I walk out in to the hallway, disgusted with myself. A high five? Who does that? What the hell is wrong with me?

A million thoughts are swirling through my head at once.

We want each other—there's nothing wrong with that.

We kept trying and trying to make it happen but things kept stopping us—is the universe trying to tell us something?

But what about our friendship?

Can our friendship survive if we let whatever is happening between us fizzle out?

Do I want it to fizzle out?

Could we possibly make this work?

I just want to rush back in there and take her in my arms and make love to her for hours. I wish I had a time machine, so we could back to London and—

My head snaps up and I push open her apartment door again, throwing it shut behind me. I'm startled to realize she's no longer near the couch—it almost looks like she was headed toward me.

"I'm still on London time—does that count?"

The look on her face answers my question before she can respond. "Oh, that counts."

We rush toward each other. I mumble, "Oh, good," as our arms wrap around each other, our lips colliding. Instantly, I feel calmer than I have in almost two days. This is real. This is really happening. It's not because we're in London and not because someone's upset—it's happening because we want it to happen.

She wants me as much as I want her.

I pull her closer to me, deepening the kiss. I never want my lips to leave hers.

She moans softly, her arms slipping under my jacket. Her dress bunches up in my hand as I grab at her.

We pull away from each other slowly, taking in deep, gulping breaths. She grins up at me and my heart stops for a moment—it's the same smile I saw the other night, the same smile that makes me weak in the knees.

"Are we really gonna do this?" I ask, smiling back at her.

"I sure as hell hope so."

I lean in to kiss her again when she disappears out of my arms. "What—"

I turn around and see she's at the door, engaging the chain and turning the lock. "I don't want to be disturbed," she says simply, turning around to look at me.

I swallow heavily, my heart rate increasing. I walk over to her and pull her in to my arms, hugging her. I press my cheek against the top of her head, breathing in her smell. My body's reaction to her is almost instantaneous. She reaches around her back to grab my hands, taking them in hers. She looks up at me and tilts her head, leading me to her bedroom.

My heart really starts to race now—sex in a hotel is one thing, but this is her personal, private space.

The door clicks shut behind us and she tears my jacket off and nearly tackles me, the force of it sending me crashing in to the door. "Sorry," she mumbles against my lips, sounding wholly insincere. Her hands work at the buckle of my belt; my hands slide under the hem of her dress, stroking her soft skin. She untucks my shirt, her hands skimming up my chest. I pull away from her lips, gasping.

"Please tell me you have condoms."

She grins at me and hops on her bed, opening her nightstand and pulling out a box triumphantly. "The economy-sized variety pack for whatever happens to come up."

I smile and lean in to kiss her, letting out a little yelp when she pulls me down on to the bed next to her. She scoots into a kneeling position and I follow suit, happy to let her take the lead for right now. Her fingers quickly undo the buttons on my shirt, and I'm soon left in only my t-shirt and pants.

I put my hands on her waist, gently pulling her back to me, kissing her slowly. She whimpers and I bring a hand up to cradle her head.

Eventually, I move my hands down to her shoulders, pushing the straps of her dress to the side, and am disappointed when it goes nowhere. I reach around to her back, trying to find a zipper. No luck.

"What the hell is wrong with your dress?" I exclaim.

She giggles softly, her hand coming up to caress my jaw. "It's on the side."

"A side zipper? What the hell is that?" I'm getting alarmingly frustrated with something so simple.

"Calm down, Chandler. I promise you, we'll get naked. Deep breaths." She's teasing me. I'm panicking over something that's not even a big deal and she's teasing me.

She grabs my t-shirt and pulls it over my head, tossing it over her shoulder, leaning forward to press her lips against my chest, right over my heart. Our arms slide around each other once more, holding tight for a moment.

She finally lifts an arm, exposing the zipper, and I tug it down gently, watching the fabric fall away from her body.

"You're not wearing a bra?" I choke out.

"Doesn't really fit under the dress."

"You mean to tell me that I sat next to you for all those hours on a plane and the whole time you weren't wearing a bra?"

"Well, I certainly didn't take it off midflight. Why?"

"How did I keep my hands off of you?"

"A better question would be why are you keeping your hands off of me now?"

Immediately, I give the sides of her dress a little tug, and then she's kneeling before me in nothing more than a skimpy little thong. My groin tightens considerably. "Monica," I whisper, pulling her closer to me, my lips wrapping around her breast.

I feel her jump and a moment later, she pulls my head away, turning it to her right breast. "What's wrong?"

"You already gave me a hickey on that one. I need balance."

"I did what?"

If possible, her grin widens. "Check it out," she tells me, shifting to the left a bit, and I'm suddenly up close and personal with her nipple.

"Uhh…"

"Suddenly you're shy? Apparently, one got more attention than the other, so I'm trying to correct that."

I swallow heavily and inspect her carefully. Sure enough, one is slightly darker than the other. "I didn't mean to do that."

"I know. But wait! Check out the rest of me." Before I can ask, she's leaning back from me, pointing to her legs. My mouth drops open in shock—tiny bruises dot her hips and thighs.

"Oh, my God. I'm so sorry."

"I'm not," she exclaims, and she does look pretty happy. "That night was great; a couple of bruises from you holding me tight is a pretty happy side effect for me."

I lean down and place gentle kisses on the discolored spots. Even though she seems okay with it, I hate the thought that I might have hurt her without realizing it. She sighs, and I can feel her fingers softly stroking my back.

"I guess I did that to you, huh?"

I look up at her, confused for a moment, before my face splits in half with a smile, remembering the nail marks she left on my back. "Never had a woman scratch my back before. It's pretty hot."

"Yeah, well, I've never had a guy leave bruises on me; I happen to find that pretty hot, too."

I decide it's not worth arguing about, so I hook my finger in the waistband of her thong and start to drag it down, surprised when she bats my hand away. "Um, ow?"

She gives my shoulder a little push. "Take your pants off."

"Bossy," I mumble good-naturedly, even as I stand to remove the garment.

"This surprises you?" she asks, opening the box of condoms, digging through for the right size.

I choose to play it safe and not answer that question. Instead, I pull off my pants, kicking off my shoes in the process. She reclines against the headboard and smiles at me. I pick up one of her feet, inspecting the sandal that covers it, trying to figure out how to remove it. "Why are your clothes so complicated?"

"It's just a little buckle," she answers. She brings her free foot toward her hand, pulling the shoe off with a flick of her wrist. It takes me a few more moments, but I manage to free her other foot, sliding a hand up and down her calf for a moment.

"Are we stalling?" I ask.

"We might be," she answers, biting the corner of her lip. "Why?"

"Maybe I'm scared this is all a dream. I'll wake up all of a sudden and still be flying over the Atlantic. Or worse, alone in my hotel room."

She gives my hand a tug, and I go willingly into her arms, her legs falling open to cradle me. Our skin touches for the first time in days and I shudder at the contact. She pulls my face to hers, kissing me deeply.

I almost can't handle it; I'd already forgotten how incredible it felt to be with her like this. Or maybe I forced myself to forget.

"If this is a dream, I never want to wake up," she whispers to me, and it nearly makes me come undone.

I kiss her neck, trying to maintain control. "Why were you stalling?"

I can feel her swallow heavily, her throat moving under my lips. "I'm worried that it was all a fluke; that it won't be as good this time."

"Well, I can't promise another seven in one night, but I think it'll be even better this time."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know about you, but I picked up a few tips last time." With that, I slide my hand in between us, my fingers finding their way beneath her underwear. As soon as I make contact, her hips buck up, and she throws her head back.

"Ohhhh," she moans.

"I don't think this part will be any trouble at all," I tell her softly, my lips finding hers once more.

Her hips move slowly against my hand, my fingers pushing in to her, causing her to breathe in sharply. "I think we'll be okay," she gasps. I feel her nails digging in to my back again, and I grin, knowing I'm doing something right.

Her hips are starting to move faster, her breathing becoming more rapid. "So good," she moans, her back arching off the bed. "How do you do this to me?"

I don't know how to answer that—honestly, I'm not really sure. With Monica, it's been mostly instinct. I remove my hand, causing her to protest. "Nooooooo."

"It's okay," I whisper. I roll off of her for a moment and dispose of both her underwear and mine. "What did you do with—" Before I can finish the question, a condom hits me in the chest.

"Sorry," she tells me, giggling.

"I doubt that, but I'll let it slide this time." I pull on the condom and crawl back over to her, settling my body against hers once more. She wraps her limbs around me, pulling me closer, and the friction created between us makes us both moan.

I kiss the tip of her nose. "You ready?" She nods enthusiastically and we shift our hips so that I can slide in to her.

"Chandler," she moans in a low voice. "Yeeeeeessssss."

I thrust against her slowly—this feels like coming home. It feels even more perfect than it did the other night. "God, you're amazing."

"You are," she answers, her arms tightening around me, her lips pressing against mine.

Her soft moans fill the room, fascinating me. I have no idea how I'm able to do this to her, why she responds to me this way, but it's absolutely incredible. I stare at her in awe, taking in the way her mouth falls open with every thrust, the rise and fall of her chest as she gasps for breath, the lines of her throat. She's beautiful. Completely, one hundred percent beautiful.

I'm totally floored for a moment, and I have to stop, pressing my forehead to hers. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice high-pitched and breathy.

I shake my head, gasping for air. "I just can't believe this is really happening."

Her hand comes up to stroke my cheek. "This is so much better than London."

I feel my chest constrict with an unnamed emotion, so I smile at her, leaning in to kiss her once more. Our hips start moving together once more, the rhythm increasing.

"Monica," I moan in to her mouth. "Oh, Monica."

Her fingertips dig in to my back and she groans; I think she likes when I say her name. I kiss my way down her neck, down her collarbone, but can't reach her breasts. In a move I didn't know I could pull off, I wrap my arms around her and drag myself to my knees, barely missing a stroke. The view offered from this position is pretty impressive—her breasts are now right in front of my face.

"Which one?" I ask breathlessly.

"Doesn't matter," she moans, grabbing my head and pulling it to her chest. I happily latch on, the noises that are now leaving her mouth better than ever.

I make another mental note; her breasts are extraordinarily sensitive. Happy to oblige.

I dig my fingers in to her hips, keeping her in place, setting the pace, and she groans happily. "Ohhh. Ohhhhhhh Gooooood yessss."

My grip on her tightens, and somewhere in the back of my mind it registers that this is exactly how she got all those little bruises, but I don't think I could bring myself to stop at this point.

Her head falls back as she rocks against me, the noises she makes growing louder with every thrust. I pull her hips against me faster, desperate to hear more, to see more, to feel more.

"Oh, God, baby, right there," she gasps, her head shooting up, her movements becoming more frantic.

Did she just call me "baby?" Christ, that's hot. I feel my body respond to her desperate movements, my stomach tightening.

With no other warning, her body tenses around me for a second before thrusting wildly, my name falling from her lips in a desperate moan. I find my release just moments later, clutching at her frantically, yelling wordlessly, matching her thrust for thrust.

Our bodies slowly calm down, though I don't release her. I hold her close, stroking her skin, taking deep breaths, our limbs entwined and shaky. As happy as I felt in London, this is ten times better. At least.

"Can I ask you something?" she mumbles in to my neck, her hands playing with sweaty hair.

"Shoot," I answer, kissing her shoulder.

"Where did that guy come from?"

"What are you talking about?"

She leans back a bit, looking me in the eye. "The Chandler in bed with me is nothing like the Chandler I've known for years. In bed you're all decisive and take-charge and ridiculously sexy. Don't get me wrong—I think it's great, and I've always liked the other Chandler, but if I'd known about this guy, I would have done this with you a long time ago."

I smooth the hair away from her face, kissing the hollow of her throat. "I don't know, Mon. I think this guy was just waiting for a green light from you."

"Well, just so there's no confusion, my light is very much green."

"I'll keep that in mind," I tell her, moving up to kiss her lips. I rock our bodies forward and we fall gently against the pillows, still tangled up in each other.