» Patrick Jane

The hardest part of being undercover agents during a party isn’t being an undercover agent in a party.

It’s Patrick’s gaze following you the whole time even if he shouldn’t be in the party. You could still sense his eyes on you, grinning like usual, but his gaze said otherwise.

He was jealous.

You and Cho had to act like one of the rich couples in a party to collect more informations about your case—Mr. Williams, a wealthy businessman, murdered in his own house. The suspects are multiple, that’s why this party could be crucial.

Initially, Patrick was supposed to play the husband. But he recently pissed Lisbon off, so she changed the plan to Cho to annoy Jane.

And it worked. Crazily.

While you got ready, Patrick just couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Not for a second. He’s watch the way your outfit hug your body and swallow quietly, his hand moving from your back to your waist.

“You could have asked Lisbon to keep the initial plan…” he murmured, a childish pout in his voice as he frowned, “She listens to you.”

You could have, that’s true. But you also enjoyed Patrick arguing in an already decided argument with Lisbon. He tried all his cards, highlighted the fact that you’re already together and how that could make the act even more realistic, but Lisbon wasn’t bulging.

The whole evening, he was posted behind the hidden cameras, eyebrows frowned comically. Watching your every move, trying to hold back the waves of jealousy when Cho put his hands on you—he is Patrick Jane and Patrick Jane doesn’t show jealousy. Patrick Jane is a charismatic man who hides his negative feelings under sarcastic comments.

But damn it, it was getting harder by minutes.

Like the cock in his pants.

Which leads you here.

Once back in your apartment—his was too sad—he didn’t wait any longer to shove you on the bed and crawl on you, breathing ragged. He tried to not show it, to keep a composed facade, but the front of your outfit was slightly lower than it should, and the sight of your chest was going things to him.

When you joked about how worked up he looked, he let out a breathless laugh and passed a hand through his hair.

“Me? No way. I didn’t spend the last hours waiting for this moment. I’m a gentleman.”

But the words died in his throat when you giggled.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I lied.”

He dipped his face closer, kissing the side of your neck as his hips ground against yours. At this point, he was just waiting for you to give him the signal.