The characters of La Femme Nikita remain the property of WB, USA and Fireworks Entertainment. Although I'd love to do this for a living, no profit will ever be made from this story, gosh darn it. This story is most definitely rated NC-17.

December 22nd

Nikita flipped the hot water tap up a notch and stretched her arms above her head happily, fingers interlocked. I wonder how long it actually takes for the hot water to run out? The heat in her apartment hadn't worked properly for two days, and she had gotten quite tired of reading in bed, huddled under the bedclothes like an old hobo.

A girl might think that life in Section would have some perks, like maintenance men who showed up when they said they would. Sadly, there didn't seem to be much difference between Section-sanctioned workmen and the normal everyday garden variety. Having a division called "housekeeping" is definitely misleading, she grumbled to herself as she contemplated the thought of having to get out of the warm shower stall back into that cold bathroom. Still, at least a workman had finally shown up to fix it. Nikita had stayed in her bedroom, trying to ignore the clanking noises and colourful swearing coming from her living room. He'd finally fixed the problem and left nearly two hours ago, but it seemed to be taking forever for her apartment to feel cozy again.

Still, nothing like a bit of a pampering session to cheer a girl up, she mused as she squeezed some more body gel onto the loofah, stroking the rough sponge ruthlessly up each long leg. She would have normally had a hot bath, but when she started to fill the tub all she could think of was Michael and the many times they had shared his big claw-footed bathtub. Lurid thoughts that set her hands trembling and made her knees feel as though they were made of water whirled through her head. Too distracting.

So she ended up in the shower, steaming up the bathroom and singing at the top of her lungs, only barely resisting the urge to pretend that the shampoo bottle was a microphone. "Kareoke Girl, that's me", she through dryly. She had worked her way through a couple of old favourites numbers in the shower, finishing up with a song that a friend had just sent her. She wasn't too sure of all the words yet, but she did love yelling that chorus out. Very therapeutic. Great song. Sometimes a girl just needs to sing at the top of her lungs. It also fitted in very well with the thoughts that had consumed her for the last month.

Michael wasn't due back until tomorrow. He'd been gone for four weeks, and she had fallen into a kind of single slob-girl existence while he'd been away. Tonight I spring-clean, both the apartment and me. The apartment was spotless, and now it was her turn. Where is that facial scrub?

Her mind hummed with very non-Section related thoughts of him, a quiver of anticipation tickling deep in her belly. It had been a very long month without him. What a waste it was having four days down-time, she mused. Time alone was always nice too, but ... she missed him, missed him terribly. Too bad I have to go back in tomorrow just when he's getting home. She smiled at the thought. Home. No matter how many times she said it to herself, it still sent a thrill of joyous disbelief down her spine. Home to me.

She was still not used to having him around. Her apartment had been hers and hers alone for so long that quite often she forgot she wasn't by herself any more. Nikita grinned as she remembered his first experience with her habit of talking back to the television when certain characters on her favourite shows were pissing her off. He never said a word, but the raised eyebrow and amused twist of that gorgeous mouth were comment enough. She had rolled her eyes back at him, trying not to blush. Love me, love my weird habits.

Nikita frowned as she remembered their last conversation before he had left. It had been a rather one-sided conversation, she recalled, flushing with shame. Same old problem. She had wanted him to talk about the upcoming mission to East Timor, asking for information that she knew very well he was not permitted to give her. He had been patiently tolerant of her, seeming to realise that it was fear of something happening to him while she wasn't there to look out for him that was making her needy. But she had spent the last month in a kind of depressed funk, unhappy that her last words to him had been angry ones.

"Why are you shutting me out?" They stood nose to nose. She was furious, and the fact that he was just standing there calmly letting her tantrum roll over him was just making her more annoyed.

"This has nothing to do with 'us'. The intel on this mission has Level One Classification. You know what that means." He touched a hand to the side of her face, wanting her to look at him. She turned her head away. She knew that she was being unreasonable, but she couldn't stop the words that were spilling out. She was worried. Afraid.

Michael sighed and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, obviously deciding that she wasn't going to be receptive to anything more than that.

"I will miss you." The softly spoken words pierced her heart but she stayed silent, unable to meet his eyes.

Suddenly his hands were cupping her face and he was kissing her, hard and with a quiet urgency that set her legs quivering. She closed her eyes tightly to stop the hot tears from falling and kissed him back hungrily, choking back an unhappy sob deep in her throat.

Nikita knew, even as she was railing at him, that it was fear of losing him that made her react that way. Still, she would have liked to have been able to share her fears calmly, without giving him his own private production of the Taming of the Shrew every damn time.

She was embarrassed now to admit to herself that it wasn't only fear of losing him that had made her act like a clinging girlfriend, but the sudden realision that maybe he wouldn't be with her at Christmas. She didn't know why. After all, how many holidays had she spent inside the Section? And how many of those had she actually shared with Michael?

Not many. Hardly any. Nikita smiled sadly to herself. None? She sighed, the sound echoing hollowly in the tiled room. She wanted this time to be different. They were together. For now, a sad little whisper in her mind reminded her. Nikita pushed away the niggling realisation that neither of them could guarantee their future, that every day they had together was a precious gift. Nikita blinked back the tears that suddenly seared her eyes, annoyed with herself. It's not as though I haven't had time to get used to that idea. She had made a pact with herself months ago. She was going to make the most of every single day. Every damn second of every minute.

Right now, all she wanted in her life was Michael home in one piece and to be able to give him a huge smooch underneath the mistletoe. She refused to let herself feel cheated anymore. It didn't do any good, anyway. Nikita closed her eyes as she leaned up against the tiled wall of the shower, remembering a conversation with Michael a long time ago. A lifetime ago.

Michael had looked her intently, his eyes shining subtly with unshed tears. "Without the Section, none of us would have a life. What right do I have to feel cheated?"

Nikita studied his face, a strange ache clenching her heart as she watched sadness and pain dance silently across his face, his eyes those of a man who was struggling for control. She caught his eyes with hers and held his gaze, trying to convey her support, her understanding.

"You have the right to feel any way you want."

She'd taken a deep breath then and asked him if he wanted to go for coffee. And he'd said yes. Nikita smiled now as she thought of the strange tickle of excitement that had fluttered through her at his reply. I'd love to.

At the time, she was somewhat puzzled over her motives, not to mention her reaction. But he was hurting, and it's what she would have done for any friend who needed to talk. Yeah, sure. She shook her head at her own thoughts. You were in big-time denial, girl! From the very beginning, she didn't know how she could have stopped herself loving him. Even now, knowing what we would have to go through...I would not take back one single moment, not one argument, not one single touch or glance.

Nikita turned off the water with an abrupt movement. Enough dwelling on the past. Especially when they seemed to have so much past to choose from. She refused to look back anymore and wonder what might have been. They had right now, and right now was all that mattered.

One more day and he'll be home. Nikita stepped out of her shower onto the bath mat. Correction. She stepped onto the cold bathrooms tiles where her bath mat should have been. Shit! The bath mat was currently sitting wet in her washing machine with a load of towels. Ignoring the shiver that shimmered down the back of her legs, she grabbed the nearest bath towel and wound it around her wet hair, twisting it up into a makeshift turban. One dry towel left, and it had definitely seen better days. It's either dry myself with it or stand on it, she pondered briefly. The drying off won. The bathroom still wasn't back to its normal temperature and she'd be damned if she'd catch a cold just to stop her feet from feeling chilly.

Grabbing the well-worn red towel, she wound it around her body before contemplating the contents of her bathroom cabinet. She felt a pang of longing as she caught sight of Michael's spare razor. Not that he ever seems to use the damn thing, she thought ruefully, rubbing her jaw in sympathetic memory. Her eyes lit up as she spied her target on the top shelf. Time for a bit of experimentation.

~*~*~*~*~

Michael closed the door behind him and leaned back against it for a moment. He still couldn't quite believe the feeling of utter peace that came over him every time he stepped through this doorway.

Spending nearly a month in a country that was tearing itself apart from the inside out had frayed his nerves to the point where he had actually grown a bit 'jumpy' in the last few days. Michael shut his eyes, letting his mind wander briefly through the disturbing events of the past four weeks. Just one more time, then that's enough.

He'd hardly had time to think since arrived back from the East Timor. In a strangely magnanimous gesture, Operations had allowed him twelve hours downtime before debriefing, possibly due to his injury and the losses the mission has sustained. Michael wasn't quite sure why, but he didn't wait around to argue the point. He closed his eyes briefly, thinking of the three members of his team who had not survived. Three good operatives, caught in a bitter, bloody coup that they could not even begin to comprehend. He had spoken only briefly to Operations about the mission, about the conditions that they'd found themselves in when it all went to hell, caught in sudden crossfire between warring guerilla factions. He wasn't sure, but he sensed an air of empathy from the older man, almost as though he had touched a hidden core of understanding.

Michael wanted to forget the things that he had seen, the things that he had done, and the people whose lives he wasn't able to save.

More importantly, he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in the woman he could hear singing very loudly in the shower.

Michael let his gaze sweep the room, more out of habit than anything else. An unfamiliar dark shape in the corner of the living room had his head jerking around in a surprised double take, a bittersweet ache fluttering in his heart.

A Christmas tree.

Michael forgot his aching limbs, the grocery bag he was carrying, everything. He simply stood and stared at the tree in the corner, belatedly pinpointing the unfamiliar scent that has teased his senses since he walked through the door - the smell of pine needles. He walked slowly towards the small fir tree, taking in the fact that it was still undecorated, and that a box of Christmas decorations lay on the floor beside it.

Christmas. He had forgotten that it was so close. I guess that's what happens when you spend a month in the southern hemisphere in December. I've never sweated so much in all my life. He'd spent the last four weeks sweltering through soaring temperatures, baking sunshine and humidity levels so high it felt as though the very air he breathed was wringing wet. Christmas trees, mulled wine and snowmen were the last thing on a person's mind when it felt like the middle of summer.

Christmas was in three days. Nikita obviously hadn't forgotten. He examined the apartment more closely, following his nose to an unfamiliar bowl of pot pourri on a side table. Cinnamon twills and tiny pine cones blended with dried fruit peel. Michael's nose twitched in protest as he inhaled a little too deeply and he had to clamp down on the urge to sneeze. Still, very nice. Very festive.

He surveyed his surroundings with amused eyes, noting the new purchases, unfamiliar CDs scattered across the coffee table and a purple and gold throw rug over the couch that almost looked like a sari. Retail therapy, he thought indulgently. Smiling, he shook his head slightly and slowly walked towards the small kitchen before setting down the grocery bag on top of the kitchen bench. He didn't want to think of Nikita as being predictable, but he already knew that if he opened her refrigerator door, there wouldn't be much in there that would appeal to his taste buds.

He was right. Michael grimaced slightly as he let his eyes wander over the shelves. Low-alcohol beer. Water. Processed cheese. Miracle whip. A block of imported Cadbury's milk chocolate. Correction.. half a block. A bunch of wilted cilantro peeping out from behind a tub of low-cholesterol margarine.

No wine. No proper cheese. No real mustard. No butter.

Michael sighed and starting emptying the grocery bag onto the kitchen bench, mentally considering the combined fat content of the items he was unpacking before he could stop himself. He frowned, wondering just when he had started worrying about such things. Food should be a celebration of life, of enjoyment, he thought almost irritably. Not broken down into fat and sugar content like some laboratory experiment. He peered into the depths of the refrigerator once more, grinning at Nikita's apparent "balanced diet" logic...obviously the low-cholesterol margarine must cancel out the chocolate.

How could I have forgotten that it was Christmas Day in three days? How strange, he mused. All I knew was that I wanted to finish that mission and get the hell out of there.

Michael studied the restocked shelves of the refrigerator and mentally catalogued what he had bought. Fresh pasta. A few vegetables. Chicken breasts. Two bottles of wine. Nothing too unusual there.

But then there were these other items that he had felt compelled to toss in the basket. Grand Marnier pate. Verve Cliquot champagne. Belgian chocolate truffles. Double brie. Smoked salmon.

Definitely "celebration of life" food, he grinned wryly to himself.

Obviously the subliminal holiday advertising at the food market did its work. He had been single-minded in his intent to get out of Section, grab some food and get to Nikita as quickly as possible ... and still those insidious Christmas carols must have filtered into his consciousness.

Michael stood in Nikita's kitchen and stared unseeing at the bench top, flattening his warm palms against the cool surface as painful memories struggled free.

The only time he had celebrated Christmas since his life in Section began had been with Elena and Adam. Even then, he had not always been home. Christmas was something that he tried to just let wash over him, to just let happen around him. It was a resolve that was sorely tested, year after year. Michael closed his eyes as he let his thoughts wander, facing the memory of his last Christmas with them. Adam ripping the bright red bow off a new bike, an excited grin seeming to almost split his little face in half.

"Daddy! Daddy!! Look at me! Look at me!" When the inevitable had happened, and there had been grazed knees and tears, Michael had held Adam so tightly that he had started to squirm. Letting his son go, watching him climb back on his new toy for another try, he had blinked back tears, wishing desperately that grazed knees and banged elbows were the only things he needed to protect Adam from.

Michael shook his head. The past was just that. Gone. Adam and Elena were gone. Sometimes it hurt so much he could hardly breathe. And yet sometimes he was able to think of Adam without that searing pain inside his chest. He would picture his son safe, away from danger and happy. And his heart would ache that little bit less.

The woman upstairs had been his saviour. She had pulled him back from the brink of madness, back from the edge of sanity that he had been teetering on when he lost Adam. He had not asked her to do it, nor had he thanked her for it at the time. But she had persevered, even in the shadow of his hopeless wall of pain. Because she was his friend, she had said. Nikita had refused to let him push her away, refused to let him lose himself in self-pity and sorrow.

The sound of the water pipes shuddering as the pressure of the water rushing through them increased, broke into Michael's quiet reverie. He glanced in the direction of Nikita's bedroom with his head titled to one side, listening intently. Shower still running, Nikita still singing. Time to get busy.

~*~*~*~*~

Michael blew out the match and surveyed his handiwork. How can one girl have so many candles? He had to admit that the bedroom looked pleasingly different when illuminated only by the light of a few dozen flickering candles. He was amazed that she hadn't heard him come in, hadn't heard him rummaging through the kitchen cabinets for the matches. Although when he thought about it again, he wasn't that surprised. He was well-used to Nikita's bathroom habits. Water turned up full pelt, music turned up as far as it would go, and a quick and loud tour through the classic hits of the eighties and nineties.

He straightened the cover on her bed, grimacing slightly as he stretched his left arm out a little too quickly, a little too far. Shuddering inwardly at his narrow escape from the clutches of the Medlab techs, he took a deep breath and headed for the bathroom. She was singing at the top of her voice, a song that he had never heard before. Interesting lyrics, he mused as he got closer. He stood outside the bathroom door for a moment, listening intently to the sound of Nikita singing.

"Shut up and kiss me now, kiss me now, kiss me now ... I have been patient, but patience is gone. Shut up and kiss me, kiss me now, kiss me now, all my vision has blurred into one..."

The singing faded into a loud humming, which wasn't much more in tune than the singing had been. Michael couldn't help smiling. Nikita might not be a very good singer, but she attacked a song the same way she attacked life...with joyous gusto. Rather the same way she attacks...his thoughts strayed into dangerously erotic territory. Enough of this loitering about outside her bathroom door, just walk in there...

Michael stopped in his tracks at the sight of her, dripping wet, wrapped in a red towel, her old favourite that she wouldn't let him throw away, hopping from one foot to the another to avoid standing on the cold tiles for too long. She was smiling to herself, singing softly as though she hadn't a care in the world. Michael hesitated. His first plan of attack, formulated to fine detail over the last four weeks while stuck in East Timor, had been to grab her, throw her over his shoulder and carry her off to her bedroom. Now that he was actually here, seeing her literally humming with contentment, Michael changed his mind. He wanted to draw this out as long as possible.

His heart suddenly felt lighter as he watched her, his spirit shedding its tainted shroud of post-mission violence and death as he felt her presence soothe him. His body's reaction to the sight of her was an entirely different matter. My god, what she does to me! Michael clenched his teeth, and leaned against the door frame. He could wait. She has to turn around sooner or later. He let his eyes sweep over her, drinking in the sight of her, from the smooth lines of the back of her neck to the bright red toenails that were a perfect match for her towel. His heart was pounding, and it was all he could do to stop himself for reaching out and pushing her slowly down on to the cold, hard tiles.

Nikita swung the cabinet door shut, singing under her breath once more. A casual glance in the mirror had the plastic bag dropping from her suddenly nerveless fingers, the contents tumbling across the bench with a clatter.

Shit! Michael was standing behind her, an odd wistful expression on his face. Their eyes met in the fogged up mirror. What was he doing here a day early, damn it? He was lounging against the door frame, studying her lazily with a slight smile curling his mouth. Nikita felt her face flush as another thought occurred to her. Just how many corny songs did he hear me singing?

Michael could have stood there for hours, just looking at her. The dull ache of hopelessness, the bone-deep weariness that he always felt after a mission had fallen away from him at the first sight of her, at the sound of her voice torturing those poor songs. His eyes drank her in, his own personal oasis in the desert that was their life.

Nikita just stared at his reflection, her heart stuck somewhere up around her throat. There was a small cut above his left eyebrow, and he looked tired. He looked wonderful. A thread of tingling warmth coiled in her stomach, spreading through her entire body.Lordy. There was an air of barely controlled need in his eyes, and she had been waiting to see that look for four long weeks. Her gaze caressed his reflection, her eye dropping to watch his mouth, the full lips parting slightly as he spoke.

"What are those?" The soft words were the first they'd said to each other in nearly a month. Confused, she followed his look. Small glossy black tubes of lipstick were scattered across the bench top. Busted.

Michael didn't quite know why he was still standing here, just talking. All he had thought about for the past month was her, the scent of her hair, the silky texture of her neck and back, the feeling of her body twisting underneath his, the way she whispered his name as she came, shuddering in his arms. He had woken so many times on this latest mission with her name on his lips, her phantom body pressed against him in his dreams, that he had started to stay awake for longer and longer periods, not wanting to face the aching emptiness that gripped him when he woke up alone. He watched her as she looked down at the vanity, a slight frown creasing her brow. She's so beautiful. Bedraggled wet hair hastily shoved into a towel turban-style, her face pink and shiny, no doubt from one of her many concoctions, and a towel that had seen better days wrapped tightly around her damp body - she took his breath away.

Nikita smiled innocently at his image in the mirror, taking in the sight of his tanned face and the lighter streaks in his hair. He looked as though he had spent a whole summer under a hot foreign sun. Michael's gaze returned to the bench top, green eyes widening slightly as he did a quietly amused tally. It's the candles all over again, he thought.

"Well, sometimes a girl just needs to update her make up collection". She studied her new possessions somewhat guiltily. Perhaps eight new lipsticks in one hit was slightly excessive.

Her breath was suddenly tight in her chest. It was one thing to spend a very pleasant half-hour in the shower working up several erotic profiles with him in mind. It was another thing entirely to be confronted with the Operative in question. She took a deep breath and swiveled around slowly to face him, his slow smile warming her from head to toe.

"I've never seen that brand before." She looked at him in amusement at his earnest tone. If only those Red Cell boys could see him now.

He reveled in the look she gave him, that flicker of animated delight dancing across her face. It was gratifying to know that he could still surprise her every now and then. "A Christmas present to myself, I guess. They're called Poppy lipsticks."

Michael couldn't have cared less, but he was entranced by the picture she made, a slight smile curling her full mouth as she looked at her new toys.

"Why so many of them?" He pushed himself away from the door frame, and slowly strolled towards her. Slowly, slowly. Make this last.

The blood was pounding in her ears. Does he have any idea of what he does to me with a single look? She almost reluctantly looked up to find his eyes again. There was a look of dangerous intent in them, his gaze dropping to study her breasts beneath a towel that suddenly felt too much too tight. Of course he does,she thought. Smug bastard.

"They're a set. Well, seven of them are, anyway." He had moved to stand behind her in order to look over her shoulder, seemingly enthralled by the object of their discussion. His hip was pressed against her backside, and his warm breath on her bare shoulder was causing a slight meltdown throughout her nervous system.

Michael closed his eyes briefly, counting to ten, trying to quell his instant and fairly obvious reaction to her nearness. Standing behind her, he could feel the heat of her skin through the threadbare towel she wore, and his hipbone felt as though it was on fire. He bit his lip to stop the involuntary groan that threatened to give him away, but could not have moved his body away from hers if his life depended on it.

"A set?" She felt the words rumble in his chest against her arm, and flicked a quick look at him. Why are we still talking about these damn lipsticks? Controlling the urge to knock him down onto the tiles, she forced herself to continue her explanation.

"Yep. Seven lipsticks, each named after a Deadly Sin." The word sin hung in the air between them. Oh boy. Taking a deep breath, she tried to ignore the sudden tingle of arousal between her thighs. He was still watching her in the mirror, patiently waiting for her to continue.

Michael blinked slightly at the mention of sin, and forced himself to look casually interested as his self-control rapidly seeped away.

"I haven't tried them yet ... I was just about to when you showed up. A day early, I might add." She twisted her body slightly, turning so that they were face to face. She watched his eyes start to glimmer with slow-burning awareness as she tilted her head towards him, her mouth almost grazing his jaw.

"Why have you shown up?"

His response came with a quirk of one eyebrow, his tone a little too innocent.

"I missed you." Michael reached out to touch her face, tilting her chin up slightly towards him. Her face and upper chest were still warmly tinged with colour from the heat of her shower, and he had the sudden urge to discover if the skin under that threadbare towel was similarly affected. Michael clenched the fist of his free hand tightly, trying to focus on the feeling of his nails against his palm, rather than the precarious state of the towel tucked across the soft curve of Nikita's breasts.

Nikita's heart missed several beats, before kick-starting itself into a pounding frenzy of anticipation. Michael was looking at her as though he intended to eat her alive but wanted to be polite about it. Her skin was tingling under the touch of his fingertips, tiny shivers skittering down her spine as a rough thumb rubbed gently across her chin. She cleared her throat, wishing she could clear the fog of desire from her head as easily.

"Nice try, but I don't believe that 'I miss you' is high on the list of Section approved reasons for returning early from a mission. Especially one as high-profile as yours seemed to be."

She flushed and bit her lip, wishing she could bite back her words as well. He hadn't been home more than ten minutes and she had just picked up right where she'd left off...nagging him. Nice one. I wouldn't blame him if he turned on his heel and got the hell out of here.

Michael studied the different emotions flickering across her expressive face, taken aback by the sudden sadness that clouded her eyes. So much feeling between the two of them, so intense, always too close to the surface. His fingers tightened on her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes once more.

Nikita took a deep breath and looked up. He was not angry with her. Beneath the raw desire in his gaze, she saw only weariness and an amusement she suspected was directed at her, rather than with her. Hmmmm. She licked her suddenly dry lips, realising too late that she was perhaps pushing her luck as his smile faltered, his hand drawing her closer to him.

Michael stared at her mouth, watching her tongue dart out to moisten her lips, as though mesmerised. He didn't want to waste any more time talking, about make up or his mission. He wanted her too much.

"I don't want to talk about it right now. Could we finish this later?" A flicker of startled remembrance flickered across her face at his soft request, and he swore silently at his choice of words.

"Can we finish this later?"

They were very different people from the two Section operatives who been taken captive by Red Cell after the Section directory had been broken, but he could still remember the emptiness that had surged through him as he felt her disdainful gaze rake him, her face pale with fury and hurt underneath the bloody scratches. Nikita had grabbed his arm to stop him going up the stairs, her fingers digging into his flesh as she bit out a tearful declaration

"We're finished!"

She had been so angry with him and the memory of it still made his gut clench coldly with shame, after all this time. He knew that Nikita had been furious with herself that she had believed his words of love, embarrassed that she had fallen for what she believed were his lies. Admittedly, she hadn't been in a very good frame of mind at that moment.

Nikita watched Michael's eyes, saw them darken with the memory of their shared past. She knew what he was thinking about. That wasn't really a good day for me. Get nibbled on by some rats. Watch Michael be tortured by Red Cell. Have him tell me that he loves me. Think that he was going to die. Betray Section. Find out that it was all part of the mission profile.

No wonder I was pissed. She smiled to herself, suddenly amazed at her ability to look back on that time without the usual pang of regret. It had been such a long time ago. It had nothing to do with how they felt about each other now. If only their past wasn't quite so...interesting. It made moving on slightly difficult sometimes.

Chiding himself for thoughtlessly slamming Nikita up against the very things that he was working so hard to make her forget, Michael strove to bring her back to him.

"Ni-kita." The apologetic tone in his voice almost startled her. Smiling into his eyes, she reached out and touched his hand, loving how his long fingers curled around her hand instantly.

"It's alright, Michael." He looked at her, a sudden bleakness taking away some of the warmth in his face. She gripped his hand tighter, willing him to forget about it. "It's okay ... really." The guilt was slow to fade from his eyes, but it did fade.

She sighed softly. Sometimes she was afraid that he was never going to forgive himself for what he saw as his sins against her. Nikita took hold of his other hand and moved closer to him, the warmth of his body like a siren's song in the cool bathroom. As her eyes locked with his, she felt that tug in her chest, the magnetic pull towards him that never failed to astonish her every time she felt it.

She thought again of that painful mission involving the Section Directory. I wasn't wrong to believe him. I believed his words of love because I knew in my gut that it was the truth. He loved me then. She leaned towards him slightly, watching his green eyes narrow and focus on her lips.

He loves me now.

"What are you doing with all those lipsticks?"

She blinked as Michael's matter-of-fact words cleared some of the sensual haze from her mind.

"Uh, well, it's been a while since I wore any really bright makeup. I just wanted to try them all out before you came home and... oh..."

Her voice trailed off into a sigh as he bent his head and pressed a whiskered kiss into the crook of her neck, sending flurries of goosebumps down her arms.

"You were saying?" He prompted softly, the words breathed against her ear as he dropped feather light kisses down her neck. She shifted her weight from leg to leg, trying to wriggle closer to him, but he seemed determined to hold her away from him slightly while he slowly sent her down the path of spontaneous combustion. Control freak, she thought with loving resentment as she felt his fingers brushing lightly over the top of her breasts, outlining the edge of the bath towel where it pressed into her chest.

Michael willed himself to keep breathing steadily, but the feeling of her beneath his hands was nearly his undoing. This towel is not a very efficient barrier, he thought dazedly as his hands reverently explored the swell of Nikita's breasts.

"Um, okay. They're great colours, but I really wanted to try them out first, and also see if it was true." She wished that she could control the idiotic quaver in her voice.

Michael smiled against her neck at the husky tremor he heard. He loved it when she couldn't hide her reaction to him, loved the fact that he could bring her to this point without even touching her properly. It was only fair - after all, she had exactly the same effect on him, every single time.

"See if what were true?" She looked at him, not quite believing the conversation that they were having. He had been gone for nearly a month. He was back a day early. She was only wearing a towel. They were talking about lipsticks.

"If they stay on, no matter what."

Michael shuddered, desperately clamping down on his body's reaction to her reply. The sudden vision of applying the goddamn lipstick to every inch of her, before slowly biting and licking it off, was causing a riot of sensation to surge through him. His hand suddenly coiled around the back of her neck, hearing her breath catching in her throat as he pressed his mouth to her temple before trailing his lips down to her jaw line. Her skin was sweet and smooth, and the tiny droplets of water still clinging to her were warm on his tongue.

Nikita closed her eyes in anticipation, only to open them again as she felt his body shift, reaching across her. She bit back a moan as his arm brushed across her chest, unwittingly teasing her hardening nipples.

"Which one were you going to try first?"

Michael bit the inside of his cheek, desperately trying not to smile at the bemused look on Nikita's face. It was fairly obvious that she was quite ready to move on from the lipstick discussion, but he couldn't help teasing her. She looked so lovely, and there had not been a lot of lovely things in his life in the past four weeks.

Nikita glanced down, only to find that he was now holding the lipsticks in his hand, seemingly giving them his full attention.

"Uh...well, I hadn't really thought about it. Just the first one that came to hand, I guess." She was pleased to hear that the quaver in her voice wasn't quite as bad as it had been.

He opened his palm, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Pick one." Michael waited, watching her, daring her to object. As she hesitated, he took the opportunity to study her at his leisure. He shifted uncomfortably as Nikita bit her bottom lip in indecision, the sudden tug in his groin forcibly reminding him that there were more important things that he could be doing with his hands than holding lipsticks in them.

She swallowed down the strange nervousness that was suddenly sticking in her throat. There was a subtle challenge in his voice. Michael's expression was inscrutable, but there was suddenly a faint erotic threat in his tone. His hand was still curled around the nape of her neck, his thumb absently caressing the sensitive skin behind her ear. A very slight smirk was twisting a corner of his mouth. She felt her face grow hot under his scrutiny.

Okay. I'll play.

Shutting her eyes, she slid her hand down to cover his, inwardly sighing as she felt the warm skin of his palm beneath her fingertips. Letting her fingers close over one of the lipstick tubes at random, she opened her eyes to read the name. Ridiculously relieved and disappointed at the same time, she gave him a slight smile. Ah, the irony of it all.

Michael dropped the remaining lipsticks in his jacket pocket, all the while watching her intently. The small room seemed too warm suddenly, a trickle of cool sweat making its way down his spine. His belly flickered at the knowing smile she gave him as she held her choice out to him.

Trying to keep the laughter out of her voice, Nikita showed him the label.

"Anger."

Michael looked at the label then back at her, slightly puzzled by her amused reaction. "Anger?" His face was only inches away, his breath warm on her face. The hand on her neck slid slowly down her back, tracing her spine through the towel. She felt her toes involuntarily curl into the cool tiles as tiny flames of need began to dance throughout her body.

Michael sighed inwardly, remembering. The fight. You're still thinking about that argument. What an infuriating, amazing woman you are. "Are you still angry about the mission?"

She swallowed hard at the question, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. He tried again, an almost unbearable sexual tension coiling and uncoiling like a serpent through his body.

"Nikita." As softly spoken as it was, the word was a warning. A tender rebuke. She let out a small sigh and slowly raised her gaze to his.

"No". It was not quite the truth. She was angry, but not at him. Nikita was annoyed with herself, disappointed in her inability to keep her emotions on an even keel where this man was concerned. And yet for every time he made her feel too vulnerable, there were twice as many times that his presence had given her such inner strength that she could not begrudge him this hold he had over her. Nikita held his gaze, her resolve to talk the matter through weakening when she looked into his eyes and saw only love and desire staring her in the face.

He smiled at her, willing her to understand. "I couldn't tell you the details of the Kossen mission. You know that."

The strangely hesitant smile he gave her was her undoing. She could feel tears pricking behind her eyes.

"I know. I knew that before you left. It's just that..." Her voice trailed off as he reached up and pulled off the towel that she had wrapped turban-style around her head, letting her damp hair spill onto her shoulders. She shivered slightly as the cool strands of hair touched her heated skin, closing her eyes as she felt his hand at her temple, sliding into the slightly-tangled tresses.

"Michael..." His name caught in her throat as she felt his mouth on her bare shoulder, his teeth nipping at the still damp skin. She vaguely registered a faint clattering sound, which she could only assume was her new lipstick being dropped into the sink. Her head swam with frustrated need, her hand snaking around his hips, trying to pull him against her. More.

Later, Michael wondered how he managed to stop himself from ripping the towel from her body and throwing them both onto the floor, the desperate need to feel her body underneath him almost overcoming him. But he was enthralled, both by Nikita and this little game that they had found themselves playing.

Nikita opened her eyes at the sound of his throaty chuckle, his hands sliding up to her shoulders to hold her away from him. The look in his eyes made her mouth go dry. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. And yet he was still holding her at arm's length. God damn that self-control of his.

Nikita reached for the lipstick, only to have him beat her to it, watching as he picked up the tube that she had dropped onto the vanity. Raw desire showing plainly in his face, he smiled at her confusion as he flicked the top off with his thumb. "Nice. Could be a bit too red for your colouring, though." His eyes crinkled at her as he gave his verdict on her first choice. Holding the black tube just out of her reach, he smiled at her.

"I only said that it could be too red. You'll never know unless you try it." His eyes dancing with devilish intent, he reached out and laid his hand gently on the side of her face. Michael stifled a laugh, wishing desperately that he could capture the shocked expression that flitted across her face as he brought the lipstick up to her mouth.

"Go like this." She looked at him incredulously as he pouted his lips at her in a demonstration that threatened to buckle her knees. She obeyed his polite request, her heart pounding so loudly in her ribcage that she almost felt embarrassed, certain that he could hear it.

Michael touched the lipstick to her bottom lip, slowly at first, then with a growing confidence as he swept the bright colour along her mouth. What a beautiful mouth she has. It was one of first things he had ever noticed about her, right from that first day in the White Room. It was somewhat ironic, now that he thought about it, that their first meeting had ended with them lying entwined on the floor. She had been terrified and furious. He had been totally unnerved by his body's instant reaction to the sensation of her lying underneath him, panting with rage. And the longing for her that had begun in that second had never left him, only growing stronger and stronger as time went by.

Her eyes and her lips. God, he would never get tired of looking into those clear blue eyes, never grew weary of touching and kissing her mouth.

Nikita watched as his brow furrowed in concentration, and ached to kiss that frown away. He moved the cool lipstick over her top lip, painstakingly outlining the bow of her lips. His thumb rested lightly on her bottom lip, and she could no longer resist. She saw his eyes narrow and felt a faint tremor in his hands as she flicked her tongue to touch the sensitive pad. Michael stopped his ministrations, his gaze traveling up to meet her eyes. Nikita held his eyes with hers as she leant forward a fraction and took his thumb between her teeth, biting down firmly, then caressing it with her tongue. She watched his eyes darken suddenly as they traveled down her face to study her lips once more. His eyes are the colour that the sky turns just before a hailstorm hits, she thought dazedly.

With his fingers under her chin, Michael tilted her head to one side, studying his handiwork. He could sense the tension in her as she watched him warily, unsure of his next move. Michael smiled to himself, his next question more loaded than the Glock that Nikita kept in her kitchen cupboard.

"So, it doesn't come off?"

Nikita felt her breath catch in her throat, her heart leaping wildly in her chest. "That's what they say." She leant forward until her lips were only a whisper away from his. Blue eyes locked with green in an unspoken erotic challenge, her heart pounding in her throat. Kiss me. Now. I dare you.

Michael felt the heat of her gaze on him, her eyes caressing his face and lips in a searing sweep that dried his throat. His whole body seemed to be vibrating with need. I can't play this game for much longer. He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes from Nikita's lips back up to her beseeching stare.

"Michael, I..." Her words disappeared at the first touch of his mouth on hers, his lips brushing softly against hers. His teeth teased her bottom lip gently, before his tongue lightly traced the cupid's bow of her top lip. A soft whimper bubbled up in her throat. It wasn't enough. She followed where he led, trying to deepen the contact, but he stayed achingly just out of her reach.

Michael felt his breath shaking in his lungs. Oh god. Just the feeling of her mouth against his was enough to send a torrent of desire flooding through him. Drowning in the depths of Nikita's sensual touch, his body made the decision for him. Bedroom. Now.

Michael's hands were suddenly on her hips and she found herself being walked backwards toward the bathroom door. Nikita was grateful for his arms supporting her, her knees trembling as he continued to kiss her face and her neck, his teeth biting gently on her exposed collarbone. Michael steered them towards her bedroom in a slow, sensual waltz, still holding her slightly away from his body. The rippling shudder that had begun deep inside her the second she had laid eyes on his reflection in the bathroom mirror was burgeoning, growing to an almost paralyzing heat.

She found herself staring at his lips, mesmerised by the curve, the shape of them. An overwhelming need to feel his mouth on hers again had her clutching at his forearms, the muscles tensing under her touch as she tried to pull him closer to her.

Michael only smiled at her, moving his hands down her back to cup her buttocks before finally yielding to delicious temptation, pulling her body flush against him, his arms sliding across the small of her back. The sudden contact made them both flinch with an erotic shock, Michael watching raptly as Nikita closed her eyes, biting down on her lip as she felt his arousal hard against her belly.

"Ni-kita." Her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice.

They stared at each other, the air around them suddenly almost humming with unspoken, urgent need. Nikita felt as though she would burst into flame at the touch of his mouth on hers. It would be worth it. He inclined his head towards hers, his lips partly slightly. Closing her eyes, she was startled to feel only cool air brush her lips. Disappointment turned to breathlessness as his mouth danced warmly across the swell of her breasts.

Nikita's fingers gripped hard on his waist as his kisses went lower and lower, nuzzling her breasts through the soft material. It was a pain that he welcomed, needing a distraction on which to focus as his self-control fled, leaving only his baser instincts in command. A low noise deep in his chest seemed to be echoed by Nikita's own soft sighs. Her breathy gasp as he nipped gently at one of her nipples through the damp towel sent his desire into overdrive, his body tightening almost painfully.

Nikita could feel his groan reverberate in her own body, turning into a rough guttural moan as she slipped her hands under his jacket, feeling the muscles of his back tensing and shifting at her touch. Desperate to touch him properly, she yanked his shirt out from the waistband of his trousers, sighing as she finally felt his smooth skin under her fingertips. She scratched her nails lightly down his spine, reveling in the solid warmth of him against her. Heated sensation pooled in her groin as his hands tightened on her hips to hold her to him, rubbing against her in a teasing grind that was threatening her sanity. And his safety, she muttered silently. Time for a bit of affirmative action.

Michael closed his eyes in tortured bliss as Nikita slid the jacket off his shoulders, tossing it onto the bed behind her. He had been dazed by his sheer need for her, but now Michael's heart jolted as he suddenly realised that Nikita was about to discover for herself just how badly his latest mission had actually gone.

Nikita vaguely registered that he was wearing a black short-sleeved t-shirt under his jacket, rather than the usual heavy knit. Wanting to feel all of him, she slid her hands up his bare arms, teasing the biceps under the short sleeves. He flinched, so slightly that she almost missed it. Nikita stilled her wandering hands, and narrowed her eyes at him. Michael only smiled at her with an air of studied calm, and slid his hands slowly down her back to cup her bottom gently. Ignoring his sensual attempts to distract her, Nikita ran her hands lightly over his shoulders, her fingers touching a bulkiness under his shirt that should not have been there. She stared at him, exasperation warring with desire.

"You're injured", she stated flatly.

"It's not too bad." Damn. He strove to keep his expression non-committal, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his shoulder.

Nikita brushed aside the predictable reply, and slid her hands swiftly up under his shirt, perversely pleased by his sudden intake of breath at her touch.

Michael's stomach muscles quivered under her fingertips, his chest warm and hard under her exploring hands. His eyes never left hers, the only sound in the room their suddenly ragged breathing. Nikita slid her hands back down his chest and gripped the bottom of his shirt in her hands, her intention very clear.

Michael sighed. The shirt was obviously going to come off now, whether he liked it or not and, given his shoulder wound, it would be easier if he did it himself. Not that he hadn't dreamed about Nikita ripping his clothes off every night for the past month, but he wouldn't be doing either of them any favours if he disturbed the stitches. Sighing, he put his hands over Nikita's, pushing them away gently. He caught a faint gleam of triumph in those clear blue eyes just before he pulled the shirt over his head.

Nikita's eyes flicked over him, a loving inventory that ended abruptly at his left shoulder. It was bandaged heavily. Tracing the outline of the gauze, she registered the flicker of pain in his eyes before he blinked and it was gone.

Bullet wound. A bad one.

Guilt flashed briefly in his face as she stared him down, his eyes silently acquiescing to her probing glare.

"When?" She could feel the fear in her voice. The constant fear of losing him that she lived with every single damn day.

Michael reached a hand out to touch her face, but she pulled away slightly. Realising that she was not going to be distracted, he sighed in defeat. He could hear the quaver in her voice, a trembling note of panic that he wished he could just kiss away.

"Yesterday, in Kupang."

Suddenly furious with him, she leaned forward so that her nose was almost touching his. Holding his eyes with hers, she extended an index finger, placing it unerringly on the bandage. She ignored the almost imperceptible wince that crossed his face, anger making her reckless.

"Why didn't you tell me? For that matter, why aren't you still in Medlab? It looks bad enough to me!" This was not nagging, she told herself. Still, if I keep going, he might just have to kiss me to keep me quiet.

Michael reached for her again, and this time she didn't pull away. His fingertips stroked her face before moving down to brush the side of her neck, his touch burning a trail down her oversensitive skin. His proximity was sending any words of recrimination fleeing, and the warmth of his bare chest against her was making her senses reel.

"I wanted to see you." Butterflies started churning in her stomach at his softly spoken admission. "The mission was aborted. It didn't go quite as planned." That was something of an understatement, but he didn't want to talk about that now. Michael smiled at her, a slow curve of his lips that almost made her knees knock.

"I am supposed to be debriefing. Operations decided that I was to be given a few hours to recover at home first instead." She looked at him, startled. He was so close to her that she could see the darker green flecks in his pale eyes.

Michael willed his lungs to keep working, trying to ignore the feeling of Nikita's breasts brushing against his chest through the thin material of her towel. A smile that was almost a smirk curled his mouth. "I wasn't the worst. Our intel was skewed. Medlab was quite crowded today. I pointed out that I would be taking up a bed that could be used by someone more deserving. They agreed to give me a few hours at home to, uh, relax."

His green gaze burned into her as he said the last word, amusement and remembered passion shining in his eyes. He studied her as though they had all the time in the world, rather than a few precious hours reluctantly granted by those who did not wish them well. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs teasing her sensitive ear lobes. Goosebumps prickled her skin as he bent to kiss her neck, his voice so muffled against her skin that she almost couldn't catch his next words.

"We have twelve hours. Pick another colour."

"Wha-at?" Michael grinned inwardly at the note of confused desire in her voice. She was on fire, burning up for him, and it was so hard to believe, even now after all this time.

Nikita's heart skipped several beats, a shiver skittering down her spine. "Michael..." His name was more of a plea for mercy. Kiss me. Now. She didn't quite understand what he was up to, but she understood the look in his eye well enough. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her rising desire from spiraling out of control, but it was beyond her. I have no control where he is concerned. And I don't care.

She smiled quietly to herself before sliding a hand down his chest and moving her hand lightly over his stomach, reveling in the feel of his muscles jumping under her touch. Holding his gaze, she trailed one fingertip along the waistband of his trousers, watching his face and neck flush with colour.

"Nikita..." Nikita ignored Michael's hoarse plea, only raising her eyebrows at him as she continued her slow exploration of his flat stomach before moving her hand lower. Eyes locked onto his, she trailed her hand lower and lower until she was cupping the hard heat of him in a suddenly unsteady hand.

Nikita felt him jerk and tremble against her, watching with satisfaction as his eyes closed slowly in sensual agony. The low moan reverberating in his chest traveled through her own body, finding an answering tremor deep inside her.

Michael froze, his blood singing in his ears. Her touch was a longed-for torture, and her hands gently caressing his body were sending waves of heat and desire through him, fanning out to the very tips of his fingers. Oh god. She always teased him about being Mr Control. She still seemed to have no idea that where she was concerned, he spent every moment just trying to distract himself, trying to hang onto his so-called self-control for longer than five seconds in her presence.

Nikita gulped down a lungful of cool air as Michael's green eyes flew open, no longer quietly amused, but blazing with an urgent craving as he searching her face intently. Their erotic waltz began again, Michael moving them deftly backwards across the bedroom. Her legs buckled as she felt the edge of her bed against the backs of her knees, and she looked at him in mute appeal. He only smiled and reached behind her for his jacket that lay on the bed. Coming back to her, he held out his open palm.

"Pick another one...please." Michael breathed the words against her lips, slowly brushing his mouth against hers, a kiss that wasn't really a kiss. He waited until Nikita closed her eyes before deftly maneuvering a particular black tube to the top of the pile in his hand. It was cheating slightly, but he was not above subterfuge in order to achieve this particular end-game.

Nikita blinked at him quickly. I don't believe I'm doing this, she thought as she shut her eyes and flicked her fingers over the cool plastic shapes. Suddenly impatient for this game to be over, she snatched at the top lipstick. She held her choice out to him with her eyes still closed, and was startled as he let the others drop from his grip. They clattered over the floorboards, the sound making her jump. She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, only to find him watching her with such a look of hunger that she almost blushed.

"I don't think we'll be needing those."

"Michael, tell me what col..."

"Be patient." She could hear a hint of laughter in his voice as he breathed the words into her hair. He put one knee on the bed, his thigh riding high between hers as he pushed her slowly back onto the mattress. His arms were around her back, supporting her body as he lowered her downwards, the feeling of his hard thigh between her legs making her hips jerk towards him with a longing that was becoming too strong to contain.

She could hardly trust her voice, but she had to know. "Come on - what colour did I pick?" Even as she asked the question, she knew the answer. She could tell by the smile he flashed her. I suppose it would be too much to hope for that I had picked Vanity or Envy. Even Avarice would have been fine.

He grinned at her, his eyes on her face in a slow burning caress that made her whole body clench with agonised anticipation. A hot quiver started deep inside her, spreading through her whole body. Michael leaned over her and kissed along her jaw before taking her earlobe gently between his teeth. Nikita closed her eyes in sensual defeat as he whispered the answer into her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

"Lust."

The air around them crackled with awareness, an erotic current flowing between them as the word lingered on his lips.

Nikita opened her eyes to meet his gaze, her heart almost pounding out of her chest. Michael was now kneeling on the bed, one leg still resting between hers. He bent his head down to hers, and slowly traced the outline of her bottom lip with his tongue, one hand gently brushing back the tousled hair from her face. Her hands clutched, reaching out for him to pull him closer but he put his hands on the bed on either side of her head, holding his body away from hers.

"Michael, please!" It was the strangest thing. She felt like laughing and crying all in the same heartbeat.

"I want you..." His lips were warm against her ear, the scrape of his stubble on her jaw sending an erotic jolt of hunger down the length of her body. He moved away from her slightly, before leaning back down to whisper again in her ear.

"I have been thinking about you every moment of every day for the last month, planning what I was going to do to you when I walked through that door." He was gazing down at her, his heart in his eyes. Nikita swallowed the sudden lump of emotion thickening her throat and reached up to touch his face. There was a wild tenderness in him, his words gentle despite their sexual overtone. He smiled at her, an erotic appraisal that had her toes curling into the sheets.

"However, the mission profile seems to have changed," he remarked seriously. Nikita was watching him almost suspiciously, her heart now hammering dangerously loud in her throat. "You see, I had also been thinking of the last movie that we watched together." She blinked at him, puzzled. "I was thinking about it with you in mind, and..." He paused, a faint hint of mischievousness creeping into his eyes. "I'm afraid that your new possessions have inspired me."

Michael took a deep breath as Nikita's eyes met his. She was literally glowing, the heat from her skin warming him right through to his bones. He wanted her so badly that he could feel his belly shaking with the need of her, a heavy burning ache that would not leave until he could feel her around him. Michael bit down on a groan as Nikita took a gulping breath, the rise of her ribcage causing her breasts to brush teasingly against his chest. The feeling of her nipples, hard beneath her towel, pressing against him was quickly dissolving any last shred of self-control that he had.

"Movie?" Nikita felt as though her mind had turned to cotton wool. She could hardly remember what day it was, let alone the last movie that they had watched together.

Smiling at her confusion, he gripped the front of her towel, untucking the folded edge with deliberately slow movements. It was all Michael could do to keep his hands from shaking as he gently unwrapped the towel from Nikita's body. She watched as his eyes caressed her hungrily, feeling the heat of his eyes as surely as if he was touching her with his hands. Just the way he was looking at her made Nikita feel hot and restless, as though a prickly heat rash was breaking across her skin.

My god. So beautiful. Michael swallowed hard, a low groan coming from deep in his throat. Holding her eyes with his, he lowered himself, arms flexing, until the length of their bodies were touching. Sliding his hands down to her hips, he pulled her hard against him. She gasped with shock at the feeling of his bare skin on hers, her breasts pushed hard against the warm skin of his chest. She smiled in feminine satisfaction as he closed his eyes again, desire all too evident in his face and his body.

"Uh, yes ... a movie." Even to his own ears, his voice sounded a little shaky. He still had one thigh pressed hard between her legs, and he could feel the warmth from her sex infusing his body through the thin material of his trousers, his own arousal tightening painfully. The soft gasp she gave as he rocked his hips against hers made him grow even harder. If that were possible, he thought in pleasant despair.

Easing the towel out from under her, he tossed it carelessly onto the floor. Through a haze of desire, Nikita smiled at this little sign of his growing lack of composure. Mr Neat is certainly getting a bit untidy.

Michael suddenly pushed himself off her, rolling his body to one side before ending up kneeling next to her on the bed.

"Turn over, Nikita." The softly accented request sent her heart racing, the blood pounding in her ears. She stared into his eyes, hoping for some clue as to his intentions. He merely gave her a sensual smile that promised much and explained nothing. Running her hands up to his shoulders, she tried to pull him back down to her, but he gently disengaged her grasp before slipping his hands under her shoulder blades and trying to coax her to roll onto her stomach. She resisted momentarily, before he leant down to whisper softly to her. "Please?"

Giving in, she pushed his hands away before smiling sweetly up at him. "I can do it myself, thank you." She held his gaze, watching him swallow hard as she stretched and rolled slowly onto her stomach.

Michael watched her intently, marveling at the play of muscles in her body as she flexed and twisted. To hell with this damn game. He started to lower himself down beside her again before uttering a muttered oath and getting up the bed. No, he wanted this to last. He had twelve hours before he had to be back in Section, and he wanted to use all of them...wisely.

The sudden absence of his warmth made her shiver. What game has he got me playing? I think he's just making it up as he goes along! But she couldn't deny it. She was caught, hook, line and sinker. I just wish I knew the rules!

"Michael!?" She knew that he was sitting on the bed next to her, just out of her line of vision. His response to her strangled appeal was only to put his hand on the small of her back to stop her rolling back over.

"Hmmmm?" His hands were moving in generous circles over her back and shoulders, his fingernails scratching lightly every here and there.

Nikita managed a question through gritted teeth. "Which ... movie ... are ... you ... talking ... about?"

"I'm not surprised you don't remember. As far as I recall, you didn't get to see a lot of it."

Argh! Nikita let her forehead smack into her pillow. She furrowed her brow, searching her memory. What movie was he talking about? And what could it possibly have to do with lipsticks and making her lie on her stomach and...

Oh, my God. She had been in the middle of watching a movie when he came home from the Rahman mission two months ago. A movie called "The Pillow Book". Lots of bare flesh and Ewan McGregor writing all over a girl's naked body. And sex. Lots and lots of sex. She'd made him sit on the couch and watch the rest of the movie with her. She couldn't remember watching the end of the movie. However, she did seem to recall that they had never made it to her bedroom.

She swallowed hard, her hands twisting the sheet in a white-knuckled grip. The flames of desire raging through her were flaring out of control. I must have misheard him. He can't possibly have meant what I thought he did.

Michael watched her face intently as comprehension dawned, and saw the flush of colour race across her skin. His heart was pounding at the sight of her, knowing that she was aching for him as much he was for her. It was intoxicating.

"It's your own fault, you know." The laughter in his voice sent little hot and cold shivers of expectation through her. "You shouldn't have talked so much about how they "stay on, no matter what."

Nikita buried her face in her pillow, her face aflame. This teasing was too much. Who would have thought he'd be so damn good at it? Unable to hold her breath any longer, she turned her head, quickly glancing around her room. What the...? Her bedroom was aglow from the flames of dozens of flickering candles.

She'd noticed the glow of candlelight when he'd first danced her out of the bathroom, but this was too much. It looked as though he'd found every single candle she owned and had placed them carefully around her bedroom. He must have been here for ages before I saw him. Tears pricked her eyes as she took in the fact that even injured, he would do this for her. A sudden sobering thought intruded. He must have heard all the crappy songs that I was singing in the shower!

She kept her eyes tightly shut, her breathing escalating rapidly as she heard his boots thud onto the wooden floor boards, followed by the soft whoosh of material moving against skin.

The mattress suddenly sagged under his weight, startling her. Looking at him beside her, her heart suddenly turned over. No clothes. O-kay. Her heart was thudding so loudly in her chest she felt almost embarrassed, certain that he would actually be able to hear it. She turned her head and drank in the sight of him, her spirit soaring as she watched him. Four weeks was a very long time to go without looking at him, without touching him.

Michael didn't take his eyes off her the whole time he was ripping his boots and socks off, the sight of her bare rosy flesh suddenly making it even more difficult to take his trousers off quickly without damaging himself. He felt ludicrously clumsy, like a schoolboy dumbstruck at his first glimpse of a naked woman. All those months of surpressing his true feelings, hiding behind Section's demands and rules.

Months? Years. An eternity. Too long, far too long. It made his reaction to her now that much harder to control. The depth and fierceness of his need for her worried him at times, made him feel too vulnerable. It was a hard thing to get used to, being able to show her exactly how he felt.

Nikita lay quietly, her senses only aware of the sound of Michael's steady breathing, and the feel of his hands on her skin. Would it ever stop, this rush of love, this unconditional longing for him? They both bore so many scars, still held so many dark memories in their hearts. She felt her stomach tighten with apprehension. Would being together ever be enough to exorcise the pain of their shared past?

She turned her head away from him slightly, her cheeks suddenly wet with tears. I'm such a fool. These were the thoughts that ambushed her mind in the darkness when she was alone and sleepless. Shadowy doubts slipping into her heart when he wasn't there, that constant fear of losing him that wrenched her heart open, leaving her miserable and exhausted the next morning.

Michael had closed his eyes when he touched her skin earlier. And now, it felt like slick marble under his suddenly unsteady fingers. For all her bravado, he sensed an unhappiness in her, a melancholy that she was trying very hard to stifle in front of him. Love makes you notice too much, he thought as he ran his hands down her back in long steady caresses, feeling her body gentle and grow still under his touch.

Ten hours ago, he had been caught in the middle of a guerilla ambush, his shoulder suddenly burning with a pain so intense that he almost blacked out. He had sat on the muddy floor of a humid jungle, fading in and out of consciousness, and dreamt of her, feverish imaginings that were now fuzzy in his mind. He wasn't sure if he was actually going to tell her how badly the mission had really gone. He didn't want to think about it now. All the mattered was Nikita.

She sighed as she felt his hands on her skin, moving down her back in long soothing strokes from shoulder to hip, down to caress the backs of her legs. Her head dropped back to her pillow in sensual defeat as she felt something else, a waxy nub gliding over her skin, tracing the outline of her spine. It was the oddest feeling, his left hand touching her, everywhere, while he trailed the strange writing material of his choice over her back.

"What are you doing back there, writing an essay on me?" Nikita tried to swallow the tears in her throat, but her voice still wavered.

"No." Michael leaned down and pressed a kiss to a warm shoulder, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rising up at his touch. The familiar smell of her shampoo teased his nostrils again and the natural scent of her skin was slowly breaking down his control. He kept one hand on her back while he made a few quick strokes with the most unusual pen that he would ever use. His eyes raked down the length of her body, taking in the broad shoulders, the long clean line of her back, the swell of her breasts pushing against the pale sheets. What a beautiful canvas...how Monet would have envied me.

"Only a few Chinese characters that I know. Many people have these as tattoos." His voice was strangely subdued. She could feel the short strokes gliding over her skin, his movements a soothing caress over her tense shoulder blades and spine.

"What do they mean?"

He stopped, and she felt his hand touching her face gently before stroking her head, his fingers tangling themselves in her damp hair. "Strength. Courage." She heard him exhale, a long release of pent-up emotion that seemed to reach down and wash over her. "Love."

The tears welled in her eyes again, as she felt his mind brush against hers in the dimly lit room. How well he knows me. He always sensed when the pangs of self-doubt and unhappiness had her in their grip, and he always, always brought her back to him. A shuddering wave of warmth had Nikita pressing her hips into the bed, aching for him so much that she could no longer stand this waiting.

She rolled onto her back suddenly, taking him by surprise. God, he is so beautiful. The white bandage on his shoulder stood out in stark relief against the warmer tones of his skin. She smiled innocently at him as she wriggled closer to him before trailing a hand lightly down his smooth chest.

Michael's breath caught in his lungs as Nikita almost purred at him. "I certainly hope that you will be washing these sheets for me in the next wash? I don't really fancy having lipstick stains all over my bed." Her casual tone belied the fact that she was now running her hands up his tensed thighs. Oh god. His eyes closed in defeat, his breathing jagged with the sheer overload of sensation.

She watched his chest rise and fall rapidly. His arousal was evident, the unyielding hardness of his erection brushing silkily against her thigh as she caressed him, teasing but not quite touching.

"But, of course." He bowed his head to her and smiled, the light-hearted exchange breaking up the almost overwhelming weight of emotion pressing down on them. His eyes raked into her face intently as he suddenly straddled her body, the soft hair on his thighs brushing against her too-sensitive skin. She gasped as she felt the cool stub of the lipstick touching her nipple, circling, teasing. Eyes closing, her back arched, her hands clutching for him...

"Nikita." She opened her eyes at the sound of the roughly-uttered word, reveling in the sight of the naked hunger on his face.

"Does it kiss off?"

Her voice was a strangled moan. "It's not supposed to, but I don't think ... that this is what ... they had, uh, in ... mind." She could hardly remember what they were talking about, let alone form a coherent thought or sentence. Her blood was rolling hotly through her veins, every nerve-ending singing under his feather-light touch.

Michael could hardly breath. This erotic cat-and-mouse game of twenty questions had only served to inflame his desire, and he wanted her at this moment more than he ever had before.

Nikita met his gaze through half-lidded eyes, desire pushing rational thought far, far away. His mouth closed single-mindedly over her breast, taking the nipple hard between his teeth.

She was falling, falling so fast in a spiral of craving and heat. Her hands in his hair, his name on her lips in a sighing moan that came from her very soul, calling out for him, wanting him. His erection was hammering a demanding rhythm against her thigh as he slowly moved down her body, his kisses leaving faintly pink streaks on her skin. His lips seemed to burn where they touched, his mouth leaving a path of erotic destruction in its wake, down over her belly and lower still, down to where she ached for him.

Nikita could feel her body clenching in impatience, her entire being focused on the unbearably heated flesh between her thighs, the feeling of Michael's teeth nipping gently at the delicate skin of her inner thigh almost making her toes curl.

She tensed as Michael pressed his mouth to her, her hips jerking as his tongue fiercely stroked the aching warmth between her legs. He captured the swollen heart of her body with an all-consuming kiss, his hands hard on her hips as he pulled her roughly towards him. She was lost. White heat flashed behind her eyes and her body was on fire, her sex shuddering under his mouth, her breath rushing from her body in an agonised gasp.

He closed his eyes as pure lust shot through his body, the pulsing of Nikita's climax against his mouth almost too much to bear. Sweet and salty, soft flesh and heated muscle clenching under his lips. He held her to him as she bucked and twisted, calling his name in a guttural moan. Her release was almost violent, a storm of physical passion that left him speechless.

Michael laid his head on her stomach, his own heart keeping pace with the pounding of her pulse that he could literally feel through her skin. Nikita's breathing gradually returned to normal, and he felt her hands on his shoulders, urging him to come to her. He tilted his head to meet her gaze as he brushed his hand lightly over the dark blonde curls at the apex of her thighs, smiling as he felt her tremble and quiver beneath his gentle touch.

Michael moved slowly up the length of her body, feeling her stomach muscles quiver and contract under his kisses. He kissed the valley between her breasts, rubbing his rough jaw along the soft underside of her right breast, watching avidly as her flesh goose-bumped, her nipples tightening and puckering under his gaze. He would never grow tired of looking at her, touching her.

Nikita slid her hands over Michael's shoulders, her hands delighting in the rediscovered feel of his skin. She sighed softly, a frustrated hum that was completely at odds with the lethargy that was slowly creeping over her. She wanted to kiss him. Wanted to kiss him so hard that he wouldn't be able to remember his own name. She wanted to make him weak at the knees with just the touch of her lips on his. She didn't even care if they used the damn mistletoe or not.

Her heart felt as though it was going to bounce out of her chest, and she suspected that someone had turned her bones to water when she wasn't looking. After all his teasing, all Michael had to do was touch her and she had been out of control. It would have been a little bit embarrassing if it hadn't been so amazing.

Still, she seemed to have done nothing but fall at his feet in a quivering heap ever since he appeared unexpectedly in her bathroom. She had never really thought of herself as the swooning type, but somehow Michael always had her reaching for her mental smelling salts.

Nikita grinned innocently down at him as she caught his eye, loving the suddenly suspicious look on his face as he noticed the look of intent in her eyes. I think it's time for a bit of artwork of my own. She had an eighth lipstick in that batch, one that wasn't part of the Deadly Sins matching set. What on earth was it?

Her grin widened as the name came to her. Power.

Michael blinked in surprise as he felt Nikita's hands on his chest, firmly pushing him away. She rolled out from under him to the edge of the bed, and he was suddenly on his back, the wind almost knocked out of him. Looking unexpectedly at her ceiling, he could only stare at her in amazement as she bounded slightly unsteadily across the bedroom floor and, scooping something up before leaping back onto the bed, kneeled to straddle his body.

"Sorry." Nikita beamed at him as she gripped his wrists, bending his arms at the elbow and pushing them hard against the mattress.

Despite his shock, Michael started to chuckle as he gazed up at her. My god, she is incredible. The laughter stuck in his chest as she pushed her knees deep into the bed, pressing her hips down onto his in such a snug fit that his body jerked involuntarily, his erection achingly close to her warm centre. His vision was almost blurring as pure primal need surged through him.

"Nikita...I..." His voice died in his throat as she ground against him, teasing, tormenting.

"What was that?" Nikita pushed her face close to his, her teeth nipping along his jaw.

A low groan was the only answer. Letting go of his wrists, Nikita smiled in satisfaction and flipped the lid off the black tube she was holding in her right hand, while her left snaked down his chest and stomach.

"Guess what game we're going to play now?" Michael regarded her dazedly through half-lidded eyes. All he could focus was her left hand, which was slowly trailing over his hipbone, down his thigh and back to his lower stomach.

"We're going to play a game of tit for tat." She dug her fingers admonishingly into his side at the sly smirk he gave her. "Not the sort of tit you are thinking of, okay?"

Nikita trailed one hand across his chest. "Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?" Her innocent tone did not fool him for one second. Forcing his brain away from the exquisite sensation of her fingers dancing across his inner thigh, he managed to lift his head and peer down at his own chest.

Nikita was cheerfully drawing over his heart with a dark brown lipstick. He couldn't quite see what she was drawing, but knowing Nikita's taste in artwork, he would lay bets that he wouldn't be taking it into a tattoo parlour and asking to have it permanently inked any time soon. He looked closer, and couldn't keep a broad smile from breaking over his face.

She'd drawn a big "N" on his chest, right over his heart.

"Not quite as stylish as Chinese characters, but it's from the heart," she quipped as he grinned at her. He could see the blush stealing up her chest, tingeing her face with colour.

Nikita could feel Michael's body stirring under her, his erection pushing urgently against her as his hands slid up her legs to take hold of her hips. Desire flared again, instantly, her body clamouring for his touch once more. Almost dizzy with need, she quickly finished her doodling and tossed the lipstick over her shoulder. She laughed down at his surprised face, a tremendous rush of love for him flooding her heart, trickling through her entire body.

Michael's chest felt tight. I can't take any more of this. He tightened his grip on Nikita's hips, and pushed up with his legs, rolling to the side as he did. She wasn't expecting it, and it was only a split-second before she was under him again. She pushed at his chest half-heartedly, an action pretty much contradicted by the fact that she was wrapping her long legs around him at the same time.

Nikita stared up at him, loving the glorious feeling of his full weight pressing down on her. His eyes were flicking from her lips to her eyes, reminding her that there was something else she wanted from him, something he hadn't given her that she desperately craved. Judging from the look in his eyes as he literally prowled up her body, he fully intended on being in control of the next stage of the proceedings. We'll have to just see about that. Nikita narrowed her eyes at him as he bent his head to hers, his breath warm on her cheek.

Michael took a soft earlobe between his teeth and bit down gently, his hands sweeping her torso from breast to thigh. She felt so good under his hands, and the urgent craving to be inside her, to feel her take him into her body was too strong to fight anymore. He took a deep breath and whispered into her warm ear.

"Je veux au sejour ici a jamais dans votre bras." Oh, how he would do so if he could. Staying here with her forever would be all that he could ever ask for.

"Michael?" The tone in her voice made him glance across at her face. He was quite startled to see that she looked almost...cross.

"Michael." Nikita could hardly keep the exasperation from her voice. "Please shut up."

"Please just shut up. Kiss ... me ... now." The look of surprise on his face would have made her laugh if she hadn't been filled with such a feeling of urgent need. She shoved her hands into his hair, fingers digging into his scalp as she pulled him closer to her.

"You are wasting too much time talking." She trailed a hand down his face before running her fingertips lightly across his slightly parted lips. "I can think of something else that you could be doing with this." She touched her index finger to his bottom lip. Nikita held Michael's eyes with hers, her belly twitching with lust as she watched his gaze darken to an erotic shimmer. "Kiss me. Now. Right now."

Michael's heart began to race at Nikita's sensual order. He ached to kiss her, had longed for the feeling of those glorious lips against his own for a long, lonely month. They had gotten so caught up in this erotic game of teasing that he had lost sight of the one thing that he had been craving for the last four weeks.

Michael blinked once slowly, a hot green flicker, then he kissed her.

A sob choked in Nikita's throat as Michael's mouth brushed hers softly, lips tasting and teasing gently. Unexpected tears pricked her eyes, and spilled warmly down her cheeks. Nikita slid her hands down to his hips, pulling him hard against her. She could feel his body tensing, struggling for control. And then she felt him let it go.

His mouth covered hers hard, with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Nikita's lips followed where his led, opening up to him eagerly, breathing into him. Michael could feel his body literally melting into hers, his skin seeming to burn and glow wherever she touched him. When she delicately slipped her tongue between his lips to explore his mouth, he felt his bones turn to water.

Nikita tasted her own tears on her lips, felt Michael's tongue taking them into his mouth. Funny how a kiss makes all the difference. He had brought her to climax already, but this was what she had been daydreaming about for a whole month.

Desire flared once again, a bright flame of need that sparked as soon as Michael's mouth touched hers. His tongue flicked against hers gently, teasingly, before his hands slid behind her head and he held her close, devouring her, his teeth nipping at her lower lip.

"I want you." His breath was coming in gasps, the words barely audible.

She smiled at him tremulously. "Take me, then."

Closing his eyes, Michael held her mouth in a passionate kiss while he slipped his hands quickly under her buttocks, cupping her hard. Nikita's thighs gripped his hips as he moved against her, straining. He swallowed her gasp as he pushed into her, never breaking the kiss as the thick length of him slowly sunk into her slick heat.

Michael thought that his heart might just stop as Nikita's body embraced him. They were still for an aching heartbeat, before she started to move languidly beneath him. Tearing his mouth from hers, he let her find her own pace, resting his forehead against hers for a moment to get himself under some semblance of control.

"Slow-ly," Michael gasped out as Nikita twisted her hips against him, her feet now hooked behind him and pressing hard against his buttocks. She wanted him deeper inside her. She thrust her hips up, and a triumphant smile curved her wide mouth as he answered her challenge, pushing harder into her, the muscles of his upper arms straining as he held himself off her body slightly.

"No. Hard...fast...now. Please." Michael heard her command for what it was - a plea for release. He felt it too. Clenching his jaw, he let his body take over as sensation swept around and over him - her hard pebbled nipples scraping against his chest, the long line of her throat as she arched her head back in pleasure, the warmth pulse of her sex enveloping him. Too much, too much.