Author's Note: Is it wrong that I did a little dance when I realized this fic now had more than 200 reviews? Thank you all! And as your reward, the latter part of this chapter is rated M. Nothing explicit but definitely sexytimes and one bad word I rarely use. I've marked where that section begins for those of you who should/prefer to skip it. I confess I'm a little nervous about this so I'd welcome constructive criticism!

Chapter 16

Jane managed a couple hours of sleep before a knock at the door woke him. He got up to answer it, noticing that Lisbon stirred restlessly as he did so. He hoped that meant she was close to waking.

An older lady he vaguely remembered from last night stood there. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, but we're about to close the kitchen for breakfast. Did you want anything?"

He was hungry, he realized. But he also thought it was important that Lisbon not wake up alone. He glanced over his shoulder to find she had gone back to sleeping peacefully, so he turned his most devastating smile on Mrs. Moreland. "She's sleeping well for the first time in weeks, and I promised I'd be here when she woke up. I don't suppose I could convince you to bring up some eggs, toast, and tea? I don't think she'll want a big breakfast. The morning sickness, you know."

She beamed at him. "I remember it well. You stay with your wife; I'll bring up a tray. Do you think you're staying another night? Last night your wife said you weren't sure."

"Yes, I think we will." After all, he'd barely gotten to enjoy the place, and he wanted to tease Lisbon about her girly predilection for bubble baths. "It's so beautiful here."

"Yes, we think so too. I'll be right back with your breakfast."

Jane decided to preempt any protests Lisbon might make about extending their stay by calling into work himself. Cho answered his cell on the first ring. "You guys okay?"

"You really have no faith in me, do you? Hello to you too," Jane replied. "We're fine, but we're still in Malibu. Well, slightly north of there, but still nowhere near Sacramento."

"Okay. How's Lisbon?"

"Better. She's catching up on her sleep or she'd tell you herself. How are things there?"

"We're good. We told Bertram you were freaking out after our close call and Lisbon was babysitting you. He said to take all the time you need, but don't come back until you're as close to normal as you get."

Jane chuckled. "Nice. I was going to suggest that we keep what happened to ourselves."

"Yeah, we figured. She's really better?" Jane could hear whispering in the background as Grace and Rigsby tried to get their questions in.

"Yes. Putting the house up for sale helped. We'll be back tomorrow evening, most likely." A knock at the door forestalled his next remark. "Gotta go. Room service is here."

"Keep us posted," Cho said, then hung up.

Jane let Mrs. Moreland in, delighted to find an actual teapot on the tray. English Breakfast wasn't his favorite, but it wasn't his least favorite either, and it smelled wonderful. The eggs looked perfect, and the toast came with marmalade for him and strawberry preserves for Lisbon. He praised his hostess profusely and, more to the point, tipped her lavishly when she finished setting up the small table by the balcony doors.

He finished off the eggs, ate some toast, and was savoring his third cup of tea by the time there was movement from the bed. Lisbon crawled out the far side and vanished into the bathroom. When she emerged, she came over to stare at the table in puzzlement. "Coffee?" she muttered.

"That, my dear, would be bad for the baby," he replied, smiling. He would never get tired of rumpled morning Lisbon.

She picked his teacup up off the table, sipped to test its temperature, and gulped it down. Then she fixed him with a glare. "Are you planning to tell everyone we meet I'm pregnant? Because that will get old fast."

"I'm practicing for starting a rumor at work," he said.

She slumped into the empty chair and took a piece of toast, staring at it glumly. "Why? You do realize that nobody would think it was yours. The whole damn building knows I was dating Mancini."

"A mere misdirection. The whole damn building also knows we've been lovers for years now."

"Then they're idiots. Like I'd take you back after that Vegas stunt," she grumbled.

"But everyone thinks that was sanctioned," he pointed out.

"Not the Lorelei part," she argued.

"No need to fret, Lisbon. I know better than to stray again," he smiled.

She spread preserves on her toast and took a bite. "We're not even dating."

"Maybe not in the traditional sense." He thought about it for a moment. "It's more old-fashioned than that. Like an arranged betrothal."

She snorted. "It's too early for your nonsense." Then she blinked, taking in how light the room was. "What time is it? When did you get back?"

"It is nearly eleven o'clock," he replied. "I woke at dawn, realized you hadn't called, tried to call you, broke several traffic laws, tried to wake you but couldn't, decided against having your stomach pumped, caught a few hours of sleep, had a nice chat with our lovely hostess, and had breakfast. It's been a busy morning." His pleasant tone faltered a little. "If you feel the need to steal my pills again, please confine yourself to one at a time."

"Yeah." She ducked her head so her hair hid her face. "Sorry if I scared you. I didn't know how well those work."

"Too well," he said. "Did you have nightmares?"

"Not that I remember," she lied.

He decided not to call her on it until she'd had coffee. Obviously he was going to need to take her out for brunch, and soon, so he'd better get moving. He stood, saying, "I'll get my shower. And apparently I need to shave, since you look like you've had a close encounter with a briar patch." He stroked the reddened patch along her jawline where his earlier nuzzling had marked her, then tipped up her chin to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "I'm sorry I left you," he murmured.

She met his gaze briefly, her eyes full of concern for him. "I know you needed to be alone," she said. "And now I know I can get through a night by myself, which is a good thing."

"I don't think drugging yourself into prolonged unconsciousness is something you should do very often," he replied. "But I'll try to make sure you don't have to."

Her gaze was asking him Are you better?, but he didn't have an answer for her. So he smiled reassuringly and went into the bathroom.

mmm

Lisbon wasn't very hungry, so she finished her toast, drank another cup of tea for the caffeine, and began straightening up. Then she quickly got dressed, pulled her unruly hair back into a ponytail, and decided to carry the tray downstairs.

Mrs. Moreland was washing up the last of the dishes and took the tray from her with a smile. "Good morning, and thank you. I was just going to check and see if you were finished. Did you sleep well?"

"Very well," Lisbon assured her. "Thank you for the room service."

"It was my pleasure. I remember how fraught breakfast could be. How far along are you?"

Lisbon suppressed a sigh. She would dearly love to know Jane's rationale for telling such a whopper to this kind old lady. "It's early days. We haven't even told my family yet."

Mrs. Moreland chuckled a little. "But he's just too excited to keep it to himself. I'm so glad he's getting a second chance, and I wish you both very happy."

"You know him?" Lisbon was surprised, since she'd signed them in last night under her own name and Jane hadn't given any sign of recognizing their hostess. But then, he'd been distracted.

"Oh, not personally. Everybody around here knows what happened, though, poor man. Nobody should have to go through that." She paused, then said, "I don't give much credence to psychics and such, but my sister had a reading once, and she swore by him. So I knew who he was when I saw them once, out shopping. Such a beautiful little girl. I just don't know how anybody could do such a horrible thing."

Lisbon nodded, trying to keep her thoughts off her face. She didn't remember her encounter with the serial killer, but every time she tried to picture what it had been like, she shivered. There was no erasing the knowledge that she'd been at the mercy of a truly evil man, who had not so much spared her as tried to make her into a weapon against someone she loved. "Neither do I. I think that's a good thing, though. Thanks for the lovely breakfast."

"I hope tomorrow you'll feel well enough to join us downstairs," Mrs. Moreland smiled, then turned back to the sink.

Lisbon stood still for a moment. Tomorrow? They weren't going home today? What was Jane thinking? She'd thought he'd want to get as far from here as possible, back to their routines and hopefully the challenge of a new case to take their minds off this mess. She didn't know if she could stand a day of him straining at his ties to her, wanting to go off and brood some more. She absolutely hated that she was the cause of all this stress and pain, and he wouldn't even let her try to make it any better. If he could just let go of whatever was holding him back and find some comfort, some release, with her, maybe they'd both feel better.

As she climbed the stairs, she pondered her problem. He needed a distraction, and she doubted he was going to find one here. Why couldn't they go home and try for normal again? Of course, maybe the CBI wouldn't feel all that normal to him without his attic and his notes and his quest. He needed something to work on, something to sink his teeth into. If that wasn't going to be her, then—

Of course. Of course! She grinned at her sudden epiphany. She'd been going about this all wrong. He'd admitted he'd planned out how to seduce her years ago. He was resisting her because he wasn't ready to let go of his own plans. She needed to let him carry them out, which meant she needed to stop acting all needy and horny and go back to the person he would recognize. No more handholding—well, the bare minimum she could manage anyway—and no more playing along with his bizarre little pregnancy game. She needed to yell at him when he barged in on her in the bath, not just lie there wishing he'd join her. She needed to be herself again.

She straightened her shoulders and walked into their room, only to find her resolve sorely tested in her first glance around. Jane had finished his shower and was shaving, but he'd opened the bathroom door to help the mirror unfog while he shaved, wearing only a towel slung carelessly around his hips. Her mouth went dry. Oh, that is just not fair, she thought. He acts like we're an old married couple, and I never even got my honeymoon.

He glanced at her, picking up her thoughts with annoying ease and grinning. "I liked being part of an old married couple," he remarked, turning back to the mirror and applying his razor with a steady hand. "You might too, if you let yourself."

"Maybe. We seem to be skipping an important step, though," she muttered, utterly failing to keep the sulkiness out of her voice.

"Patience, Lisbon."

She was glad that her annoyance at his patronizing tone wasn't lessened by the fact that he was standing basically naked in front of her, looking like a gift from the heavens. She latched on to her irritation, gritting her teeth against the almost uncontrollable urge to take hold of that towel and pull. "What the hell are you playing at, telling Mrs. Moreland I'm pregnant? She knows who you are, you know. She's really pleased you're getting a second chance. Little does she know it's the last thing in the world you want."

He looked over at her, only the speed of it betraying he was startled. His expression and voice remained calm. "Who says I don't want it?"

"You do," she flung at him. No, no, she needed to get off this subject. She was supposed to be acting normal, she reminded herself. "It's fine, Jane. I'll go see my doctor, get some sleeping pills of my own so you don't have to be camped out at my place at night. Once we get back to work I'm sure I'll get better anyway. Are you packed?"

He took his time wiping the traces of shaving cream off his face, and she felt a spurt of pride at having surprised him into showing hesitation. "I told Mrs. Moreland we were staying another day," he said.

"I know you did. But I thought maybe you'd lied to her."

"Why would I do that?" He splashed on some aftershave and turned to face her, showing no sign of wanting to get dressed.

"How the hell would I know? Why did you tell her I was pregnant?" she demanded. This was beginning to feel more normal, she assured herself. She just had to keep her eyes on his face and off the way the skin on his shoulders and chest glistened in the humidity. How the hell did he keep himself in such good shape, anyway, when he mostly seemed to brood in attics and lie on couches? That was one of the many mysteries about him she wanted to solve.

Face. She was supposed to be looking at his face. She got her wandering eyes fixed back on his, only to find him smirking at her. "For fun," he said.

"Oh, bullshit." She was seething now, though it was a toss-up as to whether it was mostly anger or lust. "You're trying to figure out how badly I'm damaged. If you can still trust me after what he did to me."

"There we go," he said. "Get it all out. That's why we're staying, though I'd prefer it if we moved our shouting match to the beach."

God, she wanted to hit him. But if she did, that damn towel would probably fall off. Wait, was that a good thing or a bad thing? She covered her face with her hands and tried to calm down.

Warm hands landed on her shoulders. "Breathe, Lisbon."

She angrily tried to shrug off his grip. "Don't touch me," she snapped.

He didn't let go, though. Was he trying to make her punch him right out of his towel? Was this his big seduction plan? She supposed there had always been a better-than-average chance that their first time would involve one or both of them being seriously pissed off. Oh, who was she kidding? It was always going to be her who was angry; Jane seemed to like making her that way. He'd always had a little masochistic streak. Maybe if she beat him up, he'd think it was foreplay?

"Okay," he said in his best soothing voice, "just keep breathing. That's good. There's no need to hit me. We don't want to get blood all over Mrs. Moreland's lovely white towel."

The thought of the grandmotherly lady downstairs, within earshot of any screaming that might occur, was enough to cool her heated thoughts. "Damn you, Jane," she breathed.

He sighed, and his warm, minty breath washed across her face, calming her further. "I think my damnation's already a given, Lisbon." He kissed her forehead gently, then guided her to the bed and helped her sit on the edge. "Now, let's figure out what that was about. Was that something new, or you just being your usual stubborn self and fighting what you wanted to do?"

"You sound like a goddamned psychologist," she muttered. She opened her eyes and was met with bare chest. Frustration washed over her again, and she demanded, "Either get into this bed or put some clothes on!"

He chuckled, so she kicked him in the shin, which provoked an indignant yelp and some hopping around. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he grabbed the towel before the hopping could completely dislodge it. She focused on calming down while he sorted some clothes out from his bag and disappeared into the bathroom. At least he had the grace to close the door this time.

When he emerged, he was transformed back into everyday, three-piece-suit Jane. She felt both regretful and relieved, but at least she was confident she could deal with this version of him. In keeping with her earlier resolution to be more like herself, she immediately attacked him with, "What was that about? Parading around half-naked when you have absolutely no intention of having sex with me? And if you say 'for fun,' you'll get blood all over Mrs. Moreland's carpet."

"That would be a shame; it looks like an antique," he remarked airily, going to sit in the nearest chair.

"You're punishing me because you had to sell your house," she accused.

He looked surprised. "If I am, it's not a conscious effort," he said after a moment. He tapped a finger against his lips, then added, "Unlike your attempts to appear your usual feisty self. Which I applaud, by the way. But they seem to be causing you some problems."

"I'm not going to let him turn me into a parody of myself," she declared. "I learned in a class once that one way to alter feelings is to alter behavior. Like smiling to cheer yourself up. So I'm going to act like myself until I feel like myself again."

"And that means keeping me in line and most decidedly not, under any circumstances, sleeping with me," he concluded.

She lifted her chin. "Yes. Were you hoping to make me beg?"

He winced a little at her razor-sharp tone. "No, Lisbon. That's never been what any of this is about."

"But you're testing me, probing at me. I hate it. I don't want to be manipulated anymore, Jane. I've had enough. So knock it off."

He nodded, but it seemed more like a confirmation than agreement. "I can understand that."

"Then explain to me what you're trying to achieve." She folded her arms and glared at him, just like she would if they were in her office and she was objecting to some half-baked scheme he was proposing.

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. "He knew he couldn't pull you away from me, so he pushed you toward me. He probably figured it would be just as distracting. And in some ways, he was right. What I'm trying to do is keep us staggering around until we regain our balance. Because it wouldn't take much at this point for one of us to fall. And I'm not sure we'd be able to get back up."

"Try it again without the strained metaphor," she sighed. "I haven't had my coffee yet."

"We'll take care of that in a moment," he promised. "Here's the short version: he's forced us together, but he doesn't care about our long-term happiness. I do. I want to make sure the foundation we're laying doesn't have any fatal cracks in it."

It wasn't the foundation that had cracks in it, she thought, but the two of them. She took a deep breath. "I need to be sure this is something you actually want."

"Be a little more specific, Lisbon. What do you mean by 'this'?"

She struggled to define it, then realized in despair that if he were just going along with this until they figured out a way to free her from the planted suggestions, he couldn't tell her that without the risk of triggering something dangerous. There were some truths he just couldn't tell her, at least not now.

Jane was looking at her with something that was dangerously close to, but wasn't quite, pity. "Lisbon," he said softly. "I told you I loved you before this started, remember? And you told me you loved me, even though you were convinced I wouldn't live to hold you to it. Whatever doubts you have, hold on to those two facts. I believe we want the same things. We may just want them in a different order, or on a different timeline. But we will work it out."

She nodded. That was, of course, exactly what he'd say regardless of the truth.

He sighed, seeing he'd failed to convince her. Getting up, he came over and knelt in front of her. "Look at it logically, Lisbon: what the hell else do I have? If I walked away from you, what could I possibly walk toward?"

She swallowed. "Something that didn't remind you of him."

He blinked, surprised. "I don't think of him when I look at you."

"But we would never have met except for him. I'm always going to be associated in your mind with that part of your life. You'll never be able to separate how you feel about me from how he's making you feel right now. The good things will always be mixed with guilt and grief. How can I ever make you happy?"

"By helping me learn to let the guilt and grief go," he replied, laying a hand on her cheek. "Lisbon, do you know what I think about when I look at you? I think about how you loved me at my most unlovable, forgave me when I was unforgivable, and stood by me even though you knew it would all end in disaster. This isn't the worst way my revenge could have ended. Far from it. We're both still alive, and I'm not in prison. And I get to wake up with you in the mornings, which I'm finding addictive."

He got to his feet and pulled her to hers. "And now, coffee. You will feel better once you're not going through caffeine withdrawal."

mmm

The rest of the day felt like a vacation. At least Jane thought it did; it had been a very long time since he'd had one. Almost as long as it had been for Lisbon, he guessed. She seemed to have relaxed again after their talk, and he even got a little hand-holding in during their walk on the beach, until she remembered she was supposed to be acting normal and shoved hers into her pockets.

Because they had no social lives to speak of, they talked about work. They agreed to tell Bertram nothing except that they were giving up the case. Jane's suggestion that he justify his willingness to let it go by soliloquizing about his newly requited love for her was met with a firm smack to the shoulder, and she sounded completely like herself when she threatened him with permanent disfigurement if he tried "any of that romantic crap in the office."

"Please define 'romantic crap' so I don't accidentally end up in the hospital," he requested, trying to keep from laughing. "I know not to send you flowers. I have successfully given you jewelry at the office and survived, so that must be okay. The pony was well-received, so I assume farm animals are acceptable? A goat, perhaps?"

They were sitting on the beach, mostly hidden from view by a large rock. She punched him in the shoulder, but not so hard it hurt. "No farm animals. No clowns, no stripper-grams, no elephants or any other circus animals—in fact, no animals of any kind." She paused to think. "No singing telegrams or embarrassing spectacles. By my definition of embarrassing, not yours. No spreading rumors that I'm pregnant. In fact, no spreading any rumors about me."

"You are determined to suck all the fun out of my life," he said mournfully.

She shook her head. "Crime fighting isn't supposed to be fun."

"But life is. So I guess I have no choice: I will have to put together some sort of life outside the office for the both of us."

"I might be willing to give that a try," she said after a moment.

Jane slid an arm around her waist, resting his hand on her stomach briefly before she wriggled away from him. He smiled and said, "That's the spirit. Hungry? It's nearly teatime."

mmm

They went back to the seafood restaurant for dinner, but this time Jane made an effort to be good company. Lisbon was relaxed after their vacation day, and he enjoyed how her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. The way she savored the chocolate mousse made him feel a little like a voyeur, but he hid his grin, knowing she wouldn't appreciate that observation even after two glasses of wine.

On their walk back to the bed and breakfast, she not only let him drape an arm across her shoulders but leaned into him. Apparently her resolve to keep him at arm's length had faded, at least temporarily. Which he was glad of, because he'd had time to think about it now, and he knew what he wanted to do.

Lisbon's accusation that he was punishing her had struck a chord. He was punishing himself, not her, but Lisbon was suffering because of it. She was interpreting his refusal to sleep with her as rejection, and that was making her question his feelings. He needed to put a stop to that.

Of course, being Lisbon, she'd chosen that day to reverse course and declare she had no intention of sleeping with him. But that was an obstacle he knew he could overcome.

He wondered if she would realize afterward that her attempts to act more like herself made her irresistible to him. It assured him that he wouldn't be taking advantage of her while she was in an altered mental state. Today she'd shown she was in control enough to exercise self-restraint, so he could trust that she would be making her own decision.

When they reached their room, he spun her around in a brief dance, making her laugh, and then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She let out a squeak of surprise but melted against him, sighing into his mouth.

"Do you know why I wanted to stay today?" he murmured, nibbling his way down her neck.

"Mm?" She didn't sound like she was listening.

"To reward you for your forbearance."

She pulled back, looking suspicious. "You're not going to test my patience again by leaving me hanging, are you?"

He grinned. "What happened to being your normal, not-sleeping-with-Jane self?"

"I knew it." Her eyes flashed with anger. "You egotistical jerk—"

"I'm just teasing you," he assured her. "Do you want to change into that little scrap of lace you brought, or do I get the pleasure of undressing you?"

"Neither," she retorted, taking a step back. "In fact I think we should ask Mrs. Moreland if she has a room available for you, since there's no couch in here. Although the bathtub is plenty comfortable."

"Now that's just an empty threat, Lisbon," he chuckled. "If you insist, we can try the bathtub, but the bed would be so much more comfortable."

"I'm done sharing a bed with you."

"Up against the wall? Not my preferred location, but you weigh next to nothing, so I think I can manage." He was really having fun now. She was either going to kiss him or kill him in the next few minutes.

"Dream on," she scoffed, but he'd seen the way her eyes widened. He made a mental note of it.

Time to play his trump card. "I know your secret."

"Oh, right. Because I have no secrets from you." She rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

"Oh, there are still a few things I don't know. But I intend to find them out." He leaned forward, holding eye contact. ''Admit it: you find me irresistible."

She gave a half-laugh. "I seem to be resisting you just fine."

He took a step forward, causing her to back into the bed. "In your fantasies, the sex is always wild, abandoned. A little rough, even." He watched her pupils confirm his theory and smiled, feeling his pulse quicken with anticipation. "But in real life, you never let yourself go, because you never trust the men you're with enough."

She valiantly tried to deny it. "Why would I sleep with guys I don't trust?"

"Trust isn't an absolute, Teresa. For instance, you trust me with some things, but not with others. But in this case, you know perfectly well that I can read you like an open book. So you know that I'll be able to see exactly where you draw the line." He leaned forward as if to kiss her, while she stared at him, mesmerized. But he bypassed her lips and brushed his mouth against her ear, feeling her shiver.

His heart was beating way too fast, but he didn't have the attention to spare to slow it. Lisbon was breathing so hard she was almost panting. He could already feel how intense this explosion was going to be, once he lit the fuse. Any second now...

He breathed in her ear, "And you know once I've taken you right up to that line…as far as you think you can go…" He paused, drawing out the moment and delighting in the way she shivered. "I'll push you right over it."

She gave a little gasping moan and grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down so she could kiss the smug grin right off his face. Ah, yes, he thought, kissing her back with equal ferocity. This was his best plan yet.

mmm

This is the section that exceeds the T rating of this fic. Don't worry if you skip it—there are no plot developments for the rest of the chapter. You can wait for the next one without being confused. I'll recap the critical conversational points. :)

mmm

If he pulled back now, Lisbon resolved, she was going to pull out her gun and shoot him. How the hell did he manage to do that with just his voice? He'd barely touched her, and she was desperate for him, fumbling with the buttons on his vest and wondering if she could just tear it off. Of course, then his shirt would still be in the way. Why did he have to wear so many layers? At least he'd managed to shrug out of his jacket, and his hands were sliding under her shirt, tugging it upward. But she'd have to stop working on those buttons for him to pull it over her head, and it was taking too damn long already.

Dammit, the bastard was laughing. "Slow down a second," he managed to say. "You're going to—"

There was a ripping sound, followed by the muffled sounds of buttons hitting the carpet. Jane yelped, "Lisbon! That was my favorite vest."

"Don't be such a baby," she scowled. "I'll buy you a new one."

"I don't want a new one," he protested, "I want–"

"God, Jane, shut up!" she commanded, starting to work on his shirt.

"Let me," he said, hurriedly unbuttoning. "Are you always this hard on a man's wardrobe?"

"Only when they're stupid enough to keep me waiting," she shot back.

Jane grinned at her as he shrugged out of his shirt. "You really do lack patience, Lisbon. And I'd like to point out that you're wearing more clothes than I am right now."

That was easy to fix. She pulled her shirt over her head and kicked off her shoes in one fluid movement, then hooked her fingers in his belt, yanking him against her and turning to push him onto the bed. He fell awkwardly, his hand making contact with the brass headboard with a metallic clink that riveted both their eyes on his wedding ring.

Lisbon wanted to scream with frustration. That was one thing she couldn't take off him, and it was probably the one thing he really couldn't be wearing when they did this. Oh, God, she didn't think she could stand it if he stopped. Ready or not, she needed this.

His gaze lifted to hers. His eyes were unguarded for once, the beautiful blue almost swallowed by his enlarged pupils. For agonizing seconds, they stared at each other.

Slowly, never taking his eyes from hers, Jane brought his hands together and pulled off his ring, setting it carefully on the nightstand. In a hoarse voice, he said, "Remember what I told you this would mean."

A commitment. Her body was humming, and she struggled to think straight. Could she do that? In a way, she'd been committed to him for years, she realized. And the courage he'd shown in making sacrifices for her over the past few days humbled her. How could she return anything less?

She knelt on the edge of the bed, bringing her face down to his and whispering, "I do."

He took her face in his hands and brought her mouth down to his in a searing kiss that sent a wave of heat down to her toes. She reached awkwardly around to her back, desperate to get her bra off and lay against him skin to skin. His hands closed over hers, and she let him take over that so she could get to work on his pants.

Once their clothes were out of the way, things went more smoothly. He rolled her onto her back and proceeded to drive her out of her mind with those beautiful long fingers, all the while murmuring in her ear.

"Are you going to talk the whole time?" she gasped out.

His chuckle in her ear made her shiver. "Yes. Because I want you to know it's me, every second. I'm not some guy you don't care about and just want a good hard fuck from. I'm the man you're going to be making love with for the rest of your life, and I want you to remember every moment of this. Because I promise you, I will."

She smiled at him, but couldn't resist teasing him a little. "So far it's mostly been a lot of chitchat. You gonna give me something worth remembering?"

"Patience, woman," he grinned.

"I'm out of patience," she moaned, arching against him. "Enough foreplay already!"

To her extreme annoyance, he pulled himself up away from her, reaching for the nightstand. She frowned when she realized he was opening the drawer and pulling out a condom. "We don't need that. I'm on the pill." She really thought he'd already know that.

"Oh? They're not in your luggage," he said, pausing to look closely at her.

She struggled to remember the last time she'd taken one, but she couldn't be sure. Jane leaned back down to kiss her, having finished his task. "Don't worry," he whispered. "I've got this covered. Literally. Until we decide what we want and when we want it. He doesn't get to choose that. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she whispered, feeling both disappointment and relief, but mostly desire.

"Then get ready, because I'm going to raise your standards," he warned.

She wrapped her legs around him. "Give it your best sho—ooooh..."

mmm

Afterward, he rolled onto his back, pulling her with him as they tried to catch their breaths. She settled herself against his chest, and he used one arm to anchor her against him, freeing the other hand to stroke her long, luxuriant hair. He felt a little overwhelmed, realizing that he had forgotten more than he realized. Or maybe it was just that he'd never known a woman as long or as well before making love to her. Certainly Lisbon's utter abandon wouldn't have meant as much to him if he hadn't spent years looking for the signs that she was capable of it. He hoped he'd exceeded her expectations as well.

And he really hoped there wasn't a nasty surprise awaiting them now. With some trepidation, he asked, "You okay?"

She gave a little huff. "It would take a stronger man than you to break me."

Smiling, he replied, "You have no idea how grateful I am for that, Teresa."

Her finger began moving restlessly against his chest, signaling she was thinking about something. "Do you think this will help?"

He hummed a little in thought. "If I say yes, do I get invited back for an encore performance?"

"Consider it a standing invitation," she said, raising her head to look at him with her vivid eyes under sultry lashes. "Regardless of your answer."

He was powerless to prevent the delighted smile that took over his face. She returned it for a moment, then laid back down on his chest, her face hidden from him again.

"I think it will help, yes," he said. "Because I assure you I can't think of anything I would give this up to get."

"Good," she murmured. Her finger was still tracing random patterns on his skin. He knew she wasn't trying to arouse him, but he could feel his pulse starting to quicken again. Her next statement made his blood run cold, however. "I want to be the best consolation prize I can be."

He stopped stroking her hair and used that hand to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Don't say that. Don't even think it. You are not a consolation prize. Do you hear me?"

"Of course I am." She was trying to sound practical, but her voice was a little rough from the cries he had muffled with his mouth. It mimicked—or perhaps masked—emotion. "I'm not even your second choice, Jane. I'm third at best. If a genie appeared and granted you three wishes, you'd ask for your family back and for Red John to meet a gruesome end. I'm what you're settling for because you can't have those things."

"Since there are no genies, or time machines, or anything else that can undo what is done, I don't accept that as a valid argument," he said. "So, although you frequently console me, and you certainly are a prize, there is no possible fate I would choose over being with you. So you are not a consolation prize."

She sighed, stirring the hair on his chest and making him shiver a little. He said, "If you can be patient a few more minutes, I'll do my best to provide some hard evidence."

That provoked a snicker from her, and she slid her hand downward, seeking confirmation. 'It's a good thing I got some sleep last night, since I apparently won't get much tonight," she said approvingly.

"You will definitely be getting less sleep from now on," he said, "but on the bright side, you'll be eating much better."

He felt her grin against his chest. "I'm definitely working up an appetite. So there better not be any morning sickness nonsense at breakfast."

He kissed the top of her head. "Look at it this way: you have an excuse to eat twice as much, since you're eating for two."

"But no coffee," she grumbled.

"I will buy you a small vat of it once we're on the road," he promised.