"You look pretty hot there yourself," she said, and turned back to her 'painting'. "You don't do your pants and your shirt up and we won't be making it to dinner."
"And that's a bad thing?" he teased, wandering into the bathroom. "Way you totally took charge that second time around? I wouldn't mind taking advantage of that kind of mood again. That was incredibly hot, babe."
"Yeah…I could tell you were liking it at the time," she said with a grin, and turned her face up towards him for a kiss.
"Liking it doesn't come close to what I was feeling. Trust me," he ran a hand softly down her face. "You were incredible. Almost every sexual fantasy of mine come true."
"Almost?" she laughed, and pressed a kiss to his palm.
"Hey, we gotta keep back some fantasies," he said. "We have to hold onto something wild and crazy, right? Something that is just for us?"
"Well…" she pondered, as she put the brush back into the polish and tightening the cap, set the bottle on the counter. "...as long as you're not thinking about someone like that Rachel Bilson while we're having sex, I guess it's okay to have some kind of kinky secret," she said with a laugh. "You like baby?" she asked, stretching out both legs and wiggling all of her toes.
"I do," he replied, and taking on her heels in one of his palms, he used a finger tip from his free hand to trace a slow, soft path along the entire length of the bottom of her foot. "Very, very sexy," he said, and tickled the sensitive area under her toes.
"Stop that!" she cried and let loose on of her infamous giggles as she yanked her foot away. "You and your foot fetish," she sighed.
"Why do you think I'm always willing to pay for your pedicures?" Flack asked. "And how I always want you to walk around the apartment barefoot?"
"You are a strange, twisted man Donald Flack Junior," she declared, and standing up, walked gingerly over to the marble topped makeup area across the room. Pulling out the cheery wood bench that was tucked underneath the counter, she propped on foot up on it and grabbed a hold of the hotel's hairdryer she'd used earlier while working on her hair.
"And never mind why I liked seeing you in all those sexy little sandals you own," he added.
"Why do you think I own so many?" she asked, winking at him before switching the dryer on and using it to quick-dry her polish.
He grinned at the sight of her. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she lightly bit her bottom lip as she focused on the task before her. "Hey, Sammie!" he called over the noise of the dryer. "What'cha wearing under that robe?" he asked curiously when she looked up and acknowledged she'd heard him.
"Underwear," she answered simply.
"Well I figured as much. But what kind of bra and underwear? Something sexy?"
"I'm wearing those little black lace things from Fredrick's with the bows on the hips," she told him.
Good lord, Flack thought, feeling that old familiar stirring inside of him at the visual in his mind of those goodies.
"…and I'm not wearing a bra," she added.
His eyes widened.
"The top I'm wearing can not be worn with a bra," she explained. "So either I don't wear it and wear one that can have a bra underneath, or the girls go free and easy tonight."
"Free and easy," he told her.
She smirked. "Why am I not surprised you would say that?" she asked.
"'Cause I'm a massive perv," he readily admitted and journeyed over to the his and her sinks. Where he surveyed the arrangement of complimentary cologne. Diesel, Hugo Boss, CK One, Reaction by Kenneth Cole. It was an impressive list of names.
"Definitely the Kenneth Cole one," Sam yelled to him. "I sniffed them all already. And that one…it's totally yummy and sexy, baby."
"Well I'd hate to be anything but in your eyes," he teased, and caught her smile through the mirror in front of him. "So I was talking to Adam while you were in her dolling yourself up," he said, as he picked up the bottle of Reaction and popped the cap off. Taking a sniff, he nodded his approval.
"He called here or you called him?" she asked.
"Sammie…come on…when do I ever call your brother?"
"Well considering you hung out at his toxic waste dump of an apartment a couple times I figured you two were homies now."
"Homies," Flack snorted and shook his head. "We talking ghetto speak? We taking a trip down memory lane through Crown Heights or what? He called here. Wanted to make sure we got in okay."
"That would be my fault," Sam said, and prodding her toe nails with her index finger, was satisfied with their appearance and feel before replacing her right foot on the stool with her left. "I told him I'd call him when we got in. He's got airline paranoia. He was worried a shoe bomber would get us. And he hasn't been right since Mac made him dig through all that waste during the whole fake air marshal, vigilante stewardess deal."
"Actually, I think the deal with her was that her boyfriend or lover or whatever? The fake air marshal? I think she stopped him from hijacking the plane. Guess he wanted to be taken to Canada or whatever," Flack told her, as he applied a healthy, yet tolerable amount of cologne.
"Montreal," Sam clarified. "My whole point was that Adam hasn't been right in the head since he dug through all that waste. The fumes must have got to him."
"He wasn't right in the head long before that," Flack commented, and recapping the bottle of cologne in his hand, set it back with the others before turning around to face her. "I ever tell you about that DB me and Aiden Burn were investigating at this construction site in Queens?"
Sam shook her head.
"Obvious blunt force trauma to the head. And he stunk. And when I say stunk, Sammie, I mean horrifically stunk. The guy smelled like ass."
She couldn't help but laugh at that.
"Anyhow, I guess this guy pissed another worker off 'cause this other worker got suspended for being a little drunk on the job. So our dead guy goes into the Porta Potty to do his business and the guy who'd been suspended and the rest of his douche bag friends decided it would be funny if they tipped the thing over with him inside of it."
Sam grimaced.
"My reaction exactly. And you know my aversion to going in public? Well that case made it ten times worse. So anyway, turns out that he didn't get a fatal knock on the head when the porta john was tipped over."
"So what killed him?" she asked.
"Airplane waste."
Sam arched an eyebrow.
"I am not making this up. No word of a lie, a plane flying over the site from La Guardia decided to 'shed' some of its excess weight in the form of some waste. And you know how when something is that high up, like forty thousand feet, it freezes?"
She nodded.
"Well that's what happened. And this guy was just walking along, minding his own business when BOOM. A chunk of frozen shit hits him on the top of the head and kills him."
"So what you're telling me is that a crapsicle killed this guy," Sam stated.
Flack grinned. "Those were my exact words to Aiden," he said.
"Talk about when it's your time to go it's your time to go," she concluded, and satisfied with her toes, put her foot down on the floor and laid the hair dryer on the counter. "What I don't get is how you can remember something from so long ago but you can't remember to put the toilet seat down ninety percent of the time," she teased.
"Well maybe if you turned the light on in the bathroom when you went in there to pee in the middle of the night, you would see the seat was up and not fall in," he told her. "Sometimes I just remember certain things about her," he said.
"About your friend Aiden?" Sam asked.
Flack nodded. "Mostly funny things that happened during cases. Or something that happened while she was out with the boys and we were all trashed. She was like one of the guys. She didn't like any of us treating her any differently 'cause she was a woman. Definitely didn't like being treated like this delicate piece of china. And she let you know right quick if you were over stepping your boundaries in that respect. Sound like someone you know?"
Sam grinned. "Must be a Brooklyn thing," she said. "She was really pretty though," she commented, as she walked over to where he was leaning back against the sink, his hands on the counter behind him. "Danny showed me a picture of her once when I was over at his place."
"What were you doing over at Messer's place? You and him getting a little…"
"Don't even finish that sentence. Danny and I are, and always have been strictly platonic. I was never interested in him in any other way."
"That's 'cause you were into the tall, dark, incredibly handsome, rough and tumble, smart mouth detective kind," he teased, nudging her playfully with his elbow. "Why would you want the skinny runt science geek type when you could have six feet of Flushing, Queens bad boy?"
"Oh yeah…." she said with a dramatic sigh. "That must have been it. I was too busy pining over you to be interested in anyone else. "
"Save for that bomb squad tool and that asshole defence attorney," Flack muttered.
"Water under the bridge, Donnie…I'm here with you, aren't I? I've been with you for how long now?"
"You telling me you don't bother keeping track of days?" he asked. "Aren't women supposed to know these things? Don't they circle it on the calendar? That way every month on the same day they can celebrate a different anniversary?"
"I've marked down the sixth month and the one year," she confessed. "And my point was…what was my point? What were we even talking about?"
"Aiden…you at Danny's apartment…"
"Right…" she scooped a bottle of lavender scented moisturizing cream from the wicker basket of spa products on the counter. "I was never interested in Danny in that way. He's just not my type. He's cute and all that. But he just isn't…I don't know…he just isn't you."
"See?" Flack grinned. "You do have a thing for tall, dark, incredibly handsome, smart ass bad boys."
She smirked and opening the lid on to cream, squeezed a quarter sized amount into the palm of her hand. "As I was saying, Danny showed me a picture of Aiden when I was at his apartment once. I'd just stopped by to check on him about a week after Ruben died and he was in a mood. Slightly drunk and incredibly bitchy. He kept telling me to go away and leave him alone. He wasn't too impressed when I stuck my foot in the door when he tried to close it. Or when I shoved him out of the way and waltzed right into his apartment."
"Yeah he told me about that. About you dumping all his booze down the sink and then making coffee and forcing him to sit down and drink it."
"I threatened to get a funnel and put it in his mouth and pour the coffee down his throat," Sam laughed. "He called me every name in the book and then some. But nothing I haven't been called before, that's for sure. Then about an hour into my mock intervention he gets into this really down sort of mood and just started blubbering away about Aiden. About how much he missed her and how much he cared for her."
Flack arched an eyebrow. "He told you that?"
Sam nodded. "He told me that he was always into her. And that once when he commented on how nice she looked after shift and how if they didn't work together he'd hook up with her, she told him that while she thought he was cute and all of that, he just wasn't her type. That she was way out of his league. I mean, judging by the way Danny said it, I think she was really gentle about it. I don't think she might it to be harsh. But he took it that way."
"He actually told you all of this?"
"You didn't know about all of that? I just assumed 'cause you two are best friends and all of that…"
"I know about her shooting him down like that. What she said to him. But when he told me about it…when he told the whole team about it…we all went out for a drink after her murder was solved and Danny talked about that. But he was laughing about it. And they were always really good friends after that."
"Well he took it pretty bad," Sam said. "Maybe he didn't want you to know how much it did hurt his feelings. He probably didn't feel comfortable talking about that kind of thing with you. Emotional stuff."
"Why?" Flack asked, slightly offended. "I get that kind of stuff. I'm an understanding guy."
Sam arched her brows and stared at him pointedly.
"Sometimes," he added. "I just can't believe he'd tell you all of that. I don't even think he's ever told Lindsay stuff like that."
"I was there and he needed to talk," Sam reasoned. "And because I'm a female, he probably thought I'd be more understanding about it and not ride him for having his ego stomped on. It's really no big deal."
"For Danny it is," Flack told her. "Danny doesn't open up to anyone."
"And he will probably never open up to me ever again. It was a fluke. I was just in the right place at the right time is all. And maybe he felt it was the right thing to do considering all the times I opened up to him about personal stuff. I don't know. What I do know is that he was interested in her. As more then colleagues. And for a long time he wondered what would have happened had things never gone down the way they did. She was a beautiful woman. It's no wonder you didn't go after her."
"Oh I did…" Flack admitted with a sigh. "I crashed and burned. Aiden had a strict 'no dating anyone in the work place' policy. She shot me down. And trust me, she wasn't as gentle with me as she was with Danny. But you're right. She was beautiful."
Sam nodded, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.
"Not as beautiful as you though," he added quickly, and grabbing a hold of her wrist as she went to walk away, yanked her gently towards him. "You were worried there for a second, weren't you," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist as she leaned her body against his. "I saw that look that came over your face. You didn't think I was going to toss that in at the end there."
"I was ready to kill you," she admitted. "I have to admit that you saved yourself pretty good at the end there."
"Just pretty good?" he asked, pecking her lips.
"Well you didn't say it quickly enough for my liking," she chided. "It hurt my feelings."
"Yeah?" he pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Guess I'm going to have to make it up to you then."
"You are," she said, then giggled as his lips found the sensitive stop just below her ear. "Grovelling on your hands and knees is always good."
"Oh I'll get on my hands and knees alright," he chuckled, nibbling and sucking and licking at the side of her neck, hearing her long, drawn out sigh. One of his hands slid from the small of her back, over her ass and back up again. As the other sneaked in between them and reached for the belt on her robe.
"I don't think so," she declared, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp. "There's no time for that."
"There's always time for that," he informed her, and yanked her back into him with one hand while the other untied the robe.
"No…" she insisted and managed to escape. "There's not. Can't you keep your hands to yourself and your thing in your pants for even a couple of hours?" she asked, stepping away from him and doing her robe back up.
"No. I can't. I'm horny. Constantly. And I've been this way since I started my vacation. And it's worse now that we're here. We're in Vegas, baby. Far, far away from any work disruptions. There's not going to be any calls from dispatch interrupting us during intimate moments. There's not going to be double and triple shifts that wear us out to the point where sex is pushed so far on the back burner it's almost non existent. We're here for five days. We can lock ourselves in the room if we want. And trust me, that's what I want."
"And Jess and Mark will both physically beat you within an inch of your life if we don't spend time with them," she added. "They're getting married. And I'm sure she wants some girl time alone with me and you guys wants some guy time where you can drink and gamble all you want."
"You mean I actually have to share you?" he asked in mock horror, as he followed her out of the bathroom and through the suite.
"Yes…you have to share your toys, Donnie. I'm sorry. And how did we go from talking about Adam calling you, to Danny and Aiden, and then to this? What did my brother want?" she asked, and untying her robe, shrugged out of it and tossed it onto the bed.
"Sammie…" Flack bit his lip and shook his head as his eyes feasted on her naked form. Even from behind she was exquisite. Her smooth, creamy skin, that sexy tattoo that stretched across the small of her back from one luscious hip to the other, those sexy, barely there underwear only being held in place by those tiny bows on either side.
"I have to get dressed babe," she laughed. "And getting dress does include taking off my robe."
"Well don't get offended that I actually have to turn away so that I'm not looking at you, okay? It's just…trust me, it's better for both of is if we just keep our backs to each other for now."
She grinned, relishing the sense of confidence that surged through her at the thought of being able to affect him that quickly, easily and powerfully. "So…Adam…" she pressed, as she picked up the above the knee, plain black skirt she'd laid on the bed earlier.
"I just told you. He was making sure we got here okay," Flack told her, as he buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his pants.
"And?" she asked, wriggling into her skirt and doing up the side zip.
"And what? What makes you think there's an and?"
"And?" she repeated.
"I thought we were supposed to be on vacation Sammie," he groused, as he slid up his zipper and did up the button on his dress pants before buckling his belt. "I wear a suit and tie to work nine and a half times out of ten. Why do I have to wear them while I'm on holidays too?"
"Because it's not exactly the kind of restaurant you go to while wearing jeans, Adidas sandals, a backwards ball cap and a Rangers jersey" she teased. "And please stop avoiding my question."
He sighed and flipped up the collar of his shirt as he walked to the dresser, where he'd earlier laid a navy blue, powder blue and pale pink striped tie. Pink, he thought and physically shuddered. When she'd brought that particular tie home with the others she'd purchased at the Tommy Hilfiger store, he'd taken one look at it and declared it unfit to wear. Not that it wasn't a nice tie. Compared to what he owned it was the Monet of ties. But pink?
"It looks like white Donnie it's so pale," she'd said, as she took the tie from his hands and draped it around his neck. "You have to look really, really closely to tell it's pink."
He'd frowned, then picked up the end of the tie before she could begin tying it. "Are you blind?" he'd asked. "Is there something wrong with your eyes? You can tell that that's pink. What will my guys say if they see me in a pink tie?"
"It's not like it's all pink," she'd said. "You see the two different blues before you see the pink. And the blues really bring out your eyes. You have really, really beautiful eyes."
He'd smirked. "Quit trying to kiss my ass. I'm not wearing a tie with pink in it."
"It's a very, very, very nice tie," she'd ignored him, as she set to quickly and efficiently tying the object in question. "I happen to think you will look incredibly sexy in it. It's just a little bit of pink. A little bit of pink is no threat to your masculinity."
"Next thing you'll be making me wear pink shirts and underwear," he'd griped.
"There is nothing wrong with getting in touch with your feminine side," Sam had informed him. "And look…" she'd tightened the tie and smoothed it down. "I was right. You look insanely sexy."
Then she'd wrapped the tie around her hand and roughly yanked him into a steamy, toe curling kiss. And before he even knew what was happening or had a chance to react, she'd laid her free hand on his chest and catching him off guard, aggressively pushed him backwards until the back of his knees collided with the edge of the bed and he tumbled onto it.
"Now," she'd said, in a low, sultry voice as she climbed on top of him, a knee on either side of his torso. "I think maybe you and I need to take a moment to rediscover your masculine side. Your very, very, very masculine side. Together. What do you think?"
"I think that you're a dirty, dirty girl, Sammie," he'd said, and reached for the buttons on the front of the dress shirt of his she wore.
"Uh-uh," she'd captured his hands and deftly pinned them above his head. "I want to lead this little lesson for a bit. I want to both help you find that masculine side and me find my feminine side. Okay?"
"Yeah…but…"
"Okay?" she'd asked, and bore down on his erection.
"Okay…okay…uncle! I surrender! Do what you want! Whatever you want!"
"Whatever, huh?" she'd licked her bottom lip as she slid down his stomach and moved down the bed. "You might live to regret that," she'd said, and proceeded to pop open the button on his jeans.
He hadn't lived to regret it. In fact, she'd completely blown his mind, among other things that night. And he'd certainly proved he was all man.
But it still didn't make the idea of a pink tie seem any better.
"Are you going to tell me what else my brother wanted it or not?" Sam asked from behind him, snapping him out of his reverie
"Sorry…" he chuckled and set to work on his tie. "I just had this crazy little daydream going on over here."
"Let me guess…it involved that night you started flat on your back but ended up completely naked except for that tie you're wearing right now."
"You know me so well, baby," he grinned. "And Adam wanted to let me know that Zack keeps coming by to see you. Apparently getting his ass handed to him did nothing to stop his bullshit."
"Well he had very little brain cells to begin with so I imagine that the beating just obliterated whatever he had left," she said, and picking up a shimmering gold satin top from where it lay on the bed, pulled it over her head and shimmied into it. "I need some help, baby," she said. "Will you come here and put those fingers to good use?"
He laughed at that, and finishing with his tie, he flipped the collar of his shirt done and walked over to where she was waiting for him, a hand clutching the front of her top to her chest. "What? Are you modest now or something?" he asked. "It's not like I haven't seen the girls a million times or taken them out for play dates."
"Don…please…no perv comments, okay?"
"Sorry…" he smirked. "How many fingers you need?" he asked, then placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. "One?" he placed his lips against her neck. "Two?" he pecked her cheek and then rested his lips against her ear. "Or how about your favourite number? Three?"
"Jesus Christ," she muttered, her cheeks flushing.
"What?" he couldn't help but chuckle. "Come on…three fingers is a good thing. Means all the bases get covered."
"Don!" Sam snapped and directed an elbow towards his stomach. "Please! Just stop!"
He smirked in amusement. "Fine…fine…sorry…those topics are completely unacceptable. What did you need me for?"
"I need you to tie up my top," she told, and held up two pieces of gold satin. "This goes at the nape of my neck."
"Gotcha…" he said, and taking the pieces of fabric from her, tied them into a delicate bow.
"And these…." she moved her hands down to the sides of her breasts and picked up another two pieces. "These two tie at the middle of my back."
"Alright…" he busied himself tying another bow. "When did you buy this?" he asked curiously.
"Last night when Jess and I hit Macy's."
"It's really pretty… but where's the rest of it?" he patted her lightly on the shoulders to signal that he was done.
"What do you mean?" she asked, and turned around to face him.
"What I mean is where is the rest of the top?" he answered, as she straightened his collar and tie. "I mean all that's holding it up at the back are those two bows. Rest of your back is wide open."
"My front is completely covered though," she pointed out.
"I see that," he said, taking in the mock neck and the way the fabric clung to her curves. "But what about the back?"
"What you see is what you get," she told him.
"Think maybe you left half of it at the store when you took it off the hanger?" he asked, only half joking.
"No. This is how it was on the mannequin when I saw it," she replied. "Two bows. Nape of the neck, middle of the back. Why?"
"Nothing…I just…I mean you look amazing in it and you're totally sexy and all of that…"
Her eyebrows arched as she waited for him to continue.
"I just…I guess I'm surprised it's so…daring. That it's so…revealing."
"I'm not flashing my boobs to everyone Donnie," she said. "It's just my back."
"Still pretty sexy, Sammie. Gonna be given all kinds of guys all kinds of ideas."
"Please…" she laughed and stepping away from him, slipped her feet into a pair of gold strappy high heels.
"You have a sweater or anything that goes over it?" he asked, as he stepped into a pair of polished black dress shoes he'd placed earlier by the window.
She reached behind her and held up a black pashmina.
"And you're going to wear that downstairs and through dinner?" he inquired.
"Are you kidding me, Don? Like seriously. Are you kidding me? You're concerned that guys are going to look at me because I'm not completely covered up to my neck?"
"It's just a little…racy is all. For public anyway."
"What do you want me to wear? A nun's habit?" she asked angrily.
"Don't get upset. I'm just saying that…"
"You're not saying anything," she interrupted me. "You're ordering me in that subtle way that you have. When you don't like something, when you feel threatened by something you get this way about you. Where you try being bossy in this smooth, gentle way."
"I'm not bossing you around, Sammie. I'm just…I mean you'll need that little sweater thing. It's not that warm out tonight. I don't want you catching a cold or anything."
She stared at him. "Don't hand me that shit. You just don't want anyone looking me. Guys look at women, Don. I'm a woman. I may not be the most beautiful, sexy in the woman in the world. And not every red blooded male falls at my feet. But there are men that do find me attractive."
"I know that. I see it with my own eyes. Guys checking you. And you know what? To me you are the most beautiful, sexy woman in the world. And I guess I just want these guys to realize that you're not going home with any of them."
"Don…I'm with you. I came here, to Vegas, with you. I live with you. I'm madly and wildly and passionately in love with you. And only you. I don't give off single and available vibes. You want to hold my hand all night, walk with your hand on the small of my back or on the back of my neck, that's fine. You want to find a way to advertise it to everyone that I'm with you? Then do it. But don't tell me what I can and can't wear. Don't pull that shit with me."
"I'm not trying to…" he attempted to defend himself.
"You are trying to!" she snapped and snatched her black evening purse off the bed. "And don't do it! I am with you and I love you. I'm yours wholly and completely. But that doesn't give you the right to treat me like some kind of possession. Okay?"
He nodded.
"I don't…" she took a deep breath and let out slowly as she draped the pashmina over one arm. "I don't want to fight, baby. We do enough of that at home. We come to Vegas and the second we stepped off the plane…I don't know…we seemed so different with each other. We're getting along so much better. Don't you think?"
"I think that things seemed more relaxed between us," he told her, as he grabbed his suit jacket off of the chaise lounge and slipped into it. "We don't seem on edge like we are back home. Probably because here we don't have to worry about getting called out during inopportune times and all of that. And we don't have to worry about working crime scenes together and getting into little fights 'cause we don't always agree on things."
"Working with someone you have a relationship is not for the faint of heart," she sighed.
"But I wouldn't change it though," Flack said. "I mean, if it wasn't for work we probably never would have met each other."
"I was still going to come to New York City regardless of whether I got a job with the crime lab," she told him, as he laid a hand on the small of her back and led her through the suite. "We would have met somehow. Probably whenever I paid my brother a visit."
"Yeah but you might not have been into me if that was the case," Flack said, as they walked into the foyer, where he snagged the key card off of the table near the door. "What if you had have gotten a bigger and better job? Teaching or something?"
"Donnie, I still would have been attracted to you regardless. I mean, tall, dark and handsome? Amazing blue eyes? What's not to love?"
"Thought you loved the handcuffs," he teased, as he unlocked the door and pulled it open.
"They are my weakness," she said with a wink, and prepared to pass under his arm to get out into the hall. Slightly startled when he grabbed a hold of her upper arm with one hand and closed the door abruptly with the other. "What are you…?"
All words were cut off as he laid one hand on the back of her neck, the other one her hip and he pushed her roughly against the wall next to the door. Capturing her lips with his, his tongue urgently pushed its way into her mouth and sought out hers. He leaned into her, the weight of his body crushing as the hand on her hip slid around to aggressively fondle her ass as he kissed her until she was dizzy and breathless.
"Ummm…okay…." she barely managed, after he'd broken away and stepped back slightly to give her breathing space. Her body slumped against the wall as she brought a trembling hand to her sweaty forehead. "That was…that was…interesting."
Flack grinned and ran a hand over her face and pecked her forehead. "You're my weakness," he told her. "You always have been. You always will be."
She let out a shaky breath and fanned herself with her hand. "Okay…I think we should get going now…."
He nodded and opening the door once more, motioned for her to go ahead of him. "Think maybe we should take the stairs?" he asked.
"Nearly thirty flights? Are you insane?"
"Well I was just keeping in mind your thing for elevators," Flack told her as he stepped out into the hallway and shut the door. "Every time we get into one together you turn into this raging nympho. And I'd hate for those bows on your top to accidentally come undone on our way downstairs."
"I think there's a greater chance of you tearing my clothes off during the long trip downstairs then there is of you doing it in a short elevator ride."
"Oh I don't know," Flack said, winking at her as he took her hand and entwined her fingers with his. "Elevator has a stop button."
"You wouldn't do something like that," she laughed.
He arched an eyebrow. "Wanna bet? Wanna take chance that I won't undo that top and do kinky things to you in the elevator? And that's without pressing the stop button. How much do you want to bet that I could make you come in the short time it takes to get on that elevator and down to the lobby?" he asked confidently.
"I don't bet," she replied. "You know that."
"Come on, we're in Vegas, babe," he fished the elevator key out of his jacket pocket and slipping it into the lock mounted on the wall between the two lifts, turned it to the left. "I know for a fact that you're going to go wild at the slots. So how about we make a little bet between us? I bet that I can, while leaving all of your clothes on and not making use of the stop button, make you lose your mind by the time we hit the ground floor."
"There's no way," she scoffed.
"Come on…make a bet with me. I bet you that I can. And if I do…well I want you to be totally at my mercy later. You do what I want. Whatever I want. Wherever and however I want. Deal?"
"And if you don't succeed?" she asked.
"Well then I'm at your mercy later. Completely."
She bit her lip thoughtfully. Then looked up at the elevator as the chime announced its arrival.
"Well?" he asked. "We got a bet or what? Is the game on or…"
The elevator door slid open. It was thankful empty as she stepped inside, and giving him a devilish grin, she reached out and grabbing him by the lapels on his suit jacket, yanked him inside.
"The game is definitely on," she said.
Thanks to everyone that is reading and reviewing! I appreciate all of the love and the supporter! And all of the lurkers too! Please R and R folks! Hope you all come back once exams and all the other life related craziness calms down!
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