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" You're a bad man Jethro, "
Safehouse, Paris, France
They had just relocated to a cramped attic in the middle of Paris, on surveillance duty. With the restricted living conditions and short tempers, an argument was inevitable.
"You've taken digs at my competence all day, why sugar-coat it now?" Jenny stood up, folding her arms, glaring at Jethro. "Tell me why I'm not good enough."
She didn't give him any time to come up with a snappy response, her anger boiling over.
"I trust my instincts, you second guess me, you, God, you—" She faltered and he interrupted her sharply.
"So hold your own! This is a partnership, I have to know you trust yourself—"
She didn't even know what they were talking about anymore. The words sounded like they had a double meaning. He reached out and tried to stop her from backing away from him but she jerked back, not trusting herself to be near him.
"Jen," he barked sharply, warningly, just as her foot hit the edge of the attic's exit, disrupting her balance. Her breath hitched as she stumbled, forcing her eyes shut, her mind prepared for a vicious fall.
Before she knew what had happened, Jethro had her around the waist, pulling her against him as he backed away from the hole in the floor.
She pulled back but his hand shifted from her waist to her back. She released his shoulders and moved her hands to his face, jerking his head down to her and turning her head up to press her mouth to his.
He responded instantly, running his tongue along her bottom lip and coaxing her mouth open; her knees buckled and she let her hands fall from his face to his shoulders again, drawing his shirt into her hands and pulling him closer until all of him was pressed against her.
He didn't give her more than a second to breathe; he took her open mouth under his again.
Jenny pulled at his shirt, fumbling with the material. She dropped her hands to the hem and jerked it upward, attempting to get it off of him without breaking the kiss. He pulled back, his hands going to her top, and started yanking upwards as she threw his against the wall, her small hands falling against his bare skin and sliding over him eagerly. He groaned as he disposed of her shirt and pulled her back with his hand in her hair.
"Bed," she choked before he smothered her again, his lips demanding and possessive, charged with the same repressed lust and desire that coursed through her.
She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans, working her thumb against the button as the back of her knees hit the bed and Jethro threw her back onto it. He reached for the top of her jeans and tugged, pulling them off and leaving her in her bra and underwear before him, his eyes raking hungrily over her body.
