"But now my scars
Don't seem to matter anymore
'Cause they led me here to you."
Chris Daughtry, Start Of Something Good
She hurried across the office, past the vacant desks, and her high heels clattered down the stairs to the fourth floor. Night closed over the city, bringing a cold wind from the ocean to scare spring away. She stopped just out of the stairwell and breathed deep. Nothing she could do about her racing heart, but she didn't want to show up panting. She eased down her skirt. Gosh, she hated this outfit. But he liked it, and that was the whole point. Because he was back in town.
She knew he'd be upset. Things had gone south in New Haven and they hadn't caught the pedophile in time to save his last victim. One of those cases that just sticks, clouding emotions for a good while. That was why she'd decided to wear this hideous tailored suit. Because he'd appreciate the gesture.
The fourth floor was very quiet as she made her way past the empty tech section and the staff kitchen, toward the one light on down the hall. And soon she spotted the tall, dark figure standing in the only occupied office. He stood with his back to the door, sorting papers on his desk.
So she paused at the doorway and knocked softly on the open door. Her lips couldn't help curling up when his cologne reached her nose. Damn, it didn't matter how long they'd been together, she still reacted like the same old stupid fangirl whenever she saw him, or even heard his voice over the phone.
He glanced over his shoulder, a stormy scowl darkening his face.
"Hey..." she tried.
To her utter surprise, he spun around and strode across the office to her, shutting the inner blinds on his way. A moment later, he grabbed her hand and yanked her to him. His lips found hers in a rough kiss as he pushed the door closed. She grabbed the lapels of his black suit coat when he kissed her deeper, gasping at the feeling of his hands rolling up her skirt.
His touch seemed to spread an electric tingling all over her, and she felt a little dizzy when he turned around with her in his arms first, to bring her closer to his desk, and then made her spin to face it.
A suffocated moan escaped her lips when he stuck behind her and made her bent over the desk. She rested all her weight on her elbows, her head down between her shoulders when he thrust into her. His hips slammed against her once, twice, and yet again. And she panted at the husky growl he let out, his hands like an iron grip around her hips as he kept moving.
He'd never been rough before. This was nothing like his gentle kiss when she cuddled in his arms at night; nothing like his soft touch stroking her awake in the morning; nothing like his sweet lovemaking as she got lost in those piercing green eyes, feeling she'd melt away when he smiled down at her.
He leaned forward, pacing down and thrusting deeper. She heard his heavy breathing right behind her ear, as one of his hands came up under her arm to cup her breast. His other hand slid around her hip and under her skirt to her inner thighs.
Gosh, he did know her. She stirred and moaned as his scent wrapped around her, his warm breath against her skin. His hips pushed her further, now in that deep, slow way she loved, while his hands did all the right things in all the right ways and—
The sudden ring of a phone startled Gillian.
She found herself with her eyes wide open, staring blankly up at the ceiling, breathing heavily in her bed.
Alone.