Carly woke up at 0100 and Jethro was not beside her in bed. Staring at the ceiling she thought things through. She knew he wanted her. She knew that their sex was off the charts. The things he made her feel would be illegal in most foreign countries and half of the fifty states. Sighing, she pushed back the covers and realized that was part of the problem. He made her feel; on levels that transcended sex, Leroy Jethro Gibbs made Carly Thomas feel. And that scared the hell out of her.

Padding around the bedroom naked, Carly found a T-shirt in the dresser and slipped it on. Yes, they had just spent several hours touching, kissing, licking and sucking every inch of exposed skin they could reach but she somehow got the feeling that she would need something on when she found Jet and talked with him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Jethro was in the basement, painting the name on his boat. He had thought a long time about what he was going to do once Carly's stalker was caught. He would let her go. She was too young. He was too old. He had seen too much in this life and she hadn't seen enough. There was no room in his life for her and she was too much like Abby, a free spirit who would only stay for a short time. All his good intentions of letting her go went out the window when he saw that knife at her throat, only to come slamming back down in his face once he left HQ with her. He meant to bring her to his home to explain why they couldn't be together. He had even started to tell her but she had interrupted and stared at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. In that moment he knew he couldn't end this with her any more than he could stop the rain from falling.

Frustrated, he stood and placed the paintbrush in the jar of paint thinner. Picking up his glass, he downed the liquid in one shot. Feeling the burn all the way down to his belly, he resisted the urge to throw the glass against the wall. She was too much for him to get a handle on and she was getting too close. Uncomfortable with the emotions and thoughts he was having, he walked around the boat looking for any imperfections in the finish. His ears picked up the squeak of the floorboards and he looked up. The door was closed and he knew Carly wouldn't come down unless invited. She hadn't even knocked yet. It was as if she knew this was his space and she respected that.

Admitting to himself that it might be too late for him, he raised his voice for her to hear him say, "Come on in, Carly."

The door cracked open and she asked, "Are you sure?"

In answer to her question, he held out his hand to her; she moved through the doorway, down the stairs and over to him. He wrapped her in his arms, not noticing the chill in the house until he felt it on her skin.

"You're cold."

Shaking her head to deny it, she told him, "Not anymore."

He felt her arms tighten around him. He also felt her curiosity stirring. "It's my boat." He told her and turned her around to see it.

She looked it over and smiled. "Abby told me you were building one, but I thought she was joking about where." Settling her head back on his shoulder she told him, "That is one beautiful boat."

Kissing her hair, he took his arms from around her. "Come on. Let's go to bed. We have work tomorrow."