Hi, remember this fanfic? Yes, I'm continuing it! Lol Here's the next chapter, somewhat short, but I didn't want to go into mature land, it'd only force me to change the rating and hopefully this is still T rated.

Please, review it if you like. Reviews make me happy! And right now I'm so unhappy with the ways things are going on this show that fanfics and reviews are the only things left.

Other than that thank you for all the reviews and alerts I got!

This is unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine.

7. Can't quit a habit like you.

The mini dress she had been wearing barely covered anything.

He had become used to men turning their heads to give her a second look as she passed; she didn't have the stereotyped Hollywood beauty: skinny as hell, blond, baby blues, full lips, the extra bra size, but the looks of somebody who was born with confidence and natural beauty, who had the right curves in the right places in the right sizes, whose dark curly hair could look bad in some days and perfect in others, whose smile reached her eyes as easily and often as breathing; one eye black with a birthmark that was so uniquely hers, the other hazel on some days, and just as black as it twin in others (particularly when she was pissed off, or turned on, both of which he had been on the receiving end of quite a few times). And then there was the charm.

There was something about her that made people turn and look, that made people like her as if she had known them forever; that made men fall at her feet as if she was the woman right out of their fantasies, as if she was perfect in all her imperfections; a never ending siren's song calling to them.

He had tried to believe that it wasn't just her charm she was using on him, or that it was even the same charm she used on all men, that there was something special between them, that it that made it different, unique; then he had cursed himself for thinking just that. Strangely enough, sex with Kensi made him think, even if it wasn't at the right moment (or even the right thing most of the time). As she straddled his lap her dress had hiked up almost to her waist and his hands sneaked under what was left of it, fingers finding the edge of her panties and tugging at them.

He had been included in the general male population that had to stop and stare, especially when she was wearing a little nothing like the one from that night, especially when he hadn't been alone in the car while they watched her every move, especially when he was starting to get used to having her body pressed against his.

She had tried to pull her dress over her head and the steering wheel had dug at her back, making her groan in frustration. "Too tight," she had said, but did nothing to move away; instead she had grabbed the front of his jeans, unbuckling his belt and giving up on doing anything else because there was no room to move and he had refused to stop kissing her just then.

He had learned the front of his car was a difficult place for sex and took a lot of flexibility to get the task done, but she had sat on the passenger seat all flushed cheeks and trembling hands and long legs and a dress that covered less than it showed; he had his hands on her and was pulling her towards him before he could realize what he was doing and she hadn't argued.

They were both too tense and the adrenaline of the job running fast in their blood streams.

The job was supposed to be simple: get in the club, identify the gang leader, interact, bring him out, make the arrest; except other than Kensi entering the club and identifying the man, everything had gone wrong.

The moment he heard bullet shots his heart had sunk and his breath had caught and even though Kensi was too good of an agent to get herself shot, there was still that bit of worry that kicked his ribs and squeezed his chest; there were always what ifs and possibilities and that small percentage that couldn't be ignored.

They had stormed in immediately, Deeks, Sam and Callen himself, guns ready but what they found was nothing but short of funny; even though the situation gave him an adrenaline high, it was only after he saw Kensi wiping her hair off her face safe and unscathed that he left relief wash over him and the situation sink in: there she was, in a dress so short he cringed every time she walked, holding her gun firmly in one hand, the two guys they were looking for shot dead, and she still looked perfect.

No matter how much he liked and respected Sam, there was a reason she was his favorite agent and she proved that time and again.

It was later in his car that he had realized how the situation had affected her, how scared she had been in that split second between their bullets and hers and that he hadn't been the only one in fear.

"I thought of you," she had said once they were in his car and the silence had stretched for some minutes. She had shrugged as if it wasn't anything really important, as if she was telling him about the weather. "When Cortez shot the first bullet and I was sure it would hit me square in the chest." She had been too close to Mario Cortez, drug leader and murderer, sitting by his side as he slid his hand up her leg, making the same journey he had done so many times. "I thought that it'd hurt like hell but at least we'd have matching scars."

He had to laugh at the absurdity of what she said, the absurdity of the thought she had just before she thought she'd be done for, then he had just grabbed her waist and pulled her towards him as he kissed her with a desperation he had never felt before.

The need was thick and strong and it blinded him to the situation and when she tugged at his jeans in frustration he had lifted, making her head bump against the ceiling of the car, and she giggled.

She giggled, and he groaned.

"You're being so unhelpful," she had said, the laughter on the corners of her mouth as she unbuttoned his shirt.

"Mmhmm, like you're really helping," he had said back, taking his lips away from the skin of her neck only long enough to utter the words, his hands sliding up her waist, brushing against her ribs until they finally found the cups that held her breasts in place under the strapless dress. It made her lose track of what she had been doing because her hands had stilled somewhere between his pants and underwear and her lips rested against his neck as she let out the tiniest of sounds and he smiled.

He tried to ignore the fact he was acting recklessly, that what he was doing would lead them down a destructive path, that if it didn't end right, it'd end in the worst possible kind of mess, resulting in him losing her forever, even as a friend. But she felt good, whatever they had felt good and no matter how wrong the whole thing was, there was one thing he couldn't ignore no matter how much he tried: he was happy for the first time in a long time.

Tbc.