The Element of Surprise

Birthright - Part 3

With the whole day spent driving back and forth between the station and women's houses, we finally call it a day to book in at a hotel in town. It's not fancy or anything, but at least it's decent. I get a room of my own right next to Em and JJ, who volunteered to share. And as fate would have it, Rossi lands the room opposite of mine.

'You better hope you don't talk in your sleep, otherwise it's guaranteed he'll know what you're dreaming of at night...' Which is exactly why I hoped to sleep as far away from him as possible, thank you for reminding me.

Once I enter my room and close the door, I emit a frustrated breath and lean back against the wall. Why is it so difficult getting over this infatuation with David Rossi? First I blamed it on the fact that he's one of my role models, one of the people I genuinely look up to. How wrong I were. Just look how this 'infatuation' escalated - from me being a blushing, blabbering, rambling mess to the point where I dream of him violating my mouth in his office at night...

The reminder of the dream causes my body to heat up and I waste no time legging it to the bathroom to take a cold shower.

Once I'm clean of the day's drama and dressed in a pair of comfy shorts and a T-shirt, I decide to order in rather than joining the team at the diner down the street. Only some of them went anyway - JJ stayed to call that detective she secretly sees every weekend, as well as Hotch who has too much on his mind to socialize. He gets this way whenever we're on a case regarding children. At first, I consider checking in on the two of them, but once my dinner arrived there is nothing I want more than to just curl up on the two-seater couch with a blanket and some trashy soap operas.

And that's just what I did.

After dinner - a surprisingly tasty bowl of takeout pasta - I brush my teeth and crawl into bed. So far, my mind hasn't drifted off towards a certain senior agent whose room is right across the narrow hall, which is a good thing. It gives me time to reconsider the dating candidates Penny sent me and, in the end, I admit the Brazilian is the best option out of the five.

I go over the info Penelope emailed me about him - Pedro Santos, age thirty-three, moved to America to pursue a career as a personal trainer. I'm beyond stunned to learn he's trained a few celebrities as well, and after going through the pictures of him at the gym, I admit he's build like a Greek god. But I'm not picky when it comes to body types. I mean, the chances that Rossi's hiding a six pack underneath those designer shirts of him are zero to none, although I do see him with one of those attractive dad-bods I sometimes see in the back of the magazines. And I already know he has chest hair, which is a bonus and... wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Wait.

Since when did this topic start revolving around Rossi again? I was busy looking at Pedro's six pack and the next thing... boom! David Rossi.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I mutter to myself. In all my thirty-two years of existence, I've never felt this way about anyone before.

If this doesn't end soon, I don't know what I'll do.

I wake up somewhere past midnight, groggy and confused. When did I even doze off?

Blinking slowly and rubbing my eyes, I sit upright and look around the room. It's surprisingly well lit with the moon shining through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the walls and floor and casting strange silhouettes throughout the room. Then something moves on the other side of my door. All I can make out is the shadow inching towards the left and set of footsteps softly echoing down the hallway. Of course, I would instantly think it's Rossi, considering his room is opposite of mine and the hallway ends to our right.