MAKES ME WONDER ((NIXON))

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: WHOOT WHOOT?

She had waited long enough.

When she'd dropped Leo off at a costume shop (why the hell he wanted to stop by a costume shop was beyond her), he'd promised to meet her at their favorite local bar for dinner. He'd hinted that he was going to visit his best friend Marley, and Scout urged him to bring her along to eat. Although she'd never been terribly close to the younger girl, she was fond of her presence and she enjoyed how Leo got along with her. He'd pressed her to bring Nixon as well, but after the day's events, she wasn't sure. The close run-in at the police station with her boss had been a bit too much excitement for her. Plus, she was still trying to figure out why Nixon was suddenly so trusting of her. He hadn't questioned her when she'd told him she was picking up a relative, and he'd been so suspicious of her before.

Maybe it was the pact they'd made, that they would officially be together now. As she thought about it, a pleasant shiver went down her spine. She was officially dating Nixon Grey. The Nixon Grey. Most single women her age (and older) would kill to be in her position. He'd been with plenty of women before her, but he'd never dated anyone officially. He was a love-em and leave-em type. It thrilled her that he'd chosen her as a more permanent situation, but it scared her as well. What if she stopped pleasing him? He was a powerful man, and she had many secrets still hidden from him. She cringed to imagine how he would react if he ever found out she was a detective. And wouldn't he eventually? No, she chided herself. He never had to know. She'd chosen him over her job (a very huge step for her, a person who had been married to her career for several years now), and she'd set herself to protect him. She was the perfect person to do so really. As the detective over his case, she could easily doctor paperwork or lie about his whereabouts. She could even get him out of town before anyone could find him if she needed to.

I've gone seriously insane, she thought to herself. Before Nixon, she never would have dreamed of putting anything before her job. Her father had brought her up in a military household, and she had strict standards for herself. Fucking your target (even if it was mindblowingly amazing sex) was not one of those standards, but she'd already broken that one too. She really was insane.

Climbing out of her modest car, she punched her floor number on the elevator and mindlessly stepped in, her thoughts in such disarray that she wasn't focused on anything in particular. She was thrilled that her brother was back in town, but she was confused and feeling guilty about whether she should introduce him to Nixon. She wanted Nixon to meet her family - wanted to take that intimate step with him - but she was afraid that was moving too quickly. Not to mention the fact that her twin brother now knew she was dating a criminal and putting her career on the line to do so. She wasn't sure how much Leo approved of their relationship now that he knew the facts, and he hadn't had the opportunity to berate her for it.

Then there was the issue of Nixon. He was so intense and demanding, she didn't know how they'd get along. Leo pretended not to be that way, but he had his own stubborn streak that had played itself out rather powerfully against their father. Not to mention the pure sexual energy she felt in her body every time Nixon was near her. Could she act like a normal human being if there was someone else in the room, namely her brother? Would she be able to think straight of Nixon touched her, or would she start going off on imaginary trips to her bed while the two of them talked about the mundane? In short, she turned into a horny bag of emotions whenever Nixon was in the room, and she didn't want to embarrass herself in front of her brother.

Slipping the key into her door, she unlocked it and entered the dark apartment. Sighing heavily, she shut the door with her back, resting against it for the moment. Leo had texted her to announce he would be spending more time with Marley and not to wait up for him, also, sorry about missing dinner. After she'd waited for thirty minutes for them to show up, he'd had the decency to send her a damn text message and tell her he wasn't coming. So she'd made her muddled trip home, and now she just needed to breathe. Just this morning she'd been laying naked in Nixon Grey's bed, and now she was alone in the dark irritated by her brother's rudeness. That was just Leo's way though; she wouldn't stay mad at him for long.

Finally standing, she blew out a long breath of air and tossed her keys onto the table beside her couch. She was too tired to turn on the light, and she debated just going into her bedroom and falling asleep in the clothes she had on. Unfortunately, she hadn't taken a shower since before she'd met Nixon the day before, and she couldn't bear to go another day without one. She cringed to think of how sweaty she must've smelled when she was in his bed. How could he honestly want her? When she wasn't around him, when she couldn't see it in his eyes and feel it in the way his body reacted to her, she couldn't believe he honestly desired her. She knew her want for him never faded, even with distance and time, but she was mystified by his attraction to her.

Stepping toward the kitchen to get herself a glass of water before she got in the shower, she stopped short as a sound caught her attention. Her heart leapt to her throat in fear, and she reached for her side to get her gun, but of course, it wasn't there. Instead, her hand grazed her purse and made it swing wildly on her shoulder, the momentum sending it falling to the floor in a heap of tinkling metal and sequins. As the person moved out of the shadows into the dim light cast by a night light near the door, her heart didn't slow but instead began to leap about like a wild monkey in heat.

"Nixon... how did you get in here?"

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y353/shockwavesyndrome/thisiswar.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 450px;height:600px;] Bored. Nixon Grey was bored. He couldn't do anything with himself at the moment simply because his head was still a turbulent mess. The head ache was refusing to subside and that was something that infuriated him to no end. If that stupid, overweight bicycle rider had been paying attention then they would have never collided. The young billionaire was obviously irritated as he paced back and forth in front of his bed, which was still unmade from the night he had spent in it with his girlfriend. And that simple thought alone took his breath away the moment it invaded his mind. He has asked Scout to be his girlfriend. Nixon Grey was not known for his commitments outside of the business world he was so intertwined in. The man lived and breathed his job, even though it was illegal. He was an intelligent businessman. He knew the ins and outs of his job and that was what had kept him alive and going so long and so well. If his business ever fell apart he was going to have a lot of enemies. However, his life would be spared because he would be thrown behind bars for the rest of his existence. Uneasiness prickled across the back of his neck as he paused and thought about his potential ruin. It could never happen. He was careful. He was more than careful to the point where it was almost considered obnoxious. But he had survived. He was successful. He wasn't going to make mistakes. What he didn't realize was that trusting Scout was going to be the biggest mistake of his life. However, the young woman was the only thing that occupied his mind at the moment. Her touches, her kisses, her sighs, and her moans of delight that he could produce from her were things that set his heart on fire and sent his blood boiling. He needed her. That need was something that he had never experienced before in his life, but he couldn't shake it. He was addicted to her. He simply could not get enough of her, and now that he wasn't in her presence, it made him uneasy. He needed to hold her, to touch her, to be with her. It was like now that he knew what it felt like to be whole, he couldn't be this empty shell that he was. Scout made him whole. Scout made him feel like he finally mattered to someone, somewhere, and he couldn't get enough of that feeling. He finally get good enough for someone and it was a thirst that could never be quenched. He was never going to be good enough for his parents no matter how hard he worked in his life. Even though he was a criminal, he had a wonderful work ethic, and it sent him late into his nights. He wouldn't sleep sometimes, and the strain would often show on the young man. He did his best to cover it up, but the strain from being away from Scout was also weighing heavily upon his shoulders. He had a feeling that it was because he was in the beginning stages of this relationship. He had heard that a new couple couldn't get enough of one another. But this was different, it was frightening. He needed her like he needed to breathe. So, he made a decision. He was going to her place. It wasn't like he couldn't figure out where she lived, for he had men follow her home when he was investigating her. He didn't approve of her location, but there was nothing that he could do about it. Dressing in a simple pair of black slacks, he pulled on a grey button up shirt, rolling up the sleeves and combing his fingers through his unruly hair. Making sure that he looked appropriate, he pulled on his boots, tucking his pant legs into them so they wouldn't catch on his motorcycle. He had to disguise himself, and he never went out in public on the bike for that very reason. It was the only vehicle that wouldn't get him noticed. It had been his grandfather's, and it was truly nothing special. But it meant the most to Nixon. He wouldn't trade it for the world, even when it no longer ran. As of now, it was still hanging in there, and he couldn't be happier. Grabbing his black jacket from his closet, he stuck his cell phone in his pocket and his wallet in his back pocket. Glancing at his watch, he had a feeling Scout should be returning at any moment to pick up her relative from the airport. Her rushed departure this morning sent warning bells through his mind. She hadn't been honest. He knew that she was hiding something and that made his fragile trust in her crumble slightly. Why couldn't she tell him which relative? Did she not want her family knowing about him? It was going to be difficult to keep it hidden now that they were displayed across the front page of the newspaper. That highlight reel made him slightly nervous as well, for he was going to be the topic of gossip for days to come and it wasn't exactly something he wanted to be involved in. He liked to stay under the radar as much as possible because it didn't draw any heat to his name. Sighing softly, he tried to shake all worries from his mind, but that was nearly impossible. There wasn't a moment when Nixon wasn't worried about something. It was in his make up to always be concerned. It was like the man didn't know how to relax. He needed a lot of help in that area. Finally reaching the garage, he went directly to his bike and tucked his black helmet with the mirrored visor on over his neatly groomed hair, and was soon revving the engine to life. The tires squealed as he gunned it, the motorcycle popping a small wheelie from the impulsion. He rebalanced the bike as soon as he straightened out, and was soon flying out the back entrance of his place so he wouldn't be noticed by the paparazzi that usually lined the front of his mansion. It took him only minutes to arrive at Scout's place of residence, and he edged his motorcycle into an inconspicuous parking area. Tying his helmet to the bike, he pulled the hood of his jacket up to keep his identity hidden from passer bys, and was soon shouldering his back pack with the lock picking equipment in it. If she wasn't home, he was still going in because he couldn't afford to weight for her. He couldn't be on display. Not yet anyway. It was for their own safety. Making it up the stairs to her apartment, he tried the door, knocking sharply, but getting no answer. Once he had discerned that she was not home yet, warning bells flashed within his mind. Why hadn't she told him that she was going to be gone this long? What if something had happened to her? Irritation flashed across his features and he grabbed the supplies he would need, picking the lock expertly. It was a skill he had learned at a young age, as well as hot wiring a car. One never knew when you would need to know how to do these things. Once the lock clicked, he turned the door handle just as he heard someone opening their own door. Closing Scout's door quickly but quietly behind him, he locked it swiftly, watching as someone passed by because of the shadows from their feet. Furrowing his brow, he let out a short breath in relief. He had been almost caught, and that wasn't something he wanted to explain. He'd probably end up in jail again, and this time he doubted Scout could get him out again, even if he was breaking into her apartment. Tossing his bag onto her couch, he kept the lights off as not to draw attention to himself, and the worry was evident in his body as he stalked around, trying to figure out where she could be. Who was she with? What if she wasn't picking up a relative, but another man? Thoughts and ideas ran through his mind and he was just working himself up into an agitated frenzy. They would definitely need to talk about this. Suddenly though, his attention was drawn to her door as he heard the key slip into the lock. Knowing he was caught, he stood in her kitchen, which faced the living room. His hands braced his body on the counter, and he turned his emotionless grey eyes to the door as it swung open, then swung shut as she leaned against it. Unable to make her out in the darkness, he moved a bit, knowing it would catch her attention. She was an intelligent being. She would know something was up. As she tensed, he still remained emotionless as he reached over to the light switch in her kitchen, illuminating himself and a bit of her apartment from her light. Ignoring her question, he spoke up, his voice guarded. "Where have you been?" 1536 words | scout! | I can't with him. this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: WHOOT WHOOT

Her breath caught in her throat as Nixon came to shape in the darkness. The moment was raw, as her words hung in the air, and she had no idea why he was here. It was so random, so out-of-the-blue...and kinda romantic. Sure, he'd broken into her apartment and had been waiting who-knew-how-long before she got home, but he'd waited. He'd taken time out of his life to wait up for her. Also, the fact that Nixon Grey was in her apartment was not lost on her. She'd always been to his properties, then to his house, but he'd never been to that most personal space of her life: her apartment. It was dull and plain compared to the places he owned, but it represented her. There were pictures of her family on her shelves and dvd's on racks, expressing her taste in mysteries and romance. She was a girly girl underneath it all, she supposed.

Then there was the kitchen where hardly anything was ever touched because she ate out more often than she cooked. She enjoyed cooking alright, but she was horrible at it. The kitchen only existed for Leo's use when he was there, as far as she was concerned. The entire apartment was decorated in soft pastel, springy colors: differing shades of green and tan that made her feel relaxed and at ease. In her line of work, that was a necessity.

She was caught up for a moment in feeling self-conscious about her apartment, and then the light flared to life. It blinded her momentarily, and she blinked before focusing on him standing in the entrance to the kitchen. His gray shirt accentuated his eyes (as she was sure he did on purpose), and he looked so severe as he examined her that she felt her bones go cold. For a split second, she was afraid he was going to throw something at her, but she mentally shook her head at the notion. He wasn't that type of violent. He may be intense, but she somehow knew he would never hit her. He was a gentleman after all, even if his baser instincts overpowered him in the bedroom.

They were frozen, watching one another, and he ignored her question as he posed his own. His tone was dangerous and suspicious, and she knew she'd been too hasty in believing he trusted her. Of course he didn't. They had only just begun dating officially. He had let her go too easily this morning. And she couldn't deny she'd been cagey when she'd explained why she was leaving. She wasn't prepared to bring up Leo; wasn't sure if she wanted to reveal that part of her life. Leo knew about him, but she felt an urgent desire to keep her brother safe. Nixon was still a criminal, and a very powerful man, and she didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth about her twin. What if something happened and he harmed Leo? She couldn't imagine that possibility. She would die if she ever inadvertently caused her brother harm.

"I told you," she replied slowly, keeping her voice calm as she looked away from him to pick up her purse and toss it onto the couch. "I had to pick someone up from the airport."

She glared at him, feeling defensive about the whole thing. Leo had already stood her up to spend the night with Marley, and now Nixon was breaking into her apartment to accuse her of things she didn't even know what. Grinding her teeth together, she brushed past him and turned her back to him to retrieve a water bottle from the fridge. Taking a sip in an attempt to calm herself, she failed miserably. "What happened to the Nixon from this morning who trusted me enough to loan me his own car to go to the airport?" she snapped coldly.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y353/shockwavesyndrome/thisiswar.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 450px;height:600px;] He was furious. He couldn't really explain why, but he knew it was because he couldn't control her the way that he controlled everything else in his life. He didn't want to own her. That wasn't what this relationship was about and he knew that. However, not knowing where she was for this long had irritated him and if he was going to be honest with himself, it worried him too. He had enemies in a lot of places. Her pictures with him in the newspapers were going worldwide because of his success and he didn't want to put her in harm's way because of his criminal activity. Of course, his clients didn't know that he was cheating them out of millions and billions of dollars but that wasn't important. They were angry enough because of his success and they wanted what he had. He knew that there were plots to kill him, to take his fortunes. He didn't want to put her in this danger, but he couldn't be away from her. It was all so confusing to him and he honestly didn't know what to do. That was another thing. Nixon wasn't a man that didn't know what to do. He knew how to make decisions and he knew how to keep himself safe. When he pulled Scout into the situation ,he didn't know how to keep her safe, especially now that she was in the public eye. He was worried that he had just signed her death warrant along with his and he would never be able to live with himself if something happened to her because of him. He cared too much about her now to hide that guilt. Sighing to himself now, he shook those thoughts and those feelings from his mind and turned to stare at her as she stood blinking in the bright light that he had showered her apartment in. Watching her with a cold, calculating eye, he knew that his sudden change in demeanor was going to confuse her. He was probably even going to piss her off, but at this moment he didn't rightly care. When she spoke up to defend herself against his angry tirade, he nearly scoffed, but kept that to himself for the time being. He was not going to put up with her sorry excuses. Even now she sounded dodgy. She had caught him off guard this morning because of how quickly she had fled. He wasn't going to get more involved with this commitment if she wasn't willing to be honest. He was honest about everything except for his criminal activity. He knew it was big and wrong to hide that from her, but it wasn't exactly the thing you told to your girlfriend. Watching her warily now, he kept his distance, listening to her and watching her brush past him to get to her fridge. As she grabbed herself a water bottle, he suddenly couldn't hold in his anger anymore. Before the fridge door shut, he grabbed it and slammed it, hearing the glass goods rattle inside from the force of the impact. He would never hit her. He wasn't that violent. He wasn't going to take it out on her that way. He might not be able to control himself when it came to having sex with her, but he knew how to control himself when it came to these types of situation. He had never hit a woman and he never would. Especially not Scout. Growling in his fury, he spoke out angrily, trying to hide the hurt in his tone because of her dishonesty. "You're lying to me. Don't lie to me Scout.. I hate liars." He snapped viciously, striding past her and to the couch, tearing open his bag and ripping the newspaper from it. He threw it onto the counter, following after it and leaning over it, pointing right at the picture of her hugging a stranger tightly. It certainly looked like she knew the young man, and he could tell she cared about him. He knew how to read her. He knew her. There was something off about the entire thing. Why couldn't she tell him who the relative was? Why did she have to lie? This young man must not be a relative. It was then that he realized his mistake, and her slip up. She was picking someone up from the airport? That wasn't what she had said this morning. She had made it very clear that she was picking up a relative. Fury flew through him faster than he could blink, and he spoke up again, sounding more angry than the last time. "Oh, so now it's someone that you were picking up from the airport? You said a relative this morning. What are you hiding from me? He doesn't look like a relative, with the way you're throwing yourself at him!" Of course Nixon would never understand the intimacy that a brother and sister could have, let alone the intimacy that family members could have. He didn't know because he had never experienced it. The only intimacy he had ever had in his life was with the whores he brought home from functions. The distrust, the hurt on his face was obvious, and for a moment, he let the cold exterior slip as he stared at her. He felt betrayed. He felt like she didn't trust him like he trusted her. His grey eyes were peppered with that vulnerable hurt that only stemmed from his misunderstanding. He didn't get this. He didn't know why she was intent on hiding things from him. "This...oh forget it Scout. I should have never come here." He stated angrily, still confused. He needed to get out of here. He couldn't think straight in her presence. He couldn't figure this out. His head, still so sensitive, was swimming from the lack of clarity in this situation. Turning on his heel then, he started for the door, needing air, needing something. He just didn't know what he had gotten himself into. The jealousy that welled within his heart made him uncomfortable, made him nervous. She was doing things to him and he didn't like it. 1536 words | scout! | I can't with him. this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: WHOOT WHOOT

Now that they were closer, she instantly saw how badly she pissed him off with her retort. Good, she thought angrily to herself. Her own irritation was burning out of control, and her anger was fast mounting. He advanced toward her, his hand gripping the refrigerator door and slamming it almost before she could get her hand out of the way. Instead of backing away from him as she imagined most women would do, she stiffened and glared at him as his gray eyes cut into her.

He knew she was lying. She'd already sensed this, but hadn't fully admitted it to herself. She'd been too cagey about the whole thing for him not to know something. Perhaps that was why he'd pretended to be so trusting this morning. He'd been lulling her into a false sense of security so he could swoop in and punish her for disobeying him, for daring to be with any other male than him. Not able to wrap her tongue around words to respond to his accusation, she watched with cold eyes as he turned his back on her and stalked to his bag, tearing a newspaper from it. She took a step toward the counter, her blue eyes coldly calculating him the entire time. She was confused as to what point he was making, but it soon became clear as he slammed the newspaper angrily onto the counter, his slender finger jabbing at the picture on the front.

At first she wasn't sure what she was seeing, and she reached for the paper as he stood as if remembering something. Trying to figure out what she was looking at, she was momentarily distracted as he launched into another tirade. Oh, so now it's someone that you were picking up from the airport? You said a relative this morning. What are you hiding from me? He doesn't look like a relative, with the way you're throwing yourself at him! Her brow furrowed at his words, anger rising in her chest even before she could fully focus on the picture in order to defend herself. She never threw herself at anyone, except maybe him, and even with him she was unsure of herself and reserved (at least in public). How dare he accuse her of such a thing? Snatching the paper off the counter, she finally got a look at it and realized what she was seeing.

Scout began to laugh.

It was amused but tinted with her anger over how he'd reacted. She looked down at the picture of her arms thrown around her twin brother in the airport, and she had to admit, to anyone who didn't know better she did look like she was throwing herself all over him. Leo was an attractive guy (even if it was gross for her to admit her twin brother was good-looking), and they looked nothing alike. They were the definition of 'fraternal' twins if there was one. With her long blond hair, blue eyes, and petite build, she was the exact opposite of her brother who was all height, dark brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes. It looked bad to the innocent observer, and the heading didn't make it any better: IS NOTORIOUS PLAYER NIXON GREY NOW THE PLAYED? But her anger didn't dissipate with her realization over his misunderstanding.

When she started laughing, Nixon's gray eyes turned to steel as he watched her, but she didn't stop. The whole thing was really quite funny when you knew the truth of the matter, and she didn't feel he had the right to be mad in the first place. It hurt her and infuriated her that he would jump to such a conclusion, and her blue eyes hardened as she dropped the paper back onto the counter. He gave up, as he always did, and turned his back on her to head for the door. Clenching her teeth furiously, she rounded the counter, grabbing the paper as she went. Hastily rolling it, she threw it at him, hoping to hit him with it.

"There you go again: giving up like you always do!" she barked, clenching her fists as she glared at the back of his head. "First off, you break in to my apartment and lurk in the darkness for who knows how long, and then you actually have the gall to accuse me of cheating on you?! How DARE you?"

She wanted to scream at him, but she balled up her fists tighter and closed her eyes to get some control over herself. She tried counting to ten, but her words were building in her mouth and she couldn't hold them back. Opening her eyes, she glared at him with an icy blue gaze, angrier than he'd ever seen her.

"You don't deserve for me to explain myself to you, but I will," she hissed, drawing herself up to her full height which was still almost a foot shorter than him. "That 'someone' I had to pick up from the airport was my brother: my fraternal twin brother. He was gone for two months, so yes, I threw myself at him when I saw him again."

Her eyes began to dim, her anger simmering now as her relief and happiness at seeing Leo began to cloud over her fury at Nixon. Dropping her eyes, she shook her head and looked at the floor before looking back up at him. "I wasn't sure I wanted to tell you about him or not because I was afraid you'd act like this," she waved a hand at him. "Unfortunately, it seems I was right."

Her arm fell to her side and she shook her head, bitter tears welling in her eyes and indignation tightening her throat. She forced herself to look at him as she continued, not willing to let him win this stupid argument. "I was almost two hours late to pick up my own twin brother from the airport because I was with you. Not with anyone else, but with you. I only want to be with you, and that scares me because the only person I've ever cared so much about is my brother. Then you come along, and I've barely even known you and I can't get you out of my head.

"Trust me, I've tried," she admitted, raising her hand and dropping it weakly back to her side. "That week when I'd thought you were gone for good, I tried to get you out of my head. I tried to move on, but no matter what I did, you were always right there. I hated you that first night when I met you, and then you came at me with your demanding intensity, and you completely captivated me."

Shaking her head, swallowing heavily, she turned to the side so he could only see her profile. She was still angry, but as usual when she was around Nixon, her thoughts turned into word vomit she couldn't control. "The way I feel when I'm around you... the way my body feels..." Tilting her head back, she drew in a deep breath and rolled her eyes up to the ceiling exasperatedly. Sighing a long sigh, she pursed her lips and turned her face to look at him again. His gray eyes were unfathomable again, unreadable to her, but she didn't care. Even though she was angry he would accuse her of something she would never do, she couldn't help thinking how beautiful he was. She felt so mousy and awkward in his presence, how he was always composed and dignified even now with his dark blond hair in disarray and his face a flickering mirage of emotions.

"No man has ever made me feel the way you make me feel," she admitted in a quiet voice. It was a compliment and an accusation in one. No one had made her burn so completely with desire and need, but no man had ever managed to hurt her so deeply either. The raw depth of emotion he elicited in her disabled her and made her feel everything so much stronger. Pleasure and pain were magnified ten fold around him. Her heart swelled and broke in her chest, knowing he couldn't trust her any more than she could trust him. Perhaps she'd been wrong all this time. Perhaps they were too different in their personal lives to be good for one another. This addiction she had to him surely couldn't be healthy, and no relationship could ever be founded on so much distrust.

Looking away, she picked up her purse and fished out the keys to the car he'd loaned her to get to the airport. She tossed them roughly at him, her blue eyes glazing over with the anger that would protect her from the hurt he'd inflicted with his words. "I dropped off Leo with his friends and parked your car here so it wouldn't get messed up. It's down in the garage," she murmured in a low tone. She decided she needed a shower to clear her head. Her heart hurt too badly to continue standing here arguing with him. He would either believe her or not; nothing she could say would change his mind. "Shut the door and lock it on your way out," she spoke, pausing at the door frame into the bathroom, and glancing over her shoulder at him as her eyes glinted challengingly. "I wouldn't want anyone breaking in."

She may have pushed him too far, but she didn't give a damn. She also knew this may be the last time she would ever see him, but she knew there was nothing she could do about that. Nixon had never been the type to chase after her; she did all of the chasing. And now she was tired. Closing the bathroom door behind her, she sighed and refused to look at herself in the mirror. The mixture of recently-fucked hair and sweat and grime was not something she wanted a memory of. Especially since this was the last time she would see Nixon Grey.

Peeling her clothes from her body, she climbed into the shower and pulled the opaque shower curtain closed, shutting out the light. The water sprayed down on her, a flash of cold water before the heat rose and burnt her skin. It felt good, cleansing and stripping her of the worries she'd had since the day before. Nixon didn't trust her; she didn't trust him. That was the way it would always be. They had secrets they couldn't share, and obviously, as evidenced by his behavior, they couldn't get past them. Unbidden, tears welled in her eyes and poured down her cheeks. He was probably gone by now. She would never see him again. Her body ached with the realization, and she dunked her head under the water spigot to drown out the rest of the world. The water rushed over her ears and deafened her, and she cried, glad she couldn't hear the soft sobs that left her throat.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y353/shockwavesyndrome/thisiswar.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 450px;height:600px;] Nixon stood there, cold and calculating, distancing himself before he even knew what he was doing. He was a runner. He always had been. he had always been the one to find the trouble with a potential commitment, he had always been the one to jump to conclusions because he believed that he was keeping himself safe. The man was entirely messed up, inside and out, and there was no way that he could ever be fixed. Scout needed to understand that. If she couldn't, then they would never work. Nixon could not change. He had too many things happen to him, he had too many outside influences shape him. He didn't even really know who he was anymore. He was a billionaire, and that was the only adjective he could use to describe himself, but that uncertainty would never be voiced. He would never allow himself to look like he didn't know who he was, like he was as unsure of himself in this relationship, in his life, as he was. The decisions that he made were decisions that he knew would work because they had worked in the past. This decision, the decision to ask her to be his girlfriend, had never been tried before. And the large possibility of failure terrified him. He never failed at anything that he did. And while he didn't truly view this as a competition for himself, he was afraid to view it as a situation in which he actually did care for the other person. It was obvious that he did. There was no denying it but he tried desperately to keep himself in a denial. She would never understand and he wouldn't try to explain himself to her. It wouldn't be fair and he knew that it would only send her spinning into a deeper confusion and uncertainty. He wasn't here to make her unsure of herself. He knew that wasn't what his job was as the partner in this relationship. However, he was looking at it as a job and that was something that he couldn't simply do. He needed a lot of help, but he was too proud to ask for it. Glancing to her now, he was about to speak up again when he suddenly realized she was laughing at him. As she laughed, hurt flashed across his features. This wasn't funny. There wasn't anything humorous about this situation, and the idea that she had the audacity to laugh floored him. And that was when he turned to leave. He wasn't going to stand here and be the object of her humor, of her derision. He knew what it felt like to be laughed at. He had gotten it from his father and he was going to be damned if he got it from the woman that he cared about. amazingalex88: However, as he strode across her apartment floor to her door, he suddenly felt the newspaper clock him right in the back of the head. He couldn't take much more to his head. Bringing his hand up quickly, for she had contacted the bump that was already there from his spill earlier yesterday, his vision swam from the pain and he grabbed the door handle firmly to keep himself grounded. Fury pierced through his very soul and he took his hand then, slamming it against the door because it was the only way that he could get his anger out. The punch stunned him, bloodied his knuckles, but he didn't care. The pain felt good. He could feel something other than this desperation, than this confusion. He could focus on the pain because he knew it. "Fuck Scout." He snapped viciously, his anger reaching a new level. He had never seen her this angry, but she had never seen him this angry. He didn't know how to control it at this point, and he turned to face her as she started yelling at him, challenging him with her words. How dare he break into her apartment? He had his own reasons, and he couldn't stop the words, the explanation, from rising in his throat. "I was worried about you! You were gone all day and I hadn't heard from you! Sue me for fucking caring Scout." He knew that he was being unreasonable, but at this moment, he couldn't control himself. This was what always happened. He was out of control and he couldn't regain himself. Not yet anyway. And then she launched into her explanation although she deemed him undeserving of hearing one. Her brother. That was supposed to be her brother? He looked down at the newspaper that was now resting on the floor at his feet, his vision still swimming from the contact with his previous injury. Furrowing his brow, he studied them, wondering how in the world he was supposed to believe her that that young man was her brother. They couldn't look more alike but he knew that she was asking him to trust her. She was giving him a second chance to lay his fragile trust in her and he didn't know if he could do it. How could he? Why couldn't she have just been open and honest in the first place? As she said that she wasn't sure if she wanted to tell him or not, he clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth together. "If you had just told me the truth this morning, this would have never happened. Why you were so intent on keeping your own brother from me is beyond me. Do you think that I would hurt him? Do you honestly think that little of me? I'm still a fucking person Scout." The realization that she might abhor him in that fashion was enough to make him step back so that his own back was flat against her door. He felt suffocated. He felt like the walls were closing in on him and he didn't know how to escape. He had to get out of here. He had to go for a walk and just collect his thoughts and his emotions and just everything. However, she had already accused him of giving up. He had walked away from her so many times already in the short amount of time that they had known one another. The only time that he had chased her was at his birthday. Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he focused on her, reading her and her hurt. She was angry, yes. He could see that. But there was hurt there. And the idea that he had placed that hurt upon her because of his actions, because of his behavior made him feel revolting. He felt like a monster. This was so unfair to her. He didn't deserve her. He shouldn't be in a relationship. What was he thinking? And then she started explaining the way that he made her feel, that she was late to pick up her own twin brother from the airport because of him. Sucking in a breath, he now realized the blame that she was placing upon his shoulders. This was his fault. He had overreacted but could she blame him? She had been extremely cagey about where she was going, she hadn't told him the truth from the start, which would have solved this entire situation. Nixon would have understood. He would have made it so that he understood. But now this entire situation, their entire relationship was blowing up in his face and for the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. He always had the control, he always needed the control. And he always had the knowledge of what to do in any type of situation. But not this. This was why he couldn't get involved. It wasn't fair to her, to anyone. Shaking his head slightly, he heard her next words as she chucked his keys at him. He managed to catch them, feeling spurned for actually doing something nice. He hadn't offered her the car to throw his money in her face, and his silent anger gave proof to that. However, she couldn't read him that easily. He wasn't allowing her to. Now that he wasn't affected by his concussion like he was yesterday, he had better control over himself. Keeping his composure, his steely cold outside demeanor, he watched as she turned from him, demanding that he lock the door behind her. How dare she think that he was just going to leave now? After that argument? He realized that he wasn't the right one in this situation, but neither was she. The realization, the admittance that she had poured on his shoulders was something that had stunned him. No one had ever made her feel the way that she did when he was around her. Well, the feeling went both ways. Why did she think he had wanted this relationship in the first place. Sighing as he stood there, he watched as the bathroom door closed, and then he heard the shower water starting. He couldn't hear anything else. He felt deafened by the conversation that they had just had, her words ringing in his ears. He was a horrible person. There was no doubting that. Grabbing the newspaper up off of the floor, he went to her couch, sitting on the very edge of it as he studied the picture. The headline flashed across his vision, and the young billionaire had no idea of the foreshadowing those words would hold because of the young woman he was trying desperately to hold onto. He was trying to make himself worthy of her in his mind right now. He was trying to prove that he could be a boyfriend, that he could be okay for her. However, he kept coming up to dead ends and broken promises. Nixon Grey was never going to be able to be good for a woman. Shaking his head, he debated leaving. Leaving would mean that she won this argument. Leaving would mean that he was giving up because he knew that if he left, he would never come back. He would never choose to be a part of her life again because it would be that much easier for her. He wouldn't cause her that hurt again, that heartbreak. He had seen it. He wasn't a fool. Shaking his head, he pushed himself up from the couch. This was for the best. She would see. Getting over one another would be the hardest part. That much he knew. So in that instant, he made his decision. He went quickly to her door, his bloodied hand closing around the handle. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't leave. He turned his head, his eyes locking on the bathroom door down the hallway. Debating for only moments, he turned back around and hurried to the bathroom door. Hesitating, he just opened it, feeling the steam from the heat of the shower hit him like a ton of bricks. Breathing deeply, he pushed himself into the room, closing the door silently behind him. Grabbing a towel from the wrack on the wall, he held it in his hands for a moment, studying the fabric. He needed to comfort her. He just didn't know how. So he was going to try his best. That was what a good boyfriend did, right? After a fight, this was what he was supposed to do. Taking a deep breath to work up his courage, he let out a small breath. Of course, normal boyfriends would probably wait until their girlfriends were out of the shower, but there was nothing normal about Nixon Grey. However, he would allow her to keep her modesty. Pausing for another moment, he finally just walked forward, opening the curtain enough so that she could see him, but not enough so that he could see her. Reaching in, he turned the water off, not caring if she wasn't finished with her shower. He saw the tears in her eyes, saw her body rocking with the sobs that she herself didn't want to hear. Pain flashed across his eyes as he realized that he had made her cry, and he held the towel out for her wordlessly, letting her wrap it around herself so she could keep herself covered. Not that it would matter to him in all honesty. He had already seen her. He knew her, but he was trying to be understanding for her sake. Giving her a moment to get herself together, he finally looked up, his steely grey eyes softer than they had ever been before. Reaching for her hand, he pulled her from the shower, still so intense, but trying his best to be gentle. Scooping her in his strong arms before she even had a chance to say anything, he carried her to the door, reaching for the handle and maneuvering it open so that they could duck out. Going to her couch, he sat himself down with her still in his lap, and simply wrapped his arms around her, holding Scout to his chest as if he couldn't let go of her. He didn't want to let go of her. Gently, he reached up to wipe away the tears that still dared to fall, and he made her look at him. "I'm sorry Scout. I'm so sorry. I just...I don't know how to do this. I'm jealous, I'm angry, I'm hurt, I'm...I've never had all of these feelings before and I don't know how to handle it. I've never...." He paused then, knowing that he was about to tell her things that he had never told another soul before. He was about to tell her what was in his heart, and that was something that he normally kept so guarded. "I think I love you and I don't know how to stop it. I'm sorry for it, truly I am." He finished breathlessly, releasing his hold on her, wanting to let her go if she so chose to go. But at least she would know how he truly thought he felt. It was all so confusing, and he didn't know the first thing about love. But how else was he supposed to explain the emotions that were running through him? He had never loved before, and he didn't understand it, so naturally, he connected it with the confusion that was now running through him. His intensity was still there, but at least this time he wasn't running. 1536 words | scout! | I can't with him. this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.<

Heartbreak was the worst sort of pain. She'd been shot before, and that paled in comparison to this pain. She wanted to sink down into the floor until she fell asleep, exhausted from crying. She shouldn't have yelled at him the way she had; she wasn't purely innocent here. She should have been honest with him about her brother, but her fear had kept her mouth shut. Now he knew anyway, and she'd lost him. Planting the palms of her hands on the shower wall, she hung her head and let the water wash down her neck and back, pushing her hair over her shoulders so it hung on either side of her face. Water ran down her chin and formed a waterfall which fell to the floor and ran away down the shower.

This was what she always did. She ran people away. If Leo thought he felt guilt for their mother's death, he had nothing on her. She felt equally as guilty, and especially so due to her lack of commitment later in life. She'd only ever been able to commit to her job, and she'd thrown herself into it with the force of a hurricane. She'd never submitted to one night stands - Nixon was the only one she'd ever honestly had - but she'd had plenty of failed dates and relationships in her lifetime. But none of that had bothered her until now. She had these confusing as fuck emotions over a guy she should have never gotten involved with in the first place, and when she'd finally gotten to the point that she wanted to commit to something more than a few flings with him, she'd fucked it up.

She wanted to punch the wall in frustration, but she didn't have the strength and the thought only made her think of Nixon punching her front door. They really were very much alike, yet so different. Two sides of the same coin perhaps.

Leaning her head back again, she breathed in deeply, the steamy air filling her lungs, and she allowed the water to run down her chin and over her bare chest. Her chest felt as if it would cave in as the fresh loss sat there like an elephant. The water flowed over her ears again, drowning out all sound besides her thoughts, and she never heard the door open. She hadn't expected him to stay, so she believed she was alone. When the shower curtain shifted, the light caught her attention behind her closed eyelids, and her blue eyes flickered open as her heart leapt in fear. She'd been facetious about someone else breaking in to her apartment, but it had happened. And of course she was naked and vulnerable. Gasping, she stepped back before she realized it was the very person she'd believed had left her for good.

Suddenly, his hand snaked into the shower and he turned off the knob. She frowned and opened her mouth to snap at him for turning it off, but he surprised her by reaching in and offering her a fresh towel. Her breath hitched as a passing sob crossed her lungs, and she swallowed heavily, taking the towel and careful not to brush his fingers as she did so. She couldn't handle that contact with him right now. Her brain was already mush, she didn't need that heat driving her even farther into madness.

His arm had brushed the curtain farther open, and she glanced over at him as she wrapped the towel around her slender frame, tucking it in so it formed a makeshift dress around her. He didn't look at her, and his face seemed impassive but pained simultaneously. Only Nixon Grey could manage such a tormented look. Her heart shattered all over again, but for a different reason this time. She had hurt him, and she hadn't intended to. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind, she'd believed nothing she could do would hurt him, that he was untouchable from her. She imagined she was the only one affected by him, but she'd been wrong every time. He handled his emotions better than she did, but she could see it there: pain.

Swallowing once again, she stood silently as he raised his gaze to make eye contact with her. She expected him to glare at her again, but he didn't. The look was so genuine, so open and raw, she bit her lip to keep from crying again. He reached for her hand, and she didn't fight him as he pulled her gently. Stepping out of the shower brought her back to her normal height with him towering over her. This vulnerable side to him was rare, and she reveled in this view. He was always so closed down, especially to her, but she'd seen through him in this way once before. That night in his shower seemed so long ago now, when it had only really been about three weeks ago. Whirlwind seemed a weak word to use to describe their romance.

She was close to him now, her wet body dripping water onto the floor mat. She didn't know what to say or why he'd stayed, but he surprised her by removing her need to reply. He bent slightly and wrapped his arms around her, scooping up her legs so she was surrendered to him, her feet dangling uselessly to his side. Her heart leapt to her throat as she was lifted from the ground. She'd never been carried in such a way, so helpless to anything but his will. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck to balance herself, and she found her face was only inches from his. He didn't look at her as he turned to exit the room. He carried her from the steamy bathroom into the living room where he lowered himself onto the couch in a slump, jostling her against him. He surprised her yet again by pulling her tightly into his arms and crushing her against his chest.

Her breath left her lungs in a whoosh, and she impulsively clung to him, her fingers digging into his back as he hugged her. Tears welled up in her eyes again and dripped silently onto his shoulder as she buried her face in his neck. She was an idiot. She should have been honest with him, and then neither of them would be going through this pain. Finally, he shifted slightly and she twisted in his lap so her nose brushed his rough cheek. His thumb reached up and gently wiped away the tears that ran silently down her face, and she self-consciously tucked a wet strand of her hair behind her ear.

She felt his voice in his chest as he began speaking, apologizing to her for his torrent of emotions. He turned her face so she was forced to look up at him, and she didn't fight him. His face was a potpourri of emotions, so confused and innocent in a way she'd never seen him. The sincerity was palpable in those gray eyes, and her bottom lip slipped its way into her teeth as she listened to him. She heard it all, but the one word that stood out from the rest was the fact that he was jealous. She supposed she'd known that by the way he reacted, but she hadn't thought about it since it was only her brother and she'd known he shouldn't be jealous. Still, he admitted it. Nixon Grey was jealous that some other guy would be with her. He was jealous because of her. The thought sent a thrill through her, and she chewed on her bottom lip anxiously as he paused.

"I shouldn't have said those things," she replied in a small voice, her eyes falling to his shirt and the tips of her forefingers gliding over one another, twisting in the fabric. "I should have told you about Leo, I was just..." her eyes drifted up to his again, and she sighed. "I've never introduced a guy to my brother, and I was scared because I've never wanted to introduce anyone to him before, but I wanted to with you and it was all so fast, and I thought it might freak you out and make you want to get away from me..." she trailed off as she realized she was rambling. He cut her off just as her words finished, spitting out the fact that he thought he loved her.

A sharp intake of breath made her feel dizzy as he released her along with his revelation. Her bottom jaw fell open slightly, and her eyes widened in disbelief. No one had ever told her they were in love with her before, and she'd never wanted to hear it the way she wanted it now. The way she'd been feeling about him over the past weeks was unlike anything she'd ever felt, so powerful, and she'd thought of the word love a few times. She'd never said anything to him for fear he would reject her, would even laugh at her, but here he was confessing he thought he was in love with her. Simple Scout. Nixon Grey, beautiful Adonis of a billionaire playboy, and she was perched in his lap as he confessed his feelings for her.

She was unsure how to react. Her inner girl was doing backflips and passing out, but her mind couldn't take it in. It was too incredulous. This man, this man she adored and had fallen hopelessly for in just a few short weeks, was in love with her. Or at least he thought he was. Her heart was in her throat, and her knees self-consciously pulled up toward her chest. Still situated in Nixon's lap, they didn't make it far, and instead she twisted so she could face him. She knew he would be soaking wet from having her in his lap, but she wasn't thinking about that now. All she could think about was him and his confession.

Shifting her weight, she deftly held the towel around her waist so as not to expose herself (although he'd seen all of it before) and slid one knee on each side of his lap. Sitting down on him, she gently placed her hands on each side of his jaw, looking down at him, her eyes shining brightly with emotion.

"I don't want you to stop. Please, don't stop," she whispered urgently. Where she perched on his lap, she was a few inches above him, and she took in the depth of his gray eyes. She didn't deserve a man this handsome. Surely she was better suited for some nerdy computer nerd with black horn-rimmed glasses and a skin condition. She wasn't fit for this intense god of a man with his gray eyes and penetrating personality.

Slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, she leaned toward him, her eyes running from his eyes down to his lips. Tilting her head slightly, she touched his lips lightly, her tongue slipping through to his mouth. As she kissed him, heat rose in her cheeks and chest, and the dark reaches of her femininity blazed to life. She forced herself to calm down as she finally pulled away from his mouth, her forehead resting against his as her eyes flitted open. "I think I love you too," she admitted, a small shy smile curving over her lips. She didn't tell him how much that admission frightened her: that she would lose her job because of her love for him, or the fact that she had betrayed him in the worst way possible and he didn't even know it. She didn't even think about that as she gazed down into his gray eyes, her wet hair falling over her shoulders to slap his shirt, dripping water into the fabric.

Her body reacted instinctively toward him, and her heartbeat increased as she watched his handsome face. Just as she'd admitted to him earlier, he did things to her no other man had ever done before. She couldn't explain her animal attraction to him, something so deep in her human nature it was a part of her soul. It was as if he was a missing piece to her, a spark to her pilot light.

"Nixon..." she whispered, her voice thick now. They were alone, and the turmoil of her emotions over the past hour left her feeling drained and cathartic and wanting. She was highly aware that they only thing dividing them was the towel and his clothes, and the towel was split around her waist so he couldn't see her, but she felt the seams of his pants pressing into the inside of her thighs. Her eyes glinted lustfully, but she didn't say anything. She was embarrassed by how easily it was to get her to fall into bed with him, but she couldn't avoid it. The way her body was instantly ready for him was instinctual and unavoidable.

Clearing her throat, she placed her hands flat against his chest and bit her bottom lip, smiling slightly. "I should put some clothes on," she murmured. Pushing gently against him, she slid off the couch and turned her back on him, her smile spreading into a foolish grin as she turned away. She moved toward her bedroom, pausing at the wall to glance over her shoulder at him with hooded eyes. A grin ghosted over her lips, drawing up the corner of her mouth before she bit the inside of her lip and turned away to go into the bedroom. She needed some space to get some air before she made a fool of herself and threw herself at him again. If she didn't, then it would be a repeat of that night at his birthday party.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y353/shockwavesyndrome/thisiswar.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 450px;height:600px;] As she snuggled against him, he did the only thing that he could do at the moment, and that was hold her close. He couldn't change his intrusive, abrasive personality. He was who he was and he wasn't going to change. The fact that he was with her in this fashion was as much as he was going to change, or so he believed. He wanted to love her, to care for her, to be with her, but he was afraid. It was normal for a man that had never experienced the emotion before. But he needed to give way to his fear and let it slip away. He could feel it. He was allowed to be afraid but he himself did not see that. He was Nixon Grey. He was the billionaire playboy. The man who was supposed to be sure of himself, the man that only did what he wanted to do, and only got what he wanted to get. But did he want love? Did he want to be loved? He had survived this long, this many years, without the emotion in his life. Would it really kill him if he went without it for the rest of his existence? As he looked down at the top of Scout's head, he realized, yes, it would. Being without Scout was not something that he could even begin to fathom right now. It was what had kept him from walking out that door when she had told him to lock it behind her. He knew his stubborn pride had gotten in the way as well, but there was so much more to it than that. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled softly, letting her cling to him, knowing that she just needed him to be there for once without her having to chase him down. He couldn't help it. He was a runner and always would be a runner. It wasn't something that was going to be easy to forget about. Nixon was set in his ways, and running had always been his way of life. Sighing softly in frustration, he let his hand run up and down her back in a comforting way, trying to soothe her sorrow and the hurt that he had placed upon her shoulders through his actions. He would hide his own hurt just so he could take care of her because that was the kind of person that he was. While he was confused, and hurt, and just completely out of it because of the exchange that they had just had, he was putting her before himself. That was something that was also unheard of when Nixon Grey was involved. He never put anyone before himself and the fact that he wanted to make sure she was alright before he fixed himself was something that even he noticed. However, it helped knowing that he wasn't capable of being fixed. There was too much to him that made him the way that he was. In order to be fixed, he would have to give up his criminal life. His life now was what made him into the person that he was. Of course his past had a lot to do with it, the way he was raised and the people that he grew up with. The absence of his mother and father, and their need to use him as a prop during their dinners and their functions had more of an effect on him than he'd ever admit. He was used to being shuffled from person to person, from event to event, doing as he was told and not arguing. However, as he grew older, he was becoming less inclined to being their pawn, and he had distanced himself completely. He was just afraid that he was going to start distancing himself from Scout, and that was something that he didn't want to do. He knew that he needed to let his walls down, but every time that he did, he felt vulnerable and easily attacked. He couldn't feel that way with his lifestyle, but it was all that he felt when he treated Scout this way. It was like that moment they shared in the shower, when he had allowed her to be gentle with him. He didn't understand it. Shaking those thoughts from his mind now, he turned to look down at her, tilting his head so that he could see her even as she rested against him. Hearing her apology, Nixon tried not to let his pride get in the way. She should apologize to him. He had done nothing wrong other than break into her apartment. And when looking at the grand scheme of things, that wasn't so bad. Right? He was trying to make it valid in his mind, but that wasn't really working to his advantage at the moment. Pushing those thoughts from his mind, he refocused. She had yelled at him for assuming, but what kind of position had she put him in? She was cagey about the entire situation so of course he was going to be suspicious. And he could not control the intensity of his jealousy, just like he couldn't control the rest of himself. This was why he kept those walls up. The young man felt so deeply that it was just safer to keep it all locked up inside of himself. Then no one would get hurt. Sighing softly once more, he shook his head, still gently running his fingers up and down her back. "Don't fret about it anymore, love. What's done is done. I shouldn't have gotten so jealous. Just...for clarification though, I do want to meet your brother when you're ready for me to meet him." There. There was that kindness, that gentleness, that he was more than capable of expressing, but sometimes he refused to let it show. However, she softened him and that much was obvious. He hated the idea that she was crying because of him and he wanted to take away all of the pain that he had just placed upon her shoulders. As he rubbed her back, he felt her lean against him and he felt so complete at this moment that nothing else mattered. Even as his clothes became soaked because of the water on her body from the shower, it didn't matter. He didn't care. What mattered was that she was in his arms and that they were making up. Nixon knew now that they needed to learn more about the other. It was going to be the only way that this relationship worked, but he didn't know if he could give her all that she needed to know to understand him. He didn't talk about his personal life, his past. While she had been completely open and honest about her father, he didn't think he could do the same. In his eyes, that man was dead. He didn't want anything to do with him and he knew that talking about him would only ruin their evening. But if she asked, he wondered if he would answer. Trying not to think about it now, he was suddenly confessing that he thought he loved her, and he was watching her for her reaction. He couldn't take back what he had admitted, and he didn't want to. Although, as she sat almost lifeless in his arms, he desperately wished he could change what he had said. She wasn't going to respond. She was going to throw him out. His breath caught in his throat as he sat beneath her, and he felt his heartbeat increase, knowing she would feel it because of how close they were. Fear ran across his eyes as he stayed there, the vulnerability of the billionaire clearly on display. She could crush him now if she wanted to. He had held so much hope in that admittance, and now she couldn't even respond. As she moved in his lap, he fully believed that it was because she was going to ask him to leave. But she gently cupped his face in her hands, his eyes wild and panicked. He had admitted the truth and now she was going to make him pay for it. He was such a fool. Trying not to let the terror consume him, he nearly hyperventilated in her grasp, aware of her legs pressing down on either side of him. Her towel stayed on, covering her, keeping her modest, but Nixon wasn't even aware. It wasn't until she spoke did he even think about calming down, but so deep was his panic that he wasn't sure if he had heard her correctly. Did she tell him to stop, or did she ask him not to stop? Looking at her in question, he hesitated, and was only relieved from his panic when she leaned in, kissing him softly. As her tongue ran over his teeth, he parted his own lips, allowing her entry, meeting her tongue passionately with his own. As he kissed her, his hands slipped from her back to rest upon her hips as she rested against him in this new position. Feeling their heat rising in temperature once more, he did all that he could to control his urges. He knew that he could control himself better than she could control herself, especially now that he had his wits about him and that he wasn't so concussed. Driving those desperate urgings back down quickly, he broke away from the kiss as she did, and refused to look her in the eye as she leaned her forehead against his. He didn't move away from her, but his confusion was obvious. Then she was admitting that she thought she loved him too, and he didn't know how to respond, he didn't know how to function. Was she serious? His eyes searched hers in that moment, asking her, nearly pleading with her for that to be the truth. He wanted so desperately to trust her word, but could he? Love was something so foreign to him and he couldn't take it lightly. Admitting it to her had been terrifying for him because he didn't know what he felt. What if it wasn't love? But it had to be. There couldn't be any other explanation for what she made him feel. Trying to control himself now, he nodded, like a fool, unsure of how else to respond. "I...okay...I...you do? You...you really think so?" And there was that vulnerability, showing at a level that it had never shown before. And of course she wouldn't understand. She wouldn't know why he was so timid about the entire subject and he couldn't expect her to without explaining. But he couldn't explain yet. This was about her and making her feel better. As she whispered his name thickly, he looked to her, knowing, reading her expression. And despite the fact that he really, really desired her right in this moment, he knew that he couldn't sleep with her. Not tonight. He didn't want to leave, he wasn't going to leave, but tonight was not going to be like all of their other meetings. He was going to refuse to have sex with her tonight no matter how much it frustrated the both of them. When she adjusted and sat up, announcing that she should put clothes on, he nodded his head. "I'll wait right here." Even though he desperately wanted to follow her into her bedroom, he let her go, not meeting her gaze as she looked back over her shoulder. He was spooked by what they had just admitted, but he was trying desperately not to let it show. Leaning forward on the couch, he rested his elbows on his knees, feeling the chill travel up and down his body because of the dampness of his clothes from her body against his. Looking around for something to busy himself with, he caught sight of her fireplace with the logs stacked neatly beside it. Decision made, the young man stood up from the couch, and to stop himself from pacing, he went to her fireplace. Crouching down in front of it, he opened the door, stacking the wood in easily. It wasn't his first fire. Even though he was rich, Nixon could take care of himself. Grabbing the dreaded newspaper that had started this entire problem, he started balling up the pages, shoving them in between the logs to help start the fire. Glancing around now, he saw the matches to the side as well and grabbed them removing one and striking it firmly and quickly against the strip. As it roared to life, he tossed it onto the wood, lighting three more matches after that and adding them to the flames. He crouched there for the time being, warming his hands and trying to warm his heart. Things would be okay. They would work out. He just needed to trust. And that was going to be the single, most difficult thing that he had ever done in his life. He did trust her. He knew that he trusted a part of her or he would have never taken her to his home. He had to have faith in that moment. So engrossed in the flames was he that he didn't notice when she came back, or if she came back. He remained where he was, as he was, crouched in front of the fire, stoking it with the poker that she had available. Trying to warm himself, he knew that he could pass this off as trying to dry his clothes, not just an attempt to keep himself distracted. He couldn't think about it. He didn't want to think about it. If he did, he would get himself all worked up and nervous again, and he didn't want that. He didn't want to ruin their evening more than he already had. 2314words | scout! | I can't with him. this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.<

As she admitted her feelings for him, he looked so confused and relieved at the same time that it surprised her. He stammered, asking her if she was sure, and she nodded her head slowly with a small smile. She'd been sure for a while, she just hadn't said it. She hadn't wanted to admit it because it frightened her that she could love him more than she loved her job. Honestly, she was married to her job, and no man had ever meant anything near as much as that. Then Nixon had appeared in her life - ironically, because of her job - and she'd forsaken her better judgement to be with him. She'd put him first, and that was a new beginning for her.

Pausing in the doorway leading toward her bedroom, she watched him as he kept his eyes trained away from her. She hoped he was struggling with his urges as badly as she was, but she couldn't be sure. She never knew if she turned him on as much as he turned her on, and it made her self-conscious. Still, he was here and as long as he didn't decide to get up and disappear while she was changing her clothes, then everything would be okay.

Dropping the towel to the floor, she momentarily wished he'd followed her so she could show off her naked body to him, but she pushed the thought away. She knew she needed more than that, and she'd sensed that change in him as well. It wasn't just the tenderness he'd demanded that morning; it was the way he'd held her against him so she could hear his heart beating as he'd confessed he thought he loved her. He'd never held her like that, even after they'd had sex in his house, and she felt that pivotal shift in their relationship. For her, it had never been solely about their physical connection (although that tended to overpower her mind due to her drought of sexual activity before him), but she'd been drawn to him like a moth to the flame. His intensity engulfed her, his commanding presence, and she'd felt overwhelmed by her pull to him since the beginning. That had started at the bar during his birthday party when, although he'd been a complete douchebag, she'd actually teared up when she'd run from him because he'd hurt her feelings. She, Scout Shepherd, had never had her feelings hurt by a perp. No, she didn't care what they thought, but those gray eyes had penetrated into her soul from that very first moment and she'd cared. And she still cared.

Picking out a matching pair of pink underwear and a bra (she felt the need to coordinate even if Nixon never saw her undergarments), she slipped them on and fastened her bra around her back. Finding a comfortable pair of black chenille pants, she slid her legs into them and then pulled on a soft pink tee shirt that accentuated her hair and eyes. Retrieving her comb, she ran it through her hair and then grabbed her hair dryer to swiftly dry her hair so it wouldn't be dripping on her shoulders. Satisfied, she brushed it one last time and allowed it to fall in soft, natural waves around her shoulders. Excited for whatever the rest of the evening had in store for her, she squared her shoulders and exited the bedroom.

As she walked out, she noticed him kneeling in front of a the crackling fireplace, and she was glad for the warmth. She didn't need any added warmth in the room besides his presence, but she loved fires for some reason. She could sit for hours and watch the flames dancing over the logs, listening to the crackling and spitting of the wood. Lowering herself onto the couch, she slipped some ankle socks on over her feet and stretched her legs out in front of her, watching his shadowy profile contrasted against the fireplace. She sat like that for a moment, just watching him as he didn't notice her, and then decided she was thirsty.

Moving into the kitchen, she fixed two glasses of wine her father had bought her when she'd gotten onto the force. She'd never had the opportunity to open the bottle until now, and she figured now was as good a time as any. She certainly had much to celebrate, even if she intended to keep that girly little notion to herself. Exiting the kitchen, she switched off the light so the fireplace provided all of the illumination for the room that they needed. She preferred natural light anyway, and never turned lights on during the daytime unless absolutely necessary.

She approached him, almost warily, with the wine glasses in her slender fingers. The way he was crouched was feline grace, as if he would either collapse or pounce at any moment. Swallowing heavily as she admired the way the light flickered on his defined cheekbones, she offered him one of the glasses before easing herself to the floor beside him. She sipped from her glass and watched the flames for a moment before the quiet in the room became too much for her.

"You didn't change your mind already, did you?" she asked self-consciously. She tried to smile jokingly and failed miserably. Biting her bottom lip, she glanced at him and then away before he could look at her. She was stupid to ask such a thing, but she was still trying to soak in the fact that he would actually love her or even think he did. It was so unbelievable, and she had to admit she wanted to hear him say it again.

Crossing her legs Indian style, she placed her wine glass in the triangle of her legs and ran her fingers up the shaft of the glass to the rim where she drew circles around its circumference. Anything to take her mind off of her insecurities. She didn't know how to do this 'relationship' thing any more than he did, and she felt awkward and stupid. Sighing audibly, she cringed inwardly and hoped he hadn't heard it. She'd never be able to explain the confusing compilation of emotions beating at the insides of her heart and mind right now. Since they'd met, she'd expressed herself with her physical attraction to him, and she sucked with words. Still, she wanted to be able to express herself as well with her tongue as she did with the rest of her body. He turned her into a sexual creature, but he also made her feel like a little girl at times. Honestly, he intimidated her when it came to expressing her feelings, and she was always afraid he would laugh at her or mock her for admitting how she cared about him. Inwardly, she cursed herself for being so foolishly self-conscious and wondered where her self-confidence had gone off to vacation.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y353/shockwavesyndrome/thisiswar.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 450px;height:600px;] Nixon waited patiently for her to return to the living room, not minding their temporary separation. It gave him time to think, time to figure out what exactly was going on in his mind. It was at that moment that he suddenly remembered that he had a change of clothes in his bag. Why he had packed them he would never know. But one could say that his confidence allowed him to think that he was going to be staying the night with her. So not only had he packed clothes to sleep in, but he had packed clothes for tomorrow as well. Tomorrow was his last day before he needed to start working again so he figured they could do something together. He didn't know what Scout did for a living but he figured it was something that involved free lancing or something of the sort. Why else would she be able to take so much time off? Furrowing his brow at that thought, he pushed himself away from the fireplace for the moment, his clothes damp and uncomfortable, sticking to his skin in an unpleasurable way. Of course he didn't mind that Scout had been the reason for his current condition, but he still didn't want to remain in these clothes. They were sending shivers up and down his back, and he wasn't exactly a fan of that sensation. Going to his bag, he unzipped it, digging in it for the casual pair of sweatpants he had, as well as the black tee shirt. He had no shame, so he stripped right in the middle of her apartment, hearing her start her blow dryer. He knew that he had time to change before she saw him, not that he would have minded. However, he didn't want this night to be about sex. They needed to talk. They needed to figure out where this relationship was going, especially now that they had both admitted how deep their feelings ran. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered what she had said, admitting that she thought she loved him too. He would have never thought that this would happen to him and he was desperately afraid that he was dreaming. Nearly pinching himself to make sure that it was real, he chided himself for being so childish and foolish. Of course it was real. Shaking his head in derision, he pulled on the pair of regular sweatpants, actually from his college days. They hung on his hips, and he remained shirtless for a moment as he struggled to get the tee shirt free from his other clothes. Once he was successful, he pulled it over his head, adjusting it so that he was comfortable, and the running his fingers through his hair, making it look naturally tousled without him meaning to. Running a hand over his head, he gently felt the bump that was still present from his spill just yesterday, and yet again he cursed the fat bike rider that had no business being out in public like that. No one ever accused Nixon of being a nice man, but at least he kept most of his opinions to himself when it came to situations like that. Rolling his eyes a bit at the stupidity of the people in America, he stepped away from his bag, packing his wet clothes up in a ball before shoving them inside. Laundry also wasn't his forte. The maids took care of that, but they never seemed to complain. If he washed his own clothes he'd ruin his entire wardrobe. Pushing his thoughts from the mundane, he realized what he was doing. He was trying to keep himself from focusing on what had just happened. However, the truth was, it was what he really needed to think about now. Huffing a sigh, he looked back to the fire and approached it, crouching down in front of it again. He didn't know what it was about the flames, but they had always managed to calm him down. Holding his hands out to it for a moment, his eyes stared down at his swelling knuckles. Sometimes he really needed to think his decisions through. Punching her front door was simply not a good idea, and he turned his gaze to the door. Glad that he hadn't made a mark there, he settled down in front of the fire, and then lost himself in the patterns of the flames. He wasn't aware of Scout until he heard the glasses clinking on the counter, and he then didn't pay attention. He didn't need to watch her constantly. He needed to learn that, and learn that quickly. He didn't look at her until she sat down next to him, offering him a glass of wine. Mirroring her movements, he sat down beside her, his arm brushing hers because of their closeness. The soft touch sent shocks up and down his arm, and he flinched slightly. Smiling almost sheepishly, he inched away so that they wouldn't shock one another again. "Sorry." His accent sounded rough and harsh, and he cleared his throat, then busied himself with taking a healthy sip of the wine that was given to him. Why he thought he needed liquid courage at this moment was beyond him. But despite that, before putting the glass down, he took another sip, nearly downing the entire glass because of the stress he felt over this situation. Hearing her question, he sputtered mid sip, coughing as it managed to go down the wrong hatch. "W-What? N-No! Of c-course not!" He managed to sputter out. Why in the world would she think that? Nixon Grey never had second thoughts about any of the decisions that he ever made in life, and she certainly wasn't going to be his first time in doing that. Still not getting his coughing under control from choking on the wine, Nixon did something rather uncharacteristic of himself. He started to laugh. He didn't know why, he didn't know how, but he couldn't stop once he started. And it was quite a sight, since he was desperately choking on the wine that he had tried to suck down the wrong pipe, and he was now laughing, expelling air from his lungs. It was a rather humorous situation, and he had to stand up to try to get air to his airway. His face, normally so composed, was creased in a smile, his brow furrowed because of the effort of his laughter. In all honesty, he looked like a young man again. Carefree, innocent...the laughter illuminated his normally dark features and he lost his composure as he laughed so hard tears started to form. He wasn't a man that ever cried, but these tears were from laughter, so he supposed that it was acceptable. Turning away from her, he hurried to her kitchen sink, turning the faucet on, placing his glass on the counter, and tried taking a drink from the sink. That proved to be rather successful, and he started to calm down as he leaned over the faucet, drinking like a child would after being out in the heat for too long and needing something to desperately quench his thirst. Standing up, he wiped at his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief as he did so. He looked over at Scout by the fire merrily, unable to stop himself from grinning. "You're crazy. I hope you know that." Stated the one who was just choking on his laughter, but who was really judging right? Shaking his head, he still regarded her with humor. He wasn't laughing at her, he was laughing at himself for nearly choking on the wine, he was laughing at this hopeless, ridiculous situation that they had managed to get themselves in. He would not allow it to be awkward between them because of their confessions. That wasn't what their relationship was going to be about. "Change my mind? About you? Love...do you not realize I broke into your apartment because I was worried about you? Did you not just hear that I admitted that I was jealous because I saw a picture of you hugging another man? How many times do you have to hear me say that I probably, no...most likely..love you until you're satisfied and sure that it's the truth?" He questioned her brightly, his tone holding no spite or hate. They were honest questions, he had made valid, honest points. All that he said was true. Thinking for a moment, he tried to think of what he could do to get her to lighten up. Another smile appeared on his features, and he realized that he needed to make this evening all about her. She needed to know that he wasn't going anywhere, and she needed to see that he could be a regular person. He wasn't just that intense, billionaire person that she made him out to be. He knew how to have fun. And not fun when it came to throwing money around, but fun when it included just the two of them, and didn't include sex. She needed to be spoiled, but spoiled in a way that wasn't extravagant. So, he carefully downed the rest of his wine and left the glass on the counter. Walking around her kitchen set up, he went to her by the fire, feeling the heat of the flames warm him instantly. Getting to her, he picked up her wine glass and set it carefully on the mantle. "Are you ready?" He asked her, knowing the perfect way to get her to lighten up. A mischievous grin appeared on his handsome features almost instantly and he moved rather quickly, grabbing her and pinning her down so that he was leaning over her, playfully so. "I use to wrestle in high school. So, naturally, I need to brush up on some moves for no reason in particular other than to get you to smile. I might even let you win." He finished with a wink, moving so that he was basically sitting on her stomach, his hands pinning her arms down as he sat up. For once, he wasn't sexually aroused because he was good at controlling his urges. This was about having fun. And right now, fun included him smushing her on the ground. They both needed to lighten up and if he had to be the fool, then he'd do it for her. Just this once. 2314words | scout! | I can't with him. this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.<

She felt weirdly agitated as she situated herself beside him. Every move he made put her nerves on edge, and she couldn't understand why. Perhaps it was the confession of love? Was she feeling awkward? Yes, she was feeling awkward, but for a different reason, the reason she always felt awkward around him. He was so sure of himself, even with her (or so she believed), and the only things she'd ever been sure about were her job and her love for her family. Although her brother hated their father, she had respected and adored him, that being her primary reason for wanting a job with the law in the first place. They'd endured a hard upbringing, not getting many open shows of affection from their austere father, but she wouldn't trade it for the world. That man had made her who she was, and she would always respect him for that. Maybe she wouldn't run to him and throw her arms around him in a hug if she ever picked him up from the airport, but she loved her father dearly. She'd always been sure of that.

She'd also always been certain about her love for her job. If someone asked her, "Scout, do you love your job?" she could affirm without a doubt that she did. She'd never second-guessed herself where that was concerned, and she was confident that she was a good detective. Before Nixon's case, she'd brought many a person to his appropriate sentencing, and she was sure there were plenty of criminals in prison who hated her. The only time she'd been taken off of a case was when she'd dealt with V, but that had turned out to be a bigger case than she could handle. The FBI and MI5 had swooped in and fought over who deserved to take him in more, and he'd fooled them all by getting himself killed by the Irish mafia. Irony at its finest. Then Nixon had come along: a pompous ass of a man she easily should have bested. With a look at the paperwork on him, he was everything she hated about some men: rich, proud, and full of himself. She'd openly hated him, and she'd walked into his birthday party with that mindset firmly in place. She'd intended to somehow flirt with him if she must and get what she wanted, then she would be on her way and he would be in hand cuffs in the back of a police car.

But life around Nixon never went as she planned. If her future self had told her she would fall for him and end up sleeping with him that night, she would have laughed in her face. She would have laughed and pointed at her future self and scoffed at the idea. She never could have imagined she would be sitting on the floor in her living room, a breath away from him, having just admitted she was falling in love with him only ten minutes before.

When he apologized for shocking her, she looked over at him in a daze. "It's fine," she admitted, too consumed by her thoughts to realize he'd sparked her with static electricity. As he settled a little bit away, she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he sipped his wine. Then it turned into heavy sipping and led to something akin to gulping. Her eyebrows drew together as she watched him down the wine, and that was when she asked her question. It was self-conscious and silly, but the way he was drinking made her doubt everything. Maybe he needed to get drunk because the idea of telling her he loved her had been too disgusting for him to face sober.

He sputtered as soon as the words came out of her mouth, barely managing not to spit up his alcohol all over her. He began coughing, and she shifted her weight as the coughing didn't stop.

Then he began laughing.

She was confused at first, as he rose from his seated position and headed for the kitchen, laughing and coughing so he sounded like a freight engine with a cold. For a brief moment, she thought he may be mocking her, but the sound of his laughing washed all of that away. She realized she'd never heard him laugh, not like this, and there was nothing mocking about it at all. It was a dancing, frivolous sort of thing that made her feel happy when she heard it. Although he was still coughing as he reached the sink, she assumed he wasn't choking since he was able to laugh through it all. His eyes shined with the water that came to his eyes from chuckling so hard, and she bit her lip to keep herself from giggling. It was all too infectious.

When he rushed to the kitchen, she rose to her feet, wanting to be sure he was okay. Then he began lapping out of the faucet like a pet dog, and she couldn't hold back the snort that escaped her lips. Covering her mouth, she chuckled behind her hand as he drank the water from the sink. Even after laughing like a maniac and drinking out of her sink like a child, he somehow managed to be composed through it all. If it were anyone else, they would look foolish, but he pulled it off with some strange sort of grace. Standing with her back to the fire, the flames heating her behind and her legs, she eyed him amusedly as he wiped his eyes and turned to look at her once more.

"I'm crazy? Look at you," she pointed out teasingly. The tension she'd felt before had ebbed with his infectious humor, and the whispers of a smile coaxed the corners of her mouth. He remained in the kitchen, the bar separating them. He was cast into relative darkness since the fire's light could barely reach him, and her face was thrown partially into shadow because of the contrast of light behind her. He began speaking calmly again, his tone light and convincing, and she was thankful that her features were hard to read.

Change my mind? About you? Love...do you not realize I broke into your apartment because I was worried about you? Did you not just hear that I admitted that I was jealous because I saw a picture of you hugging another man? How many times do you have to hear me say that I probably, no...most likely..love you until you're satisfied and sure that it's the truth? Emotions she didn't even understand flickered across her eyes as he corrected her gently, and she found herself biting her bottom lip. Unaccustomed to such romantic, emotion-filled proclamations, she shifted her weight, her right knee turning in slightly toward her left one. Her body felt electrified, and the heat from the fire made her face heat up as he finished his wine and returned to the living room. She never blushed, but she was blushing now.

He approached her, the smile still lighting his eyes as the fire light glowed on his handsome face. She stood completely still as he bent to retrieve her wine glass and slide it onto the mantle. "Are you ready?" he asked her, and her chest constricted. He honestly couldn't ask her things like that and not expect her hormones to react instantly. She stiffened imperceptibly and sucked in a deep breath of air. "For what?" she asked, her voice breaking involuntarily. She'd sensed he didn't want this to be about sex, and she didn't either, but she honestly couldn't focus with him smiling that way at her.

As her mind registered he was touching her, she suddenly found herself on the ground, the air knocked from her lungs. It didn't hurt, just merely surprised her, and she gasped, her eyes widening when she realized he'd pinned her to the floor. Really? This was how she was supposed to not think about having sex? With him sitting on her stomach talking about wrestling in high school? Of course he was in better control of himself than she was - like always - and he didn't look phased by his positioning over her as he held her wrists pinned to the floor. Butterflies fluttered through her stomach as he told her he wanted to make her smile, and she found herself smiling unthinkingly.

Glaring playfully up at him, her eyes sparked challengingly as he admitted he was a bit rusty with his wrestling skills. "You won't really have another choice," she replied lightly, innocently even. With a twist of her hips, she bent her body in half and hooked her legs around his chest, pulling him backward toward the floor. Disengaging herself from his hold as he fell onto his back, she lithely twisted and came out on top, pinning him to the floor the same way he'd held her. Her blond hair bounced around her face, and she smiled victoriously down at him from where she perched on his chiseled belly. "Pinned ya," she mocked merrily. Leaning down, she swiftly placed a kiss on his lips but didn't linger too long. Sitting back up, she decided two could play this game. If he didn't want this to be about sex, then she didn't see the harm in teasing him for the hell of it. He had succeeded at making her smile, and he'd challenged her once again. As always, with their prior challenges, she was too competitive to let him win without a fight. Plus, she was good at wrestling thanks to growing up with men and being professionally trained as a police officer. He didn't need to know that last part, of course, but she felt she at least matched him in skill if not in strength.

Slipping off of him, she rose smoothly to her feet and grabbed her wine glass from the mantel, carrying it into the kitchen to pour the rest of it down the drain. Sure, she probably shouldn't waste it like that, but oh well. She was no longer thirsty. Taking a deep breath, she raised an eyebrow and turned to walk around the bar, leaning against it with her right hip. Crossing her arms over her chest, she smiled slightly as she watched him beside the fire. "I'm willing to bet you I can win whether you let me win or not," she challenged with a glint crossing her blue eyes. "But I'm also willing to go easy on you since you're 'out of practice'." She smiled broader and winked, mimicking him from before. Walking over to him, she stood facing him, defying him as she enjoyed doing. She may be almost a foot shorter than him, but her spirit was just as wild as his, and perhaps even more untameable, at least in a different way.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y353/shockwavesyndrome/thisiswar.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 450px;height:600px;] As she accused him of being crazy, he just looked at her, proving her point, no doubt. Him? Nixon Grey, crazy? There was just no possible way. His grey, normally emotionless eyes lit up with merry as he stood there leaning against her bar, and it was obvious that his mood had lifted considerably since his arrival here. While it was difficult to tell if he was only doing it for her sake, or for the sake of them both, it was just a good sign that he was attempting to lighten things up. He didn't want to argue, he didn't want to fight. He just wanted to be with her and enjoy their evening together. Was that so much to ask? Struggling to recompose himself after his infection laughing spree, he watched her and shook his head. "Did you just accuse me of being crazy? You've got it all wrong." He announced openly with a smile, daring her to challenge him in that aspect as well. Everything was a challenge between them, but it was what kept their relationship interesting, that was for sure. He supposed the constant struggles could be considered fun as well. He didn't dwell on that for very long, for after his convincing little speech about why he loved her, he had crossed the room and asked her if she was ready. Hearing her voice break, he knew instantly what she was feeling inside of her. He knew what he did to her on more than one occasion and it delighted him. He knew that he could turn her on with the simplest of words, the lightest of touches. She had trouble controlling her sexual desire around him and even though he had difficulties as well, he was better at it. He had always been able to compose himself in any situation, and while Scout made him work extremely hard to accomplish that, he was still able to do it. Like now for example, as he sat upon her stomach, trying not to put too much of his weight on her even though he thought it'd be funny to see her struggle slightly. The gasp that had left her mouth made him chuckle, and he looked at her now, wondering what she would do in response to his actions. At this point, he didn't really care about losing or winning. However, she then announced that he didn't really have a choice. Furrowing his brow, he was about to ask her what he didn't have a choice in, but he was suddenly being shifted, and rather quickly. Well, he hadn't been expecting that certainly, but he went with it, not fighting against her actions as she pinned him on the ground on his back. Smiling up at her as she called him pinned, he furrowed a brow playfully. "Well, now, doesn't this suck." He teased her, obviously having no problem with the position that they were in. He managed to work his hands, ignoring that his left one was rather sore. He made it so that he could hold her hands as she pinned him down, his fingers clasping around hers as he continued smiling innocently up at her. If this had been any other person he was fighting, he would have started squeezing their hands rather roughly, but he'd never do that to her. "Alright, alright. Mercy. You win!" Nixon had given up rather quickly, but then again, this had never been about winning. It had been about making her smile, and that was certainly a smile upon her features. Feeling victorious in that aspect, he let a whoosh of air escape him as he remained on her floor, staying on his back as she brought her wine glass to the kitchen. Closing his eyes, he turned his face to the fire, relaxing, feeling relatively normal for once in his life. Here there was no stress about the money that he was bringing in, there was no concern over what client he was meeting with next, or what work needed to be completed before such a meeting. He was safe and comfortable and relaxed. That was all that mattered now. Sighing softly once more, it was quite clear that he was content, and he looked over as he heard Scout returning to him, telling him that she might go easy on him. "You'd do that for me? Go easy on me? Scout, you're so kind." He said with a wink to match hers, then pushed himself up from her floor. Standing, he stretched himself a bit from the crouched position he had been in earlier and then regarded her cooly. Crossing his arms, he looked her up and down, his grey eyes holding that familiar intensity. He knew what his looks did to her, and he watched her for another moment before stepping forward, keeping his arms crossed. He sized her up as he walked around her in a circle, knowing exactly what he was going to do but not wanting to do it too soon. As she followed him with her eyes, he could only grin, and in another instant, he made his move. Nixon moved so quickly, so agilely, like in everything else that he did. He soon had Scout up and over his shoulder so that her face as looking at his back and her legs were helping him support her. She was light, so he had no problem holding her, and as he spun quickly in a circle to walk from the fireplace, he started musing out loud. "So...where should I drop you? On the couch? Too boring. In your bed? I dunno about that. Might give you some ideas. How about...oh here's good." He had reached the kitchen counter, the bar, and for lack of a better place to put her without her getting the wrong idea, he deposited her on the edge, making sure she was sitting safely before taking his arms away from her. He stood in front of her now, about the same height because of the counter. He stood between her legs, his hands resting lightly on her hips. He stared happily at her, his face holding no walls, no reservations. The pure, raw truth that was apparent on his features in this moment was obvious proof to how he felt about her. His fingers tightened only slightly on her hips and he leaned forward, his eyes traveling to look at her lips before capturing them in a passionate, yearning, but honest kiss. He let his tongue slip between his lips, finding hers in another moment, the familiarity of their actions warming him. He didn't break the kiss yet, only deepened it, his breath short and fast when he could manage to breathe. She sent him spinning, but he still had control. He just suddenly felt this desperate need to prove himself to her. 1536 words | scout! | I can't with him. this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.<

She had somehow successfully managed to get control of her physical need for him as she sat on his chest and smirked down at him. Then he entwined his fingers through hers, and just that simple action forced her to take a deep breath, her eyes drifting to watch his hands. She hated how easily he did these things to her, and she bit her lip as a thrill ran up her spine. It didn't help matters when he smiled roguishly up at her. This playful side of him was as attractive as his intenser self, and she frowned down at him as he smirked. He knew what he did to her, she could see it in his eyes. He'd always known what his touch did to her, what his eyes did to her, and he used it against her. It was her weakness, and he'd pegged it from the beginning.

As he surrendered, she knew she was the real one who'd lost this fight. It had never been about winning, but she knew she had long ago surrendered to him, body and soul. She was like putty in his hands if he wanted it, and she wished she was stronger than that. She hated having a weakness, and her pride often got the best of her. Climbing swiftly off of him, she headed into the kitchen to clear her mind and to dispose of the wine. This would not be about sex. If this relationship was even going to be a relationship, it couldn't be. She had to get a handle on herself and her hormones. Maybe her period was starting soon, and that was why she was so on edge. That thought sent a unpleasant chill through her as she briefly panicked, wondering if her period was late.

That's silly, she chided herself. They had used protection because she knew, out of all people, Nixon wouldn't risk that sort of scandal. As the panic ran away from her, she took one last fleeting gulp of the wine, deciding she needed the extra boost to her self-control after all.

She heard his facetious retort as she rounded the end of the bar and leaned against it. He rose from the floor, stretching in a feline way, and then he turned to look at her. His face was partially in shadow as he crossed his arms over his chest, but she saw his gray eyes examine her. It was a heated look, at least in her mind's eye, and she drew in a long deep breath, standing from where she leaned to walk toward him. He moved toward her, and she stopped in place, not wanting to touch him again so soon. If she had to keep herself away from the burning tips of his fingers, then she would, and she would be safe. Her blue eyes flashed, challenging him to make a move, but she didn't move toward him as his eyes raked her.

She could tell he knew the way his eyes cut through her by the pleased smirk on his face, and she scowled at him as he began circling her. It was a predatory stalk really, and she felt the air tense wherever he moved. She kept her eyes on him, the prey weary of the hunter, watching him with her keen blue gaze. His eyes ran down the length of her, and her shoulders rose as she sucked in a deep breath to calm her racing heart. He continued smiling, and she wanted to smack him for being so sure of himself. He knew he was tormenting her, and he was enjoying it.

One moment she was standing in the center of her living room, and the next she found herself tossed effortlessly over his shoulder, the air knocked out of her lungs by his shoulder in her ribcage. "Nixon!" she cried, tipping over farther as he shifted her so he held her around her thighs and her upper body hung over his back. She kicked her feet in a weak fight, but she knew she'd lost this one. The way he carried her prevented her from freeing herself, and she growled in playful frustration.

"So...where should I drop you? On the couch? Too boring. In your bed? I dunno about that. Might give you some ideas..." Hell yes that would give her ideas, she thought to herself. As if the ideas weren't already there from the smoldering way he'd been looking at her just a moment before. "Nixon..." she growled warningly, just as he decided where he would place her. She swung backwards with a small yelp, and her bottom landed firmly on the bar. Instinctively, she reached for his arm to steady herself as her head swam momentarily from being carried partway upside-down.

When her head stopped spinning, she focused on his face that was now a bit lower than her own thanks to the added height of the countertop. She sat near the edge of the counter, her knees on either side of him, and his hands rested lightly on her hips. The closeness, his positioning, instantly affected her, and she looked down at him through hooded eyes. He smiled infectiously up at her, and she smiled in return, unable to resist. Impulsively, she reached up and ran her index finger through the line of his hair along his forehead, the curls wrapping around her finger and bouncing back to place once her hand moved past them. She bit her lip again, a habit she seemed to have picked up when she was trying to control herself in his presence, and looked from her hand down into his eyes. Her hand slid smoothly down the side of his handsome face, her fingertips circling around his left ear and resting gently against his neck.

His hands tightened on her hips and he leaned toward her, his eyes leaving hers to look at her mouth. Her lips parted slightly as she watched him, wanting badly for him to kiss her. After what felt like an eternity, he tilted his head and kissed her, sweetly and deeply. She leaned in to him, her arms wrapping around him as she returned the urgent kiss. Her heart swelled and burst with joy as he parted her lips with his tongue, finding hers and deepening the kiss further. It was the sweetest exchange she'd ever experienced, somehow different from the hundreds of kisses they'd shared before now. She pressed herself against him, feeling his heartbeat on her belly. Unconsciously, her legs tightened around him as the kisses picked up intensity, and she lost her breath. Forcing her self-control to show itself, she kept a hold on herself as she kissed him back, matching his intensity as she always did when they met each other in this physical way.

For the first time since this evening had begun, she was thankful she was trapped on the countertop. She was forced to control herself, and she trusted that she couldn't do anything. He would have to initiate anything that happened between them now, and she trusted him to have better control than she did. She actually trusted Nixon Grey. The idea made her smile against his mouth, and she pulled away from him, her bottom lip finding its way between her teeth before slipping back out as she released an irregular breath. "I like you like this," she whispered hotly. Looking down into his gray eyes, she raised her eyebrows. "Have you shown this side of you to every woman you've been with?" She smirked mischievously at him, knowing he had shown her sides of himself he wouldn't show anyone else. The fear in his eyes that night in the shower had been enough to convince her she was the only woman to get beneath his defenses in that way. She still liked pushing him to admit it to her. She liked seeing him off-kilter and unsure since he was always so composed and in control.

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.

[nixon mason grey]

[atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,padding:0; margin: 0; background-image:url(http://i1029.photobucket.com/albums/y353/shockwavesyndrome/thisiswar.png);background-repeat:repeat-y;width: 450px;height:600px;] She was smiling. He had only wanted to get her to smile. And now that she was, he didn't want her to stop. She was beautiful when she smiled. Of course, she was beautiful in general but he knew that she wouldn't believe him if he told her. She was so unsure of herself, especially in his presence. He wasn't an idiot. He could read her as well as he could read himself, and he had a feeling that he could read her better than she thought he could. The fleeting glances she would give him, the way she would bite her lower lip. It all pointed to her not feeling good enough, and certainly not knowing how to handle herself in his presence. But he supposed that was what he was here for. He would show her that what she was doing was right, that she was more than good enough for him. If he could somehow explain how beautiful she was to her in words, he would do it instantly. The truth was, Nixon was as bad with words when it came to her as she was when it came to him. Their attraction had been purely physical up until the moment that they had shared yesterday in the harbor, followed by the moment in his house. It could even be argued that it was physical up until the very moment he had admitted that he thought that he loved her. Up until that point their meetings had only ended in sex, and this was why Nixon was determined that this night would not go that way. He had no problems with falling asleep beside her, but that would not be after they had sex. They needed to start working on a relationship that could be considered normal, not just a string of one night stands where one of them was rushing to leave in the morning. And in that moment of clarity, he realized it was always her trying to run out on him. Blinking in slight shock, he turned his gaze to look at her as she poured her wine down the sink, and he furrowed his brow. She wanted to be in his presence. She even admitted to the fact that she thought she loved him too. So why did she run? For the same reasons that he tried to escape her presence when they started having conflicts? Nixon didn't know but he prayed that this wasn't a game to her. It wasn't a game to him. He would gladly drop their push and pull act just to work on a relationship if it meant that this wasn't a game to her. He was terrified by his attachment to her, but he knew that he would never bounce back if this turned out to be a dare that she had accepted from her friends, or something of the sort. Chiding himself, he shook his head, deeming himself ridiculous for even assuming that of her. The emotions and the feelings in her eyes told him that what she felt were real, no matter what it took to get her to talk to him that first night. You couldn't fake what they had. It just wasn't possible. Taking a deep breath, Nixon was soon standing and watching her, catching her frown in response to his actions. He knew that she knew that he knew what his looks did to her, and that only proved to entice him even more. He was excited because of her knowledge, proud of himself for having this affect on someone. However, he wasn't the only one with the upper hand in this situation. She could play with him right back. Once they started, he couldn't stop them, no matter how well he controlled himself in the foreplay. It just wasn't possible. Her kisses and her touches ignited his entire body with fire, and he never wanted her to stop. It was obvious that he couldn't allow her to stop, but he couldn't stop himself either. She just had to get him to that point. Unfortunately for her, they wouldn't be getting to that point tonight. Tonight was just about talking, learning one another in different ways than they already knew one another. He was determined to make that happen. And when Nixon Grey had his mind fixated on something, he usually got it, or made it happen. Watching her for another moment, he didn't give her much time to think about what he was thinking, for he had her up and over his shoulder without a moment's hesitation. A higher pitched laugh escaped his lips as he heard her squeal his name, and it was quite apparent that he was enjoying himself. When she growled at him in warning, he finally relented and sat her down on the counter. Allowing her to catch herself on his arm, he turned his lighted grey eyes to her blue, smiling genuinely and happily. As she smiled back, he could only grin brighter. "Is that a smile Scout? Does that mean I've won this round?" He asked her teasingly, knowing what the answer was. However, his teasing was halted as she suddenly reached up to touch his face, catching him by surprise. He wasn't expecting that tenderness, he wasn't ready for the gentle touch of her fingers. His normally guarded grey eyes widened in surprise, the walls that he carefully constructed falling before he could even dream of stopping them. She would be able to see his raw emotion, his fear, his own hesitance, but his happiness as well. The laughter stemmed from how happy she made him, even in their tense situations. He needed her, and that need was reflected in his gaze as he looked to her as she gently touched him. When her hand came to a stop on the back of his neck, he let out the breath he had been holding rather shakily, nervous because of the intensity of the moment. But, as quickly as those walls had fallen, he stubbornly built them back up, leaning in for the kiss that took both their breaths away. When they finally did part, he felt her smile before pulling away, but he didn't return the gesture. Watching her carefully, guarded, he listened to her words and forced himself to soften. He couldn't keep stringing her along like this, not with his emotions flying in so many different directions. But he didn't know what to do around her most of the time. As she spoke up, he could see the desire in her eyes, could hear it in her voice. She liked when he was like this. That made him smile, but her next question caught him by surprise. Narrowing his gaze, he looked at her. "What do you think?" It was an honest question, and one that she would be able to answer without a doubt. Wanting to deflect the conversation from talking about his past in any way, he leaned in, his lips traveling lightly over her neck, up her jawline, his hands capturing her hips so that she couldn't move away from him. She was pinned in position, and he knew that she believed she could refuse him where she was. She could, easily, and he would back off instantly, but he couldn't right now. He didn't want to. His teeth raked over her neckline, nipping at the skin there as he teased her, wondering if it was working her into a frenzy. He moved up to under her ear, pulling gently, teasingly at her ear as he worked to get her going. Of course he was going to shut her down. Nixon couldn't wait to shut her down. He knew he'd be in for it, but it was worth it. Controlling himself expertly, he whispered a low growl in her ear. "Hungry, Scout?" He waited for her response, and once he had it, he pulled back only slightly, lingering his lips over her skin once more before pulling her lips into another heated, emotion-filled kiss. Nearly losing himself with that kiss, he reined himself back in rather inconspicuously and pulled away from her, dropping her from his touch, from his embrace, from his touch. "I'll make you something to eat." He stated simply, raising an eyebrow. Delighted with himself at the moment, he went into her cabinets, finding the simple ingredients for alfredo. It would have to do. He looked to her now once he had the preparations out. "Pots? Pans? Come on woman, I'm starving!" 1536 words | scout! | I can't with him. this template was made by ZOE of caution 2.0 !

[SCOUT ELAYNA GREY]

theres a thunder in our hearts baby

so much hate for the ones we love

TAG: NIXON OUTFIT: HERE ONE LAST THING: THESE TWO >.<

"I suppose I can relent to you just this once," she replied coolly, a smile flitting across her lips as he asked her if he'd won the round. He had, and they both knew it. It seemed he always was, but she was beginning not to care. She had already surrendered her heart to him. She'd chosen him over the one thing that had mattered most in her life, and she couldn't go back. She didn't want to go back. She was happier here, with him smiling up at her, than she'd ever been. She didn't have to sleep with him to be happy. Just looking at him, seeing the light in his gray eyes, thrilled her.

Her hand gently touched his face, and she saw him react instantly. Since she was already looking into his eyes, she saw the change as those walls crashed down. She'd seen that look only once before, in the shower that first night, and her subconscious cheered victoriously. He seduced her with his intensity, and she seduced him with her tenderness. The best part about it was that it came naturally. It wasn't something she had to force with him. She loved touching him, seeing his eyes, and feeling his surprise when she did. Just as quickly as those walls came down, there they were again, and she almost pouted with disappointment. She'd still seen it, seen the myriad of emotions behind that steel wall, and she knew he loved her. She couldn't explain it, but she knew. When she saw into his soul that way, saw past those defenses, she could read him better than if he'd told her with his words.

His kiss was passionate, grasping for that connection that she'd seen him longing for. As they parted, and she questioned him, she felt his pique at the words. He replied, almost snapping, and she was afraid she'd pushed him too far. Before she could answer him, he relented and leaned toward her, kissing her neck suddenly. She sucked in a sharp intake of breath and a low rumbling whine rose in her throat. She couldn't handle this. He was pushing her too far, testing her past her limits. Heat rose between her legs, and her thighs tightened around him. If he didn't stop, she was going to go insane. She was thankful she was too high up on the counter to be able to feel his entire body, or she would have lost it right then. Vainly, she planted her hands on his shoulders and tried to wriggle her hips away from him, but he stubbornly gripped her and pinned her in place.

She whimpered, a trapped deer in a wolf's grasp, and she writhed against him as his teeth nipped at her skin. Her body curved to allow him access to her, and her eyes rolled back into her head as he worked his mouth over her. An involuntary moan escaped her chest, and the shadowy reaches of her femininity screamed to have him. Quivering beneath his entrapping fingers, she dug her fingers into his shoulders as he whispered his question into her ear.

Her eyes flitted open, and her vision seemed blurry from the head rush of desire. His breath heated her ear and made her gasp weakly, her face turning so her cheek brushed against the stubble on his cheek as she struggled to get a hold on herself. You have no idea, she thought to herself, but she remained silent. Knowing he wasn't going to give her what she wanted, she turned to glare at him. There wasn't true anger in that glare, just her ire at him refusing to complete her want. It wasn't fair that he was so fucking desirable and he knew it.

"Not anymore," she managed, her voice breaking huskily. Instead of backing away from her, he pulled back just far enough for his lips to trail off of her skin once more. Somehow, although she was miffed that he'd shut her down, that unexpected return of his lips to her flesh made her breath whistle as it left her mouth in a rush. Then he dared to kiss her again, and this time, she laid into him. If he was going to tease her that way with no intention of giving her relief, she was damned if he was going to get away with it.

Using her position to her advantage, she bucked her hips against him, throwing him off balance enough that she slid off the counter. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she pressed her lithe body against him, allowing him to feel every curve. She was breathless and heady with the heightened emotions that made her joints feel hot. She released him from the kiss, but only long enough to grab one of his hands, drawing his index finger into her mouth. Glaring defiantly up at him, she sucked hard on his finger and watched his reaction with satisfaction. Appeased, she allowed him control of his hand as he dropped himself away from her. Still high from the feel of him, she managed to feel a spark of victory in that last move. By the look in his eyes, she knew he was pleased with himself as well. Call that one a draw then.

He informed her that he would fix her something to eat, and she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, turning away from him as he entered the kitchen. Her lungs felt as if they couldn't expand fully, and she turned toward the fire to pull herself together after that heated encounter. he questioned her about the whereabouts of the pots and pans and, not trusting herself to look him in the eye yet, she waved her hand toward the cabinets behind the stove. "Above the stove," she replied.

She wanted to look at him, but she couldn't. Instead, she squared her shoulders and stepped toward her bedroom. "Go ahead, I'll be back," she murmured almost too quietly for him to hear. Escaping into the bedroom, she didn't turn on the light as she ran toward the window and leaned on the frame, catching her breath. For some stupid reason, she felt winded and she hadn't even done anything. Panting so her breath created a cloud on the window pane, she frowned at herself in the reflection the moon created of her face on the glass. Her cheeks were too red, and her heart was beating too fast. She had to calm down. She'd managed to get herself so worked up by him that she was having a breakdown.

Stop being dramatic, Scout, she admonished herself, You're as bad as Leo. Sighing audibly, she glanced around the moonlit room, her eyes catching sight of a pair of shorts she'd discarded at some point and hadn't bothered to fold and put away. Narrowing her eyes at them, she pulled off her pants and changed into the shorts, the difference in temperature cooling her off instantly. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to count to ten. The sounds of Nixon cooking, oblivious, in the kitchen helped to bring her down. She found she could breathe more easily and she felt the heat leaving her cheeks.

Her heightened awareness around him had served to exhaust her, and she eased herself onto her bed and lay back, her blond hair pooling on the pillows. Closing her eyes, she told herself she would just relax for a moment, make sure she was calmed down from wanting him so badly, and then she would go back out.

Next she realized, it was still dark in the room, but she no longer heard him cooking. Sitting up a bit groggily, she rubbed her eyes and hoped he hadn't found her sleeping and decided to leave. If she couldn't have him physically, then she at least wanted him to be around so she could see him and talk to him.

Grabbing a tie from her dresser, she threw her hair up in a ponytail and wiped her hands down her face to bring some life back to her. Exiting the room, she noticed the fire still going strong and could smell the delicious smell of the food he'd fixed. She must not have slept for long, and she was relieved to see he had stayed while she took a cat nap.

Her face carefully composed now, she advanced to the kitchen and smiled pleasantly at him. "It smells great," she stated, rearranging some papers on the countertop to preoccupy herself. The nap served to ease her sexual frustration, but it was still there. She was glad she'd changed into shorts so the heat in her belly subsided. No other women stayed this heatedly attracted to a man, did they? She'd never felt so many emotions about one person, especially with the physical element added on top of what her heart told her.

Stepping into the kitchen, she leaned over the pots and sniffed deeply, swooning over the delicious smell. "You're not allowed to go home," she announced, dipping her finger into some kind of sauce he'd concocted. Looking pointedly at him as she sucked the sauce from her finger, she smiled playfully. "I am commandeering you to cook for me forever. I can't even boil water without burning it."

tell me that we both matter dont we

TEMPLATE BY: THERE CAN BE ONLY ONE MIKEY ! @ CAUTION.