A/N: Happy Indepence Day to my American readers, and to you Brits—no hard feelings? LOL. Here is a holiday treat for you (she said, hopefully). Waterbaby's excellent chapter inspired me to add to it right away, so this chapter comes to you much sooner than I had expected it to. It is longer, it is hotter (beware of the M-rated stuff at the end), and hopefully moves along the plot a bit more so you can see Jane's next step in breaking Lorelei.

Hope you enjoy all the fireworks today!

Chapter 6

It was a long time until six. Jane had paced in his motel room for a good hour, rehashing and reliving every moment of the day's interview with Lorelei. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about Red John threatening Lisbon before—actually, that had been the reason in the past that he had pulled away from her, to protect her. No, what frightened the hell out of him was that Lorelei was an ambassador of sorts for Red John, and if she was saying it, then obviously Red John had spoken of it. Lorelei was so controlled by her desire to please her master that Jane doubted she would dare make up such a thing on the fly just to mess with him.

It also occurred to him that her saying it now could be some sort of a signal, that if Red John had someone on the inside of the prison, that person could be waiting to report the message back to the killer. He made a mental note to ask Darcy for the personnel records of all the guards at the prison. He couldn't believe he had been so trusting that he hadn't made the request first thing.

His fears for Lisbon's safety clashed with his thoughts about their sensual encounter the night before. It had been so surreal, holding her in his arms, feeling her mouth beneath his, so yielding, so passionate, so tempting—so everything he hadn't felt with Lorelei. It made him hot just thinking about it, and he shivered as if he had a fever.

He glanced at the clock radio by his bed and sighed impatiently. Two o'clock. His stomach growled and he decided he could kill some time by getting a late lunch. He thought of calling Lisbon to join him in the motel restaurant, but he figured she'd requested the later meeting time so she could catch up on some much-needed sleep. It had been a long night, and he doubted she had slept any better than he had after their tryst in the pool. So he sat alone and ordered a club sandwich and iced tea (it was too sweltering outside even for him to drink it hot). That had wasted a good forty-five minutes.

As he walked reluctantly out into the heat again, he happened to glance at the parking lot beyond the scene of the night's crime (the swimming pool), and looked at his poor Citroen, baking away in the afternoon sun. It was then that he noticed something was missing: Lisbon's car. He bolted toward the lot, trotting completely around the motel in search of the small, dark SUV. It was gone for sure.

Dammit, Lisbon.

He wiped his perspiring brow and pulled out his phone almost violently, hitting the number one button on his speed dial list. He let it ring until it switched over to voicemail, and he could hardly wait for the tone to leave his threatening message.

"Where the hell are you, Lisbon? You better not have gone where I think you've gone, or...or, so help me, I'll do something—I don't know what, but it'll be really, really bad."

He disconnected, then sent her a similar text. He didn't bother to wait for the reply that likely wouldn't be coming anytime soon, so he went to his car and roared out of the parking lot toward the prison. He couldn't believe she'd pulled another one over on him. That was twice in as many days. Lorelei was right; Lisbon did take him off his game, made him forget to question everything like he always had in the past. It would be to both their detriments if he didn't pull himself together but fast.

He couldn't remember being this furious in a long time. It wasn't as if he thought Lisbon would undo his work with Lorelei—she could handle an interrogation on her own just fine. It was the idea that she was there alone, having to listen to Lorelei's vitriol without him as a buffer, and that perhaps she'd put herself in harm's way, especially in light of his theory that Lorelei might have sent some kind of signal to Red John.

"Dammit, Lisbon," he said, this time to his steering wheel. He seriously considered turning her over his knee the moment he saw her, and not in a sexy way. Well, maybe that would come later—he shook his head violently as the sensual image came unbidden to his mind.

"Focus, Jane," he told himself angrily.

He made the half-hour trip in twenty minutes.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Agent Darcy had gone back to her motel room for the day when Lisbon returned to the prison. She requested Lorelei be brought back to the interrogation room, and the guards, after a quick call to confirm with Darcy, complied. Darcy was kind enough to unilaterally grant Lisbon and Jane complete access to the prisoner for the next two weeks, whether the federal agent was present or not. Lisbon was beginning to like the agent in spite of herself. It probably had something to do with the fact that they were finally all on the same side, for once.

Lisbon sat in the small room, keeping her seat at the table as Lorelei was brought in for the second time that day. The woman's smile seemed genuine as she looked upon the CBI agent with surprise, then with what appeared to be satisfaction. The guard pushed her gently into the chair with a rattle of chains, and left at Lisbon's grateful nod.

"Agent Lisbon," said Lorelei brightly. "I should have known you'd be holding Patrick's leash."

Lisbon had to smirk at that. "No one holds Jane's leash," she said. "If you truly knew him, that one would be pretty self-evident."

Lorelei shrugged. "I've found that everyone has a master, whether its a boss, or a lover, or...an addiction. You are...Jane's addiction. You hold his very heart, it seems, if his earlier declaration of undying love is any indication." That last part sounded a mite sarcastic.

"Jane's addiction...isn't that a band?" Before Lorelei could respond to her quip, Lisbon leaned forward intently. "I've come to take you up on your previous offer. You know, of talking woman to woman?"

"Oh, really? This should be interesting." She sat back in her chair, and no doubt would have crossed her arms in front of her had her hands not been cuffed.

"Before we begin," Lisbon continued, "I want you to know that there is no one behind the glass watching us. And look—I'm not recording this interview, so it will truly be just between us." She inclined her head toward the door. "Our only witnesses are the guards outside this room, and they can't hear anything through the soundproofing, so we can talk with complete honesty."

Lorelei raised a finely shaped brow. "You gonna rough me up now, copper?" she asked, amused.

"We both know that wouldn't do any good, or, believe me, I would." The gleam in Lisbon's eye bespoke an unsettling longing, and Lorelei visibly cringed.

"Well, that's honesty for you. So, woman to woman, what would you like to talk to me about?"

"Why, men, of course. That's what women do, right? You share a bit about your boyfriend; I share something of mine..."

"That's a little awkward in our case, isn't it?" said a bemused Lorelei. "Since we share the same boyfriend, I mean."

"Red John is not my boyfriend."

"You're funny, Teresa. I never knew you had such a great sense of humor. I can totally see why Patrick is so in to you."

"I'll start, then," Lisbon said, ignoring her sarcasm. "You're right about Jane having an addiction, but it's not really me. He's addicted to finding Red John. Considering what he did to Jane's family, you can't really blame him. But you scored a pretty good hit earlier, threatening yet another woman in his life. You got to him, obviously. But let me tell you something, Miss Martins, something that Jane forgets on occasion. I'm a cop; I'm not afraid of the likes of Red John, so those threats don't work on me."

"He's killed cops before."

"Cops that hadn't studied your boyfriend as intently as I have. You know, I'd love for him to come for me, to reveal himself so I can take him out, put him down like the rabid dog he is. But we both know something else at the moment; you're just talking out of your ass in here, desperate to say anything to get to Jane, to mess with him like he's clearly messing with you. Red John's not coming, and that's your greatest fear, isn't it? He doesn't love you enough to save you. You've wasted years of your life in devotion to him and he's thrown you to the wolves without a second thought."

"You're dangerously overconfident, Agent Lisbon. But then, you know something about wasting your life on a man, don't you? I'll give you that Patrick's true obsession is Red John, but you've had to play second fiddle to a pipe dream. He'll never kill Red John. On the contrary, he's well on his way to seeing the light and joining him. That's your greatest fear, isn't it?"

It was, but Lisbon wasn't about to admit that to her. Instead, she chuckled.

"That's absurd. I tell you what I fear. I fear for Red John should Jane get hold of him before I do. But we're getting off track here. I really just wanted to give you a little womanly advice. First, stop trying to get to Jane by threatening me. You might unsettle him a bit, but I'm more than willing to step in and take over the reins as I'm doing right now. And secondly, I think it would be in your own best interest to open up about Red John. We'd protect you, maybe even get you a deal. There's no proof that you were the one who actually kidnapped Wainwright. That might have been all Red John's doing. You could get out of any charges altogether if you tell how he threatened you, didn't give you any

choice—"

"Oh, I had a choice. I'd do anything for Red John. I love him, and would never sell him out," she replied dismissively. "So, is there a third bit of advice? I really would like to have my dinner now. The guards told me it's pot roast tonight, my favorite..."

Lisbon had the frustrating feeling that she was just banging her head against a sociopathic brick wall.

"Yeah, there's one more thing, and I think you can completely relate. I'm in love with Jane, and I'm just as loyal to him as you are to Red John. So I'll do anything to protect him, including risk my career to nail your ass to the wall if you hurt him. Are we clear on that point?"

"Are you threatening me, Teresa? That would be a stupid move on your part."

"Yes, I believe I am. Try me on this one; I dare you." She grinned inside, but kept her face neutral. "I double dog dare you."

Just then, the door to the interrogation room opened and in stepped a very determined looking Jane. He ignored Lorelei and walked straight over to Lisbon, pulled her up by the hands, and kissed her surprised mouth ardently, his hands on either of her smooth cheeks.

He'd been watching from the other side of the window, experiencing a wide range of emotions as he'd listened to the two women speak.

He'd been furious when he'd first arrived, but he wasn't about to rush in and verbally attack Lisbon while she was interrogating Red John's disciple—no sense Lorelei seeing any rifts between them. Then he'd become caught up in their discussion, in how masterfully Lisbon was handling her. The woman-to-woman line was inspired, and he could already see how much Lisbon was getting to her, chipping further away at Lorelei's confidence; he could tell how defensive Red John's girl was becoming by the tightness of her facial features, in the way she clenched her hands together into small fists. And then Lisbon had given her third recommendation, and Jane had frozen in surprise, before his heart started pounding hard against his chest.

I'm in love with Jane...

Not the ambiguous, "I love Jane," or the wimpy "Love him," but "I'm in love with Jane." It was undeniable the meaning of that statement. He'd known it, of course, but to hear her say it, so matter-of-factly, freed the angry knot in his chest and made him feel happier than he'd been in nine years. Without giving it much thought (for once) he'd left the observation room to claim the woman he loved.

The seconds ticked by as the pair forgot where they were, unconsciously drawing the grinning attention of the guards at the glass door, along with the rather disgusted witness sitting in the room with them, literally a captive audience. When their breathing became audible, Lorelei cleared her throat.

"Seriously? I thought detainees weren't supposed to be subjected to torture. Isn't it against the Geneva Conventions or the Fifth Amendment or something?"

Jane pulled back from Lisbon reluctantly, smoothing a lock of hair behind her ear and replying to Lorelei while his eyes still held Lisbon's dazed gaze.

"That's the Eighth Amendment. And we're not at war, exactly, so the Geneva Conventions don't apply."

"Still, I'm feeling a little tortured right now, so if you wouldn't mind..."

Jane turned to nod at the gawking guard, who opened the door again with a knowing grin. "You can take her back now," Jane said.

"Sure thing, Mr. Jane."

As Lorelei was escorted out, the enamoured pair didn't even seem to notice. When they were finally alone, Lisbon gently extricated herself from his hold and turned away, pulse racing with a keen mixture of desire and embarrassment.

"Well, that was totally unprofessional," she said, but she didn't sound upset, exactly.

"You're lucky I just kissed you. You would have hated my first inclination. Why didn't you tell me you were coming back here? If you're trying to make a point that you can trick and undermine me just as easily as I can you—"

"No," she replied, turning back to him. "This was an impulsive decision. After I dropped you off earlier, I tried to get some sleep, but all I could think of was how upset you were by Lorelei's threats, how maybe I'd messed things up with my surprise appearance. I had to do something about it."

"Aw, Saint Teresa, you shouldn't have. Seriously, don't do this kind of thing anymore, not when it comes to Red John. He asked for your goddamn head recently, remember? Last year he allowed you to be rigged with explosives. You're no longer flying under his radar, don't you see that? He's found my Achilles heel, and he won't hesitate now to use you to get to me."

"I'm not—"

"Afraid. Yeah, I know. Lorelei was right about one thing; inciting Red John is a very stupid move, trust me on this."

"Look around you, Jane. She's in a supermax prison. If Red John had wanted to get to her, he would have had plenty of opportunities when they transferred her from Sacramento. No, he's washed his hands of her because he knows she's not telling us anything—she'll never tell us. He's brainwashed her too deeply, and she's happy to rot in jail for him."

He reached out now, resting his hands on her small yet capable shoulders. "I know it seems hopeless right now, but believe me, we're getting to her. It's only a matter of time now. Don't give up."

"So that's what was behind that dramatic display a few minutes ago. All part of your plan to get to her?"

"No," he said softly, his eyes growing warm. "I can be impulsive too, sometimes. What you said to her about me, I know you meant it."

"What did I say again? I was kinda hyped up..."

He grinned. Nothing like having your own words thrown back at you.

"I think we should both stop evading the truth now. About us. About our true feelings." He took a deep breath, his hands moving from her shoulders to her hair. "I love you, Teresa. After all we've been through together, after all you've done for me, how could I not?"

She blinked away sudden tears, shaking her head slowly. "You've said this before, denied this before—"

"Well, I'm not denying it now." He leaned down and gently touched her lips with his. "I can understand how you might doubt me. But I swear, Teresa, this is no long con here. I love you. I'm in love with you. I'm infatuated, enamoured, obsessed, head-over-heels, crazy in—"

She silenced his litany with a kiss of her own, allowing all her own true feelings to be laid bare to him. She wanted there to be no mistake what he meant to her, that she wanted him, loved him, with everything that she was.

He broke the kiss and pulled her into his arms, where she rested her head on his chest. He counted his heartbeats in an effort to slow them down. As much as he'd love to take her on the interrogation table, he wanted his first time with her to be much more romantic, and much more comfortable. He wasn't twenty-five anymore, he thought with a smile.

"Just so we're clear," she said a bit breathlessly, her voice muffled against his suit coat. One of his hands began stroking her hair soothingly. "I love you too."

"I never doubted it for a minute," he said, kissing the top of her head and inhaling deeply of her fragrance. Today she smelled of oranges. He endured a warning slap on his arm for his tremendous ego, but she allowed him to continue to hold her.

"Does this meeting negate the afore-planned meeting scheduled for six o'clock?" he asked, a smile in his tone.

Lisbon's heart, having calmed considerably under his gentle hands, skipped a beat and began racing again. "It doesn't have to," she said invitingly, and pulled back enough so he could see the promise in her eyes.

"Well, okay then," he said, and he took her lips in a brief, though toe-curling kiss, his tongue tangling sensually with hers. When he released her, they were both panting again, but happiness radiated from their faces with a warm glow. "May I walk you out, Agent Lisbon?"

"Please," she replied formally, but in a further breach of professional protocol, she let him hold her hand all the way to the parking lot.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Six o'clock seemed an even longer time away, even though this time it was only thirty minutes that he had to spend in his own room waiting. He realized he shouldn't show up at her door empty handed, so he'd driven to a convenience store and purchased the only fresh flowers available in the little oasis—two rather forlorn roses in a water filled bucket on the check-out counter. At least they were red, which symbolized true love and passion. That pretty well summed up what he was feeling for her these days. He only wished he had a couple dozen of them.

He'd found the Get-Quik's best dusty bottle of ten dollar, screw-top zinfandel on a back shelf, which was currently chilling in one of the motel's best plastic ice buckets. He smiled to himself as he remembered the young store clerk's amused expression after he'd asked for a box of Trojan's finest.

"Hot date?" he'd inquired with a laugh, examining Jane's purchases and no doubt noting his age.

"That's what I'm hoping," Jane had replied good-naturedly.

"Dude, what are you, the forty-year-old virgin or something?"

"Something like that," Jane had told him, proudly accepting his brown paper bag. "Actually, I'm forty-three."

He'd charmed the female manager of the motel restaurant and tipped her fifty bucks (the motel had no room service) for them to deliver two steak dinners and their biggest slice of chocolate cake at precisely 6:05 to Lisbon's room.

It wasn't exactly the romantic seduction he might have hoped for, but he was incredibly limited by their location. Besides, none of that stuff really mattered at the moment. Before this day was over, Lisbon would be naked in his arms, and he could finally be free to pour his heart and his body into hers, effectively blotting out his tawdry night with Lorelei. It was time to move on from all of that now, and his months away from Lisbon made him realize he didn't want to move on without her.

He showered and meticulously shaved, lightly splashing on his rarely-used sandalwood cologne. He dressed in a blue cotton shirt, sans coat and vest, the sleeves rolled up to his tanned forearms, and a pair of his gray slacks, managing to look cool and casual despite the oppressive heat. His hair was still damp and curling away from his face when he knocked at six o'clock sharp, wine bucket and roses in hand. He was as nervous as a teenager picking up his girl for the prom (at least what he imagined that might have felt like), and when she opened the door in her black yoga pants and v-necked brown t-shirt, it hit him like a punch in the gut that he was really about to do this. With Lisbon. Wow.

"Wow," he found himself saying aloud, his eyes sliding over her, rising from her bare, red-tipped toes to her naturally waving hair. The scent of citrus inundated him again, and he relaxed and smiled. She flushed under his admiring gaze, and he presented her with the roses.

"Thank you," she said, inhaling them. She wondered why they smelled of disinfectant and tobacco, but she didn't question his thoughtful gesture.

"Please, come in. You're lucky we have air conditioning. Good old Kyle saw to it, I'm sure." She noticed his other gift, and arched an eyebrow. "Wine too, eh? Expecting to get me drunk and have your way with me?"

"No," he said, straight-faced, his eyes sparkling. He placed the bucket on the small table for two. "I want you fully aware when I have my way with you. The cheap wine is just an added bonus." He reached for her hands, felt her pulse skipping beneath his fingers.

There would be no sly attempts to make this meeting seem like it was anything other than it truly was: a chance to take their relationship to a deeper, more physical level. They were both on the same wavelength here, both had confessed their love, each of them passionately curious to see if they would work together in the bedroom as fluidly as they did at the CBI.

He'd just bent to kiss her when a knock came on the door.

"Room service."

"That will be our dinner," said Jane at her surprised reaction.

"Seriously? You're really building this thing up, aren't you? I'm starting to have very high expectations..."

He smirked at her teasing. He might be a bit out of practice, but he had big plans for her this night, plans involving seeing how many times he could make her call his name. His first name. He hastily brought her hands to his lips before dropping them and going to open the door to their visitors. Two familiar waiters from the restaurant came in, each bearing two covered plates, linen napkins and a small tablecloth draped over one man's arm. Candles emerged from the other's pockets, and the table was set in no time, the plates uncovered with a flourish. Jane reached into his pocket for the tip, but they declined, wishing them a pleasant dinner and leaving as unobtrusively as they'd come.

Jane pulled out a chair for his date before turning off the other lights in the room, leaving her sitting in the golden glow of the candlelight. He retrieved the two standard issue water glasses from the bathroom, unscrewed the cap to their wine, (much to Lisbon's amusement) and poured each of them three fingers' worth.

"Wow, Jane, you really know how to treat a girl."

"Only the best for you, dear Lisbon," he said, and they both laughed, relieving some of the nervous tension, while ramping up the sexual energy between them tenfold. They dug into their steaks, baked potatoes, and salads with gusto, their conversation going unerringly to work.

"I have a plan for Lorelei," Jane said, taking a sip of wine and cringing at its unrefined sweetness. "But I'm not sure you're gonna like it."

"What else is new?"

He couldn't very well argue that point. "Well, I'm pretty sure it's unethical, immoral, and probably even unconstitutional."

"Well, with that kind of an introduction, how can I refuse? Please, do go on." She took another bite of the surprisingly flavorful steak.

"I've been trying to get her to see that her life is in danger, that Red John doesn't care about her anymore. You've been bolstering that very cleverly too, I might add."

She nodded and saluted him with her glass. He grinned, and continued. "Well, why don't we back up our mind games with something more substantial? Say we stage an attack on her."

She carefully set down her fork. "What?"

"We'll come dramatically to her rescue, of course. Then, seeing we were right about Red John's intentions, she loses faith in him and breaks down, begging us to protect her in exchange for his name and whereabouts, etcetera, etcetera."

She studied him a moment, torn between horror and awe. He continued eating, patiently waiting for her reaction.

"That's actually pretty brilliant," she said finally. "In theory. A lot could go wrong. What if the attack isn't believable enough? What if someone gets hurt in the process? What if we go to all the trouble and it yields nothing? What if we both lose our jobs—again?"

"I know the risks," he conceded. "But frankly I'm getting tired of riding this roundabout. I'm usually fairly patient, but I can practically foresee the future now; it's going to take considerably more than two weeks to deprogram her. If the Feds choose to keep her in Death Valley until her trial, when the prison opens for all the new inmates, she's going to be exposed to a greater possibility of being snuffed out by another prisoner or guard, even if she's in solitary confinement. We've both seen how resourceful Red John can be."

"You think he'll have her killed? You said yourself she seems different..."

"I'm not sure," he said honestly. "But my greatest fear is we'll lose her before she talks, and all of this—my six months on the lam, Wainwright's death, what I...what I did with Lorelei—will have been for nothing."

Lisbon reached out her hand to lay it on top of his on the table. "No matter how this turns out, you did what you thought you needed to do. I'm still pissed off you didn't feel you could clue me in on your plan, but I understand why you kept me out of the loop. You wanted to protect me, to protect your sacrifice."

"I'm sorry," he said again.

She waved her other hand dismissively.

"Water under the bridge. Now, pour me some more of this mislabelled cough syrup and let me propose a toast."

He did as she asked and they held up their drinks. "To...scaring the hell out of the bitch. And may she sing like a canary."

Jane laughed. "You're mixing your metaphors again."

"Shut up and drink your port—uh, I mean your zinfandel."

"To scaring the bitch," he echoed, and drank it down. They gasped and made faces at the taste, but it warmed them both inside, and when Jane filled their glasses again, she didn't protest.

After dinner, they sat on the couch as the candles flickered merrily. Jane toed off his shoes and relaxed against the back of the couch.

"When I get you back to civilization," he told her, as they finished off the last of the bottle. "I promise I'll take you out on a real date. French cuisine, the theatre, dancing, wine with a cork—whatever you like."

She snuggled up to his side, leaning her head on his shoulder and drawing her feet up beneath her. The wine, the soft light, and his nearness combined to make her feel a little lightheaded, not to mention slightly on the randy side. One hand began playing with a low button on his shirt, as he idly traced meaningless patterns on her thigh.

"I don't know—it was very sweet what you threw together in less than an hour. I'm actually pretty impressed, given your limited resources out here in the middle of nowhere. But next time you decide to ply me with liquor, please don't pick the cheap stuff. I'm gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning."

He grinned lazily at her, pleased that she was enjoying herself.

"So, there will be a next time?" he asked softly.

"Maybe, if you play your cards right."

"And you know how good I am at cards..."

He felt his stomach quiver as she released the second button from its fastening, her short nails moving softly, teasingly over his newly bared skin.

"And to think," he said conversationally, despite the effect she was having on him, "Cho and Rigsby are probably heading to that Kings game about now, and Van Pelt is going out on her first date since she killed her fiancé, not to mention that it's about thirty degrees cooler there. But you know what—I wouldn't trade their lives right now for all the Earl Grey in England."

She laughed softly as another button slipped through her fingers. She laid her palm flat against his abdomen and looked up into his eyes, hers dreamy and inviting. He leaned down, shifting his position to better reach her wine-sweetened lips. He took his time, learning the shape of her mouth before tracing it's seam with his tongue. She opened with a moan and he unhurriedly began exploring the intoxicating interior, as she languidly dispensed with the rest of his buttons.

His hands found their way beneath her t-shirt, and he realized this had been where they'd left off the night before. This time, he didn't hesitate to cup her breasts, his thumbs massaging their tips through her bra until she was squirming in his arms.

"Bed," he murmured, staying her hands on his bare chest. He picked her up easily and carried her the short distance to the queen-sized mattress, laying her gently on the Southwestern print coverlet, while he divested himself fully of his shirt. He watched with darkening eyes as she sat up and did the same with her tee.

"Allow me," he said, when her hands went shakily to the front closure of her black bra. She lay back down and let him, his fingers deftly parting it to his heated gaze.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, pleased as the flush of her cheeks encompassed her breasts as well.

"So are you," she said, before his head lowered and he took one hard peak into his mouth. "Oh...Patrick..."

That's one, he thought almost giddily.

He lingered at her bosom for a few heady moments, before kissing his way down to her stomach, laving her navel as she arched her back and buried her hands into his soft hair. Soon she was completely naked beneath him, but before he could get his fill of simply looking at her, more alluring than he'd even imagined, she was sitting up and focusing on the button of his pants.

He was so hard by this time that it was a lesson in torment as she unzipped his fly and lowered the garment over his hips. When her hand brushed him with only his thin boxer shorts between them, he gasped, and her green eyes flew up to his rather wickedly. His underwear was the next to go, and her hands snaked around to caress his backside as he stood at the foot of the bed, looking down in anticipation when she kneeled on the floor before him.

When her head moved forward and she took him into her mouth, he thought he might collapse with the pure pleasure of it. "Teresa," he breathed. He could only handle a minute of that before he was urging her to stop.

"I really don't want things to end too uh, prematurely," he told her hoarsely. Her soft laugh was unbelievably sexy as she watched in appreciation him bending to find the back pocket of his discarded slacks. His hands were unsteady as he opened the small packet.

"Let me do the honors," she said, holding her hand out. Safe sex had never felt so unsafe before, he thought wildly, groaning anew as her small hands wrapped lovingly around him. Her task complete, she lay on the bed again, reaching for his hands and pulling him down on top of her. They both took a moment to revel in the sensual feel of naked skin on skin. Their eyes met, asking and answering an unspoken question.

Are you sure about this?

Yes.

He kissed her gently, then deeply, his hands reaching to bend her knees up before he entered her in one deep stroke.

"Patrick," she moaned, as he began to move, and he nearly smiled as he added another mental tally mark. She'd probably kill him if she knew what he was thinking. But then he couldn't think at all, and very soon he lost count of her passionate cries completely.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Waterbaby and I are truly overwhelmed by the warm reception this fic is receiving. As for my neglected fic, "Goldilocks," I'm hopeful that I'll have another chapter for it this week. "Scarlet Woman" has caught my muse, so I had to feed it a bit before going back to fairy tale land. In the meantime, we'd be honored if you logged in and left us a review.