Ceremonial Killer (Haruchai x BeauteousDeath)

Cross observed her for a moment, smiling softly at the conversation, but also noting her state of dress. While she was busy on her cell he phoned the front desk and asked that something be brought up from the boutique. The front desk assured him that they would be right there, and he hung up.

Going back to the dividing door Cross just stood there with a knowing grin on his face. He couldn't help but let his gaze fall over Owen as she spoke. Her smile did a lot for her, her usual professional demeanor having melted away in the face of her daughter's talking and laughter. It was nice to see.

She wasn't bad to look at, he realized. Oh, she wasn't a drop-dead knockout, but most women in law enforcement weren't. In many ways she was better than that. A natural beauty that likely didn't have to do much to maintain her good looks or her level of fitness. Just like Nancy. Cross frowned. He had to wonder if Owen, no Jordan, reminded him of his dead wife. He looked over to her and thoughtfully chewed on the inside of one lip as he considered it.

It was possible. Both were strong independent women. Yet it didn't really matter. From everything he had heard Owen was too absorbed in her work to be interested in anything besides a casual friendship. He was amazed she had even those, but knew that nobody lived in a vacuum. Cross came back to the present as Owen addressed him.

"I'm sorry Owen, I should have told you. I had an idea they'd put us here. All on the tax payer's dime you know." I shrugged and grinned. "They cut us a deal, working with several different governments from around the world. They never know if it is just going to be lowly Agents, like me, or diplomats and their ilk. Lots of tourists right here around Christmas, but most of those leave the city, and stay with relatives. Besides, these adjoining suites are usually kept open."

Cross was just killing time, and sure enough, a knock came at the door. Eyes twinkling as he moved, Cross beckoned for Owen to follow. "C'mon Jordan. I've a surprise for you." he said.

After Nancy had died things had been hard for Cross, but eventually he'd managed to get back on his feet. With no children, and being single, he wasn't hurting for money. He wasn't rich by any stretch of the imagination, but he lived comfortably. Opening the door he was greeted by one of the many concierges of the hotel, who held in one hand several long dress bags. Cross smiled and ushered him in. Turning to Owen Cross smiled.

"I hope you do not mind too much Owen, but I took the liberty of asking that a dress be brought for you. I would really like it if you picked one." His smile was hopeful and playful at the same time, and odd combination.

The concierge moved then, knowing his cue, and unzipped each bag and laid each dress out on the couch, draping them over the back. There were three different choices and each seemed to be mostly a basic black. An easy match, and likely what Cross had asked for, seeing as how he had no idea how to match dress colors to what he wore, nor a woman's eyes. Each dress had accompanying shoes.

Dress 1
Dress 2
Dress 3

As the dresses were laid out Cross looked at Owen hopefully. "What do you think?" he asked.

Jordan narrowed green eyes at the mischievous eyes when the door was knocked on from his room. She followed him, buttoning up her blouse and rolling the sleeves up to her arms. She stood frozen just inside his room from the connecting doors, her right, slender brow arched as she watched three dresses be laid upon his bed. When Cross spoke again, she looked up at him, that single brow going up a bit further, "You're kidding right?" she asked him incredulously. The last time anyone bought a dress for her it was her parents, for her wedding day. She saw he wasn't joking, and the look on his face was just too much.

No way could she say no. If she'd actually been the cold bitch most of her co-workers thought of her as, then yes, she could have said no to him, but alas, she wasn't cold. A bitch maybe, at times, but not cold. She rubbed her face and went over to the dresses. Only one of them was actually her style, however, she noticed the way he looked at her, and she had to admit to herself, it felt rather nice to be eyed in that fashion. It'd been a long time since she'd actually been seen as a woman.

With that in mind, she picked up the dress that was the most revealing, yet left enough to the imagination to drive a man crazy, and hoped it would do as much to Cross. Though a part of her seriously doubted. Picking the dress and the matching shoes up, she turns back to Cross and gives him a small smile, "Thank you, and I'd be honored to accept your offer in buying me the dress," she told him, then she walked through the connecting doors, and closed her side and quickly changed out of her current clothing.

About twenty minutes later she opened the connecting door again and stepped into his room, wearing the black dress she'd picked out and the shoes. The sides of her reddish brown hair was pinned back a bit, moving it out of her face. She had a tiny bit more make than she usually did, slightly darker eye shadow and liner, and the same naturally pink lipstick.

Cross merely nodded at her question and then watched curiously as she picked the dress she liked the best. Oddly it was the most revealing and he had to admit he couldn't wait to see what it looked like draped on her fit frame. There was just... something... about Owen that drew him in. He'd chalked up his initial attraction to her as akin to longing for 'forbidden fruit'. She wasn't married, not any more, but she was another Agent. Professional. Efficient. Calculating.

That he had an opportunity to work with her was nice. He knew that between them both they'd catch this fucker and put him away. Yet now he found that for some reason he really liked her. Hell, he'd only known her a day or so, and she'd not made the best impression. Still, as he's noticed earlier, she reminded him of his Nancy. Strong and independent. She didn't need him. That turned him on. She might not need him, but damn it all he was determined to make her want him.

"Excellent choice." Cross said with a smile, eager to see how this Special Agent might look in this dress. He did not have to wait long, the concierge taking the other two and departing as Jordan went to get dressed. Twenty minutes later, close to 8:30pm, and she emerged from her room.

Cross stood as she entered and watched, eyes slightly wide, as she presented herself. "You're a vision." he said, voice low and soft, almost reverent. Without much thought he crossed to her, his form towering over hers. "I'd be honored if you accompany me to dinner." he said, his dark brown eyes settled on her green ones, his expression warm. He held out a hand, palm up, waiting for her to take it. Just beneath his collar, since he wore no tie, she could see the edge of the extensive tattoo Cross had. On his left wrist, the hand he held out to her, was a bracelet of some sort, silver in color.

Jordan definitely liked his reaction when she stepped back into his room. She left her gun in her bag in her room, along with her wallet and ID badge. Not having any place to put them with what she wore right now. In truth, she felt a bit naked with out her gun, she hadn't had a reason to not wear it in about five years. She took it with her where ever she went. Before that, when she was still happily married, the only times she didn't have it on her was when and her now ex-husband went out by themselves, leaving it in a lock box at home.

Then they started growing apart, leaving her in a dead marriage and doing whatever she could to revive it, only to be rejected constantly, until she finally had enough and left the idiot. Who now seemed to want little to do with their daughter. So to have a reaction that Cross gave her, it was exhilarating, yet it also pointed out to her on how lonely she felt, but had become so accustomed to that she didn't know it was there.

She smiled softly to him and set her hand in his as she pushed those thoughts out of her head, looking up at him, she had to tilt her head completely back, even while in three inch heels, he was still a foot taller than she, "I would be happy to accompany you to dinner," she told him in answer and picking her skirt up just a smidge, and followed him out of the room.

Cross was pleased that she had accepted his invitation, though he had been rather sure she would. To pick out a dress, that dress, and he had hoped it would be a sure thing. She took his hand and it felt so right in his own; small, soft and feminine, yet strong. She had to tilt her head far back to look up at him, and her smile... melted him in some way. Soft and warm, that smile was something he could lose himself in. He needed more smiles like that in his life. These last few years have been rough.

It had been about nine years ago when Nancy had been diagnosed with CHF, Congestive Heart Failure. It had come on suddenly, really. They had been so happy, finding out she was with child, and they had tried for some time. Finally, she had become pregnant and they were elated. Then her diagnosis. Knowing the risks she had moved to very light activity... but it was too late. They lost the child and Cross and Nancy had both been crushed. She had held on, more for him than for herself, and over the next six years he had watched her slowly waste away. He had never strayed and had stayed faithful, and he watched with the utter love and devotion that any husband should as she fought, and fought. Though the conversations were one-sided as Nancy was constantly hooked to oxygen, Cross and she spoke of his future, for there was no doubt at all that she was dying.

Cross was there the morning she passed away, now almost two years ago. They had known the end was coming, yet it did little to console him. He was devastated, having lost both a child and his wife as well. He sank within himself and sought his own solace, which he never truly found.

He felt his immense loneliness as he looked at Owen, and his heart ached. No longer for Nancy, but for himself. He knew that this path he was about to walk upon was a dangerous one, yet he felt a call, an inexorable pull - and it would not be denied.

So, hand in hand, he walked from their suite, leading Owen gently by the hand, and measuring his own pace so that he never left her side. He gave her hand a squeeze as they entered the elevator and said softly, "I hope you don't mind eating here Jordan. The Four Season has an excellent restaurant. Bourbon Steak. It's just downstairs, and I took the liberty of making us some reservations." He smiled over at her gently and soon the elevator announced their arrival on the first floor. Cross led her down the hallway and soon the wonderful smells of the restaurant reached them. Cross' mouth watered, though not nearly so much as it had when he had first seen Owen in that dress. He'd never forget the way she looked when she had entered that room. Never.

Then they are at the entrance to Bourbon Steak, and the maitre'd is smiling. Cross gives him the name and he checks his book, nodding with a smile. "Osterhout, party of two. Here you are. Right this way."

He led them back to a semi-private table, and Cross took charge then, getting Owen's seat and waiting for her before tucking her in. Then he took his own seat. Smiling over the table at her he looks up as the maitre'd departs, only to be replaced with their waiter.

Jordan was accustomed to feeling like a midget around others, men or women, she was usually the shortest one in the group. With Cross however, though she was dwarfed by his large towering frame, she didn't quite feel so midget around him. Small, petite, yes, even go so far as to saying feminine since their plane ride, but not dwarf or midget like.

She was thrown off guard in him using her first name, it wasn't so much that he'd said it, more in how he said it, at least to her. It almost sounded like a caress, she stopped her thoughts at that, Damn, when was the last time I actually thought of myself as a woman much less actually felt like one? she thought to herself as she followed him and the Maitre'd to their table, where she was taken off guard, once again, by Cross's chivalry. She lowered herself into the seat as he gently pushed the chair under her.

She barely heard the waiter's question, but she looked up, "Water please," she said, as she picked up her menu, then realized that her headache was gone. First time in weeks that she was pain free, maybe she'll even be able to sleep. She perused the menu, finding she was quite hungry now that she wasn't plagued by a migraine, "Have you been here before?" she asked Cross.

Cross watched her with bright eyes, smiling at her mannerisms. So different now than she had been earlier, and he could see the tension had drained from her. She seemed comfortable, and it warmed his heart. He didn't drink often, but now seemed a perfect time. "I'll have a water as well, and some Maker's Mark please."

"As you please, sir." the waiter said, and was off.

Smiling at her question Cross nodded. "I've been here a couple of times. Though hardly ever with a woman. Nancy was the last one I was here with, and that was years ago. This is the first time I've been here with a woman, a beautiful woman, in a long time." He didn't stress the words, nor did he seem disingenuous. It was spoken with simple truth, and His eyes never wavered, never showed any sort of falsehood. If he was lying, then Special Agent Owen couldn't tell.

"The Prime Rib is to die for, as well as the Filet Mignon and the New York Strip. Hell, it's all good." Cross said, smiling. He found that he was suddenly nervous. Still confident that he wanted her, yet it had been so long. What did he have to be nervous about? Unperturbed he set the menu aside. "I'm going to order some of their steak fries. They come in a few different flavors, and are always great!" He then pointed out a few things on the menu. "Lots of folks get the fries with their steak. They have great burgers too!"

By now the waiter had returned, bringing their waters and Cross' liquor. "Thank you." Cross said, and looked at Jordan with a smile. "What do you think you'd like?" he asked, obviously enjoying himself.

Jordan felt herself heat up a little at him saying 'beautiful woman', though he didn't put an emphasis on the phrase. It'd been a long time since she'd heard something along those lines directed at her.

While she knew she could eat more than she had that morning, she also knew she still couldn't eat very much, but something had caught her eye, she smiled at his question, "I'm a pretty big fan of any Oriental Chicken Salad," she told him, that's what she would be ordering when the waiter came to take their orders. She was sure that he'd scoff at her choice of food, but she knew what she could handle and she'd never been able to handle heavier foods, it just made her ill.

She picked up her water as it was set down and took a quick sip, then looked up at their waiter, "Oriental Chicken Salad, please," she told him, then handed him her menu as she leaned forward a little, inadvertently causing some interesting movement under the fabric of her dress as she did so and crossed her ankles, right over left, under her chair.

She was curious about his deceased wife, but didn't feel now was the time to ask questions, though she certainly hoped the opportunity would rise.

The way Jordan moved, the way her lithe body bent forward slightly, the neckline of the dress falling away from her flesh and giving him the briefest of glimpses at her bustline... Cross swallowed, hard, and licked his lips. Why had no one come along to try and sweep this woman off her feet? Granted, his first impression of her had been that she was frigid. A bitch. And perhaps she was, given the right circumstance. Still, he could tell that what she really needed was to relax. To have someone look at her not as a mother, or a divorcee, or an FBI Agent - but simply as a woman. A woman that had needs and urges just like any other. Sure, her job was frenetic and stressful. It contributed to her migraines. Yet Cross knew that, right this very moment, those migraines were gone and long forgotten. He knew he could help keep things that way.

Once Jordan had placed her order Cross placed his as well. "I'd like your Kobe tenderloin, medium rare, with your fries please." he said, and handed the menu back. It had not been a difficult choice. Just as making Jordan sleep, then bringing her here had not been difficult.

The waiter took their orders and departed. They were near enough to a quietly talking pair of employees, who spoke in hushed tones of the weather outside. They had been sent to the back to get the rock salt to spread over the parking area. Apparently it was snowing. Peering out of the window that he sat next to, Cross gestured to Jordan. "Weather looks bad. I wonder what the forecast is?" He spoke quietly, then turned back to face Jordan.

"I am sure that you have questions for me Jordan. I do not mind in the least, so please, ask whatever you'd like." He smiled easily and sipped the bourbon he'd been brought.

Yes, she had questions. Mostly personal though, and she wasn't sure, despite the looks she'd seen from him, if she really should go into that area yet, if at all. After all, they were technically here on business, though she was certainly wishing it was otherwise, and the warring thoughts most likely showed on her face. She had never been good at masking them when she was with others who had a badge, put her in an interrogation room, or talking down an asshole with a gun, she had no problem. Yet, with those who were in law enforcement, she had a problem with schooling her expressions. It was only when she was extremely hurt, such as the time she realized she was in a dead marriage, that she can manage to do just that. No one in the office knew about it until she'd been asked how Jacob was doing, and she had to answer with, "I don't know, we're divorced," she remembered the flat tone she used.

The point she had that realization of her marriage, to present, she simply focused on work. It was better than people seeing she was wounded emotionally, better than having the defenses dropped down, yet here Cross was, he was starting to poke holes through those walls. What did she do? She tried to put them up again, so she sat up a little straighter in her seat, "Yes.. I do actually," she said slowly then, in a soft voice, "Did you manage to get any research done while I was napping? I know you were saying before you were tired as well and wanted a nap, but I was just curious," she told him with a small shrug. Again, some interesting movement happened under her dress.

A very large part of her hoped he'd end up saying no shop talk for now, yet another smaller part, the part that was scared and screaming at her that this wouldn't work, she would only get hurt again, hoped he would go on and discuss more professional matters. Again, the warring thoughts, conflicting emotions, most likely showed on her face again.

Cross watched the war that played over her face. It was obvious she was enjoying this quiet time, this time where work was behind them. Yet she insisted on talking about things. He smiled, softly, and then shook his head. "I did nap a small bit, but no. I didn't get much research done. I looked over what Banta gave us, and that's about it." His eyes were on hers as she shifted in her seat, those dark orbs flicking down to the movement beneath that dress a moment before finding hers again. Damn it, the woman could not take a hint.

Cross reached across the table and caught one of her hands in his. His hands dwarfed hers, fingers calloused, but decidedly gentle with her. "Jordan, forget about work for right now. Just... spend time with me."

And there it was. What he wanted. His eyes were warm as he regarded her, his statement hovering between a question and a request. Of course she could deny him, but he felt he didn't deserve that. So he forged on ahead. If he bared himself to her, and she rejected him, then at least he had tried and had not truly yet lost a thing. In truth, at the moment, she was still basically a stranger, and what he had to say might even be cathartic.

"My wife, Nancy, died two years ago." he began, voice soft as he closed his eyes, his imagination playing out everything in his head as he spoke. "Congestive Heart Failure. Can you believe that? If you'd have asked me the type of people that got such a thing, I'd have said they were older, or overweight. But not Nancy. No, she was young, fit." His breath hitched a bit, but he continued onward.

"We'd been trying for years to have a child. We were elated when she became pregnant. Things were going well, until she collapsed while out walking one day. Of course we were concerned for the baby, so went in for some tests. That was when she was diagnosed with CHF. The doctor immediately put her on light duty, and she took her maternity leave early. We had no idea what we were in for." Cross sighed and opened his eyes, that dark gaze full of old pain and memories.

"Things became very complicated very quickly, and she... we... lost the baby. After that she held on. But I know it was just for me. Just time enough for me to say goodbye. She lost her will to fight when she lost the child, and honestly I didn't, couldn't, blame her. She held on for a long time, and we talked often about what the future might hold for me. Another life, another start. I..." He stopped then, and swallowed hard once more, for reason completely different than earlier. Finally his gaze looked away, his eyes rheumy and his voice thick. He started, then stopped... and finally spoke again. His voice was barely more than a whisper, and yet Jordan had no problem hearing him.

"I held her as she died. She could barely hold onto me, so I held on for the both of us." His hand twitched in hers at the memory. "I buried her next to the child we had lost, and I visit her grave twice a year. On her birthday and on the date of her death. I can't bear to visit any more than that, even though I know I should."

The guilt that tinges his voice can be heard and slowly he brings his gaze back to her. It is full of emotion and a deep longing. Such a deep longing that to many it might be unfathomable. But not to Jordan. "I'm tired of being lonely Jordan." He'd seen the same loneliness in her eyes, and his expression was sincere. "Aren't you?" He sounded hopeful, like there might be someone, anyone, that could relate to how he felt. "Being lonely is hard. More difficult than catching any criminal or solving any case. It wears you down, and it is merciless. It's a chain that winds around you, more tightly as you try to gain your breath." He does squeeze her hand then, more voluntary this time. "Sometimes you just find something that is a breath of fresh air. Something that helps you renew your strength."

Cross just sat there then, as if he'd talked himself out, his gaze on Jordan as if he had asked a question. He had, and it seemed as if he waited patiently for an answer.

Jordan went completely still and her gaze dropped to his hand when he grabbed hers, decidedly fascinated in how his hand just swallowed hers up. At his words, she looked back at. Something touched her, tore at her in his expression, his words. She wasn't sure she knew how to just be there, spend time with a man, or woman for that matter, and not talk about work. Oh, but how she wanted to try!

She sat quietly, watching him, looking at him, not moving her hand from his as he started his story of his wife. Heart Failure. She knew a little about that, her father died of it just before she left for college, not the best way to go when it was out of control. The person was left in misery, constantly feeling short of breath, limbs in pain from the swelling. Cold from the poor circulation and fatigued because of the poor circulation and lack of oxygen in their bodies.

She leaned forward again some, fingers of her free hand covered her mouth as she continued to listen to him, her elbow propped on the table. Horrible, something that should have been pure joy, and happiness, something to look forward to, suddenly turned ugly and heartbreaking.

Jordan caught the 'she... we...', he didn't sound as though he really blamed her, so she wondered if perhaps he did subconsciously. After all, if Nancy hadn't become pregnant, she would never had acquired Heart Failure, and she would still be alive. Some part of him had to have blamed her for that, the question was... did he realize it?

When he paused, her dropped her hand from her mouth and settled it over his, her other hand still under his, she turned that hand over and gently squeezed his hand with both of hers, an attempt of some kind of reassurance, she was sure it wouldn't help.

She watched him as he looked away, then continue on in a whisper that only she could hear, sadness for the loss, the tragedy filled her. She didn't pity him, he definitely wouldn't want that, but she did feel sympathy, her own heart wrenched at his words.

His statement of loneliness, then is question if she were tired of it too. Her eyes widened a bit in slight surprise and she looked down at their hands before she closed her eyes for a long moment. She took in a deep breath, nodding slowly, though she couldn't find the words to speak, she couldn't find her voice at that moment. So she just slowly nodded her head, hoping he would catch it as a 'yes'. She was lonely too, she knew how hard it could be, even when she thought she was simply ignoring it, or getting used to it, something would remind her of her current status.

Her face said it all, her expression so telling. Her hands on his felt so right, and he was sorely tempted to lean over the table and kiss her. Oh how he wanted to do so. It seemed he might be about to say something when the waiter, along with two servers, shows up with their food. He smiles politely.

"Please enjoy your meal and let us know if there is anything else you need." he said, and then moved away, not wishing to obviously intrude on their moment.

To accommodate the trays and plates Cross had to relinquish her hands and as soon as he did he missed them. That simple human touch was one that many took for granted. Yet Cross yearned for it. Craved it. He glanced at Jordan and said, "Alright then, let's try to enjoy the meal, ok?" He wanted to put what they had been talking about behind them, at least for the moment.

Using the knife and fork he was provided Cross cut into the steak, the pink middle leaking juices onto the plate. Lifting that piece of meat to his mouth he starts to chew and closes his eyes as the filet practically melts in his mouth. "Man, that is good.!" he exclaims, and begins to work on his fries as well. Looks like several different types. "Would you like some?" he asks, offering to share.

The meal continues and soon Cross has cleaned his plate. He sits back and pats his belly and looks at Jordan with a smile. "That was very good, would you like some dessert? I think, for myself, I'll order mine from the room. I took a little time to get ready, but now I just wanna chill on the couch." He peers out the window and frowns slightly. The snow outside is falling quickly, piling quickly too. "Looks like we might get snowed in Jordan." he said softly.

He looked as though he were going to kiss her, and she found herself wanting him to. Except they were interrupted and they both pulled back, releasing the other's hand or in her case, hands. Feeling them suddenly chilled from his hand was.

She sat back and after the servers and waiter left, she picked up her fork and started eating. She smiled at his exclamation over his food, then shook her head lightly at his offer, knowing it was too heavy for her.

The meal passed quickly and when he had cleaned his plate, she had too. Amazingly enough, even though it was chicken, lettuce, won ton noodles and mandarin orange with the special dressing and almond slivers, she felt stuffed. It was the most she'd eaten in... she wasn't sure actually.

She looked over at him as she set her fork down and sipped at her water, she shook her head as she swallowed, "If I do happen to have dessert, it'll be much later, and most likely from my room as well," she told him then with a small smile. At his frown, she looked out the window as well, watching the snow falling, at his confirmation she nodded, though she was cursing in her head. It was only almost two days from Christmas, and though she could very well be called at a moment's notice, she had still intended to be there for her daughter, watch Sammy open her presents, "Yeah, it does look like that...," she agreed with him.

"I think I'm gonna head back to the room. I'd love for you to join me Jordan." he said, and let the blind settle back into place. Part of him knew the time crunch she must feel, with Christmas just around the corner and her daughter at her mother's. Not to mention the killer they were after. Cross pushed that from his mind though, and settled on the here and now. He took another sip of the bourbon and gestured for their waiter as he passed, and asked for the check.

"It's been taken care of sir." he answered Cross, and simply smiled.

Cross was somewhat taken aback, but knew better than to argue. The Director perhaps, or even simply that the owner liked him. It didn't matter. "Thank you then." Cross said, and still left the gratuity. Then he stood and moved around the table to Jordan. Extending a hand to her he simply waited, saying nothing as he looked at her almost expectantly.

Hand in hand they moved out of the restaurant and back down the hallway and to the elevator. There, in that confined space, and just the two of them, Cross did something he had not done for many years. Slowly and deliberately he laced his fingers with hers, his hand still engulfing hers, but his movements gentle.

The elevator dinged as it announced they had reached the fourth floor and Cross held the doors for her as they exited. Moving down the hallway they soon arrive at the entrance to the room, Cross' room, and he makes no move to walk her to her door. He saw no need, what with the connecting door. He opened the door and held it for her, his hand having relinquished hers and guiding her in, fingers grazing the small of her back, though not nearly as shielded as they had been before, each warm tip easily felt by her skin. He watched as she moved past him, the way the dress shifted on her body, and the way the muscles in her calves flexed.

Once she was inside he followed and let the door shut behind him. He reached for her then, gently turning her to face him as he looked down at her and into those green eyes. "Thank you for sharing dinner with me Jordan. I hope to do it again sometime." he said, voice soft and tinged with what could only be described as desire. For her.

That was proven as he tilted his head down, his arms sliding around her slender form, fingers pressing lightly into the small of her back as his face drew nearer to hers, eyes half-lidded, but his eyes bright as he watched for any indication that she might pull away or stop him in any way.

Join him? Jordan felt her heart skip and speed up at the thought, while a part of her also cursed at herself for her own reaction to that. Though she was attempting to figure out just what that reaction was. Fear? Excitement?

Either way, she ended up being distracted in dissecting her emotions when the waiter had told them the check had been taken care of. Cross looked a bit surprised at that, but didn't seem to worry about it. Jordan, on the hand, was different. She did worry about it, wondering who it could have been. Unfortunately, she pushed it to the back of her mind for the moment due to two things. Her inability of coming up with a suspect list, aside from Cross's director, Banta, and the fact that Cross just stood up and was now holding his hand out for her.

Slowly, still warring with herself, she placed her small hand in his large one, the size of his dwarfing her own just that much more. She looked miniscule and if others thought they were a real couple, some, if not all, were possibly wondering how they were intimate, Alright... evidently its been longer than I realized, and I've been more alone than I thought, she thought to herself as she they stepped inside the elevator.

His lacing their fingers together was so gentle, so sweet, and unexpected that it nearly broke her heart. When was the last time someone other than her initiated contact like that? Something so simple?

She didn't bother going to her own room, considering she'd left her key in there, after all, she didn't have a place to put it, so she went on inside his room after he'd opened the door for her, warm, strong fingertips on the small of her back, which was left unclothed thanks to the design of the dress.

She was barely two steps into the room before she felt him turn her around, and she didn't fight him. Her head was tilted all the way back again so she could look at him directly. She smiled at his words, the tone though, yet another thing she couldn't remember on a last time of when she'd heard a man take that particular tone with her? Actually tried to let her know the desire he felt, toward her? Once again, she felt her heart skip and her breath catch in her throat.

He gathered her close, she felt his fingers pressed to her skin on the small of her back and she watched, completely still, as he slowly lowered his face toward hers. She couldn't pull away, hell, she didn't want to pull away, she needed the contact. She realized with a start. Yes, she definitely needed it, and he was showing he needed it too. Two lonely souls, needing to give and receive solace to one another?

She finally stopped warring with herself. She just relaxed, and focused on the moment, very much doubting she'd regret it. As he continued to bend down toward her, she slid her own hands up his arms and to his shoulders, green eyes slowly closing as she reached up until she felt her lips gently brush against his, just a whisper of a touch.

That alone sent a jolt of electricity through her, still, she didn't move, other than to press her lips to his, softly, firmly, sweetly.

It had been a long time, so long. Yet something about Jordan drew him to her as surely as a compass pointed north. Then her lips met his softly, so tender, so warm. The sound that emanated from him then exemplified the sound of a man in want. That he had started, but she had truly initiated, given her permission... Cross pulled her to him, eagerly, his hands pressed into her back, rubbing and caressing her flesh. The kiss he gave her was no longer tentative nor guarded, and the hunger that ran through him was now a raging fire. Strong arms corded ever so little beneath his jacket, for her form and weight were slight. Her feet left the ground as he lifted her into his arms and enveloped her with himself.

Cross clung to her like a drowning man to a piece of flotsam, lost at sea and fearing the riptide that would, and was, pulling at him with such force that he feared he was going to lose himself. How did this woman, this woman he barely knew, have such an effect on him? He never truly pondered the question, and simply let that current carry him as it would.

The kiss deepened and the tip of Cross' tongue roamed slowly over the seam of Jordan's lips, and his fingers played across her back. His tongue begged entrance into her mouth and her breasts were pressed to him as he held her close and tight. despite her tough exterior he hoped she felt that warmth and protection he offered her. Because he was offering it. To her.

Taking another risk, and hoping that this did not ruin this moment, Cross slowly broke their kiss. His dark eyes found hers, their faces close now, and he moved his head, his smooth shaven cheek brushing hers and his warm breath on her neck and jaw as his lips found her earlobe and sucked ever so softly for a second before his voice whispered, "Stay with me tonight Jordan." He stopped short of saying please, of sounding like he was begging, but the desire was there, just beneath the surface, and there was no doubt of what he was asking for. If there was any question at all about his want of her, she had all the evidence she needed by the warmth of his hardening member which pressed softly to her thigh as she clung to him.

When he pulled her to him, her feet already off the ground a bit, she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders, returning the hungry, passionate kiss with equal hunger and passion of her own.

Vaguely, she wondered how this could be happening, how he'd drawn her in so quickly, or did it happen the other way around somehow? It was happening so quickly, but she realized, at that moment, she didn't care, they both needed this, however far it went.

She moaned softly into the kiss as he deepened it, feeling his tongue slide against her lips, to which she parted to allow him to enter, their tongues sliding smoothly against each other. How could such a simple, yet intimate touch elicit such a strong jolt, ending with her aching with want so strong that it could actually be considered a need.

At his question, the sheer simplicity of the words, yet the tone it was delivered in, made her melt into him all the more, she wrapped one leg loosely over one of his hips, her own cheek lightly nuzzling against his, even as she flicked her tongue slowly and gently over his own earlobe, "I was hoping you'd ask that," she whispered back to him in answer. Then she placed her hands on each side of his face and gently pulled his head back enough so she could press her lips to his again.

Her response to him should have been all the answer he needed, yet as she teased his earlobe she certainly got a reaction. She'd wrapped one leg about him as best she could, and could feel him more prominently now, but those words, that agreement that she would stay - that brought forth from him a burning hunger that drove his next actions.

Her hands grabbed his face, pulling him into a kiss, even as his hands slid down her back and to her rear. Those strong hands grasped her there, fingers spread, each one nearly covering the cheek it was placed upon as he pulled her up, supporting her weight and allowing her to sit in his hands. Again he teased her with his tongue, even as those large hands slid a bit, the dress riding up slightly now as her ass spread a bit.

Below, it was hard to miss the slight throbbing of his cock, which had an ache he'd not truly felt for some time. Oh, he'd pleasured himself since the passing of his wife, to be certain, but that ached paled in comparison to what he felt with Jordan. Hands roughly moved the dress, pulling up the fabric until his warm fingers grasped her backside just over the thin fabric of her panties now, and a low heated moan escaped him as that firm and warm area pressed into his hands. Hands dipped a bit between those spread cheeks, pads of those seeking fingers managing to reach her sex, drawn there by that damp heat. What might be a whimper escaped him then and soon he was moving. Still locked in that deep kiss he stumbled a bit, but never once dropped her, her slight form easily embraced and held, even with one arm, as Cross made it to his bedroom.

Her hands moved from the sides of his face to the back of his head and neck, the leg hooked around his hip wrapped tighter around him, along with her arms around his broad shoulders, as his hands covered her lower cheeks. The feel of his arousal further excited her, then she felt his fingers just there, and she moaned softly against his lips, even as he made his own noise. The stumble, though he didn't drop her, her hands tightened on his shoulders, feeling him move them.

Before she knew, not paying attention, she was being laid down gently on the bed, with him not letting her go for a second. Her hands slid under his jacket, her hands on his shoulders but sliding the jacket off, once it would come off, she would start undoing the buttons of his shirt, continuously returning his kisses. The way he kissed her, she could honestly say she'd never been kissed with such intensity, desire, passion. Even before her marriage ended, she hadn't felt as though she'd been desired, wanted or even needed. To have that now, it just further drove her mad with lust.

Her sounds and her hands spoke to him that her need was the same as his and Cross eagerly let her discard his jacket, her fingers working deftly at the buttons of his shirt. As to her dress, Cross' hands slipped from her backside and grabbed the hem of the garment and lifted, peeling it from her body, and he waited patiently until she could lift her arms, and broke their kiss, before he pulled it from her and tossed it onto the chair next to the king-sized bed.

He shrugged out of his shirt, revealing his broad chest and muscular frame, as well as the half-sleeve tattoo that runs nearly the length of his bicep, as well as his shoulder and one side of his chest. He did not give her long to gaze at it though before he gently pushed her back on the bed and then unbuckled his belt. His slacks soon pooled at his ankles and he kicked off his shoes and socks, which left him only in his boxers, those black undergarments tented rather steeply, though his thick length hung downward a bit, giving her a view of what he had to offer her.

Cross moved to her then, moving slowly and deliberately, carefully. He was giving her plenty of chances to rethink things while at the same time stalking her in an almost predatory way. Lowering himself atop her, his hands moved behind her knees and spread her legs as he lifted them and hooked them around his hips as she had done earlier. His bulge, that hot erect length that hung between his legs, pressed at her soft mound through her panties now, and he pressed forward even more as he bent deep to claim her mouth in a kiss again. Three words that Jordan had not heard in some time escaped him. Three words that he hoped would send her over the edge.

"I want you." he said softly, moaning those words into her mouth as large hands covered her breasts and fondled them gently, feeling her nipples react.

After he'd pulled her dress off over her head, she was left in her heels and black lacy bikini panties. When he finally lowered himself over her, her legs wrapped around his hips again, she slid her hands up along his bare arms, and lifted her head to meet him halfway for the kiss, another soft moan heard as she felt his skin on hers, her hands trailed over his shoulder and back, then she heard those three words. Three words she hadn't heard in... Five? Six years? Green eyes searched his face, seeing nothing but sincerity she once again placed her hands on either side of his head and kissed him hard on the lips. Her hands were trembling lightly, for two reasons. She was so aroused she could hardly contain it, and she was fighting off overwhelming emotions, it felt so wonderful to hear those words, and have the physical proof in how he touched her, feeling his own hardened arousal, she almost wanted to cry in joy, and was feeling those tears burning the backs of her eyes, they weren't showing yet, but if she didn't stop them, they would.

The sight of her, the scent of her, and most heavily - the feel of her - all drove Cross toward the precipice of no return, and he happily sped that way. Those large calloused hands were gentle on her silken skin and as she kissed him roughly he returned that kiss with equal passion. The trembling of her hands was only matched by how his heart fluttered in his chest. He was a man that, at least in his personal relationships, wore his heart on his sleeve. He could only hope that Jordan was the same. He could be professional, but in this instance his heart felt like a caged bird struggling to be free of its confines.

"Jordan..." he said simply and slowly lowered his weight onto her. That simply action had several effects, and he felt the damp heat of her sex through those lace panties even as his hardening length found its way out of his boxers through the slit in the front, the swollen rounded head now prodding just above the waistline of those panties as the thick ridge of his length lay pressed along her slit, only that same lacy fabric keeping it from parting those lips.

Now he could no longer keep the pleading from his voice as he spoke, his voice thick with lust and barely more than a whisper. "Touch me Jordan, please."

Even as he said this on of his hands slid down as he shifted his weight a bit, his fingers rubbing along her moistened sex, pressing gently and feeling how soft and warm she was.

She tilted her hips up to his when he lowered himself onto her, her hands gripping his shoulders, a low, long groan escaping her lips and pressing against his own. At first, she was confused in his plea, but then, just before she felt his fingers along, eliciting a gasped moan, she slipped a small, slender hand between them then under the waistband of his boxers before it finally wrapped around his thick length. Slowly, relishing the feel of his hard cock in her hand, she stroked him from base to tip, even as she lifted her head to kiss him again, gently nipping his bottom lip.

The simple touch of her hand on his cock had Cross shuddering for a moment, and in retaliation, though he had asked her to touch him, he used his fingers to push the fabric of the panties aside and run those thick digits over her pussy. Surprisingly he found her smooth and shaven and he found himself grinning into their shared kiss. Jordan was turning out to be much more full of surprises than he had thought. In fact, her cool and professional demeanor on the job likely meant that she was a wild one in bed.

Not that Cross cared. Right now he was starving for human interaction, dare he say it, he wanted to feel loved. Wanted. Desired. He knew Jordan wanted the same.

So his fingers rubbed over her, parting those fleshy outer lips as his fingers played among her slickening folds and gathering her essence upon the tips of his fingers. The tip of his forefinger slid up to her small hooded clit, and he teased her there as she gently nipped at his lip. His cock pulsed softly in her hand and her fingers were rewarded with a thick clear drop of precum, that slick substance helping her stroke him better.