A/N: M-rating for this chapter.

Like a drowning man finding air to breathe, Lucien kissed Jean with so much want and need that it almost scared him. He loved her so much, it was overwhelming. She had nearly died today, and he loved her, and she loved him, and he wanted her with a ferocity he'd never before known.

"Lucien," she moaned softly as his hands mapped the curves of her body over her fluffy pink dressing gown and his lips moved to trail ardent kisses down her neck.

"Jean, my sweet Jean," he murmured into her skin.

She began to undress him with trembling hands, undoing each button on his waistcoat and shirt. The suspense was more than he could take. He stood up and tore the clothes off his body, leaving himself only in his trousers. Jean's eyes went wide to see his arms and chest fully bared to her for the first time. Her dark gaze raked over his muscles. Her fingers traced the bulging ridges of his arms and pectorals and abdominals. Lucien let her explore and kept his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to do the same to her.

When she'd finished staring at him, her eyes flicked up to his face. He was smiling. As was she. She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly before taking a step back. Boldly, so boldly he nearly passed out in brilliant shock, Jean untied her dressing gown and tugged it off her body to fall at her feet. She wasn't wearing anything beneath it.

Lucien snapped, then. She was too beautiful and too dear and too wonderful for him to resist. He pulled her naked body into his arms and kissed her with everything he had. Her breasts pillowed against his chest in the most seductive manner. He maneuvered them both towards the bed until they tumbled onto it, supine and tangled together and their kiss unbroken.

He rolled her onto her back and pulled away to look at her. Her lips were swollen from his kisses and the slight irritation from his beard. Her pale, beautiful neck was red and blotchy from his earlier attentions. Lucien slid one large hand down her neck, pausing to gently massage her breast, and down to her flat stomach and to her thigh. Jean shifted and spread her legs for him. She pulled him back down to kiss her, whispering his name onto his lips.

His hand remained on her thigh, dipping between her legs but staying too far from her dark curls. Her hips writhed under his touch, silently begging him to touch her. And he could not deny her. She was hot and wet already as he traced her folds with his fingers before slipping one inside her. Jean whimpered into his mouth and her fingernails dug into his scalp in the most delicious way. Lucien added a second finger, curling inside her and thrusting faster and deeper until he felt her flutter around his hand. He pulled away from her kiss so he could watch her as she came, as she gasped and trembled and moaned his name.

Jean fell back on the bed to catch her breath. Lucien slowed his hand and stilled, watching her blink her eyes open and look at him. She grinned and gave a breathy laugh.

"You are so beautiful, my darling," he told her. "A joy and a pleasure to watch."

A naughty smirk curled over her lips. "I don't just want you to watch." She reached out toward him, trying to grab hold of his belt buckle.

He backed out of her grasp, needing to stand up to take off his trousers. His erection sprang forth and bobbed as he climbed back onto the bed. Jean had shifted her weight to pull the bedsheets down, and he got under the cool cotton sheets with her. In the back of his mind, he wondered if she had hoped to avoid soiling the duvet; the sheets were easier to clean, after all.

But no thoughts other than the beauty and glory of Jean were in his mind as she spread her legs, planting her feet on the mattress and bending her knees to welcome him between them. He lined himself up at her dripping entrance and slowly, slowly pressed inside her. She moaned and arched her back, adjusting to his length and savoring the feeling of him filling her just as he savored the feeling of being nestled inside her like this.

He made love to her at a steady pace, wanting to memorize every moment of being with Jean this first time. Hopefully the first of many, many times. Every movement of her body, every line and curve. Every little sound that escaped her while she rocked in time to his thrusts. And all the while, his eyes stayed locked on hers. He was lost in the dark pupils of her bright turquoise eyes. The shadow of the room made her gaze gray and sparkling.

It was that glorious sight that he knew he would never forget as long as he lived. As they reached their climax together, they continued to stare into each other's eyes. And all the love and heartache that had led them to this place, to this moment, seemed to make the moment an eternity.

Ruth watched as Harry's eyes went wide with surprise and dark with desire as she unbuckled his belt. He'd not worn braces, thanks to his arm, though maybe another time she could undress him from one of those gorgeous three-piece suits she loved so well.

He caught her wrist with his hand before she got to the button on his trousers. Ruth just smiled and took her hands away. Instead, she removed her cardigan and unzipped the back of her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She kicked off her shoes and stood before Harry in only her slip and stockings.

"Jesus, Ruth," he breathed.

She pulled the slip over her head, showing off her very boring knickers and bra. "Take me to bed, Harry," she requested.

This time, he did not hesitate. He did not answer her, either. But he did put his hands on her waist and lead her back to the bed till her knees hit the back of it and she fell onto the mattress. With a devilish grin that made her shiver with arousal, Harry leaned in and unclipped her stockings. He lifted her right leg to roll the lace and silk down and off, kissing her ankle and caressing her calf before turning his attention to her left leg.

As he pulled her knickers and garter belt off her, Ruth did as best she could to keep from panicking. She wanted this more than anything, but Harry was right to be concerned about her lack of experience. She and George had only had sex twice before he was killed. And it was wonderful but nothing like this. It had nearly ruined her, at the time. The guilt of it. The knowledge that she'd agreed to marry George and allowed him to take her to bed before they were wed when all the while she wished most desperately that it was Harry who kissed her and loved her. And now, here he was. All her dreams were coming true, but she could not help the insecurity that she would be found wanting. She had told him she knew what she was doing, but that had been an exaggeration. She was not a virgin, no, but she had barely any idea what to expect. All she knew was that she loved Harry and she wanted him. And he'd gotten shot today, and she refused to miss out on this chance to have everything they've ever wanted together.

Harry knelt down, pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. Ruth was not quite sure what he was doing when he rested her thighs on his shoulders. But then his lips trailed over her inner thighs, and he whispered, "I love you, Ruth," against her skin. And then his mouth was on her. A high-pitched gasp escaped her. George had never done this before. But Harry with his pouty lips and his talented tongue, he was a marvel. He coaxed her higher and higher until she shattered, hips grinding against his face and heels drumming against his back.

He stood up and grinned at her proudly. His mouth was quite glossy, which made her blush. Ruth watched as he finished undressing himself before getting onto the bed with her. He took her bra off her and buried his face in her breasts, kissing and licking and nipping at each one in turn. Her fingers found their way into his sparse, curling hair, holding him where he was. Ruth vaguely heard her own voice saying Harry's name over and over like a prayer, but she had no real sense of reality. It was only Harry. The feel of him surrounding her in every way.

Eventually he pushed himself up, but he faltered, rolling over and wincing and swearing in pain.

Ruth had to blink back to the present. "What's wrong? Your arm?" she asked with concern. Her voice was hoarse, which she hadn't realized

"Yes," he hissed.

She frowned, thinking. "Alright. On your back, then," she instructed.

He did as she said, rolling over onto his back. He was naked and glorious and breathing heavily from pain and arousal. His erection had flagged slightly, but Ruth did not anticipate a problem. She got on top of him, as she had when they were kissing, but now they were both fully devoid of clothing. God, the feel of his skin against hers was like electricity. She wanted to touch him and be touched by him for all eternity. Ruth could feel him growing against her thigh again. She smiled and kissed him. "I love you, Harry."

Ruth sat up to line him up with her entrance and sink down on him. This was not a position she was used to—if she could claim she was used to any position. And Harry filled her and stretched her almost to the point of pain. Her head was thrown back as she gasped for air, feeling the whole thick length of him inside her.

"God, Harry!" she cried. She began rocking on top of him, feeling the way he moved inside her. His hands went up her thighs to her breasts, kneading them in time to her movements for a moment.

"More, Ruth," he begged, moving his hands back down to her hips and gripping her tightly, encouraging her to move faster.

Ruth's body seemed to know better than her mind. She braced herself on his chest and began to ride him. Harry planted his feet on the bed and thrust up into her, matching her movements. They were both moaning and groaning and the wet slap of their bodies seemed to echo through the hotel room, and when they both found release, Ruth collapsed on top of him. Harry's arms were wrapped around her, and that was all she could recall as his pounding heartbeat lulled her away from consciousness.