Nikita steps out of the bathroom and twists the towel wrapped around her hair a little tighter.  With a quick toss of her head, the towel tail flips up and over.

Her hands pause at the belt of her robe as she contemplates whether to bother or not.  It's been unusually hot and sweltering lately.  She's taken to sleeping under fans in an attempt to beat the heat.  The thought of stepping out of a nice cooling shower and putting on any clothes, even a nightshirt is daunting.

As she reaches up to shrug out of the robe the hair on the back of her neck stands up in instinctive knowledge that she is not alone.

Cautiously she lowers her hands in a pseudo-casual movement and wraps the robe around herself, tightening the belt while she slowly visually scans the apartment and strains to hear any telltale signs.

Nothing.

Reasonably sure that no one is in the immediate vicinity, she pulls her gun out of the bedside drawer, grateful now that she had planed that sticky spot just the other day.

Crouching, Glock at the ready, she moves over to the stairs for a more complete view of the apartment and stops.

There in her doorway view screen is Michael.  He is not knocking, has not knocked, instead he is looking straight up into the camera willing her to sense his presence.

Nikita tears her gaze away from the screen and completes her sweep of her apartment.

Nothing.

Lowering her gun, she straightens and heads toward the door.  She pauses and looks at the view screen.  Michael seems to sense her presence because the lightest of lifts appears on his lips and he turns away from the camera and faces the door.  Obviously waiting for her to open it.

With a silent sigh, Nikita pushes her towel back behind her head and opens the door.

Michael's eyes sweep over her once and he quirks an eyebrow, asking permission to enter.

Nikita rolls her eyes and steps back with a sarcastic welcoming sweep of her Glock.

Michael ducks his head slightly as he enters, the lift of his lips more pronounced, briefly.  Once inside he scans the entire parameter, cataloging and scrutinizing everything to make sure she is safe.

Nikita watches him, aware that he is unconscious of this immediate protective instinct.  Her heart lifting at the implications.

Satisfied that everything is as it should be, Michael turns to her, his eyes patient and still interested.  They scan her towel wrapped hair to the knotted belt of her robe down to her bare feet, leaving small wet prints on the floor.  His eyes roam from her lips to the tantalizing glimpse of cleavage revealed by her robe to her lips.

Nikita waits for him to say something, to explain his presence, to even hear him whisper 'Josephine,' anything.

Nothing.

This time it is Nikita who quirks an inquiring eyebrow as she drinks in the sight of him in her apartment, losing herself in the momentary fantasy that he really belongs there in that room with her.

Michael does not answer her silent question with words but instead reaches out one finger and captures a stream of water that has escaped from her hair, rolled down her neck and is sliding across the swell of her breast.  His fingertip traces its path upward until he reaches her ear.  Locking eyes with hers, Michael places his saturated fingertip in his mouth and closes his eyes in enjoyment of her exquisite taste.

Nikita feels her knees weaken as she watches him taste her, the path of his finger burning into her skin, setting fire to her.

She gasps soundlessly as he opens his eyes and the desire blazing in those green orbs sizzles into her blood.

Mindlessly she reaches for him, her hands locking over his shoulders as she pulls him to her, kissing the full smile off of his lips.

Hands pull and fumble and grab and rip and material falls unheeded to the floor.  Fingers clench, knead and stroke as nipples harden and scrape together.

Bare skin touches bare skin and bare skin touches cloth.

Michael's mouth destroys what is left of Nikita's thought processes as she arches into his body.  The material of his pants scraping against her inner thigh until her natural moisture smoothes the way.

Michael forces her up against the wall, sliding his leg up between hers, placing her on his knee.  Nikita silently gasps breaking the kiss, her head arching, her throat bared to his teeth.

She moans as his body overwhelms her, causing waves of heat to flash through her.  Her ankles locked together she rides the leather clad knee pressing into her with an insistent rhythm, his teeth tracing her delicate throat and ear, his tongue soothing the path.

Michael lowers his leg and Nikita slows slips down the wall, whimpering at the loss of the tantalizing pressure.  Without a word, Michael picks her up and carries her up the three short steps to her bedroom.

Nikita shivers as a blast of cool air flows across her now heated body. 

Michael places her down on the cool crisp sheets and stands up.

Nikita reaches out for him, her eyes pleading and welcoming.

Michael pauses in the act of shrugging off his shirt and leans down to kiss her fingertips.

Nikita smiles an ancient bewitching smile that is primitive in its origin.  The alpha male in Michael recognizes and responds to the message.  His hands trembling as he rips the shirt off of his body and fumbles slightly with his pants.

Crushed between Michael and the bed Nikita pulls him closer, welcoming his weight and luxuriating in the feel of his desire pressing against her stomach.  She wraps her long legs around him and rubs her entire body against him, stroking like a cat begging for attention.

Michael pulls her remaining towel off her head and threads his fingers through the wet silk of her hair.

Nikita kisses his jaw, running her tongue around his chin, tasting the salty skin, inhaling the unique scent of his being.

Michael tries to move away from her, tries to move down her body but Nikita shakes her head 'No,' her passion is too high, it's been too long.  No long drawn out moments this time.  This time pure and raw.

Nikita bares her teeth at him as she reaches between their bodies and guides him to her.  With a flex of her legs she pulls Michael closer and as he penetrates her Michael grabs her head and plunges his tongue into her mouth as their bodies interlock, sealing together.

**********

Operations grits his teeth and rewinds the tape.  Nothing.  Nothing more than the slight sounds of a body moving against sheets.

"Birkoff!!!" he barks.

"Sir?"

"When are we going to get visual back on Nikita?!"

Gulp.  "Well we discovered the problem, it's just a little difficult to fix.  Somehow the wires in the main videocam computer have been gnawed through.  The area we need to splice is only two feet wide.  We are having to move a lot of equipment out of the way to even get to it."

"I do not care to hear excuses."

"Yes Sir."

Operations cuts off the intercom switch with a vicious finger, *Dammit where is Michael!? At least he's not at Nikita's!* Operations smiles smugly and listens to the audio portion of Nikita's surveillance again.

**********

Michael wraps his torn shirt around his body and closes Nikita's door behind him.  Only the knowledge that he can not be seen there causing him to leave, that and the knowledge that he will need to walk tomorrow.

With a smile and a silent 'Thank you' for the anonymous e-mail message to his .hotmail account Michael moves down the hall, his soundless glide only slightly hampered.

**********

Nikita lays on her side, sleeping the sleep of the satisfied, unaware of the soft bundles of black and blonde fur snuggled up against her and the gentle harmonic purr of the two cuddling Tribbles.

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