I Love You, New York

Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone in regards to Criminal Minds; the show and its characters belong to a bunch of people who aren't me. I am merely borrowing the characters for my own amusement. Dance puppets, dance.

This is a very, extremely late birthday/Christmas present for a very dear friend of mine, grand_falloon. She is so wonderful for having to wait so freaking long for her fic. I turned her on to Kool-Aid and she requested some Dave/Emily so I hope you like this. Many, many thanks to Mingsmommy for the super-duper beta work as well as doing a little research on my behalf for the name of fan fic. She is the woman. 'Nuff said.

Morning meetings sucked.

Emily loved her job; truly she did. But when they weren't discussing a profile or going over case the details, the team had a daily meeting to go over the bureaucratic paperwork that went with their work. Reports detailing their unsub profile, geographic profiles, computer searches, apprehension procedures. They essentially created three inch thick files for each case.

The only saving grace at the meetings would be when Garcia was required to join them, like this morning. Always ready with a snappy comment, she managed to make these monotonous times go by faster.

Hotch had just finished going over yet another supplemental form that needed to be filled out when the door swung open, and Erin Strauss walked in without so much as knocking.

There was a brief moment of confusion as the seven of them stared at each other quizzically. Without a hint of irritation, Hotch asked, "Good morning, ma'am. May we help you with something?"

"David Rossi and Emily Prentiss," was all she offered. Frowning slightly, the wrinkles in Emily's forehead only deepened. Meanwhile, Dave's eyebrows climbed up his forehead. At Morgan and Reid's silent stares, Emily shrugged slightly.

Strauss waited a few seconds, but that was all Garcia needed. The tech analyst blurted out, "Who are great profilers for the FBI for four-hundred?" A second later, she slapped a hand over her mouth, realizing she just said that to the unit director.

Palm covering his forehead, Morgan shook his head. JJ and Reid remained tight lipped, as they obviously fought the urge to laugh. Eyes closed, Hotch sighed silently. While expressionless, Dave's eyes danced with amusement. Snorting slightly, Emily barely concealed her grin.

Pursing her lips, Strauss stared at Garcia with sharp eyes for a moment before continuing, "I need to send you two to Columbia University. The psychology department has asked the BAU to make a few presentations concerning career opportunities."

JJ's brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't remember anyone contacting us about that."

"That's because it came directly to me," Strauss replied shortly. "I haven't seen paperwork notifying me of any impending travel so I can send Agents Prestiss and Rossi to New York for a few days." Crossing her arms over her chest, her tone left little room for argument while she watched Hotch carefully.

His face held his usual stoicism. "There are no cases for us right now."

"Good." Looking to Dave and Emily, she said, "You'll be presenting next Wednesday. You will find the details you need to cover in your emails. Be prepared to leave on Tuesday and come back to the office no later than two o' clock Thursday afternoon." She started to move to out of the room before she stopped again. "You'll need to book your own hotel rooms, and the jet will not be available to you, so you'll be driving." With that, she left the room with the door open.

After Reid closed it, Emily fell back in her seat with a huff. It was Thursday, giving them less than a week to prepare to speak. "Why does she do that?"

Without looking up from the files, JJ answered, "The same reasons cats and dogs lick themselves; because she can."

Reid rested his elbows on the arms of the chair. "I'm just glad she finally listened, and isn't sending me."

Emily and Dave shared a discreet glance; so were they. Reid was a great profiler and had more intelligence than he knew what to do with, but being stuck in a vehicle with him and his books on tape was just this side of torture.

"Oh, sweetie," Garcia patted his forearm. "You're not special enough to go to Columbia."

At everyone's stares, she clarified, "Columbia is our malevolent director's alma mater." Garcia waved her hand at the two chosen profilers. "She wants to parade the successful author and ambassador's daughter to the Ivy League masses." Frowning mockingly at Reid, she stuck her lower lip out. "Not another brainiac." To which he smiled good naturedly.

"I'm glad my pretty face has some good use." Closing the folder, Dave leaned back in his chair, eyeing Emily. "New York, New York, we get to be a part of it."

Preparing the presentations was easy enough. Both of them had presented plenty of times before to college students so it was just a matter of fitting in all of Strauss' extra details…well, not all of her requests. The great thing about working with Dave was he had the same view when it came to adding those points; leave them out so there would be plenty of time to answer questions. Fortunately, JJ took care of their hotel accommodations.

They agreed to leave mid-morning on Tuesday so they wouldn't be ensnarled in New York rush hour traffic. Once they obtained their unmarked Dodge Charger (the department didn't provide SUVs for longer road trips), they were on the road.

Since Dave drove, he chose the music, meaning they listened to the Rat Pack and its members' individual songs. He softly sang along, off key and out of tune, but not in an obnoxious sort of way; kind of adorable actually. Emily wondered if he sang the same way at home while he was cooking dinner or in the shower.

"Are you sure you wouldn't kill for these guys?" she teased as Frank Sinatra sang about love and marriage. "Because this appears obsessive."

Turning to her briefly, his face was expressionless. "Just because I have all their CDs, original records, DVDs of their shows does not make me obsessive. I am simply a dedicated fan," he deadpanned. "Why? Do you have a problem with the Rat Pack?"

She shook her head. "No, no, they're fine the first hundred times I've listened to them."

Rolling his eyes, he sighed dramatically. "You know, if you just wanted to listen to your chick music all you had to do was ask."

Sticking her tongue out at him only caused Dave to laugh. But she did take the opportunity to take out his CD and hook up her iPod. She tortured him with a couple of Norah Jones and Sarah McLachlan songs before switching to classic rock. He poked fun at her artists, but never out right insulted her taste in music. He did sigh many times as they drove through the Lincoln Tunnel, making comments they weren't entering New York properly without the classic Frank Sinatra song.

"I'm sure people will forgive us for not playing 'New York, New York'" Emily said with much mock sympathy. "But if you really want it, I think I have the Liza Minnelli version on here."

Stopped at a light, he stared at her with his mouth in a hard line and eye brows drawn together, but one look at his eyes told her he wasn't too upset with her suggestion. "That name is never to be spoken in the same sentence as that song ever again."

"Of course," she replied just as solemnly.

There wasn't too much trouble with traffic as Dave easily maneuvered his way around the city. They arrived at their hotel in the Upper West Side by mid-afternoon. He managed to pull up in front of the Newton Hotel, a moderately sized grey structure that looked very much like the apartment buildings surrounding it.

Opening the trunk, he pulled out both sets of bags. "Go ahead inside. I'm just going to park the car in the garage around the corner."

Emily couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness as she walked with the bellboy to the front desk. For all that he could be a stubborn jackass, Dave sure was a polite stubborn jackass. By the time he made it back to the lobby, she sat in one of the checkered chairs with their key cards.

After a very slow elevator ride, they arrived on fifth floor, their room next door to each other. Inside the small room, she washed up before knocking on his door. They went over the presentation once more, tweaking it slightly.

Once they finished, she glanced at the clock on the wooden nightstand. "It's still early. Did you, maybe, want to get something to eat?" For some reason, she found herself nervous asking him.

"Actually, I got a call from a friend, and he wants me to meet him for dinner tonight."

Disappointment flooded her, but she maintained a neutral expression. "Sure, no problem." Closing her laptop, she stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Once she was out in the hallway, a small pit sat in her stomach. He only turned her down to meet with a friend, but she still felt strangely sad about not spending the evening with him. Shaking her head out of her reverie, she went to put her computer away. Why was she so upset? It wasn't like they needed to spend every minute together on this trip. Falling on the bed, she debated on where to go for dinner. The possibilities were endless: Brother Jimmy's BBQ near Penn Station; Cabana in the Financial District; or Nick's Pizza out in Queens.

Unfortunately she didn't feel like going anywhere so she decided to order Chinese food for dinner. Forty-five minutes later her meal arrived, and she ate sitting on the bed, not really paying attention to the television. After she finished, she headed down to the hotel bar with a crossword puzzle. Emily figured she moped around long enough; it was time to stop being maudlin and move on.

There were only a few people sitting at various dark wood tables in the dimly lit bar. Soft jazz piped in through the speakers, and there was a space cleared in the right corner as a makeshift dance floor, though no one was dancing. She chose a seat near the end of the bar, ordering a whiskey sour.

Sipping the drink, the alcohol burned down her throat, creating welcome warmth in her stomach. The drink and the mellow atmosphere had started to relax her racing mind, but then she noticed a couple at one of the tables. They laughed every now and then, enjoying a nice, easy conversation. When the man covered the woman's hand with his, jealously combined with wistfulness surged through Emily.

She'd just taken a large gulp when a well dressed man sidled up in the stool next to her.

Bracing his forearms on the arm, he leaned toward her. "Hi, there. How are you doing?" He smiled, revealing rows of bright white, even teeth.

"I'm dandy." She turned back to drink, hoping he'd take the hint, but apparently it was an invitation as he signaled the bartender.

"I'm Matt." He stuck out his hand.

"Emily." She managed to refrain from sighing as she shook his hand, finding he lingered just a little too long.

"What brings you to the Big Apple?" He then chuckled to himself. "Wow, I can't believe I just used that line. Was it as cheesy as it sounded?"

Nodding, she deadpanned, "Yeah, pretty much."

His smile widened, highlighting the laugh lines around his mouth. "Let me try that again. Is this your first time in New York City?"

She cocked her head. "You are really bad at this."

Shaking his head in disgust, he huffed. "I guess so." He opened his hands in surrender. "Can you help a guy out?"

Sighing, she debated for a moment if she wanted to keep talking to this guy or to drop him like a hot potato. For all that she profiled people, when it came to men flirting with her, she was clueless. He seemed nice, and didn't show any signs of hiding a girlfriend or wife. Besides, she didn't have obligations with anyone tonight.

Licking her lips, the corner of her mouth lifted. "I've actually been to New York several times before. I'm just here for work for a couple of days."

Matt pointed to himself. "Same here. I'm closing a deal on computer sale to a local business." He took a sip of the neat scotch the bartender had set in front of him a few moments before. "What do you do?"

Ah, the question with the inevitable response that sent most men running for the hills. She took a fortifying breath. "I'm a FBI agent."

Instead of being freaked out, his eyebrows actually rose in interest. "No kidding. What division are you in? Computer crimes? Domestic Violence?"

Mentally rolling her eyes, she gripped her glass a little harder. If they weren't intimidated, men thought women FBI agents did little field work or were never involved in tracking terrorists or serial killers. David Rossi at least never treated the women in the BAU less than the other the male agents.

"Actually, I'm with the BAU." At his furrowed brow, she explained, "Behavioral Analysis Unit. I help catch serial killers."

"So you're like…one of those profilers? You can tell what color the killer's socks are from the crime scene."

She shrugged. "Yeah, something like that." Then she prepared herself for his next questions: Do you carry a gun? Are there serial killers in the bar? How about you profile me? But he actually surprised her.

"Do you have a psychology background then?"

Taken aback, Emily blinked for a moment. "Um, yeah. My college degree was in psychology."

"I always thought that abnormal psych stuff was interesting, but I was a business major," he told her. "I wanted to take some psych electives, but they interfered with the lit classes I took."

Her curiosity piqued, she slowly asked, "What kind of lit classes?"

Ducking his head, he smiled; that toothpaste commercial kind of smile. Nothing crooked or misshapen about it. And for some reason she didn't like it. "Contemporary American authors. I only took it because they did a two week study on Kurt Vonnegut."

"You're a Vonnegut fan?" She was genuinely surprised.

"Let me put it this way, I pre-ordered the book his son released three months in advanced."

That was all she needed to let her inner nerd out. They spent the next twenty minutes discussing all of Vonnegut's books and writings. For once, she conversed with an actual human being (instead of online) about Breakfast of Champions.

When she finished geeking out about Slaughter House 5, Matt reached hand toward hers, but didn't touch her fingers. "Do you want to go grab a cup of coffee and talk some more?"

Before she could even think about it, Emily blurted, "No, thank you."

What?! Her mind screamed. This guy didn't runaway when you told him you worked for the FBI and he loves Vonnegut. But she didn't want to go with him. She, for some unknown, mystic reason, wasn't attracted to Matt.

Maybe it had to do with his flawless smile, or that his eyes were just a little too green and not the color of dark roasted coffee. His voice, while pleasant, didn't have the low, slight Italian lilt she craved.

Peering at the clock at the wall, Matt looked back to her. "It's not that late. We can be back here before midnight."

Shaking her head, she pushed her drink back. "I have to be up early tomorrow."

"How about I meet you for lunch? I can be up here by twelve-thirty."

"I…don't get a long lunch break."

But he kept persisting. "Dinner then. I know a great little Greek place a few blocks from here. We can meet out in the lobby."

She pulled out some bills, laying them on the bar. "That's a really nice offer, but I'm…no thank you."

"Oh, c'mon." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "We were having a really nice conversation. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't continue it."

"I'm right here," a voice behind them said.

Turning slightly, she found Dave standing there. He placed his arm around her shoulders, and before she knew it, he kissed her on the cheek, lingering long enough to make it clear he wasn't just a friend. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting, sweetheart. The dinner meeting ran over." He didn't bother offering a hand when he spoke to Matt. "David Rossi."

Matt waved a finger between them. "You two are…?"

"Yes." Dave pulled her so close, that her cheek had brushed against his chest. If that wasn't enough, the possessiveness in his tone left no room for question.

"Are you a FBI agent too?" He probably didn't mean to, but Matt visibly swallowed.

Dave straightened his shoulders. "I am. I had to meet with some colleagues earlier that unfortunately took me away for the evening." Looking down to Emily, the corner of lip lifted into that adorably crooked grin. "But maybe she'll let me make it up to her with a dance."

Blinking, she looked at him with a puzzled expression, but he merely quirked an eyebrow at her. It was an act, a ruse.

"Yeah…yes," she finally answered. "That sounds nice."

She allowed Dave to lead her to the small dance floor, leaving a confused computer salesman at the bar, staring in disbelief.

Placing his arm around her waist, he pulled her close against his body. They had never been this close before, and the heat of him made her head swim.

Trying to regain some control, she huffed. "You didn't have to do that, you know. I could have handled that guy."

He led them in small circle. "I know. I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to ditch me for Hunky Joe there."

She knew he didn't mean ditch him personally, but that he'd referred to their presentation. "Yeah, well if you hadn't shown up when you did, you'd be in front of all those college students alone tomorrow."

"I think your admirer is still hoping for that." Dave inclined his head toward the direction of the bar.

Looking over her shoulder briefly, she saw Matt still sitting there, absently watching the two of them. "I guess he just can't take a hint," she said, facing Dave again. And the next thing she knew her mind went blank as he kissed her.

His mouth felt soft and warm against hers. And he tightened his arms around her ever so slightly. Just her hand crept up to the nape of his neck, he pulled back.

"I think he got the hint now," he said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Swallowing, she saw Matt toss some money on the bar before he quickly walked out. Turning back to Dave, she hoped he didn't notice her cheeks as she felt herself flush.

Dave shook his head as he widened the space between them. "Sometimes you just got to be blunt."

She finally closed her open jaw. "Of-of course," she barely managed.

Gesturing his hand to the exit, he stepped back. "Shall we?"

Nodding absently, she walked with him to the elevator. As they rode up, Emily had to force herself to stare straight ahead. She tried to concentrate on everything except how his goatee had tickled against her face or how his lips faintly tasted of powdered sugar and coffee. Mainly though, she wanted to forget her heart fluttering and the wonderful way her stomach flipped…

Because it had been an act, a ruse, a ploy; a simple stunt to fool an insistent guy at the bar. There was no other meaning behind it. So really she should stop thinking about how fantastic it would be to be kissed like that again and again by Dave.

Stopping in front of their rooms, Emily pulled out her key card. "There. You made sure I got to my room so now you won't be Strauss' show dog alone."

That smile highlighted the lines around his eyes. "Good thing too. I didn't want to pass out from stage fright." He opened his door. "Good night."

"Good night." She went in, wondering how it would be to see that smile when she first woke up in the morning.

Falling on the bed, she buried her face in the pillow. A hoax, a trick, a con...

The next morning Emily found herself downstairs waiting for Dave again. She'd awakened early with a spring in her step. Humming quietly, she read the newspaper while tapping her fingers against the arm of the chair.

Before she could stop herself, Dave had stopped in front of her. "Well, someone is having a great morning. Maybe I should have left you with Hunky Joe."

Scowling, she threw the paper onto the end table. "Are you ready?"

Even though it was cool outside, the sun shone brightly. They decided to walk the mile to the university. When they entered the psychology building, he placed his hand at the small of her back, guiding her through the crowded hallways. Her muscles tensed under his light touch. Instead of a classroom, they were assigned to one of the auditoriums.

Walking down the stairs, Emily shook head at the rows and rows of empty seats. "It looks there will be plenty of room for your groupies."

"I guess Strauss knew Barry Manilow wasn't going to be in town."

She chuckled as they reached the bottom where a large desk sat. "How many times have you spoken to large groups?"

His briefcase on the desk, he pulled out a set of index cards he made for the presentation. "A few, but I've never filled rooms like this to capacity."

"Why's that?"

He shrugged. "I don't usually present with an intelligent, beautiful woman so maybe my luck will change."

Eyes cast downward, her stomach flipped again. Why did she always have these reactions to his just simply nice compliments?

She didn't have time to contemplate it as a student came through another set of doors with a school laptop, hooking it up to the projector. After setting up their Power Point slides, the main doors opened, and students filed inside.

The room stayed filled with interested undergraduates all day. She and Dave worked fluidly together. It was after four when they finished their last presentation. A few people lingered in the room, but no one else had approached them so they started to pack up.

As they gathered leftover brochures and sample applications, a beautiful woman walked toward them, causing Dave to slow down his movements. She had long, sleek black hair, and fit perfectly into the expensive clothes she wore. When Dave gave her his full attention, she smiled brightly.

"You did fantastic as usual, Mr. Rossi," she greeted.

Smiling, he held out his hand. "You haven't heard enough good public speakers then. And please, call me Dave." The woman shook his hand, placing her other hand over their joined palms. That combined with the fact she held on for several seconds caused Emily's blood pressure to rise.

When the woman finally let go, Dave gestured to Emily. "Theresa, this is my colleague, Emily Prentiss. Emily, this is Theresa Miller. She owns several book stores in Cleveland where she has graciously allowed me to promote my books."

Plastering on a fake smile, Emily said hello. Theresa merely inclined her head before turning back to Dave. "Oh, Dave, you know how much I enjoy having you at my stores."

He ignored the comment, casting a sheepish expression towards Emily. "So what brings you to New York?"

"Oh, I was in town talking to some authors and editors I know, and I heard you were going to be here." Theresa's mouth lifted into a grin. "And I thought I'd drop by and say hi."

Emily turned her head just so she could roll her eyes. It was disgusting how some women could be so blatantly obvious; Theresa might as well get it over with and strip down for him.

Of course it was also disgusting how men fell for that stuff. The corner of Dave's mouth lifted into a smile and he blinked several times. A heavy ache sat in the bottom of Emily's stomach. It was everything she could do to force a pleasant expression.

"Thank you. It's nice to see you again." he answered.

Tilting her head, she shifted herself closer. "It is always nice to see you, Dave." Then she innocently proposed, "Listen, if you're finished up here I thought maybe I could take you out to dinner. Maybe discuss any upcoming book promotions." She enthusiastically opened her hands. "I know the perfect little Italian place that serves the best lasagna."

Or maybe discuss how I'd like to invite to my hotel room for the night, Emily bitterly thought. And from the looks of it, he didn't seem adverse to the idea. She crossed her arms to hide her balled up fists. Her insides burned hot with embarrassment and jealously. She'd gotten too wrapped up in that damn fake kiss. Her heart was really more trouble than it was worth.

It felt like junior high again when the cute, popular boy asked Emily's friend to the dance, and not her. Well, she had no desire to relive that moment again. Hastily, she started to shove papers back into the folders. She may be able to stand up to most feared killers in the country, but when it came to facing a man who wasn't interested, she just couldn't do it.

"I'll take these back to hotel," she offered with what she hoped was a cheerful tone. "You guys can head out."

Theresa's smug expression intensified the pain and defeat. As Emily pushed everything into her messenger bag, she tried to ignore Dave's furrowed brow. He probably just felt bad that he was leaving her alone…again.

"Emily-" he started, but she stopped.

"It's fine." She heaved a breath, waving absently. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it; I'm sure I can find something to do."

She didn't allow him to say anything else as she heaved her bag over her shoulder started out of the room. Anger fueled her heavy steps. Once she got out of the auditorium, she took the first door out of the building, heading away from the school. When she got to the street, she caught a cab, directing the driver to Shake Shack. The restaurant was known for their milkshakes, and she couldn't think of a better way to drown her sorrows.

Sitting at a table, Emily sipped continuously at a very large chocolate milkshake while silently berating herself. Idiot, idiot, idiot. It was that damn kiss; had he just kissed her cheek, she would've fine. Okay, maybe not completely fine, but she would've been able to compartmentalize better.

But that fucking kiss on the lips had scrambled her brains. She couldn't keep one of those happy, warm emotions in a box because she was too busy reliving them. And now she had practically run away to hide in a burger joint, trying to determine the best way to strand Theresa Miller in the South Bronx. Just thinking about the woman made her teeth grind. Enough so that she braved the long line to order another milkshake.

Finishing up, Emily threw away the trash before heading outside, but not before getting just one more milkshake. She considered going to a bar, but she knew it would take at least three full bottles of tequila to forget last night and today. Riding, hung over, in a car tomorrow would be hell (not mention drinking alcohol on top of three milkshakes). Besides, the muscles in her arm hurt from lugging the bag of brochures around so she headed back to the hotel.

As she slipped the keycard in the lock, she heard someone say her name. It startled her so badly, she instinctively reached for the gun in her jacket pocket.

"Jesus, Emily. It's just me," Dave scolded.

Dropping her arm to the side, her breath rushed out. "You just popped out of nowhere; what the hell did you expect?" He followed her inside. Crossing the room, she turned on the lamp, and realization hit her. "Where is Theresa?" If that woman was waiting next door, Emily would shoot him.

He smiled smugly. "Probably in a bar in SoHo, drowning her sorrows. After you left, I spent ten minutes trying to convince her I didn't want to go to dinner with her."

"Ah." She couldn't suppress the surge of glee. "So is that the reason you Apparated into the hallway?"

"Apparated?"

She shook her head; either she was a really nerdy or he was the only man (besides Reid) to have never read Harry Potter. "Never mind."

"Well…" he started almost nervously, rubbing his beard. "I wanted to see why you took off earlier."

Shrugging, her face remained neutral. "I just thought you just wanted to spend some time alone with her."

He pursed his lips in thought. "So it had nothing to do with jealously?"

Sputtering for s few moments, she finally managed to huff, "I was not jealous of any one."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? Because when she came down, you stood straighter, you had your arms crossed over your chest, and then you took off. All protection mechanisms." He walked closer to her. "Since Theresa wasn't wielding a machete, I would say you protection instincts were aroused by something else....something more emotional."

She mentally slapped her forehead. The man had been married three times and had plenty of relationships; of course he knew the signs of an envious woman. "And because of that you thought I was jealous?"

When he nodded, she laughed for a moment. "Wow. Don't flatter yourself, Rossi."

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he gave her a long stare. "You didn't feel quite this detached last night when you were kissing me."

"What? Wait a minute." Emily shook her head as if to clear it. "You kissed me. And we both know it was to get rid of that guy in the bar."

"Is that what you really think?"

She threw up her hands. "Of course! Why else would you just kiss me…?" She trailed off as she looked into his rich brown eyes, finding her answer. Her stomach dropped somewhere in the vicinity in the soles of her feet. "You-you mean…"

Looking down briefly, he admitted, "Yeah."

Never did one little word have so meaning. One syllable told her everything she needed to know, everything she wanted and fantasized about. Absolute bliss expanded in her until she felt so light, she might float away with the breeze.

She stood there, staring at him in a dream like trance until another realization hit her. "So you kissed me in the bar…because you really wanted to kiss me."

His expression turned sheepish. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Taking advantage of that situation is a pretty jackass thing to do," she told him, her voice full of affection.

"I never claimed to be less than that." He stood in front of her.

"But you did it because you're a big chicken so I suppose I can forgive you," she teased.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, he brought her close. "I am a lot of things, but chicken is not one of them."

At his scowl, she started in a sing-song voice, "David is a chicken, David is a chicken, Dav-" but then she was cut off by his lips pressing against hers. And this time she didn't have to convince herself it didn't mean anything.

One hand cupping the back of her head, his other arm tightened around her waist. As for her, Emily couldn't keep hands from touching him him. Even through the jacket, she felt the firm muscles of his back. Her fingers traveled up to the nape of his where she massaged the skin there over and over.

His beard prickled against her chin in the most pleasant way. He smelled of expensive cologne, good scotch, and something she couldn't quite place; something uniquely David. When he teased his tongue along the seam of her lips, she had enough brain power left to open her mouth to him. He moaned as their tongues touched for the first time, the sound vibrating across her lips. Her knees nearly melted while he gently, yet thoroughly kissed her.

After what felt like a delicious eternity, he pulled back, his lips never leaving her skin. He pressed his mouth along her jaw before moving down to her neck. Her nerves continued to tingle as he alternated between nuzzling and kissing the flesh. Titling her head, she buried her hand in his hair, completely in love with its texture. The tips of her fingers gently scraped through his scalp.

He brought his head up for one more lingering kiss before he rested his forehead against hers. Their heavy breaths intermingled.

"I should probably go," he huskily whispered.

Swallowing heavily, Emily's eyes fluttered open. "You don't want to stay?" she asked, trying to keep the hurt out of her voice.

Shaking his head vehemently, Dave tightened his grip on her waist. "No, sweetheart. I really want to stay. I just…" He paused for a moment. Then in a low voice, "I want…I don't want you to think that…that I'm using you because we're alone on this trip."

Smiling widely, she let out a small sob. Her heart nearly burst from happiness. He wanted to wait; wait until they arrived back in Quantico where he would have to drive across town to see her. Wait until they would have to face the complexities of being co-workers in a relationship. For the first time in years, she felt desired and cherished.

She pressed her lips to his chin before kissing softly along his jaw. When she reached his ear, she murmured, "I don't think you're using me." Her tongue flicked against his lobe. "Please stay tonight, Dave."

He didn't say anything, turning his head to kiss her again, gently and deeply. She worked her hands up his chest to push his jacket off his shoulders. When it slipped off, she went to drop the clothing on the floor, but he took it from her, tossing the jacket in the direction of the chairs. She giggled against his mouth; always the neat freak.

Slowly, she unbuttoned his midnight blue dress shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He pulled back to watch as her shaking hands explored his skin for the first time. His heart hammered under her palms as she traveled over his soft chest hair down to the little paunch around his stomach. He groaned as she touched him over and over.

His hands slipped beneath her sweater, and she nearly jumped at his feather like touch. His finger tips skimmed her sides as he lifted the material over head. For a moment, his gaze swept over her. "Beautiful," he sighed.

Reaching behind her, he unclasped her bra. He brushed one of the straps away, placing a kiss on the slightly red indentation on her shoulder. With the bra completely removed, he skimmed up her sides again until he cupped the warm weight of her breasts. She shuddered under his large, gentle hands. Taking her back into his arms, he planted wet kisses on her neck. His mouth traveled over her collar bone, between her breasts, and down to her stomach. Dave had always put one-hundred percent of himself into his job, focusing all of his energy on even the tiniest of details. To have all of that energy concentrated on her, was completely overwhelming.

As he kneeled down, she heard a soft popping sound from his knees. He brushed his goatee over the flesh of her stomach, causing her to nearly jump. He did it again, getting the same reaction.

"Stop!" she protested with a laugh.

"A bit ticklish I see," he chuckled against her skin.

Gripping his shoulders tightly, the button of her slacks pooped open as he continued to worship her with his mouth. She stepped out of them, losing herself in his ministrations until he stopped. Looking down, she found out why, her mouth dropping open in embarrassment. Oh God, Oh God, Oh God…

"You have ladybugs on your panties," he stated matter-of-factly.

Oh God. It was worse to hear the words out loud. Closing her eyes, her cheeks burned red hot. She groaned, but not in a good way. "Yes," she finally, but very reluctantly admitted, making him chuckle again. Of all days, she had to wear the white ones decorated with the little red insects. It seemed like a good idea at the time she bought them; after all they were on clearance

Rising to his feet, he kissed the shell of her ear, whispering, "I like you and your ladybugs."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him hot and fierce. The remainder of their clothes ended up in a pile on the floor. They tumbled onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and skin.

His solid, warm body surrounded her completely. Her hands glided over his back to the firm, muscular curve of his ass. His mouth was hot and wet over her breast, and she arched her back when he teased her nipple with his tongue. Brushing his knuckles over her stomach, his fingers grazed between her legs. The intensity of his touch caused her to cry out. He continued to stroke her until she couldn't take any more of the delicious torture.

"Jesus, David," she hissed breathlessly, clinging to him. Then her eyes widened with panic. "Oh, please tell me you have a condom."

He barely managed a nod. "In my wallet." He leaned over, fumbling with his jeans until he produced the foil packet. Feeling a surge of boldness, she plucked the condom from him. As she slowly rolled it on him, he went completely still, breathing in short pants.

Rising over her, he held himself up on his forearms, framing her face. His eyes never left hers as his hips pushed forward, filling her completely. He held there for a moment, before he finally started to move. Their breathing fell into the same rhythm with his long, slow thrusts.

The weight of him around her and in her, the way he let his nipples graze her own, his hot breath on her neck; it was better than any of her fantasies. Her hands moved all over his back, loving the feel of his muscles flexing. When she tightened her legs around him, he sped up his pace, grinding his hips against hers.

Her insides ached with the need for release that she thought she might pass out. His stomach grew rigid, and she knew he was close. Pressing harder with the next thrust sent Emily falling over the edge, a myriad of bright colors flashing through the corners of her eyes. Calling out her name, Dave remained buried inside of her as he throbbed over and over.

Trying to catch his breath, he rested his head on her chest. After a few moments he took care of the condom, and then tried to move to the other side of the bed, but she pulled him back.

"Em, I'm probably crushing you." His voice vibrated against her sternum.

She snorted. "You'd know it if you were crushing me."

He remained there a little longer before he rolled off, bringing her with him. The sound of his steady heartbeat and the rhythm of his fingers running through her hair lulled her until she almost fell asleep. Her lids had just slipped shut when she heard him whisper, "Emily?"

"Yeah?" she breathed.

"I'm falling asleep." His cheek rested on the top of her head. "May I stay?"

Rising on her elbow, she didn't say anything as she shut off the lamp above the bed. In the peaceful darkness, they slipped under the warm sheets. She snuggled back down on his chest, feeling both of his arms wrap securely around her.

"Always the gentleman," she mumbled.

"I never claimed to be anything less."

It had to be a dream. That was the only explanation for it because there was no way she spent a beautiful night with David Rossi. She'd just had some wonderfully vivid dream. And when she would open her eyes, Emily would find herself alone, in her hotel room.

But on the edge of becoming fully conscious, she realized she was naked under the sheets; she never slept without pajamas. Also her cheek was pressed against something warm and solid. But the soft snoring sound finally caused her eyes to peel open. Even in the darkness, she still blinked in disbelief. It wasn't a dream; she really had spent the night with Dave.

He was still here; he was still here. Snuggling closer to him, she grinned idiotically. Her smile grew even wider when he pulled her closer.

"I didn't go anywhere," his sleep addled voice told her.

Her brow furrowed. "I didn't say that you did."

"Yeah, but you thought it."

Huffing, she poked him in the stomach. He took her hand, kissing fingers. "What time is it?"

She barely raised her head off of his chest to see the clock. "It's a little after eight."

Tangling their legs together, he blew out a breath. "We should probably get up soon."

"Probably," she agreed, burrowing her head further into him. Though, she wasn't quite ready to let go of this moment just yet.

They lingered in bed for a while longer before Dave finally nudged her to get up. After he put on his clothes, he gave her a slow, sweet kiss. When he pulled back, he smiled that crooked smile, and her heart swelled.

"Give me twenty minutes, and I'll be ready." His knuckles brushed against her cheek before he left the room.

After Emily showered and repacked, she found herself nervously wringing her hands. It overwhelmed her to go from being alone to getting what she had always wanted in one night. They hadn't really discussed anything so she didn't know what she was supposed to do or what he was going to do.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. She opened it to find Dave there, smelling of fresh soap, looking handsome as ever. A bellboy stood off to the side with a gold luggage trolley.

"Ready to go?"

Nodding silently, she slung her messenger bag over her shoulder, Dave pickup her suitcase, placing it on the cart. As the two of them followed them the bellboy to the elevators, he grabbed her hand. He remained quiet, but smiled at her and she returned the expression.

They held hands through the lobby, up to the concierge desk. Exiting the hotel, he squeezed her palm. "I'm going to grab the car."

A few minutes later, he pulled up in the Charger. After tipping the bellboy, they were on the road again, the Hudson River rolling by them.

Popping in a CD, he hummed loudly to opening bars to "New York, New York." But then he stopped, staring at her briefly.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he smirked, shaking his head. "You were just singing along."

"Oh." She blushed. "Well, that's because it's a catchy song."

"I'm going to make you a Sinatra fan yet," he said with an air of arrogance.

"Well, we do have a four and a half drive."

He grunted. "That and I have the rest of his CDs at home along with some recorded shows to watch."

Secretly pleased, she rolled here eyes. "I can hardly wait."

The End