A/N: Thank you all for the reviews, PM's and overall support for the story. C&S have fought pretty hard to survive to this point. I suppose they've earned something special.

Chuck vs The Bodyguard

Chapter 21

An hour later Chuck had successfully navigated the yacht out of the West Sound, east through the archipelago, and out into the open waters of the Rosario Strait. They were about an hour north of Anacortes if they continued at their casual pace. But they hadn't talked about next steps. So, Chuck shut down the engine and set the navigation proximity alarm. He and Sarah needed to make a plan.

Chuck headed down toward the master stateroom where he'd sent Sarah half an hour earlier. She'd been freezing and he'd insisted she take a hot shower to warm up. He wasn't fairing much better and it was his turn to get out of his wet clothes and warm up in the shower.

As he descended the gangway stairs he passed a small, single seat lift that went all the way from the bridge, down through the yacht's deck levels, to the stateroom. When he emerged into the stateroom's salon he saw the compact, collapsed wheel chair secured by latches to the wall next to the lift. Chuck shook his head and smiled. He'd wager that Carina had seduced many a man on this yacht.

He took in the room. It was richly furnished with shining wood and chrome accents and hardwood floors. And the air was gloriously warm.

Sarah sat on a sofa in front of him, her hair and body wrapped in huge, fluffy white towels. She was working on the various parts of her disassembled pistol, spread out on another towel draped over a coffee table. She looked warm and comfortable. Her teeth weren't chattering any more and she seemed a hundred percent better than when they'd been crouching down on the bridge dripping water all over the deck. Chuck, on the other hand, had never felt so cold in his life.

Sarah's focus remained on her pistol, but she'd apparently heard Chuck enter. She said, "This boat … yacht … whatever, is amazing. There's even a washer and dryer. My clothes are already drying."

She looked up and the smile on her face disappeared. "Oh, Chuck! You must be freezing," she said, standing up and moving to him quickly. "Come on, let's get you in the shower."

Chuck started to remove his shirt which was still wet and uncooperative as it stuck to his body. His entire left side was stiff and sore from running, biking and swimming and he wouldn't have been able to get his shirt off without Sarah's help.

As he dropped the shirt to the floor Sarah paused and looked up at him. "Wait a minute. Doesn't someone need to be steering this thing?"

Chuck was cold and needed to get his body warm, pronto. His explanation was brief. "We're in open water. Engine is shut down. It's still daylight so no one will run into us. And we need a plan." He shivered as he spoke.

"Oh," Sarah said, tilting her head and looking thoughtful for a moment. "Okay."

She helped him take off his shoes and pants. Then pushed him from the salon through the bedroom into the surprisingly large bathroom. As he walked past the large bed he chuckled at the hundred-dollar bills spread out evenly across the bedspread to dry. Sarah closed the door, leaving him to his privacy.

Chuck stripped out of his boxers and turned the shower to hot. The salt water made him feel sticky as well as cold and he just wanted to be warm and clean. He stepped under the hot spray and let out a long, low moan of relief.

A quarter hour later he turned off the shower and grabbed one of the large towels. He dried his hair and body as best he could given his injuries, then wrapped another towel around his waist.

Stepping through the bedroom into the salon, Chuck reveled in its warmth. Afternoon sunlight peered in through the narrow window slots along the length of one wall, reflecting off sparkling motes of dust that swirled slowly through the air.

Sarah lay stretched out on the sofa, her head against one arm, her eyes closed. She'd removed the makeshift armory from the coffee table. The towel around her head was gone. Her hair was still damp, falling in dark blond waves along her neck and shoulders, draping over her chest and the sofa, leaving damp spots on the upholstery where it lay. The towel around her torso, though large, was barely long enough to cover her body, leaving bare her shoulders and the top of her chest, as well as her thighs and legs. He stood, mesmerized by her, once again marveling at how breathtakingly beautiful Sarah was.

Desire began to pool low in his body and this time he didn't try to tamp it down. There was no need to. They weren't running for their lives. No one was shooting at them. They were miles away from any threat. They were warm. They were safe. And, for once, he just wanted to know what that desire felt like without having to deny it.

It seemed like weeks ago, instead of hours, when he'd pulled Sarah down onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. As he thought about the kiss he could feel her insistent lips on his, her warm breath against his face, the soft skin of her back against his fingers. Definitely the best kiss of his life. And she'd wanted more. So had he. He might have experienced another best in his life if not for Carina and Shaw. He rolled his eyes at the irony.

"Feel better?" Sarah asked, her voice languid.

Chuck forced his gaze from Sarah's body to her eyes. She peered out at him through slits.

"Yeah," he said. "Were you asleep?"

"Napping," she said. "Waiting for you. You said something about a plan?"

"Uh huh," he said. "At the very least, I think we should stay out here until dark. It'll be easier to moor at a public dock and pickup our stolen car unnoticed."

"Good plan," Sarah said, closing one eye.

"That was easy," Chuck said.

"Mmm," Sarah mumbled and closed her other eye.

Chuck lifted her legs to make room for him on the sofa, then sat and pulled her feet down onto his lap. His fingers absently began to rub the sole of one foot eliciting an appreciative sigh. After a few minutes he switched to her other foot.

Sarah let out a long, low moan. "Oh … my … god."

Chuck looked at Sarah's blissful face. "You like that?" he asked, teasingly.

"Mmmm," she purred. "Better than eggs and bacon."

Chuck's fingers stilled.

Sarah's eyes popped opened, her expression as surprised as he felt. Her eyes locked with his. He could see the emotion swirling in them, intense and immediate. She pulled back and sat up, then crawled toward him across the sofa. She straddled Chuck's lap, just as she had earlier. Bringing her hands to his face, she leaned down and kissed him. Warm and full and deep and slow.

Sarah's lips were familiar on his. He knew them now, no matter how brief their earlier introductions. He'd never forget them for the rest of his life. They were unhurried but ardent as the kiss deepened. He knew how they moved, what they wanted, how they liked to dance with his, how they would lightly tease, then savor him deeply. Kissing Sarah was better than he'd ever imagined.

His hands slid under her towel to grasp her waist. He pulled her down onto his lap as he'd done earlier, this time only his towel separated them. Sarah rocked gently in his lap as she kissed him. As his body responded to her she moaned into his mouth.

Chuck had fantasized about being with Sarah. He'd thought that dream would never come true. But here they were. And it felt right. Perfect, even.

Chuck pulled back until his eyes met hers. "Sarah," he breathed.

Sarah's hands still framed his face. Her eyes were dark and needy, but twinkling. "I told you, I wanted more," she said, softly.

Sarah reached to her towel with one hand and pulled it away from her body. Chuck's breath hitched as his eyes drank her in. Beautiful and soft and hard and open — for him. Reaching down Sarah pulled Chuck's towel aside, then took him in her hand, staring hard into his eyes all the while. She lowered down, guiding him to the center of her. She rested her weight on his lap and moaned as she closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

Sarah started to rock again, slow and easy, taking them both toward oblivion.

Sarah's hand tingled in Chuck's, their fingers intertwined as she steered their stolen Honda with her other hand down the highway toward Seattle. She was finding it difficult to not be in physical contact with him. In the small confines of the car, cruising along the freeway at sixty-five miles an hour, holding his hand was the only option. But it was enough. In fact, it was more than she'd bargained for when she'd been forced to take this job. Now she didn't want to imagine what she'd be doing if she hadn't.

Their love making had been careful and slow, given their injuries. But that had made it even more intense and passionate. Her nerd was as giving sexually as he was in everything else. Her nerd — she liked the way that sounded. What had overwhelmed Sarah was the emotion Chuck had poured into their love making. It wasn't just sex for him. There was no denying the deep feelings he had for her. And he'd made it safe for her to let her own feelings for him come to the surface — wanting and hopeful.

They'd made love. Then slept for an hour. Then made love again. Then slept again. Then showered off together — but unable to keep their hands off each other, they'd made love in the shower — and then showered off again. By the time they woke after another round of sleep it was getting dark. They hadn't talked much. Sex and sleep and shower - that had been the agenda of the afternoon. With lots of making-out in between. And Sarah couldn't remember ever being so satisfied and relaxed and … happy.

At one point, Chuck had voiced his fear about their situation. He'd taken her hands and said, "I hope you don't think this was a mistake."

She'd been touched by his concern, but not surprised. She'd realized that it would take time to reassure him that she was all-in with him. She'd smiled and said, "You, Dr. Charles Bartowski, are the furthest thing from a mistake that I've ever done."

It had taken a second for him to get the double meaning, but when the sexual innuendo dawned on him he'd laughed, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard. That particular kiss had been a really, really good kiss. She'd obviously gotten her point across.

As darkness fell Chuck had piloted the yacht to the public dock in Anacortes, near the ferry terminal. They'd retrieved the Honda and driven into town where they'd got food, gassed-up and bought a box of ammunition at a sporting goods store so Sarah could replenish her magazine. They'd hit the road, which would put them in Seattle in about two hours, right around eleven at night.

And when they got there, Sarah was going to end this insanity. This wasn't a job any more. This wasn't just about a package. This was about Chuck. About her, as well. About them. In some miraculous way they'd come together. This was about the future. A future about which, for the first time in a long time, Sarah felt hopeful.