A/N: Okay, so I'm thinking I'm going to revert back to my once a week posting schedule. It seems to work out best that way. That's not to say there won't be extras thrown in here and there, but the weekly schedule provides me with a good structure. So, the first person to review this chapter will get to choose which day I post on. :D

Enjoy!

That night found Jack reclining in bed, listening to the sounds of Sam getting ready for the night. He heard the faucet turn off, then the fan quiet, and then the bathroom door opened, revealing a shapely silhouette backlit by the vanity lights above the bathroom mirror.

A lump formed suddenly in his throat, his mouth dry as the light flipped off, plunging them both into a shadowy darkness that blinded him until the bed shifted beneath him, the mattress bending to Sam's hands and knees as she crawled towards him. She straddled his lap, and his roving hands found nothing but skin and a delicate lacy thing that was clearly meant to be taken off.

Heat rushed from his neck down to his toes, and her lips covered his in a hot, hungry kiss. He returned the kiss eagerly, but when her hands began to rove downward, his thoughts returned to him.

"Sam… Sam, Sam…" he murmured against her lips, his hands pushing just enough to interrupt her. She squirmed against his insistently. "Sam!"

"Mmm?" She kissed him again, nearly succeeding in distracting him.

"Sam," he tried again breathlessly. "Kawalsky… he's in the next room…"

Her lips grinned against his. "You want him to join in?" she asked mischievously, hips pressing against his as her back arched sensuously.

Jack almost choked. "What—no!"

"Then what's the problem?" she purred. God, he was beginning to forget what his problem was. She was intoxicating…

"Do you care if he…?" A kiss swallowed his concern.

"If he what? Hears us? Knows I'm going to ravish you?" Oh, god. Her voice was low, sending waves of desire coursing through him. "I'm pretty sure he's smart enough to have already figured out that was going to happen."

Her teeth nipped his lip, sensitizing it to the point her next kiss felt like fire. He moaned, his palm coming up to cup the lace of her bra. The material was delicate beneath his touch, and his fingers trailed its edge to fumble at the bra's hook. For a moment, he growled in frustration when he couldn't find it, but then felt Sam giggle when her hands reached up and snapped the clasp that was nestled between her breasts.

He kissed her madly—his comment to her that he liked those front-clasping things had been said half-jokingly in light conversation, but she had listened.

"I love you," he ground out, his body heating up under her expert ministrations.

She answered with a kiss that stole his breath away, and sent any other rational thought in his head running for the hills.

"I love you more," she murmured, her voice rumbling against his chest as she leaned down to trail kisses along his sternum. "Welcome home, Lieutenant."

Two days later, Jack joined Kawalsky in the backseat of the taxi that would take them back to the airport. Through the glass he saw Sam waving goodbye with a smile on her lips—a smile that couldn't quite hide her tear-bright eyes.

Silence sat between the two men as the cab pulled away, leaving the warmth of home behind. Once they hit the freeway, Kawalsky broke the silence.

"She's an amazing woman, Jack," he said. His dark head shook in good-natured disbelief. "You are one lucky son of a bitch."

Jack swallowed. He nodded. "Yeah." He faced forward, trying to get his headspace back where it needed to be. "You've got a standing invitation, by the way" he informed his friend. "You know, until you find your own girl to take your sorry ass in for the holidays."

A grin softened the gruff chiding, and Charlie chortled before silence gripped them once more.

"You know," Kawalsky said, voice low, "I don't if I could do what you do, O'Neill."

Jack blinked. "What the heck are you talking about, Kawalsky?" They all did the same exercises, took the same tests—some just did it better than others.

"If I had someone like her, I don't know if I could leave her, just to go put up with the crap those guys are dealing out." His eyes were serious. "I don't know if I could do what we're training for. It'd be too tempting to go home... and not come back."

Yeah. Jack couldn't say anything. How could he, when it took all his control to keep from telling the cabbie to turn around? When he knew that the image of Sam waving after them would haunt his dreams for months?

It was moments like these that he struggled to remember why he'd done this. Why he'd thought going off to war had been worth being away from her. Had he really believed she would think more of him for it? She thought he was a pilot; he didn't want to imagine her reaction if she ever found out the truth.

And for all his confidence, he couldn't help but wonder how many times she'll say goodbye, before she decided she didn't want to wait for him to come back.