Chapter 13: Don't Disturb This Groove

Darla walked Tim to the locked bedroom door. She enjoyed the firm grip of his fingers laced with hers. He didn't hold her as a possession. There was a sense of protection, but also a connection that was growing deeper the longer they spent time together.

They reached the door and he placed his hand on the knob. Neither moved. The time alone had been a rare treat. The other agents hadn't intruded, but she knew that the longer Tim stayed away the greater the risk of being discovered. She placed a hand on his chest and gave him a playful push.

"You'd better go."

He grinned. Then his expression softened. In the next moment, his lips were on hers in a soft, gentle kiss. As the others before, passion flared like a swift wildfire. Restraint from both was required to pull away. When they parted, Tim rested his forehead against hers. Their heavy breathing sounded loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"I need a very, very cold shower. The coldest," he said in a gruff voice.

She only nodded in response, too busy catching her breath to speak.

He caressed her bottom lip with a swipe of his thumb. "You, too."

Darla met his hungry stare and smiled. "Me, too."

He left soon after. She leaned against the door with her eyes closed, savoring her emotions. She hadn't felt like this with Nik. Everything with him had been fast, erratic, crazy. Tim was slow, careful, deliberate. She never realized how erotic feeling safe could be.

Once her breathing returned to normal, she took his advice and showered. The cold water removed her need for sexual fulfillment. After she dressed, curiosity snuck in. The safehouse was unlike the one in Los Angeles. She'd called Kentucky home during her years with Nik. A safe house would never be a true home, but she couldn't resist knowing the layout and seeing what else was there. Her room was spacious, but she didn't want to be trapped in it while she waited for trial. Maybe there was an exercise room or a pool. She'd loved a state of the art kitchen. She could surprise Tim with her cooking skills.

The two-story house wasn't unique. The design was typical of most suburban homes. She supposed they kept it simple so that the witnesses didn't get any ideas about squatting. The living room had a stone fireplace with a huge flat panel TV over the mantel. The sofa appeared plush enough. As she rounded the wall of books, she paused at the sound of voices. From her position, she heard the clink of glasses and the smell of old pizza. She guessed that the other agents and the kitchen were nearby. She almost joined them when she heard them mention Tim. Their unflattering tone made her pause and listen.

"It's only a matter of time," a male voice said. "He's gonna pop."

"PTSD is the shit. Serious shit, but he served his country, Jonesy," Smith said. "You gotta give him that."

"Yeah, and that thing that went down with Drew Thompson…"

"What about it?" Smith asked.

"That caravan business. He figured that shit out pronto," Jones said.

"Still."

"Yeah, you never know," Smith said. "Any kind of trigger can do it. He's a helluva shot, but he's a bomb waiting to go off."

"Like Givens," Jones said with a laugh.

"Givens' just a cowboy," Smith said. "Gutterson's something else."

Darla backed into the hallway. She heard enough and didn't want to hear anymore. Once she reached the staircase, she quickly ascended to the landing. At the top, she ran straight into Tim. His sudden appearance startled her.

"What's wrong?" He grasped her upper arms. "You look spooked."

She shook her head and pulled free of him. "I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

His eyes narrowed. He moved toward her and she sidestepped him.

"I'm okay," she said. Then she went into her room and closed the door.

R&R

"I want you." He stared at her. "That makes you frown?"

"You haven't…made a move. I'm half naked and you haven't…"

"I want more than sex, Rachel."

Rachel had convinced herself that she could handle anything, but Raylan's confession threw her. On most days, Raylan held himself closed off, aloof from everything and everyone. Now as they lay on his bed, facing each other, she stared into his brown eyes and he was staring back at her. His expression was bare. He wasn't withholding anything. His words were his truth. If he had simply wanted sex, they both knew that could have happened long ago. Something deeper had brought them to this moment. It wasn't Joe or the shared cases or his personal dramas. There was more.

He rose onto his elbow and just as swiftly bent forward to press his lips against hers. The kiss began as a slow, tentative question, but when Rachel leaned in, the answer was given. He cupped the back of her head, angling her just so. She slid her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. The silky tendrils were still damp from his shower. As the kiss deepened and his tongue sought hers, she grabbed hold of his hair. He emitted a low growl, but he never once moved his mouth from hers.

Somehow, Rachel landed on her back, thighs wide with Raylan on top. His hardening erection was insistent as it pressed that special spot between her thighs. She arched against him, wanting more. His kisses moved to her cheek down her neck and to her collarbone. His hand at her breast made her moan aloud.

"Rachel," he whispered as he slowly moved to rest on his elbows and hovered over her.

Focus took its sweet time. Despite the barrier of her panties and his pajama bottoms, his cock still rubbed against her just right. She wanted more, but the little voice of reason forced her to grab his upper arms and take a good look at him.

Desire stared straight back at her. Their want was mutual. On instinct, she shifted her hips. His eyes blazed with accusation and need.

"You'll hate me—"

Her ringing cell phone cut him off. He kissed her forehead before rolling away and laying on his back.

"Answer it," he said.

"I don't want to," she argued.

"Please." He rubbed his hand over his face. "Please, Rachel."

She turned to get her phone from the nightstand on her side of the bed. Joe's name and face stared back at her. She muttered a stream of curses. Her husband would choose this moment to call. She pushed ignore and set the phone face down on the nightstand.

"Who was it?" Raylan asked.

"Nobody."

She left the bed. Her clothes were on a chair by the window. She grabbed them and started dressing. Raylan's stare bored into her back.

"Please don't," he said.

"I-I…" Words failed her. With her shirt unbuttoned and her jeans undone, she sunk onto the bed. She kept her back to him, afraid of what his eyes would reveal. Afraid what her eyes would confess about her.

"I'll be good," he added.

They both released a slight laugh.

"Really," Raylan said. "Believe me."

Rachel sighed. That tone was the one that always drew her in. Whenever they were assigned together, he'd do something shaky or have a mind to and either the tone or the look in his eyes would have her along for the ride. She inhaled another deep breath as the realization sunk in. She was exactly where she promised herself she'd never be. In Raylan Givens' bed. Somehow she had always known how good it would feel. How impossible it would be to resist.

R&R

Sleep took its time. Raylan found succumbing to slumber difficult with Rachel in bed beside him. He ached to touch her, burned to pull her soft body against his. But he promised to be good. When he finally slept, dreams of her tormented him. They were working cases. They were making love. They were arguing. They were happy. The stories never reached full conclusion. When he awakened, he was relieved to find her still there.

Morning was still hours away. After their detail, he should still be asleep but he was wired. Remembering to honor his words, he rolled onto his side and kept his hands to himself. She lay facing him. An expression of exquisite serenity made her even more stunning than usual.

He pondered how innocent she appeared when her defenses were down. Her youthfulness had captured his attention years ago. Their age difference should make him feel like a lecherous bastard, but her wisdom bridged the gap that the birth years created. Still, he had a past. Would what he wanted for them taint her? Damn, he hadn't wanted a woman half as much in a long time. Not even Lindsey. That had been play. Later, his ego had stepped in and made him go on a tear. This thing with Rachel tinged on commitment and threatened the need for a label.

But maybe he was being selfish. She was so young. What did he have to offer, but a quick draw and a jaded past? He made the move to leave the bed when she began to stir. Her big brown eyes fluttered open and he couldn't move. She caught him staring. Raylan held still, waiting for the tongue-lashing. None came. Instead, she traced his brows with light caresses.

"Go to sleep," she said.

He brought her fingers to his lips for a kiss. With their hands loosely intertwined, he closed his eyes and obeyed her.

[A/N: It's been a long summer, and I truly appreciate your patience and continued interest in the story. Future chapters may be shorter like this one, but I hope to keep writing on more consistent basis. I have a couple of projects that rightfully demand my attention, but once I get those settled, I'll resume a regular writing schedule with this and my other fics. Please let me know if you're still reading or if you just started. Your feedback is treasured even when I'm not always able to respond. Chapter 14 will have a bit more action…not sure if it will be of the passionate kind, but we'll see. As always, thanks for reading!]