A/N: in keeping with my goal of making smut chapters separate from the plot of the story, I'm posting this as chapter 1.5, an interlude, if you will. The next installment is almost complete, and almost completely sexy times, but I don't want to forget to post this part separately, just in case something in it is relevant to the actual plot or maybe someone just wants to see them simmering in the elevator.

Silence stifled the air in the penthouse elevator, choking the words right out of her mouth every time she was about to say something. Mamoru was grateful for the quiet; he was still trying to sort everything out. Would this have happened if they were married? But it wasn't like that. The second he had seen her smile at him in the bar he had known she was oblivious to that guy's intentions—he wanted to feel relieved and show her how much he loved her, cherished her. Seeing her in that situation, with another man touching her, he wanted to be mad, jealous, and possessive—he wanted to show her the white-hot rage that had been boiling under his skin. The knot in the pit of his stomach had only barely loosened—he wanted to show her how she had him wound tight.

He kept his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall, glancing at her in between thoughts. She was paying close attention to her fingernails and working her lower lip between her front teeth. His girl... His woman. Her delicate, soft fingers... Her pretty, soft lips... Her flawless, soft skin... Her supple, soft curves...

The elevator opened with a "ding." Mamoru left, heading for his suite, his head more clouded than before. But his were the only footsteps he heard.

"C'mon, Kid," he said without pause, "Unless you're wantin' to sleep in the hallway."

"But, I thought..." she left her words hanging and he heard her start to follow him.

He left the door open for her as he walked into the room. He went straight to the sofa, plopped down in the middle of it, and reached for the lighter on the coffee table as he moved the cigarette from behind his ear to between his lips. He didn't look up when he heard the door close, instead focusing on getting the damn lighter to work. After tipping it so there was enough fluid to light the spark—third time's the charm—he inhaled deeply, hoping the smoke filling his lungs would calm his nerves.

He exhaled slowly, deliberately, as he leaned back against the sofa. He let his head fall back and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. She'd been happy to see him, but he couldn't help wondering: Am I losing her?

"Mamoru?" her voice was soft and far. Probably standin' by the door actin' like she's never been here before.

He took another long drag, "C'mere."

He leaned forward and placed the half-finished cigarette on the ashtray, then flopped back in place. He watched her closely as she approached; the way her skirt moved with her hips... Wearin' a damn skirt while havin' a drink with that jackass... When she started to take the seat next to him, he stopped her.

"No," he said, giving his thighs a pat, "Here."