Chapter Twelve

"No strolling in together."

"Yes, boss."

"No PDAs or other inappropriate behavior during work hours."

"Yes, boss."

"No moony eyes across the bullpen."

"No, ma'am."

"Absolutely no one outside of the team finds out."

"We promise."

"No couple-y lunches or making out when you think no one's looking."

"Absolutely not."

"Not one single act of over-protectiveness in dangerous situations."

"Okay."

"Leave every night in separate cars, no matter what."

"Will do."

"I want you two behaving so indifferently that I forget you're even together. Got it?"

"Got it, ma'am."

Lisbon exhaled slowly and tried to think of more no-no's as Van Pelt and Rigsby sat contritely in front of her desk. Their heads were lowered in submission, their eyes moving between her and the floor. They never once looked at each other. They sat frozen in their chairs like kids in the principal's office. Lisbon regarded them closely as she sat back in her chair. When she was eleven years old, a boy named Tim Reilly had been teasing her across the playground, yelling to everyone about her ugly pigtails. She'd been so angry that she picked up a rock the size of a marble and threw it at him. He'd been thirty feet away, she'd never expected to hit him. That was one thing she learned about herself as she grew older; she had fantastic aim. She hit Timmy right between the eyes. Bam! That kid went down like a sack of potatoes, clutching his bleeding face and screaming like a banshee. Looking at her agents now, she suddenly remembered that incident and how she'd behaved when called to the office. Terrified, contrite and woefully sorry…sorry that she'd been caught.

She smirked despite herself.

Her agents hadn't been caught, but they knew they would have been on borrowed time if they'd attempted to hide their relationship. She applauded them for biting the bullet, at the very least. She never would have about the rock.

At last, she let her face soften. "Guys?"

They both looked up.

She gave them a tiny, disputable smile. "I'm happy for you."

They gave her two hesitant, relieved smiles in return.

Her face went stony again. No getting mushy here. "Now get out. I'll inform Cho about this. And if you mess this up in any way, I'll personally hand your asses to you."

"Yes, boss," they replied in unison as the hastily stood up and ran for the door.

When it clicked shut behind them, Lisbon finally allowed herself to smile. "Good luck, you crazy kids."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Monday 6:47PM

They left in separate cars, as per instructed.

They'd spent the rest of the day with their eyes surgically glued to their desks. Even Jane gave them a break, keeping his teasing to a minimum. Lisbon had called him and Cho into her office and made it official. Rigsby and Van Pelt are dating, now let us never speak of it again. Jane smiled at her and Cho grunted with total and utter disinterest. There. Everyone was up to speed and they could go about their jobs like the rest of the building. Rigsby and Grace kept their meek postures for the rest of the day, secretly elated but determined to show Lisbon they could follow orders. The end of the day brought their ability to talk to each other, but first they had to get home.

Rigsby sent an email to her as he was leaving, never looking over once.

My turn. W

Grace smirked and deleted the message immediately, then went into her deleted folder and erased it permanently from her account. Anyone looking for proof of their relationship wouldn't find it with her. No siree. The screen recycled and the little envelope disappeared forever. It's not like she'd need to reread it or anything. Despite its vagueness, she'd understood. His turn, meaning his place. They'd spent all weekend at her house, now he wanted her in his.

He got up and left without a backwards glance. Grace felt her heart skip watching him leave, his broad back and thick arms undulating with his gait. She immediately imagined him as a shark, all muscle and power, his size and strength allowing him to move slowly. Fluidly. The other people in the office unconsciously parted for him as he sauntered to the elevator. Tuna knew when to move out of the way.

Grace made herself sit in her seat and finish her report for Lisbon. It wasn't urgent, she could have easily finished and submitted it the next day, but she wanted Lisbon to know. She was there to work, dammit. Twenty-three minutes after Rigsby had left, Grace shut everything down, left the building, got in her car, and drove. She was mighty pleased with herself. She didn't run once.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Rigsby's apartment was dark when she walked up to the door. She cocked her head and raised her hand hesitantly to knock. Had she misunderstood after all? But her hand never made contact with the door, as it opened suddenly and another hand shot out and grabbed hers, dragging her inside. She yelped and laughed as Rigsby slammed the door behind her, cupped her head and pulled her in for a deep kiss.

She broke away, still laughing. "Hey! No kissing."

He beamed at her and trapped her in his arms. "No moony eyes."

"No PDAs." She grabbed his ass and pulled him tightly against her.

"Hey! No inappropriate behavior." He tsked her as his hands slid up to palm her breasts.

Grace hummed and pushed into his touch. "No over-protectiveness."

Rigsby sighed as his hands slid lower. "Damn. What are we allowed to do?"

"Well," Grace smirked. "She didn't say I couldn't follow you home and rip your clothes off."

She pushed him back, following him as he stepped backwards down his hallway. His eyes raised up as he thought back to their meeting. "You're right, I don't recall that being on the list."

Her hands were already pulling his tie loose. She threw it on the floor as they continued to walk, starting on his shirt buttons next. Grace didn't glance up as she said, "She also didn't forbid me from licking every inch of you," she paused and looked at him flirtingly. "Just as long as I don't kiss you."

Rigsby groaned softly. "Bad girl," he murmured, his hands on her hips. His back met his bedroom door. He gave it a swift mule kick and it flew open. She pulled his shirt off him and tugged impatiently at his tee shirt. "Good girl," she corrected as he pulled his shirt over his head. She instantly swooped in and licked across his chest. He moaned and began to roughly paw at her clothes, too impatient to look for buttons and zippers. She moved her mouth lower, following the slight indentation from his sternum to his navel. She reached for his belt, unbuckling it and pushing it open before she opened his fly. Her tongue dipped into his bellybutton as she pushed his pants open.

"Grace, no," he bit out, wanting her to stop so he could undress her, but powerless to do anything but gently stroke her hair as she lit his body on fire.

She gave him a look that told him he was in trouble, as she pushed his boxers down, his erection spilling into her waiting hand. "No, Wayne? No what?"

She gripped him hard and slowly pumped him, her warm hand sliding up and down as she waited for his answer.

He groaned loudly. "No, let me…I want…"

She gripped him harder. His words turned into a gasping noise of pleasure. She continued to pump him as she came forward and licked the tip. Whatever objections he had were lost in a stream of yes's and cursing. Grace smiled with satisfaction before she moved her hands to his hips and slid him firmly into her mouth. Yes!

Oh God, she loved his taste. She loved how her mouth barely fit around him. She loved the sounds that poured out of him as she slowly pulled him in and out, swirling her tongue over every inch. She loved him. So much. And now he was hers. Completely. No hiding required, just discretion. They got to keep their jobs and each other. Her inner muscles clamped down hard at the thought as she continued to work him. I get to keep him. She sucked him in as far as he would go.

"Grace, please…let me…oh, god…let me touch you…I need you…Please?...ah, Jesus…"

She released him and stood up. He wasted no time. He yanked her shirt up and off before pulling her against him and kissing her deeply. His tongue slid into her mouth and dueled with hers. The little moan she gave him had him ripping at her pants. She helped him get them open, down and off her legs, taking his off as well while she bent down. Clad in her bra and panties, Grace threw herself against the naked man in front of her, peppering his face and chest with kisses.

"I can't believe it," she murmured between kisses. "I can keep you."

He stilled under her lips.

Rigsby cupped her shoulders and pushed her back from him gently. The tenderness in his expression nearly killed her. She moved to hold him again, but he held her away. He opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated and closed it again. She made herself calm down and gently ran her nails over his arms. They had time, after all.

"What is it, Wayne?" She gave him an encouraging smile.

His eyes were kaleidoscopes of emotion. When he spoke, his voice came out in a whisper.

"You want to keep me."

It was a statement, yet Grace sensed a question. She continued to smile. "If you'll have me," she answered.

Rigsby gave a disbelieving huff. "If I'll have you? If I…?" He cut himself off and lowered his head, trying to find the words. Grace pushed passed his arms and moved into his chest. She brought her arms around his back and hugged him.

"Tell me what you're thinking, baby. Wasn't this our plan? Lisbon allowed us to be together, and here we are." She reached up and raked her fingers through his hair, knowing how much he liked it. "What's going on in there?"

His eyes closed as sparks ran through his scalp nerves, her nails leaving tingles in their wake. He was trying so hard not to kill the mood, but he had to know.

"You really want to be with me? It wasn't just…a crazy Friday night and an amazing weekend?"

Grace's eyes went round. Her hand stilled in his hair. Rigsby saw and felt her surprise, but his eyes stayed on her, silently asking again.

Grace was silent for a long time, returning his gaze. At first, she simply couldn't believe it. After the soul-bearing intimacy they'd shared, he had to ask? Did he honestly think she was that type of girl? The kind who risked friendships with casual sex? The kind who fucked lovesick men and broke their hearts? The kind who risked her job, only to tell him it was fun but she didn't want anything serious?

The kind who said I love you…and didn't mean it?

She framed his face in her hands and studied him closely. His gaze never flinched.

No. Those thoughts were instantly dismissed. Wayne simply wasn't capable of thinking them. So that left him. And his fear. Looking into his sweet, honest face, Grace knew that he suffered from a case of good old-fashioned fear. He loved her. He'd had her. And now that the green light had been given, he was terrified that it was too good to be true. Maybe she had suffered from a 48-hour love flu. Maybe she was all better now, didn't need him anymore, but hey, thanks for a great coupla days. Or maybe she was a thrill-seeker, only wanting forbidden fruit. Now the fruit was readily available and it suddenly it lost its appeal.

He was terrified she may not want him anymore.

Grace slipped her arms around his neck and hugged him. His skin was warm, his body unyielding. Her softer curves molded to his hard planes. A perfect fit. Surely he felt it too? She placed a small kiss on his chest. If he hadn't melted her heart long ago, he would have broken it.

She took his hand and led him to his bed. Wordlessly, she indicated that he lay down. He did so without question, settling on his back, his eyes never leaving hers. As she gazed over his naked body, her heart swelling as she caressed every inch with her eyes, she had an idea. She crawled onto the bed. She placed a single finger against his lips. Shhhhh, she told him silently. He nodded mutely, kissing her finger. She slid on top of him, her body lining up with his: stomach to stomach, hips to hips, legs to legs. She levered up on her arms, looking down at him with infinite love in her eyes.

"The first time I saw you," she leaned down to his throat, planting a small kiss under his ear. "I knew I was in trouble." She felt him inhale underneath her. The lift of his body buoyed her up and she hummed softly in her throat. She moved her lips an inch lower, savoring the scratch of his stubble, before planting another kiss.

"You held out your hand and told me your name. Remember? Your hand swallowed mine. Your voice was rough and quiet. Your eyes…" Grace paused as she moved down another inch, pressing her lips against his collarbone. "…your eyes told me you were the kindest man I'd ever met." Rigsby's hands came up to cup her cheeks. She caught them in her own and shook her head.

"No. Tonight is mine. You've shown me that you love me in a million ways." She smiled as she placed his hands back at his side. "It's my turn." His hands returned to his side without a struggle. His eyes remained wide. Intent. He was listening. She nodded before continuing.

"That's what got to me, Wayne." She swirled her tongue in the notch at the base of his throat. She heard and felt him groan softly. She smiled against his skin. "You're so unbelievably kind. You don't have to be. Most men who look like you aren't. I know…" She cut her sentence off, inhaled sharply and closed her eyes against her own memories. No, not yet. She couldn't tell him about that now. One day, soon, she'd finally break down and tell another living soul about that night. The ripped clothes, the cries for help, the crushing weight, the fury, the wet spot on her car seat when she drove home, the thousand scalding showers.

She would tell. But tonight was about him. She pressed into him.

"I could have resisted anything but kindness. Some days, I even found myself wishing you were a sleazy bastard. It would have been so much easier."

His chest rumbled with his chuckle. She levered up on her hands again while sliding her knees between his legs. As she pulled up slightly from him, her hair spilled like waterfalls on either side of his ribcage. The lace of her bra scraped deliciously over his chest. She watched his pupils dilate with desire. She was positive he saw the same in hers.

Her kisses slowly trailed to his nipple. She licked and sucked it lightly. He moaned louder his time and she felt his cock jump against her stomach.

"You made me love you," she whispered against him. "You made me." She moved to his other nipple, her tongue worshipping every inch of skin along the way.

He was getting restless. His breathing was getting shallow and fast. His arms, still at his side, roved and clutched at the comforter, wanting to touch her so badly but obeying her command to stay put. His chest was pushing up into hers, demanding more kisses, more licks, more pressure. More. He made a noise of frustration in his throat. She giggled and slid even lower, kissing the line between his ribs. She felt the tip of his erection slide between her breasts. She reared up to her knees quickly, unhooking her bra and throwing it aside. He hissed her name and reached for her, only to be met by her hands pushing his arms down again. Restraining his hands with hers, she slithered along his body, sliding his erection between her bare breasts. The creamy swells massaged him as she moved up and down on his hips.

"Grace," he rasped hoarsely. "Oh Christ, baby. I need you so much. Please lemme touch you."

She continued to move up and down, releasing his hands and palming her own breasts to trap him more snugly between them. He threw his head back and swore loudly, his entire body thrumming with tense need.

"See that?" she whispered to him as she moved. "You're so strong, baby. But you respect my request. You restrain yourself. For me." She dropped her head and licked his tip as it emerged from her cleavage. His hips jolted off the bed and he gave a ragged gasp before falling back.

Grace could feel her own need building quickly. She didn't want it to, she wanted to focus on him, to give him what he'd given her for the last nine months. Adoration. Respect. Lust. Admiration. Worship. Devotion. Total, absolute love. He needed to understand that he wasn't alone in this. He needed to know that Lisbon's approval had been the most exhilarating words she'd ever heard, next to his declarations of love. He needed to know…she was his.

"I love you, baby." She lifted up, stripping out of her panties before she straddled his hips. "I need you." She reared up on her knees and positioned herself over him, pausing to look him dead in the eye. "You are everything." She sank down on him.

They moaned together as she took all of him. His hands betrayed her command and encircled her waist, holding her to him as he thrust deeply from below. Grace's head dropped back and she cried out as he stretched her wide. "I'm yours," she sobbed quietly.

She rode him in earnest, her pace increasing with each eager push of her hips. "Yours," she repeated over and over.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Yours."

The word echoed in Rigsby's ears as his body was enveloped and adored by the woman above him.

She pinned him with her hands, grinding herself into him and crying out with each of his thrusts. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders and breasts. Her eyes fluttered and her mouth rounded beautifully with each gasp. She rotated her hips firmly against his, forcing a groan from him and making his entire being jerk upwards and in.

"Tell me," she whimpered. "Tell me what you thought about…when I kissed your hand on Friday."

Rigsby moaned loudly as she clenched him, trying to squeeze honesty right out of him. Like he could ever lie to her. His answer came in a choked gasp. "I imagined you kissing me everywhere."

Grace pitched forward, lifting herself off of him almost completely. She pulled up until just his tip was inside her. Rigsby groaned in frustration and tried to thrust upward, but Grace hooked her feet over his thighs, restricting his movement. Her hips moved in little circles over him, dipping softly over that one inch. He made another sound of impatience, his hands sliding desperately over her body, willing her to take him again.

"Tell me more."

Her eyes searched his. He sighed and acquiesced. "You shocked me with that kiss. I knew you didn't mean anything by it, but it floored me. Your lips," He glanced down at them, running his thumb over their plumpness. "I've wanted them for so long. And suddenly they were touching me, so soft and warm. I wanted them all over me. Every inch. That's what I thought about when you kissed my hand on Friday."

She lowered herself onto him and he grunted with gratitude. She watched his eyes roll back as she removed her feet and let him move his thrusts in time with hers. She felt her breasts brush rhythmically against his chest and little bolts of electricity shot through her with each pass over her sensitive nipples. She crushed her lips to his chest and smothered a moan against him.

She gasped as he flipped their positions and suddenly she was underneath him, his hips driving powerfully between hers and his thick arms locked on either side of her. He kept his pace steady, but his thrusts hard. She murmured her approval, crossing her ankles across his lower back.

"You love me," he growled, not breaking stride.

"Yes."

"You need me," another growl.

She nodded frantically. She felt her climax building under his onslaught. "Yes."

"You're mine." His voice was still low and rough, but she heard less conviction in his statement.

She arched up into him, gripping him with everything she had as his plunges became less measured. More forceful. She gasped when he hit her G spot. "Yours. Completely. I…oh God…belong to…you. Just you." She cried out when he hit it again. She strained wildly beneath him, bucking and pushing hard against him. She felt her orgasm rolling towards her like a runaway train. "You do this to me."

And suddenly she was suspended in midair, an eternal second, before her body exploded into a thousand pieces, her release crashing into her. She convulsed hard, her arms clutching his shoulders desperately as she sobbed her way through her climax. Her nails scratched new marks over the older ones, his back quickly becoming a scored testament to his attentiveness as a lover. Rigsby hissed and gasped as Grace's body demanded his with such ferociousness. It was breathtaking to be so…needed. He continued to stroke through her climax to prolong her pleasure, moving as much as he could in her constricting body and trying desperately to ward off his own release. He didn't want to come. Not yet. He wanted Grace to see him, to feel him, when he finally let go. He wanted her to see what she did to him. So he watched her as she slowly came down from her high, her moans becoming softer, her eyes slowly opening.

"Wayne?" she questioned softly, nudging him between her legs, urging him to join her in her sated bliss.

He continued to move, their gaze never breaking. Until Grace, Rigsby would never have drawn attention to himself like this. He'd never been an exhibitionist. Quite the opposite, in fact. He felt embarrassed if his movements become forceful or his groans turned into screams. He felt exposed. He worried that his passion, when fully unleashed, would scare the hell out of the poor woman in his arms. True, it rarely reached that level of intensity. Before Grace, he hadn't even known its limits.

He did now.

Grace pushed him to that limit. What he would have thought brutal with past lovers, was the only acceptable response with Grace. He lost control every time. She wanted him to lose control every time. Her body could take it. Her cries demanded it. His own needs screamed for it. And so he gave it. They gave it together.

And now, as the last thread of his control slipped from his grasp, he knew she was watching.

He rammed deeply inside of her, roaring so loudly that Grace gasped at the decibel level. He emptied himself, not only his body, but his fear, his inhibitions, his insecurities. And with them poured out the purest, more perfect syllable he'd ever heard in his life.

"GRAAAAAAACE!"

He propelled himself again and again, giving every last drop of himself to her. Shuddering, groaning, murmuring dazedly. He collapsed on top of her, taking none of his own weight. Grace moaned her consent, wrapping her limbs tightly around him, sculpting her body around his. Her own breathing had quieted, so she focused completely on listening to his. The gasping, desperate satisfaction of his. She clutched him closer, overcome by him: his weight, his size, the capacity of his lungs as they drew breath, his glorious, beautiful loss of control. She murmured her pleasure that he'd felt secure enough to let her experience him this way. This was Wayne in his purest, most unvarnished form. She nuzzled his ear.

"I see you," she whispered. "You overwhelm me."

He lifted his head and stared at her, his body still shaking, his brow damp with sweat. His hands slipped into her hair and cupped her head gently. "I can keep you." He repeated her words.

She giggled. "It looks like we get to keep each other."

At last, she saw him push past his awe and his fear and Wayne came back to her, just like after she'd whispered 'I love you' for the first time. He shook his head slowly and chuckled.

"So," he croaked and cleared his throat. "You think you'll be able to keep your hands off me at work?"

She snorted. "Puh-lease. Like I'm the one with impulse control issues. You're the one who'll have to watch the hands, buddy."

He huffed, lifting off of her and locking his arms next to her head. "I'm sorry, who attacked whom in that restaurant?"

"Ha! Who can't even see a little red dress without forgetting half his college education?"

"Bah," he gruffed. "Yeah well, who can't fight back when I tickle her within an inch of her life?" And before she could retort or escape, he attacked. Grace shrieked and laughed as her boyfriend dove down and sunk his fingers into her ribs. She wrestled as best she could, but he was right. She simply wasn't strong enough. He pinned her down, laughing heartily as he used his body and better leverage to keep her from rolling away. Her skin was an expanse of unbearable pleasure under his assault. Her laughter was a musical, delightful drug that Rigsby planned to inject into his life every single day. They rolled around his bed, blissfully aware of two things.

He was happy. She way happy. The highly unlikely circumstances of distance and chance brought them together and created a stunningly simple reality; they were in love.

Just as she thought she'd pass out from lack of air as her screams left her breathless, Rigsby stopped his attack.

"Stay with me," he whispered suddenly. "Every night, every weekend, every vacation, okay? Promise you'll always be with me."

Still giggling, she reached up and pulled him down to her, cuddling him close. "Anything you want, remember?" She kissed his softly and reminded him.

"I'm yours."

Well, folks, this is the end. Thanks to all who reviewed and kept my little heart aflutter with your comments. Feel free to leave more, if the mood strikes. I may start a new story, we'll see. In the meantime, continue to petition CBS to start showing soft-core porn on the Mentalist. Screw the FCC.