If her car hadn’t been due for maintenance and if she wasn’t still riding on that little bit of hope from pulling a prank with him for the first time since he’d gotten back, this wouldn’t have happened. But she’s in his car surrounded by the smell of him and there’s trash on the floor which he’d apologized for with a sheepish smile, almost blushing a little as he tossed it into the backseat. And the radio was too loud when he turned the car on and his hand flew to the knob immediately turning it down until it was barely audible, but he was singing along still as he buckled his seatbelt. But that isn’t when it happens.

It’s when he puts his hand on her headrest as he’s backing his car out of the space. His long arm stretched out as he looks over his shoulder. His shirt being pulled tight against his chest and the warmth of his hand right next to her head. She imagines it getting all twisted and tangled in her hair. And she’s gone and it isn’t even a decision for her.

It happens again when they’re at a stoplight and his long fingers are tracing the edges of the CD’s in the holder attached to his visor. He takes his time choosing and she takes her time watching, imaging her skin is there instead of that Wilco album. She’s gone again and the light turns green and he’s still got his bottom lip between his teeth and his index finger running along the fronts of the CD’s and when the car behind them honks, he lets out an, “Whoops!” and slides his foot to the gas as she laughs at him.

It happens again whenever his wrist flicks on his turn signal. And when his hands glide over the steering wheel. And when his eyes squint against the sun. And when he drums his fingers on the gearshift. And when he hums along to a song and all she can think of is how the vibration of it would feel against her skin and her bones.

And so they finally get to her building and he’s sitting there in the early evening sun, sort of leaning back so he can watch her as she gathers her stuff up to get out of the car. She stops with her hand on the door handle and turns back to him, not sure what she’s supposed to do, because she certainly can’t just go up to her apartment alone after this. She can’t just ignore the fact that watching him drive has turned her on more than anything Roy ever did.

He laughs sort of nervously and says, “What?”

“Oh, um-” Her face gets hot and she lets her hand fall from the door. “I just-” She stops, tired of stumbling over sentences. So she leans across the car and before she can think about it, she kisses him.

There’s a moment where he doesn’t react and she’s about to pull back and say that she’s sorry and go back up to her apartment and cry in the tub like she’s done on several occasions. But then she feels his hands on her neck, thumbs tracing her collarbone and he’s kissing her back. It’s full of fervor and he breathes in through his nose and pulls her closer to him which is hard with the parking brake there between them, but then she’s sliding into his lap with ease and his hands are on her back.

“Hey,” she says, breathy and low, pulling away just enough to speak. She presses her knees in his hips to steady herself and she slips her fingers beneath his collar.

He doesn’t want to talk though and he moves in to find her mouth again, but she leans back further, hitting the steering wheel behind her. So instead her starts on her neck which makes it hard for her to remember what she was going to say as he sucks lightly on the skin just beneath her jaw.

She grips the fabric of his shirt and closes her eyes, trying to force herself to concentrate. Then she feels his tongue running against her skin and all she can do is moan softly, dipping her head forward to rest in the crook of his neck.

“Hey,” she says, pushing him back and this time he complies, “Let’s go inside.”

She regrets this decision almost immediately, because going inside takes time and as she’s trying to unlock her door, he’s kissing the back of her neck, pushing her hair aside. And it’s hard to get the key in the door when his tongue and teeth find her shoulder.

But she eventually gets it open and she turns around to kiss him again and he backs her through it and she wants to laugh when he kicks it closed because it’s so clichéd, but he’s doing this thing to her bottom lip that she can’t really explain and it makes laughing the last thing she wants to do.

They blindly find the couch and she falls backwards onto it, followed by him. His weight against her is one of the most reassuring things she’s ever felt. She adjusts herself into a more comfortable position and during this pause, she stops and looks at him and says finally, “I love you.”

And this makes everything freeze for a second. He’s hovering over her, holding himself up with one arm and he looks at her with eyes full of desire and something else that’s darker, “I’m still with Karen.”

She nods, “I know,” and lifts her head up to kiss him.

But he stops her, moving his head back before her lips can touch his. “No, I mean, after this, I’m still going to be with-”

She stops him, pressing her mouth hard against his, because she doesn’t want to hear her name, doesn’t want to hear about how it’s too late and he doesn’t love her anymore and this is just something he’s doing to get it out of his system. She kisses him as hard as she can, thinking that it will change his mind if he sees how much she wants him. She tastes salt and it could be blood or it could be tears. Maybe it’s both, but she finds his tie and pulls him down against her again.

His hands move in between them so he can work the buttons of her shirt. She feels air against her skin and it makes her gasp into his mouth. His fingertips walk along the valleys between her ribs until they’re brushing against the underside of her breasts. She sits up enough to shrug her shirt from her shoulders and his hands are immediately unclasping her bra and letting it fall somewhere under the couch.

“God,” he breathes as she kisses him again and eases herself back down onto the cushions. She moves her leg between his. He’s hard and she presses her thigh up against him, listening for his gratifying moan.

His mouth is moving slowly downward and comes to rest at the top of her breasts. He runs his thumbs across her nipples and she feels them tighten. She presses her head back into the arm of the couch, waiting for his mouth to get there. Then she feels that moist warmth and her hands grip at his shoulders. His tongue flicks back and forth and despite the fight she’s putting up to remain quiet, she lets out a strange whimpering sound and arches her body towards him.

He moves to her other breast, this time taking her nipple between his teeth and pulling gently. There’s a flash where she wonders how many girls he’s done this to, how he’s come to be so attuned to the female body. When she imagines him and Karen doing this, it causes an unexpected heat to go through her body and her hands frantically start unbuttoning his shirt.

She’s pushing it off his shoulders when his fingertips sneak beneath the waistband of her skirt. She sits up even more to get the shirt off quicker and then she’s helping him find the zipper on her skirt and when it falls to the floor, she pushes him backwards so that he’s beneath her.

She straddles him in just her underwear now and he brushes against her through his pants and she jerks back, feeling as though just that would be enough to make her come right now. She bows her head down and kisses him before saying in a rough whisper, “Take off your pants,” and crawling off of him.

She makes her way down the hall towards her bedroom, but she doesn’t look back and suddenly he’s right there behind her, turning her around and pinning her against the wall. He holds her hands over her head and presses his entire length against her as he kisses her, his tongue running along her teeth.

He lets go of her hands and then she feels his fingers pulling at the elastic of her underwear. He tugs gently at them until she starts moving her hips to get them all the way off. They slide easily to the floor and soon his hand is there and she’s so unbelievably wet that she’s almost embarrassed. But his fingers are running slowly across her and she pushes herself down against his hand when his index finger runs teasingly over her clit. He puts his face into her shoulder and starts to draw slow circles around her until she’s saying, “Jim, please, please- Please.”

He slides two fingers into her and she bends at the knees a little, causing them to sink even deeper. He brushes his thumb against her clit, eliciting a gasp from her as she grinds into his hand. She’s got her hands pressed against the wall behind her, trying in vain to find something to hold onto. She twists under his touch and closes her eyes tight. He curves his fingers inside her just slightly and she lets out an, “Oh god oh god oh god,” so he pushes his fingers as far as they can go and lets his palm press into her clit until she’s tightening around him sporadically and sliding down the wall slowly as she comes.

He keeps his fingers inside her until her muscles relax completely and when he slides them out, she shudders a little and her hands grip his shoulders hard. And they stand there in the hall, breathing heavily for a moment before she shakes her head, trying to get rid of the post climax haze surrounding her. And then she’s pulling down his boxers and gripping him tightly in her hand. He groans at the feeling of her smooth palm against him and she starts stroking up and down slowly. She bites her lip, runs her thumb over his tip and asks, “What do you want?”

His hand goes out to brace himself on the wall, because those words and her hand, which is moving faster now as she waits for him to answer, is almost too much for him. He finally manages to get out, “You- I want to-” He doesn’t need to finish that sentence though because she’s already sliding him against her wet opening. She presses his length just to the left of her clit and holds it there and he has to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself from letting go right then as she rolls her head backwards and sighs, her toes curling against the hardwood floor.

Then she’s guiding him into her as slowly as possible. He has to lift her up just a little so that he can slide all the way in. So she wraps her legs around his waist and feels him go deep and deeper still. She throws her arms around his neck and he presses her back against the wall, his hands on either side of her to keep them both standing. She starts moving, slowly rolling her hips, adjusting to him and reveling in the feeling of having him inside her.

He bites softly at the skin stretching over her collarbone as they continue to slowly move together. But it isn’t long before his movements become desperate and eager and she cries out at the sudden increase in friction and heat. She feels him start to pulse inside her and he’s coming hard and she follows soon after, clenching around him.

She drops her forehead against his as she unwraps her legs from around his waist and slowly comes back down. When her feet are back on the ground, she reaches out for his hands and his fingers tighten around hers. She’s breathing in the breath that’s coming out of him and waiting for her pulse to slow down.

“Jim-”

Somewhere in the living room, his phone rings, muffled by the fabric depths of his pocket. And before she can finish her sentence- which would’ve gone something like, “Jim, I’m so, so, so sorry, but she can’t love you like I do. So just-” - he’s walking back towards the living room, pulling his boxers on and fishing his phone out of his pants pocket.

She stays where she is, leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed, trying to keep the water there from spilling out. She hears him laugh softly and say, “Hey, Fillipelli,” and then after a pause, “Yeah, definitely, I’ll be right over- Oh, no, I was just finishing up some stuff here at the office.”

And then there’s the sound of belt buckles and zippers and the door closing and she’s alone again.