A/N: This idea came to me when I was trying to figure out how far our pair would go in order to get around Hightower's ultimatum. Or maybe just Grace wearing a trenchcoat, looking fine and ordering death hits on Rigsby made me think about clandestine meetings. You know the kind; filled with weak-ass coffee, dark alleys, cold cigarette butts and no last names.

Sly

The booth at the back of the dingy saloon didn't allow for much movement. He leaned closer, running his hands over the sleek fabric of her raincoat, keeping his voice to a whisper.

"God, I miss you," he groaned into her ear just before he nibbled it gently.

She shook her head in admonishment and he lost his bite on her. "No, you don't," she corrected against his cheek. "You don't know me at all."

"Baby," he murmured pleadingly. "Let me take you home."

"Jessica," she corrected again in a whisper that matched his in pitch, but not in longing. "And no. Take me to your car."

He sighed into her flaming hair and nodded. "Kiss me first. Give me that much, Jess. Then I'll take you anywhere you want."

She slid a little closer to him, relaxing a bit at his innocent request. She nuzzled her nose along his jaw, peppering her path with tiny kisses. "Adam," she whimpered at him. Certainly not to him. He chaffed against it, hating how pretty another name sounded in her voice. She pressed her much-missed lips against his and kissed him gently. Suddenly he didn't care what she called him.

He took the kiss deep. She might want a quick fuck in the back of his SUV, but dammit, he was going to make this one, pure kiss last as long as possible before he obliged. Sometimes he felt it was the only time he could really talk to her, let her know how bad he still had it for her, and not a word was passed, nor could one fit.

He cupped her cheeks and thumbed the soft skin just below her eyes. She hummed against his mouth, reveling in his touch. He roughly pulled her legs over his under the table until she was partially sitting in his lap. His lips assaulted her, prying hers open and dipping into the sweet recess behind. He wasn't allowed much, so he played the hell out of the few cards he still held. she went softer at his dominance, mewling adorably and plucking distractedly at his shirt.

"You taste like everything I want, Jessica," he rasped low and angry. "Like everything I love."

"No words," she mumbled, nestling closer but keeping the distance. She had precious little restraint as it was, and listening to him destroyed her. "You know that."

"Fuck no words," he disagreed in a lustful hiss. "I'll call you Jess, but," he caught her chin and made her look at square in the face, "if you call me Adam when I take you to the back of my car and lick you out, I'll fucking lose it."

She keened softly and trembled in his hands, hating the games she was forcing on her sweetheart. "No licking. Just fucking. You know that, too."

He pushed her legs off him and rose slowly, his expression flinty as he extended his hand to her. When she took it, he jerked her to him and fondled her roughly. Public place be damned. He fisted his hand in her hair, holding her tight and nosing to her ear once again.

"My car. My tongue. My fucking girlfriend. When you come against my mouth, who's name are you going to say?"

She gasped as he bit down wetly on her throat. Her eyes rolled up. Her hands, fisted in his shirt to keep him at bay, flattened out and stroked mindlessly across his chest. She was surrounded by him, unable to escape or resist. She couldn't think about anything except how they'd used to spend hours at this. Tonight-like every night that Adam and Jessica met-they only had now. She moaned a forbidden syllable.

"Waaaayne."