DISCLAIMER: CSI and its characters are the property of Jerry Bruckheimer and CBS.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: All constructive criticism is welcomed and encouraged, especially since this is my first attempt at writing in the first person. I'd like to thank Sydne for the beta read.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Dusty Rose
By Angela Umbrello


Damn, she looks hot in that blouse.

Not that she isn't absolutely drop dead gorgeous in her normal work clothes, but that color sets her skin tone off just right. She's making the itch between my legs burn – and she damn well knows it.

She doesn't seem to mind that for the past couple of minutes while we've been talking, I've been inching toward her, trying subtly to get as close as possible without straddling her outright where she's sitting. Not that she would mind if I did. I'm certain I could give her a lap dance complete with a striptease, and she wouldn't raise a single objection.

Her hand is idly running up and down my inner thigh as she nonchalantly reads from her file. Every once in a while lithe fingers tickle my center, teasing me, forcing me to bite my tongue to keep from encouraging her. She's wearing that smug smile that makes me want to both slap, and kiss her at the same time.

It's suddenly very hot in here and has nothing to do with the fact that we live near a desert.

"Sofia," I finally choke out.

"Yes," she answers in a lazy voice, her smile if possible becoming even more smug. She most definitely knows what she's doing to me. That wench is purposely provoking my arousal, making that small itch turn into a throbbing that borders on physical pain.

"What are you doing after court?" I barely manage to ask through gritted teeth. My breathing is becoming hitched and yet I can't decide whether I want her to continue her ministrations or stop them entirely.

"Are you . . . propositioning me, Ms. Willows?" she asks in a playful tone. The pupils of her eyes nearly obliterate the blue of her irises. I can practically smell the pheromones rolling off of her as I realize, she is just as turned on as I am.

"Hell, yeah." I respond equally playfully, not that I need a verbal response, not the way we're staring at each other. We both already know the answer to that, just as we both know what we're going to be doing later today. She's removes her hand from leg and while I miss the warmth, at least I can think a little clearer.

"Then," she says getting up from her chair. "How about a sneak peak?"

Without warning she kisses me fully on the lips. For several seconds our bodies are pressed close together, damning the cloth that's keeping us apart, as our tongues take turns tasting and dominating the other. It's short, sweet and filled with an electrical promise of what's yet to come. It's so electrical in fact, that it takes almost a full minute to realize she is no longer in the room.

I lick my lips. I can still taste her. Still, feel the last remnants of her body heat as it quickly dissipates, and I laugh to myself.

Oh yeah, she definitely wants me.

The End

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