She lay in bed, a sheet loosely draped over her, and her back propped up on all the pillows she never usually slept upon. Well, she wasn't sleeping that night either. It was close to 3:30 a.m., and she didn't even feel the least tired.

Lucas lay in just his boxers, with a pillow behind his head as he idly massaged Peyton's feet. It was a silly way to sit together, but Peyton kind of loved it. They could talk and joke, and there was no craning of necks or hidden looks. It was all on the table.

Lucas could get used to that. Laying with her, talking about nothing or...whatever. Occasionally kissing or...whatever. He hadn't left her bedroom since he entered it, and she only left to put on that album she'd been talking about earlier - which, by the way, he loved - and to get them a couple glasses of water.

"You aren't kicking me out," he noted.

"I told you I wouldn't."

"I know, but...I didn't believe you."

"Why didn't you say something?" she asked worriedly.

"Because you were begging me to have sex with you and I would have been crazy to want to talk."

"Oh. Right."

They both laughed, and he kissed the top of her foot. She had no clue how something like that could be found both adorable and insanely sexy.

"Remember that day in my office?" he asked with a fond smile.

"The day you attacked me?"

"I didn't attack you," he scoffed. "I just...did what we both wanted."

"I was so pissed off!" she cried, making him laugh.

"I just had to prove that you didn't hate me."

"You just wanted to have sex on your desk."

"The thought has crossed my mind," he said, and she pulled her feet away from him as she scowled. "Oh please. It's crossed yours, too."

She blushed and rolled her eyes, but she wouldn't look at him, and she knew it was the biggest tell of her life.

"I'm starving," she said after a moment.

"Chinese?"

"Why is it that when people think of a late night food in New York City, they just automatically suggest Chinese?" she asked with a raised brow. "Really. What about, like, Korean? Or...or...I dunno. Anything that's not Chinese."

"You don't like Chinese?"

"I love Chinese. I'm just saying that it's weird," she said, shrugging her shoulder. He could only laugh.

She stood from the bed, not bothering to grab the sheet, and he took a sharp breath as he watched her move across the room. She picked up his shirt off the floor and pulled it on, buttoning as few of the buttons as possible without being obscene. Not that it would have mattered.

He didn't care. He just already missed her in the bed.

"Don't look at me like that," she warned.

"Like what?" he asked with a smirk.

"Like...that. It's...you make it really hard to walk away from you."

"Well, then stop trying to walk away from me," he said, grinning boyishly.

"Don't get cute," she insisted. He looked up at her where she was standing next to the bed. "Stop it!"

"I don't even know I'm doing it!"

"That's the problem," she admitted.

"I guess," he said, standing and slipping his arms around her, "I just always want you."

"Lucas," she said, turning her head away from him. "Seriously. I need food, and you're...Don't distract me."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're always doing something."

He kissed her before she left the room, and he didn't follow her. She didn't feel nervous with him in her bedroom. In the past, the first few times a man would stay at her place, she felt like her entire life was on display. With Lucas, she didn't feel that. She really wasn't sure why. She actually kind of liked to know that he'd be in there when she returned.

Lucas lay on her bed, waiting for her to step back into the room, and he replayed their evening. It had been insane. Intense and completely crazy. 100 per cent. They'd gone from barely speaking, to arguing, to him confessing his biggest secret, to nearly having sex in the back of the venue, to actually having sex at her apartment. He wouldn't change a second of it if he could.

The sex was even better than he had imagined. And yes, he had imagined. Several times. Extensively. But she was incredible. She knew herself, and she was confident, and she didn't shy away from him. She'd been just as cute and flirty as she had been just downright sexy. She touched him in the most innocent places, but somehow made it not innocent at all. She'd curl her fingers around his bicep and he'd lose all control.

He really needed her to come back into the room, or he was going to look for her. He felt like she was everywhere on him. She was in his head and under his skin. He smelled like her now, just that bit of vanilla and...coconut. Or something. He could taste her on his tongue, and he wanted more of her.

When she stepped back into the room with a plate in her hand, he looked over at her and she narrowed her eyes. He was already hard, just thinking about her.

"What?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.

"Get over here."

"Come get me," she said playfully. She laughed when he did that very thing, immediately slipping his hands beneath the shirt she was wearing. "What have you been doing in here?"

"Thinking of you," he admitted softly. "I can't get you out of my mind."

"I can't get you out of my bed."

She set the plate of food on her dresser, and he didn't even notice that it wasn't Chinese and she'd clearly not ordered in. She was kind of thankful that she hadn't. That would have meant leaving the room, and that was something she now really, really didn't want to do.

"You don't want me out of your bed," he countered.

He was always doing that; refuting her claims. It would have annoyed her if he wasn't always right.

He pulled the shirt over her head and tugged her back towards the sheets, turning them around so she fell backwards with him on top of her. His hand urgently covered her breast as he kissed her, and she had no idea how they still had all that passion. Sure, they had close to two months of pent up sexual tension to release, but...they'd been releasing it all night. With him on top of her and kissing her in a way that felt like he just couldn't get enough of her, she wasn't going to question him about why he wanted her so badly.

She wanted him just the same.

His lips moved to her neck, and she let out a breath. It was her favourite place to be kissed, and it was his favourite place to kiss a woman, and when they'd told each other that, Lucas had smiled triumphantly, and Peyton had tried to decode that look. She really didn't understand it, and when he kissed her again, she stopped thinking about it.

"I need to sleep at some point," she said, laughing beneath him.

"Not at this point."

"At some point, though."

"We'll get there," he said, speaking into her ear before kissing the hinge of her jaw. "Eventually."

"I'm hungry," she said, protesting wanly. She didn't want to protest. She wanted to tease him. He wasn't going to let her.

He pulled away from her and gave her a roguish smile as he locked eyes with hers.

"Me too."

When he started kissing down her body, she wanted to make fun of him for using such a cheesy line. But then his face was between her thighs, and she settled on just breathing out his name instead.

----

The sun was coming up by the time they fell asleep, and even that had been mere necessity, and not a desire. Peyton had climbed into Lucas' lap, and he'd actually groaned, like he just couldn't do it. He told her he'd give into her when he had more to give, and he made it sound like a perfect promise. He hadn't lied when he'd told her he'd make her come often. She hadn't lied when she'd told him there was time for everything else later.

They both fell asleep naked, atop the now very disheveled sheets on her bed. Lucas had his arms securely around her, and she lay against his chest, her arm draped over his stomach.

Peyton woke to the shrill sound of her phone coming from somewhere in the apartment, and she checked the time to see that it was only 9:30. On any other Saturday, that would have meant she'd slept in. Not this Saturday. A few hours of sleep all she got, she grabbed her robe and caught her reflection in the mirror before stepping out into the hall and tugging the door closed behind her, so as not to wake Lucas.

What she'd noticed in that quick glance at herself was that she looked more relaxed and well-rested than she had in...years, maybe. Her skin glowed, and her cheeks were a little pinker, and once she'd run her fingers through her hair - hastily in her rush to get the phone - she felt she looked better than she had the night before when she'd made an effort.

She reached for her phone where it sat in her purse from the night before, and she knew it would be Brooke before she even checked the caller I.D.

"How many times?" came Brooke's pleading voice before Peyton had even said a word.

"Honestly? I don't even know," Peyton said softly, glancing back to her bedroom door.

"What does that mean!?" Brooke asked excitedly. She actually squealed a little, and Peyton could only laugh.

"It means I lost count," Peyton admitted, and there was that squeal again.

"And how many times did you...?"

"All of them," Peyton interrupted. "And then some."

"OK, Scott men know how to satisfy," Brooke said, like it was an accomplishment both Nathan and Lucas - and maybe Brooke and Peyton, too - should be proud of. "Can you please tell me the entire story of how you went from saying you hated him, even though we all knew damn well you didn't, to leaving the party and having countless orgasms?"

"Brooke!" Peyton hissed. She could have sworn she heard Nathan cursing and groaning in the background.

"What? I need the details," Brooke said nonchalantly.

"I'm not...not now."

"He's still there!?"

"It was late, or...early...when we went to sleep, and..."

"Enough said. Lucas Scott." Brooke said it as though she wanted to thank that blonde man for how he was making her best friend feel. "Shut up! I'm allowed."

"What?" Peyton asked with a laugh.

"Nathan told me I'm being nosey."

"You are."

"But I'm your best friend!" Brooke pointed out in her defense.

"Yeah, look...I'm gonna go," Peyton said, suddenly remembering that she hadn't actually had any food and she'd been starving since...well, a long time.

"Yeah..." Brooke said, then she giggled, and Peyton grimaced when she heard Nathan say 'get off the phone so I can have you again before I leave'. "Me too."

"Go," Peyton said.

Then the line went dead. She could only chuckle and shake her head.

She ventured to the bathroom in the hall - still not wanting to wake Lucas - and washed her face quickly, applying just mascara and lip gloss. She ran a brush through her hair and smiled at her reflection in the mirror after brushing her teeth.

She went into the kitchen and began searching for anything to eat that would ease the rumble in her stomach. She settled on some dry cereal, just because it was close at hand, and then started brewing a pot of coffee.

When Lucas awoke to an empty bed and sunlight pouring through the windows, he smiled to himself after the initial disorientation wore off. He got his bearings, helped along by the scent of Peyton lingering in the room, and he sat up in her bed, looking around.

He took notice of all the things he didn't care about when he was blinded by her. Of course, he'd caught glimpses of things the night before, but he'd be crazy to look at paintings when he could look at Peyton instead. There was dark grey paint on the walls, and black furniture, and red accents. It was an adult room. It felt like her. He liked it in there.

Except she wasn't with him, and he didn't like that part at all.

He heard a noise from the kitchen and stood from the bed, lazily raking his hands through his bed head before opening the door and following the distinct sound of the coffee maker.

Coffee sounded good.

She sounded even better.

She was wearing just a black satin robe, and she had one leg bent at the knee, her heel resting against the opposite ankle in a way that was so insanely sexy, he almost couldn't handle it. She didn't even know he was there. That was what made it sexy. She didn't have to try.

He walked up behind her where she was standing at the counter, and rest his hands on her hips, burying his face in her hair.

"'Morning," he mumbled when she leaned back against him a bit. She blindly reached back and wrapped her arm around him, and if he could have seen her face, he would have seen a raised eyebrow.

"Are you naked?" she asked knowingly.

"Is that a problem?"

"You tell me."

"No," he said.

He swept her hair aside and kissed the column of her neck, and she was melting into him just a bit more. The coffee was forgotten when he tugged the sash of her satin robe, undoing the garment from behind her. His hands grazed her collarbone when he pulled her robe down over her shoulders, and he smirked against her skin when she let out a throaty sound. The satin pooled at their feet, and she tried to turn in his arms, but he wouldn't let her.

"Stay there," he commanded, and she whined.

He just about lost it every time she did that.

His hand traveled down her body, stopping at a few of his favourite places, and a few of her favourite places, and he kissed her neck almost the entire time. When his digits dipped down between her legs, she dropped her head and leaned forward, clutching the counter.

She felt like a teenager again. She felt like every touch was the best touch, and every single time he got even close to her core, she was trembling. She hadn't felt that since she was about 16 with her first boyfriend.

He nudged her thigh with his knee, forcing her legs apart a little more. He loved this. She was putty in his hands. Literally. He held her with his free hand splayed across her stomach and pressing her against himself, and he could feel her shallow breathing and her rapid heartbeat against his own chest.

"Luke," she breathed out, trying to turn around. He wasn't having it.

"Just enjoy it," he mumbled against her neck. "Sweetheart."

He actually laughed when she let out a moan at that little term of endearment, and he could tell she was about to speak, so slipped two fingers into her. Her hand covered his over her stomach, desperate for something to grab onto. Lucas moved his thumb against her most sensitive spot, and she was almost involuntarily moving herself against his hand. She was incredible. She felt incredible. Soft and warm and somehow just perfect. She'd move back against him, and he had to stifle his own moans a couple times. She wasn't doing it on purpose. Everything with her seemed to be the most amazing accident.

"Lucas..." It was a mere whisper that had him smiling. He really loved the way she said his name.

She wove her hand together with his, and mere seconds later, she dropped her head back against him as she came. He literally had to hold her up. They stayed like that for a few moments until he moved both his hands to rest upon her hips, and placed a sweet, delicate kiss to her bare shoulder.

"Why are you being so good to me?" she asked. She made it sound like she was in awe of it. They were both aware that she wasn't just talking about how generous he'd been the night before. And again that morning, apparently.

She had no idea what she did to him. He was convinced.

"It's easy."

"No," she insisted, shaking her head. "I'm a bitch."

"No, you aren't," he said, finally turning her in his arms. The expression on his face was deadly serious. "You're not."

"I haven't been nice to you."

"That's so not true," he said in a low voice, and she laughed as she rolled her eyes. She was kind of starting to like that innate ability of his to turn everything into an innuendo.

"I could be nicer," she said after a moment, her hands traveling down his sides.

"Peyton..."

"You're naked in my kitchen," she stated. "Don't get shy now."

"I'm not shy. You just don't have to prove anything to me."

She pressed herself against him, her hand traveling down between them and her fingers wrapping around his hard length. She leaned up to speak in his ear as he hissed her name.

"You don't want me to drop to my knees in front of you?"

It was a throwback to that day so long ago; that first time they really spoke. He didn't know how she remembered that. He almost hadn't.

But no, he couldn't say he didn't want that very thing.

Her eyes were mischievous right before she kissed him, and then, when her lips were focused elsewhere, he seriously wondered if he'd met his match.

----

"I don't know anything about you," he said, stepping out of the bathroom after a shower.

Peyton had insisted they shower separately, and his arguments about conserving water were thinly veiled excuses, at which Peyton merely raised a brow.

This, however, wasn't much better. She'd needed a few moments away from him to conserve her sanity and a touch of self control. Now, with him standing with just a towel wrapped around his waist and running a hand through his wet hair, all that self control was flying out the window.

Little did she know, he wasn't coping much better. She'd made the bed, and was laying there in just a tank top and a pair of little shorts with her legs stretched in front of her, crossed one over the other. She had a book in her hands, the title of which he couldn't see, and which didn't really matter. She was reading. That was sexy.

"Um, I'm pretty sure you do," she said, smiling at him. He knew what she meant. It just wasn't what he meant.

"No. Like...other than where you grew up, what you do, how your place is decorated, and the fact that you're amazing in bed," he listed off, making her laugh, "I don't know anything about you."

"Not much to tell," she said dismissively, closing her book.

"Liar."

"I am not!"

"You're not being forthcoming," he said with a raised brow.

"You're being invasive," she retorted as he lay down on the bed, facing her and propping himself up with his elbow, his head resting on his hand.

"If there's not much to tell, then start talking."

She glowered at him, but he simply stared back at her, waiting for her to do what they both knew she would. He didn't miss the way her eyes flicked down to his torso, but he had to ignore it, as much as he would have loved to just toss that towel aside and pull those little shorts off her.

"Where do you want me to start?" she asked with a shrug. He smirked smugly and she let out a quick breath.

"You and Brooke."

"Best friends...forever," Peyton said, smiling when Lucas did. "We grew up together in this tiny little town. Best friends since the first day of the first grade."

"Why?"

"Why what?" she asked.

"Why did you become friends? Kids only become friends for silly reasons that are always adorable," he said with a smile. "I bet you were cute."

"We both had pigtails in our hair, and none of the other girls did," Peyton admitted, and Lucas laughed.

"See? Cute."

"We did everything together. Our first dates? We went on a double date," she said, making them both smile. "Cheerleading and parties and school..."

"You were a cheerleader?" he asked, wide eyed.

"Yeah. Why?" she asked incredulously. She knew what he was getting at. She wasn't the cheeriest. "What? You can't picture me in the skirt, cheering on the basketball team?"

"Oh, I can picture it," he said slyly. "In fact...give me a minute."

"Stop it." She leaned over and swatted his thigh.

"OK, OK," he said. "Parents?"

Her demeanor changed just a little bit. She took a deep breath and seemed to tense just enough for him to notice. She didn't know that she wanted to tell him about it all. Sure, he'd told her about his family, but she didn't like talking about hers. At all, in fact. It was too hard.

"Are you still hungry? We can't survive on coffee alone," she said, reaching for the phone. "I'll order in."

"Hey," he said, moving towards her and taking the phone from her hands. He settled himself on top of her and kissed the tip of her nose gently. "You don't have to make excuses. You don't have to say anything you don't want to."

But dammit, now he was even more curious. What was it that she didn't want to say.

"I don't understand you," she said softly, shaking her head. "You're so...forward, but then you do things like this, and...I dunno."

"You should know by now that I can't be stereotyped." He moved off her and lay on his side next to her.

She really couldn't argue with that.

"My mom," she said softly, grabbing his attention. "She died when I was eight." His breath seemed to stop, and she locked eyes with him again. "It was a car accident."

The story was so familiar that they just looked at each other for a moment. She was wondering how it was possible they had that tragedy in common, and he was wondering why she hadn't said anything to him the evening before. Sure, they got up to some other things, but she had the opportunity. He deduced that she just didn't want to say anything.

"Peyton...I'm sorry. I...I pushed you. You didn't have to..."

"Lucas, it's OK," she insisted. "I'm almost 30 years old. I should be able to talk about it."

"I don't get to," he said softly.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, shaking his head. "You don't have to be. I've been living with it forever. It's kind of nice that you know, though." She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair at his temple. "It makes me feel...Closer to them somehow. Like I don't have to hide it."

"I can't even imagine. I mean...my dad's never really been the same, but he was still there," she said. "He was a little sadder, and I think...I think he was scared for me, but..."

"He's your dad," Lucas said, smiling at her when she nodded her head. "Well, he did a good job."

"I'm sure he'd be happy to hear that," she said softly. She leaned over and kissed him, and she rest her hand on his cheek. "Food."

"Hmm." He grabbed her again before she could move, and she smiled when he kissed her. "Thank you. For telling me."

"Yeah," she said softly. "You, too."

She was in big trouble. Big trouble. She didn't hate him anymore.

She really didn't hate him anymore.