Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: :) Hope you guys enjoy... I'm starting the next chapter, but House is on tonight, so I don't guarantee that I'll have it up before tomorrow.

Thanks for all the reviews!

Chapter Eleven:

I couldn't sleep, but I tried for an hour and a half before getting up, redressing, and heading to my lecture. I was early and it gave me too much time to look at the people in attendance. …I was hoping that Sara would come. I knew it was futile… and the push I'd felt just a day ago to make her consider me before she made a decision I believed she would always regret… was dwindling. Even when she was civil… when she wasn't fighting me… she adamantly said that she loved him. She flirted… and she reacted to me. She was attracted to me…

But that wasn't enough, and it never would be enough.

Not unless there was something deeper between us or something wrong between them… and Sara did not seem like the type of woman to leave a man simply because they were having some problems in bed. And… there couldn't be something deeper between us without pushing her to do something that she would never forgive herself for.

Had she not told me, straight out, that she didn't cheat? …It was something I respected, but it left me feeling hopeless. The lectures I gave the rest of the day were… lackluster, and I felt guilty that they probably didn't live up to their expectations, but I just… didn't feel right. I ate dinner alone, going over my lecture notes for the next day in the hotel's little restaurant, and retreated to my room to watch bad movie channels and hopefully fall asleep early.

The truth was I'd felt a migraine coming on for hours and if I could get to sleep before it got too bad, I might be able to head it off.

I turned the lights off, closing the heavy curtains to block out the light that was still shining brightly outside, and stripped into my boxers before crawling into the bed Sara had slept in. I had put the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door this morning, so the pillow still smelled like her—the slight smell of her drinks, a stronger, fruity smell that I associated with her hair after dancing with her, and something else… warm and comforting.

Maybe this seems creepy… She had been clear that she did not intend for anything to happen between us. I should let it go, not curl up to her pillow and inhale her scent like it's as vital as oxygen… but something about her resonated with me so strongly… and after looking for her all day and still not seeing her… after the disappointment deep in my breast that I couldn't seem to shake… I was willing to take joy in small comforts.

I turned the TV on, watching an old western I was sure I'd seen when I was younger but couldn't now name, and was slipping into sleep before I was certain who the lead was.

It was hours later that I woke—there was no more light around the edges of the curtains, the room was darker, my migraine was gone… and there was something pounding against my door. I crawled out of bed, tripping over the shoes I had disregarded earlier in the evening and catching myself on the TV that was still on, the volume somehow having muted itself while I slept—no doubt I'd rolled over the remote—and hurrying blindly to the door.

I swung it open to find my Sara with tears in her eyes, and before I could register anything beyond how beautiful she looked, even sad, she had her arms around my neck, her face buried in my shoulder, and as I wrapped my arms around her, the texture of the words on her sweatshirt—Berkeley—scratched against my chest. I realized with some surprise that I was in boxers and nothing else, and had apparently opened the door this way. She didn't seem to notice—or if she had, she clearly didn't mind.

I rubbed her back, guiding her further into the room, whispering soothing words into her ear, trying to calm her down enough to find out what had caused her unexpected appearance. She sat on the edge of the bed, dragging me down with her, and then she turned, her hot mouth falling over mine and her tongue slipping into mine. …And I did jump, just as she'd predicted in her drunken stupor the night before. It was with effort that I pulled back from her, tasting salt on my own lips from her tears.

I cradled her face in my hands, looking deeply into eyes that seemed to want to look anywhere but at me. "Sara… Honey, tell me what this is about. …I don't… I don't understand…"

"Jace!" She wailed, wiping frantically at her tears, mascara darkening the drops and leaving smears under those deep, beautiful, brown eyes. "He… was working, again, tonight… I went to bring him food… He was…"

She was sobbing now, still speaking, but her words by no means coherent. The only thing I took from it was 'fucking' which told me absolutely nothing. I held her against my chest, rocking gently, until they slowed a little, and then pulled back to look in her face. Her cheeks were red and blotchy, her eyes rid-rimmed and full of tears yet unshed. I never, ever wanted her to look like this.

"…He was what?"

She sniffled dramatically, wiping frantically at her eyes again. "He was… fucking some… blonde… on the hood of the car!"

My eyebrows shot up and I meant to offer some words of comfort… some reassurance, but she was kissing me again, small, warm hands running over my chest. I could feel her trying to tip me back onto the bed but I put a hand out to steady myself, pulling from her again.

"…Sara, stop. …You're not thinking clearly; you're upset."

Her eyes were wide when she pulled far enough back to meet mine. She swallowed. "…I told you… this morning… I told you that if I hadn't been engaged…"

"I know." I said, framing her face with my hands and brushing more tears away with my thumbs. "…But you were saying… if we'd met, while you were unattached. …Sara, you're going to regret this in the morning…"

She shook her head. "No. …I'm not. …He hasn't touched me in weeks, but he was… I just want to feel wanted. …Why don't you want me?"

My eyes searched her face frantically. I wanted her so badly. I shook my head. "Honey, I do. …I want you. …I just want you to choose it, when you're rational… I don't want to be… a rebound or… a way to get back at him for sleeping with someone else. …I can wait."

More tears fell. "…I can't. Please. …I just want to feel like… like I'm good enough. …Like I deserve you to look at me the way you have the past two nights. …Tell me you want me, Gil."

Her use of my name sent thrills down my spine. This time when she kissed me, I allowed her to push me back on the bed, slipping my hands into her hair. I figured that it couldn't hurt to kiss her a little—let her know that she was desired and desirable—and then stop this… hold her, calm her down… get her to sleep.

Sara had other ideas. She pulled from the kiss and by the time I'd opened my eyes, her sweatshirt was over her head and she had nothing underneath. Her skin seemed to glow in the darkness, smooth and soft and white, her small, rounded breasts puckering tightly in the open air. I stared at her in surprise for a long moment, and then she had pressed her chest back to mine and caught my mouth with hers.

Her tongue slid over my bottom lip and into my mouth, teasing my tongue and leaving me no choice but to participate, despite the drifting thoughts that there had been something I was going to do… something about stopping… Her hands grasped mine, pulling them up to her chest, and from the first time they made contact, her nipples hard against my palms, there was no looking back.

I rolled us over, moving my mouth to her chest and frantically unbuttoning her pants and sliding them down her long, long legs. ...She wasn't wearing underwear either. I swallowed hard while she kicked her pants and sandals off quickly, pushing me back down to my back and tugging my boxers down slowly while my eyes traced up and down her body, focusing on the dark triangle between her thighs. I swallowed again, my head falling back to the pillow as her hands moved over me, the scent of her swirling all around me.

I drew her up over my body, penetrating her dark hair with my fingertips and stroking her a few times before dipping my fingers inside, my heart thudding desperately as she responded, moaning loudly and rocking against me. …She was already so wet. A second finger only increased her reaction, and within moments I was removing my hand, guiding her body over me, a mindless need coursing through me.

She smirked at me, her lips eternally teasing, despite the red around her eyes, as she pushed just the head of me inside her and then stopped. I groaned, arching up and trying to push her to stop teasing me… trying to slip inside her and feel her entirely. Had anyone ever felt this good, ever?

I gripped her hips and pulled her down roughly, relishing the guttural moan my actions tore from her lips. I kissed her again, roughly, wanting everything she had and more… wanting to feel all of her, in every way I could. I ran my hands over her body, stopping to lay attention over her breasts again as she slowly began rocking against me, my breath coming hot and heavy.

She sped up, and I tried to slow her down… I gripped her hips, I told her to stop, I tried to roll us to put myself in more control… nothing worked. She was rocking hard and fast and I was catapulting forward into a release far too soon… I told her no, I begged her to slow down before I lost it… and then I was coming and coming and it was amazing and yet it was horrible. She had been upset with Jace, before she found out he was cheating, because they had a problem in bed and I couldn't even hold out long enough to come with her, let alone after her…

My breathing was labored as I came down, my eyes closed. I didn't want to open them and see her disappointment. …I would have to make her come another way. This idea gripped me with renewed conviction and I snapped my eyes open, already moving to flip her onto her back… but she wasn't there.

I was wearing my boxers, wrapping in blankets, sticky and wet… and very much alone.

I let myself fall back onto my pillow, breathing heavy and taking in my surroundings—the Western was still playing, and though the light outside had dimmed, it was still present. …It had been a dream.

"Fuck!" I swore at the ceiling, my breathing still heavy, the bed vast and empty.