PART 10

Later that evening:

Sam smiled at the handsome man as he paused outside her door. "I had a really good time tonight," she told him then opened the door. "You want to come in?"

"Yeah; okay," Jack replied, his restless fingers tugging at the neckline of his sweater.

"Hey, take it off if it's bothering you," Sam offered with a grin. "I don't mind."

"Ah … I'm not wearing anything under it," Jack demurred.

"I know." Sam grinned. "Why d'you think I offered?"

A chuckle came from the older man at that. "Brazen hussy," he accused lightly.

"Well, what can I say? I'm a woman who knows what she wants," Sam told him, watching appreciatively as he settled on her settee, stretching out his long legs. Everything he did was so sexy. He just moved great. She sat down next to him and slipped her arms around his neck. "Y'know something? I wouldn't turn down another kiss."

"Uhh …," Jack got out then shrugged. "Your wish is my command, milady," he said then captured her lips with his thinner ones.

Their previous kiss had been passionate, but this one made that seem like an adolescent's first fumbling attempt. His warm soft lips moved against hers, while his hot tongue explored every centimeter of her mouth, before he sucked her tongue into his own mouth. Then his slim hands slid downward to cup her breasts, thumbs rubbing the nipples to a taut readiness through the thin fabric of her dress. Sam moaned into the man's mouth – she was powerless to do anything else – and slipped her own hands under his sweater to caress his strong back and shoulders.

They finally had to break for air, but their hands did not cease their activity. And Sam found that Jack had managed to unzip her dress and push it down to her waist – seemingly without stopping the stimulation of her breasts. "God, Sam," he murmured. "You're beautiful." Then his untidy silver head dropped and he pressed a warm kiss to the curve of each breast.

Oh yes … Now, this was the passionate, vibrant Jack O'Neill she'd known was there. "Bedroom," she managed to get out.

"Hmmm?" His head shot up and he looked at her quizzically.

"We're a bit old for couch acrobatics," she pointed out.

"Speak for yourself," he said cockily, then gave her a little-boy grin. "Okay, though," he added.

They got up and headed to his bedroom, Sam giggling to herself at how childlike he could be at times. It was one of the many things she lov …

She stopped dead. Oh God. Was she in love with him?

While Jack appreciated the sight of a beautiful blonde stripped to the waist as much as any straight guy, it was a little cold in this hallway. "Uhh, Sam? Whatcha doin'?" he inquired.

The woman shook herself visibly then smiled dazzlingly at him. "Nothing," she told him, then slipped her hand into his, tugging him into a bedroom.

He looked around the spacious airy room. Clean lines, no clutter, restful colors. Very Sam. "Nice room, Doc," he told her, then paused. "Ahh … way to kill the mood, but … uh … you got any … things?"

Her brows drew together. "I have many things, General," she replied. "To what might you be referring?" she added snarkily.

He was over 50 – he could say condoms! "You know; rubbers."

Yeah. He was such an adult.

And she was a smart ass.

Sam giggled again – what was it about him that brought on her giggles? He'd had no idea he was so comedic. "Yes, Jack; I have condoms," she told him.

They sat down together on her bed, and Jack was dismayed to find himself feeling nervous. It had been such a long time since he'd had sex, and he was fairly certain that he would end up disappointing her. She was so much younger than he was.

And his burgeoning erection deflated at the thought.

"Jack; what's the matter?" Sam inquired gently.

Oh God … he couldn't even keep it up anymore! What the hell had he been thinking? The old maxim 'use it or lose it' came to mind, and he groaned softly. He hadn't used it so he'd lost it.

He stood up and headed back out of the bedroom. "Sorry, Doc," he said in a would-be casual tone. "It's not going to happen."

What the fuck just happened?

Sam stared at the empty doorway, hearing Jack move back into her living room in preparation for leaving. They'd had fun tonight, she'd tingled in response to his sweet caresses. Everything had been going great until they'd gotten to the bedroom.

Then he'd backed out.

She'd realized he was having … uh … problems, but there were techniques that could have sorted that out. If he'd only told her the truth. Men and their dumb-ass pride.

"That chicken-shit," she muttered.

She got up and made her way to the living room, running full-tilt into Jack, who had pulled his sweater back on. "What," he grumbled when she grabbed his arm.

Son of a bitch.

She pushed him against the wall and he banged his head on a low-hanging shelf. "Doc; what the hell …?" he yelped, squinting against the pain.

Sam didn't care. "Just what is your problem?" she hissed. "You don't have the right to play with people's feelings. Couldn't you just say 'Sam, things are going too fast'? Were those too many words for you?"

"Uh …". Jack rubbed the back of his head. "What d'you want me to say, Sam? That I'm too damn old to get it up anymore?"

"You were getting it up just fine in the car and in the living room," Sam retorted. "But if you start on this too-old routine of yours, you and your fine ass can get the hell out of here." She grabbed him by the waist and ground her hips into him. "I know you want me, Jack, so quit sulking and let me help you."

He went red. "Uh … how?" he inquired.

"Warm massage oil and an index finger," Sam said succinctly.

He went pale and pushed her away. "Forget it," he snapped.

"It won't hurt," she reassured him. "In fact, it feels really good."

"I said no!" he yelled. "Are you not hearing me?"

His eyes were huge, while his pupils had dilated till his eyes looked almost black. A muscle worked furiously along his jawline, and Sam wondered just what he wasn't telling her. "It's okay," she told him. "I won't do it, if you're so dead against it, but a bad experience shouldn't put you off for life."

"Bad experience." He snorted. "You think I tried it at college and didn't like it?" He heaved a sigh. "In the early 90's, I was … captured by the Iraqis and held prisoner for four months. There are no women in the Iraqi army – the men turned to each other for … entertainment or to their … captives."

Sam put her hand to her mouth. There were so many cases of women being raped by enemy soldiers, so much counseling available, that one tended to forget that men could be raped too. She slipped her arm around him in a hug, but no words came.

He squeezed her hand, seeming to appreciate the silent support. "I never told anyone," he continued, "though I think Doc Fraiser might know."

"You didn't tell Sara?"

"No." Jack shook his head. "I was a wreck when I came back, and she had enough to deal with." His eyes filled with pain. "When I was reported MIA, she was pregnant. The shock caused her to miscarry, and she was still grieving when I came home."

So he'd shouldered the burden alone. Stubborn, noble, son of a bitch. Sam admired him more than she could say. She'd known some soldiers who'd come back from the Iraq war hardened and bitter. Jack had held onto his humanity under the most degrading of circumstances – was a great dad, a wonderful friend, a caring man.

She gave him a soft sweet kiss on the lips. "It's late, and you're tired," she said. "Come to bed?" His shoulders stiffened, and she stroked his cheek tenderly. "Just to sleep."

He looked at her, scrubbing his hands over his face and blinking tiredly – much like a sleepy child. And Sam felt her heart turn over at the sight. He was so endearing in so many ways – it was no wonder she loved him.

Yes. She did love him. It was time she admitted that – if only to herself.

They went back to her bedroom and she dug out an ancient Academy tee shirt of Mark's for Jack to wear. She turned her back as he changed, knowing he wouldn't appreciate her ogling his fine backside, and she changed into her own sleep attire – baggy pajama shorts with a matching tank top.

She got into the bed and opened the covers in silent invitation. He got in beside her, surprising her when he wrapped his arms around her waist. "Thanks, Doc," he muttered, his head ducking into her neck as he hugged her.

She slipped her own arms around his neck, resting her cheek gently on his messy silver hair. It was surprisingly soft against her skin and she longed to run her fingers through it. "You're welcome," she told him. "Get some sleep now, huh?"

He nodded against her neck then kissed it gently, sending a shudder of need through Sam's body. "Yeah," he said huskily.

They made themselves comfortable and she gave him a light kiss on the cheek. "Night, Jack," she told him.

He yawned, evidently worn out by the reliving of his trauma. "G'night, Sam," he mumbled. "Love you."

She stared at him. "Jack?"

But the man had slipped into oblivion.