She watched in silence how his toned back, his firm shoulders rose and fell with each slow breath he took, the consequential snores causing her to bite her tongue to hold back a laugh. If only the court could see him now-the fearless, fiery Jack McCoy sleeping on his stomach with one hand under his pillow and snoring like a disgruntled cat.
Maybe it was selfish, maybe it was childish, but Claire reveled in the fact that this sight was one reserved solely for her.
(Or: It's 3 AM, and Claire Kincaid finds herself thinking about Jack McCoy.)All Rights Reserved