Chapter 2: Raw Possession
The cheap fluorescent lights hummed like trapped flies. Abbott’s chair scraped harshly on the linoleum as he stood, the sound echoing in the small, airless room. “Get settled. I’ll be back as soon.” He didn’t wait for acknowledgment, his footsteps retreating swiftly down the corridor outside, swallowed by the muffled chaos of the bullpen. The heavy door clicked shut behind him.
Silence descended like a thick, suffocating fog, amplifying the frantic drumming in Teresa’s chest. She whirled on Jane, the veneer of professional calm shattering. "Two years, Jane!" Her voice cracked, sharp as broken glass in the quiet room. “You haven’t been a part of my life for two years. Now you show up and think you know what is best for my life? A cryptic summons dragging me halfway across the country?" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "Why am I here? Playing pawn in whatever game you’re running now?"
Patrick leaned back with deceptive ease, his gaze tracing the furious flush rising up her neck. He registered the words – running, game, pawn – but they skimmed the surface of his awareness like stones across water. The pulse hammering in the delicate hollow of her throat held far more fascination. He noted the flush deepening under his scrutiny, the slight tremor in the hand she braced on the cool glass table. Angry. Beautifully, vibrantly angry. His mind drifted, captivated by the imagined texture of her skin against his lips right there, tasting the frantic beat of her lifeblood. He pictured the soft gasp she’d make if he pressed his mouth to that vulnerable spot, the way her head might tip back, offering more.
Teresa turned her gaze back to him and leaned into his space. "You vanish! Leave chaos behind! Abbott breathing down our necks for months! And now you just waltz back in? Interfering in my life? What gives you the right? Do you have any idea what it cost everyone trying to cover your tracks? What it cost me?"
Her proximity flooded his senses. The faint, clean scent of her shampoo – citrus and something uniquely her – cut through the stale coffee stench. He imagined burying his face in the dark cascade of hair falling over her shoulder, inhaling deeply. The way her blazer stretched taut across her back as she leaned. His fingers itched to unbutton it slowly, peel it off her shoulders like unwrapping a gift. Beneath would be the crisp cotton of her blouse. He visualized the first button popping free under his thumb, revealing a sliver of smooth skin above her bra. Another button. Another. The slow reveal a deliberate, agonizing tease. His cock stirred, hardening with vivid clarity against the seam of his trousers at the thought of her bared skin, warm and waiting.
"Are you even listening to me?" Teresa demanded, her voice rising, snapping his focus momentarily back to her eyes, dark and blazing. "Or are you just sitting there with that infuriating smirk, plotting your next move?"
Plotting? Oh, Teresa. A slow, knowing smile touched his lips, one that didn't reach his eyes, blue chips of ice observing her turmoil. His mind raced ahead, past her anger, straight to the yielding heat beneath it. He saw himself rising, closing the distance in one fluid stride. Gentle. Possessive. He’d pin her against the cool glass wall, feeling the shock vibrate through her slender frame. His mouth wouldn’t ask permission; it would claim hers, silencing her protests with his tongue. His hands wouldn’t fumble; they’d rip at her blouse, sending buttons skittering across the FBI linoleum. He’d palm her breast through the lace of her bra, feeling the nipple harden instantly under his touch, a silent surrender he’d wrench from her.
"You think this is funny?" Teresa spat, misreading his expression entirely. "You drag me back into this... this mess you created, and you just sit there?"
He quickly schooled his features to be contrite, realizing his current line of thinking was unhelpful. It would have to wait for later. “You’re right Lisbon.” He said quietly. “I don’t know what is best for your life. I didn’t mean to imply I did.” Teresa looked somewhat pacified. He allowed the feeling of regret to surface, setting aside his previous thoughts. He reached out and ran his fingers lightly along the line of her jaw, breaking the physical boundary they had established between them years ago. It would not get him anywhere if she simply got angry and left. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open slightly. He felt her lean into his touch slightly, and he grinned internally. He would have her. He would simply need to seduce her first.
Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed her jawline, a current arcing through her stillness. Two years of absence crackled between them, compressed into that single point of contact. Lisbon’s eyes fluttered shut, betraying the exhaustion beneath her fury, the unspoken yearning she’d buried under duty and distance. Jane saw it, the fragile crack in her resolve, the silent admission that his touch still held power.
The crack widened. Jane’s thumb slid lower, tracing the frantic pulse at the base of her throat. He felt the tremor run through her, a seismic shift beneath the professional facade. Lisbon’s eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted on a breath she hadn’t released. His other hand rose, fingers tangling in the dark silk of her hair, tilting her head back just enough. The scent of her – citrus, gun oil, and warm skin – flooded him, obliterating reason. "You and I have unfinished business, Teresa." His gaze dropped to her mouth, the soft curve he’d imagined kissing countless times. "You were the only thing worth coming back for."
The confession hung, raw and electric, in the stale air between them. Lisbon’s eyes snapped open, “Jane, what…” she stared, but the door opened rapidly and Abbott entered. “Your terms have been denied.” Jane slid back into his easy relaxed persona. “Then take me back to the detention suite.” Then he turned to Teresa. “Think about what I said, Teresa.” He said softly and Cho appeared to escort him back to his cell.