Honor Bound

Cam leaned over an array of printouts on the table in the glass-walled conference room, talking to Patrick Doyle and working hard to ignore her intense dislike for the man.

Just get the job done and make sure Grant is well protected in the process. That's all that matters, she reminded herself.

When Doyle failed to respond to one of her questions, she glanced up from the transcript of the last communication with Loverboy and caught the FBI agent staring past her out into the main area of the command center. The look on his face was a startling mixture of displeasure and something that looked very much like lust. She turned and followed his gaze and when she saw that he was looking at Blair, her simmering anger flared hotly into fury. The way he stared at her was almost an invasion.

"Do you have a problem of some kind, Doyle?" she demanded.

"You don't seem to have much control over her, Roberts," Doyle said derisively. "She shouldn't be down here."

"It's not my job to 'control' her," Cam said as evenly as she could. "And there is absolutely no reason that she shouldn't go anywhere she likes."

He turned and studied her as if she were some strange life form. "Civilians complicate matters, Roberts. Especially civilians with opinions - and friends in high places."

"I'm not concerned about anything that Ms. Powell might have to say to anyone about anything," Cam remarked. She folded up her notebook and turned to leave.

"You might change your mind before this is all over," he called after her.

She closed the door without looking back. She threaded her way through the desks and the mountains of monitoring equipment that seemed to grow in number and complexity every day. Their working space had been adequate for routine day to day matters, but now that Doyle's team had practically moved on site, and Lindsey Ryan was staying to monitor the Internet communications with their UNSUB, and the ATF bomb squad was coming and going with information about the latest analysis on the bomb fragments from the park, the room was crowded with people and makeshift workstations.

Nevertheless, the communications station at the far end of the room remained somewhat insulated from the rest of the activity. Everyone knew that Felicia Davis should not be distracted. Mac was with her most of the time, primarily to retrieve any data that she might need to respond to Loverboy. At the moment, Blair was leaning down over Felicia Davis, speaking to her with a serious expression on her face.

It was the second full day of the operation, and there had only been sparse e-mail exchange between Felicia Davis, posing as Blair, and Loverboy. A temporal analysis of his previous communications revealed that he sent a message nearly every day. Frequently it was only a few words or a single line. Lindsey Ryan hypothesized that he not only needed to satisfy his own compulsion to communicate with Blair, but he wanted to prove that hecould reach her. His skills extended beyond bomb making and marksmanship, and, despite all attempts to thwart him with shields and aliases and rerouting her mail servers, it never took him long to track her down.

Blair tolerated his messages because she refused to give up her own access to the Internet, and in an oddly understandable way, she had not want to be cut off from him either. She would not live in a cocoon as if nothing were happening. She wanted to 'hear' his voice if he was threatening her.

As Cam drew near, she heard Blair say, "I'm the best one to do this."

Immediately, Cam's stomach began churning uneasily, because she had a feeling she knew what Blair was talking about. She had defended Blair's presence in the command center to Doyle, and in fact she believed precisely what she had said. Nevertheless, she had hoped that Blair would stay away, if only because the tension and uncertainty was wearing for all of them, and she wished to spare her that. But in her heart, she had expected something like this.

Blair straightened and nodded to Cam, her face revealing none of the quick pleasure she took in seeing her. "Good morning, Commander."

"Ms. Powell," Cam said warmly, stopping behind the chairs occupied by Mac and Felicia Davis. "Is there some way I can be of service?"

Blair struggled not to smile, but she knew Cam could see the laughter in her eyes. She resisted the urge to make a clever comeback, only because she didn't trust her voice not to give her away. Being around Cam never failed to arouse her, and she knew it would show in the timbre of her voice. It was bad enough she could feel the liquid heat beginning between her legs. "It occurred to me this morning, Commander, that I should be the one emailing Loverboy. There's no reason to use a go-between in this exchange."

Cam hesitated for a moment, needing the time to formulate an answer that would be both honest and convincing. She wouldn't lie to her, not only because she had never been able to, but because she could not bring herself to even try. On the other hand, the thought of Blair being involved so intimately with this man, even when there was no chance of physical connection between them, made her almost physically ill. "The reason we're using an agent is because our people know how to manipulate the conversation to get the information we need. Plus, Agent Davis is aware of the things we need to know to secure the meeting site."

Blair listened, watching Cam's face carefully. Her security chief was very good at keeping her emotions completely compartmentalized. Her lover, however, was not. There was a flicker of worry in Cam's eyes - worry forher - and Blair saw it. She smiled softly, and nodded patiently in agreement. "That makes perfect sense, Commander. However, I don't propose to start emailing him from my apartment. I would do everything right here with Mac and Agent Davis by my side. They could certainly coach me in any procedural things I might need to say much more easily than Agent Davis could pretend to be me. It seems to me there's far less likelihood that he would become suspicious if it actually were me."

Cam glanced at Mac, who raised an eyebrow slightly and nodded even more imperceptibly.

"You've caught me somewhat unprepared, Ms. Powell," Cam said quietly, and this time Blair could read nothing in her eyes. "I need to discuss this with Agent Ryan and some others."

"I understand that. Would you let me know what you think once you've done that?"

"Certainly," Cam said.

Blair watched her walk away and wondered just how angry she really was.

*

"You outflanked me down there," Cam said when she stepped into the loft.

Blair leaned against the arm of her leather sofa, regarding Cam carefully. Cam hadn't moved once the door was closed, and her hands were in her pockets. She definitely had her game face on.

"You know," Blair said quietly. "I haven't touched you in almost a day. I don't think I have the energy to fight."

Cam sighed and took her hands from her pockets. She shrugged out of her blazer and released the buckle on her shoulder harness, easing it off her still sore right shoulder and placing it with her jacket. As she walked the few steps toward Blair, she pulled her shirt from beneath the waistband of her trousers. She didn't stop moving when she reached Blair, but put one thigh between Blair's legs and a hand behind her back and tumbled her over the arm of the plush leather sofa onto the seat. Cam ended up on top of her, and pushed herself up with her good arm so she could see Blair's face. Her voice was slow and deep when she said, "You can touch me now."

Blair slid both hands under the tail of Cam's shirt and raked her nails up Cam's sides, drawing a swift gasp from her. When she found her breasts, she caressed them softly, then tightened her fingers on Cam's small, hard nipples. Cam closed her eyes and groaned. Blair kept up the rhythm, squeeze and release, squeeze and release, until Cam was stiff with the pleasure-pain of it and trembling.

Their legs were entwined, and Blair felt Cam's heat against her thigh even as she felt her own arousal soaking into her jeans. When Cam lowered her head and caught the tender skin at the base of her neck between her teeth, Blair cried out once, sharply, and then managed to speak. "Bedroom. Bed. I need you naked on me."

Cam could hear her, but the words weren't registering as she thrust her hips faster into Blair's. After they had been apart it was always like this. She couldn't control the rocketing surge of excitement that brought her too high too fast, until she was teetering on the brink and ready to go off in seconds. She was ready now, she could feel it curling in the base of her spine, tingling down her legs, cramping in her muscles. Oh yeah, she was going off soon.

Blair pushed Cam's hips away, breaking their contact, dragging Cam back from the edge. Cam gasped, lowering her forehead to Blair's chest, shuddering uncontrollably. "I'm sorry," she groaned. "I can't hold it back."

Blair eased away from her, one hand caressing the damp strands of hair at the back of her neck. "Yes, you can," she crooned softly. "Remember, you're a Secret Service agent."

Cam laughed shakily and sat up, her hands falling open by her sides, her shirt open, her body on fire and glistening with sweat. "I'm afraid I'm compromised."

"Just the way I like you." Blair held out her hand, her color high and her eyes blazing. "Let's go do that some more."

By the time they reached the bedroom, Cam had regained a slim thread of control and managed to undress and lie down next to her.

"Let me just touch you for a minute," Cam said, her voice still unsteady. "I don't trust myself just yet and I don't want to come right away."

"It's a tough order to follow, but I'll try," Blair said with a smile.

Cam started at her shoulders and ran her hands down Blair's body, watching in wonder as the fine muscles shimmered under her fingertips and the blood rose to warm the skin beneath her hands. Blair's breath came fast, and every now and then a small sound of pleasure escaped her. When Cam trailed her fingers lightly up the inside of Blair's thigh, Blair arched her hips and the fingers she had laced through Cam's hair trembled with urgency.

"You have the sweetest touch," Blair whispered, her voice choked with need.

Cam was barely breathing. Every time they were together like this the pleasure was so intense, she felt like she was bleeding. She had never felt so vulnerable nor so helpless nor so blessed. It was almost more than she could tolerate. She slid one finger between Blair's legs, tracing the delicate folds and swollen ridges. Blair's pulse raced against her fingertips, and when she brushed lightly along the underside of her clitoris, Blair jerked in her arms. Cam circled her harder and put her mouth to Blair's, wanting her breath, wanting her blood, wanting all of her.

Blair wrapped her arms around Cam's shoulders, pressing her breasts to Cam's chest, clinging to her, desperate for the sweet release. She rocked her hips faster against Cam's hand, knowing she would come any second.

Cam felt Blair's heart hammer against her own and sensed the rising tension in her body. When she knew Blair was there, she lifted her lips from Blair's and said softly against her ear, "Touch me now."

Ready to explode, Blair reached for her blindly, and when she found her - hard and swollen and so ready - she couldn't stop her own momentum. Even as it began, wrenching through her, forcing her almost double with the clench of muscles deep inside, she pressed her fingers along Cam's length the way she knew Cam needed it. Cam jerked and groaned and came with her.

Then they held one another and rested.