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A/N: :) Hope you enjoy. Thanks, as always, for the wonderful reviews.

Chapter Nine:

I won the first four games… learning that Sara had gotten her first kiss at a bonfire on the beach, put on by one of her friends in AP Chemistry—she had called it a 'study session' complete with fire and chemistry. And Sara, who had never gone to a party, had been happy to say screw the Bunsen burners and go to the event. It was sweet, and romantic… a moonlit walk and a kiss under the stars… until the guy tried to put his hand up her shirt and she punched him so hard he actually dropped to the sand.

…Have I mentioned how intoxicated I am with this woman? That story did nothing but bring this reality into sharper focus.

I learned other things, but as the games went on and the stakes went up, the sharing became less compulsory and more spontaneous—we were just talking, one thought spilling onto another and spurring on more and more stories between us. By the time she'd told me that she'd joined the mile high club when she was 21, flying to Miami for Spring Break, the bet was up to three hundred, and I was starting to feel guilty for all the money I'd taken from her… she'd been drinking a lot more than me.

I'd have to make sure I slipped it back in her pocket before she left tonight.

She offered to break this time, and though she seemed a little unsteady on her feet, her hands were more than steady—she broke, and two solids flew into pockets. At my look of surprise, she grinned. "…Something else you don't know about me—my undergrad degree is in theoretic physics. Pool is physics."

She then proceeded to move around the table, sinking each of her balls in turn and then the eight ball, as if it were nothing. As that final, black ball slid in, she met my eyes and stood confidently—one leg out in a dominant stance, her pool cue braced in her hand and against the floor, her hips cocked out at an arrogant angle. She blew playfully across the tip of her stick, as if blowing the smoke from the tip of a gun, and her smile was infectious.

"…You hustled me!" I accused.

She picked up the money, folded it twice, and slipped it into her shirt. "…You allowed yourself to be hustled," she countered, and I stared at her in surprise. She just chuckled, replacing her pool cue in the rack on the wall.

"Come on… dance with me." She downed the rest of her drink—was it her third or fourth? Fourth, I was almost certain. I opened my mouth to disagree, but she had slipped her slender hand into mine and was already pulling me into the throng… and though I didn't think I would be very good at this kind of dancing, she did not seem nearly as concerned. She backed up against me, her back to my chest and her perfect ass up against my groin, already starting to twist her hips to the music.

My hands moved to her waist automatically, and a glance around told me that this was all she expected—holding her hips and moving in time with her. I closed my eyes—good lord, I was obviously too old for this if my first thought while a gorgeous brunette was grinding against me was 'Kids these days.' Still… the feel of her was intoxicating, and when she slowly turned around, draping her arms around my neck, and proceeded to do the same kind of dance against a rapidly growing erection, her eyes lazy and glassy and out of focus… there was nothing to do but grip her waist more tightly and move along with her.

Even if it did seem like a small step away from vertical, public sex.

Several songs later I was convinced that the ache I felt would never be satisfied, even if she wasn't engaged and taking her back to my hotel tonight was an option… which it wasn't. She was drunk… beyond drunk… and I could ruin everything by taking advantage of that. She said she was thirsty and dragged us back over to the bar, ordering herself another drink—but I ordered a water and halfway through the cosmopolitan she was drinking like water, I replaced one with the other and directed her to drink that instead. She frowned, but she listened… and then her eyes were drooping.

I frowned, eyeing her up and down. She was pretty thin… how much alcohol could she really tolerate? I needed to get her home… "Come on, Sara… We're going."

She nodded, tired, and let me put an arm around her and guide her out. The cool air hit us fast and her eyes snapped open. She seemed a little more aware, which was definitely a good thing. I glanced at her. "…Do you think you can tell me how to get to your place?"

She blinked several times, nodding. "Yeah. …Yeah. I… You need to get on the interstate and head towards… It's just off the Berkeley campus."

I nodded and unlocked my car, setting her gently into the passenger seat and hurrying around. Her eyes were already closed. "Sara…" I shook her shoulder gently and her eyes flickered open. "You have to stay awake to tell me how to get you home… I can't carry you in to your house, unless you want your fiancé to know how you spent the night…"

Not that we'd done anything wrong, but I was fairly certain that she hadn't told him about me. She wouldn't be here, tonight, if their relationship was so good that she could openly tell him about me and that she wanted to see where it went. …If their relationship was like, she wouldn't want to see where this went, would she?

She shook her head, her eyes closing again. "It doesn't matter. He won't be… home…"

I frowned. "…Why wouldn't he be home? …Sara, it's almost two a.m."

She shook her head again. "He's… working… all night."

I didn't like the sound of that. She had had quite a lot for her size… and I had no idea how much she could tolerate. She hadn't gotten sick yet, but there hadn't been enough time for that last drink to enter her system… Had she eaten before coming out? This felt like something I should have asked her hours ago. …I made a snap decision. I didn't want her alone until I was sure she'd be fine.

"I'm bringing you home with me."

She shook her head again. "No. …I… I love Jace. …No matter how sexy you are."

I smirked, feeling heat in my ears, and started the car, driving her slowly to my hotel while urging her to drink water from a water bottle I had in the back of my car. Sure, it was warm, but it was better than nothing. I didn't want her to get dehydrated. At my hotel I helped her out of my car—her speech was slurred as she asked me where we were and I told her, again, that we were at my hotel.

She shook her head, stumbling while we walked. "No… I… I don't want this."

I frowned. "I'm not… going to sleep with you, Sara. I'm going to make sure you don't die while you're sleeping it off…"

She frowned. "…Can I trust you? …I really shouldn't trust you."

"Do you?" I asked, more to keep her aware and awake until we got to my room.

"Your name is 'Vegas'." She said, as if that gave me an answer. I frowned.

"My name is Gil. …Call me Gil."

I braced her weight against me to unlock the outside door in back of the building. We struggled through the door, and then I was leading her down the hall to my room, thankful that I'd been given a room with two doubles rather than the King-sized bed I requested. I had no intentions of pushing this too far, but if I curled up in bed with her and she touched me, even in her sleep, I wouldn't be responsible for my actions—I was mostly sober, but I'd had enough to make me doubt myself.

I unlocked the hotel door and helped her inside, closing and locking it behind me. I turned around, turning on the light, to find her lying on her back on the bed, her eyes closed. I sighed, moving over to her and shaking her shoulder gently. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed again.

I watched her for a long moment, and then pulled her pant legs up to unzip her boots and pull them off one at a time. Then I moved to one side of the bed, pulling her to sit up and sliding the smooth, soft leather jacket from her delicate shoulders. Her eyes opened again and fixed on me with more clarity than I'd seen in the last hour. "…You paid for a kiss, last night."

I smiled softly, adamantly not allowing myself to push this where she was inviting me to. "I kissed your hand…"

She shook her head as I let the jacket fall to the floor. The movement made her sway and I caught her upper arms, steadying her. "That doesn't count." She insisted.

I smiled. "Let's scoot you up to the pillows, honey…" I tried to maneuver her but she just fell back down to the mattress, her head a foot below the pillow. I sighed and moved to lean over top of her, slipping my hands under her shoulder blades and scooting her up until her head landed on the pillows. When I set her down, however, I lurched forward and had no hand to stop myself—my chest fell across hers and a moment later I was standing up, despite her eyes fluttering open again.

"…Would you jump… if I stuck my tongue in your mouth?"

My heart was racing, and I looked decidedly away from her. "…If you did it right now, I would go take a very, very cold shower. …Sleep now, Sara." Her eyes closed again and I folded the blankets from the other side of the bed over her, rather than trying to pull her side out from under her. I went to the bathroom and took said cold shower, despite the lack of her tongue in my mouth, and changed into clean boxers and a white t-shirt. I brushed my teeth, set the alarm clock, brought the garbage can over to her bedside, just in case, and counted her breathing just to make sure she wasn't suffering from alcohol poisoning… and finally, turned the lights off and crawled into my own bed, feeling like it was the last thing in the world I wanted to be doing with her so near.

I thought that I wouldn't be able to sleep at all… that I would be so worried about her that I would stay awake all night… But I felt my eyes getting heavy and despite the lumpy nature of the bed, it felt soft and warm and welcoming. I knew that I wasn't going to last all night… so with a lingering glance at the other bed, I gave in and let myself drift to sleep.