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Amanda’s frustrated.
They’d been this close to finally crossing the threshold they’ve been edging toward, so close that she’d felt his breath on her lips, felt his heartbeat against hers. She’s not convinced they didn’t briefly make contact just before they were interrupted, but of course, that doesn’t matter now. Instead, they’re focused on staying utterly, completely quiet — and out of the line of fire.
In the darkness, Lee’s hand is warm and strong as it wraps around hers.
After far too long, they settle back down, staying near the rise of land that had protected them. They need to rest. Sleep if they can, which is why they’re exchanging barbs about the sleeping arrangements.
Lee gives up with a huff, flopping onto his back. “Oh, just forget it and come here.”
With the way they’ve worked themselves around, she really does end up on her left side as he pulls her against his right shoulder. Lee wraps his arms around her and drapes the chain across his torso and behind his back. They’re both stiff and nervous, but neither one of them brings up the elephant in the room — or the swamp, as it were.
Lee sighs into her hair, and she feels his lips lightly brush the crown of her head. “I guess this’ll have to be enough.”
“Enough?” She tries to stay quiet. It’s not easy.
“No fire,” he continues, and his speech is becoming slurred. “’s a shame. Was nice.”
She takes a sharp breath, letting it out slowly, willing her tension to go with it. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” There’s the sound of a yawn. “Sorry. Adren’line crash. We sh’ld sleep an’way.”
How, she wants to ask, is she supposed to sleep after that? Excitement, exhilaration, terror, and — who knows what else?
But he’s already snoring softly. She pokes his side, and he shifts just enough the noise stops. Amanda closes her eyes, irritated. He’s right, of course, but that just makes things worse.
This isn’t over, buster, she tells him silently. We’re not even close to being done talking.
She wakes up flat on her own back with his lips against her temple.
At first, Amanda doesn’t dare let herself even breathe. But that can’t last — oxygen isn’t optional — so she tries to keep her breathing shallow. Her muscles are wound tighter than they had been before.
She tries to puzzle it out. Evidently, she’d followed him into sleep even though she didn’t think she would be able to. Clearly, they’ve shifted positions since then. She can just barely feel the chain on the ground under them.
Lee’s lips press against her skin again. This time, he combines it with a soft sigh, and when it’s done, he nuzzles the outside of her ear. His breathing is slow, deep, even. Is he even awake?
She whispers his name as softly as she can. He doesn’t respond.
All right, then. Maybe he is asleep.
It’s the slightest of shifts to turn her head, to try and get his attention.
She’s distracted as his mouth trails across her cheek, feather light, continuing until it reaches the corner of her lips. Amanda tells herself it’s only natural to respond. Their lips brush once, twice, three times, and then he sighs softly and they’re kissing in earnest now.
Shouldn’t she stop him, if she’s not even sure he’s awake?
Then she feels his whole body twitch with awareness.
Yet he doesn’t stop kissing her. If anything, he deepens it, teasing her lips with his tongue and catching her exhalation with his own. His free hand cradles her face, and she reaches toward his hair, whimpering softly when the chain stops the movement.
Lee responds by rolling backward just enough to free her hand. Then his mouth seeks hers again, and he makes a soft, inarticulate noise when she scratches lightly against the nape of his neck.
This is so much better than she’d imagined. She’d known he could kiss; this isn’t their first time, after all. But it’s the first time they aren’t under duress. He takes his time, teasing, tasting, testing. It’s deceptively gentle, and her limbs begin to grow heavy with lassitude and pleasure as she kisses him back.
When she pauses to catch her breath, she opens her eyes to look at him. His are tightly closed, and that’s when she understands. Her eyes slam back shut even as their kisses deepen.
Amanda’s not sure how long they go on like that, sharing kisses and breathless gasps, exploring this new reality that’s sprung up between them. She lets herself get lost in the moment. She needs this. They need this.
Even if it’s the complete opposite of the open acknowledgment she wants.
They eventually drift back off, and when they awaken again, the sun’s up and there’s an urge of a different kind. Lee’s wide eyes suggest he has the same problem. Somehow, they manage to arrange themselves so their backs are to each other while they relieve themselves.
Afterward, he’s focused and businesslike, though not unkind. Amanda finds herself reacting the same way: they need to get themselves to safety and finish the mission. The chain that binds them feels heavier now than it did last night, and that’s as good a reason as any to want this over sooner rather than later.
“Lee?” she asks him outside the bull pen.
“Hmm?”
“About last night.”
His voice becomes gentler. Softer. “I know. I know.”
Amanda lets herself feel the beginning of what might be hope, but it’s dashed immediately when he continues.
“Just two cold people seeking a little warmth, right?”
And with that one sentence, all her frustration and irritation surges right back out from wherever it had gone. No, it wasn’t, and you know it! she wants to yell. Why are we playing this same old game again?
The look on his face stops the words before they get out.
But she can’t quite let the question slide, either. “Not exactly.”
Then she walks away, before she risks saying anything else, and for a long moment there’s just silence behind her. Good. It serves him right not to get the last word.
That’s when she hears trotting footsteps. “Amanda.”
She starts walking faster.
“Amanda, wait a minute! What was that supposed to —”
She slaps the elevator button. Hard. The doors open immediately and she steps through, using the Door Close button to make sure he can’t follow.
But she can still hear him, muffled, on the other side. “Damn it Amanda, don’t just —”
The rest of what he says is cut off by the sound of the elevator as it begins to move. When she arrives at the Georgetown foyer, she exits with long strides, her ID already in her hand and tossed carelessly onto Mrs. Marston’s desk. Just as she opens the outside door, she hears the internal stairwell door burst open.
Amanda doesn’t even slow down. Let him stew in her words for a while.
Besides, she knows what’s going to happen next. He’ll find excuses to be out in the field the next couple of days. She’ll throw herself into the sea of paperwork that’s always present in the Q-Bureau. Once they both simmer down, they’ll go on as though nothing happened.
Except, her mind insists, something did!
She’s at her car now, and Lee’s nowhere to be seen — or heard. Amanda throws her picnic basket in with more than the necessary force, causing it to bounce against the seat. Then she lets herself slump against the open door for a long moment.
This is how it always goes.
She can’t stop herself from wondering if this is how it always will.