Uncommon Sense Chapter 29
By Batistafan
Rating - NC-17 for violence
Distribution: If you would like to add this story to
your site that's fine, just let me know.
Main Characters include: Batista, Triple H, Chris Jericho, Christy
Hemme, Nancy Adams (Original Character).

Disclaimer: This is a mature fanfiction intended for mature readers.
This story contains violence, coarse language, as well as mature
sexual situations (some may consider explicit), and these would not
be deemed appropriate for all readers.
I do not own nor claim to have any affiliation with the WWE, its
characters, wrestlers, staff or other affiliates. I do own any
original characters that I have created, as well as scenarios that
ensue throughout the course of this fiction. However, since both my
characters and scenarios are inexorably intertwined with those of
the WWE, my ownership of them is not autonomous.
I do not endorse nor do I discourage the use of any brand-name
products that might be referenced in the fiction and have no claim
to them as they are property of their respective companies of
license. Thank you kindly for not suing.

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"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."

-James Baldwin

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Roasted Rosemary Pork Loin…he laughed a little when he thought about it, about how hard he'd worked on it and about how he'd never confess to the guys in the back how much fun he'd had doing it. True, he was a good cook, and true he'd been cooking for her in some capacity for the past five days, but tonight was different, because tonight had to be perfect. Dave had questions that had to have answers, there were things that needed to be discussed and he surmised that tipping the scales in his favor by enticing her with food couldn't be a bad idea.

And so he'd spent a couple of hours at least shopping for the needed ingredients, setting the table, rubbing the pork loin with spices, arranging the vegetables in the pan and then hovering over the masterpiece while it baked as if he were waiting for an egg to hatch. He'd considered ordering take-out, because his already overloaded brain was finding it hard to concentrate on his rehearsed speech, much less a high-maintenance, full course meal, but he decided against it, because he'd wanted so badly for her to remember that he'd made the dinner and because he needed every advantage he could get when it came to his discussion with her this evening…especially after the phone call he'd received earlier in the day.

His mind momentarily drifted back to it, as he again peeked through the glass oven door to check on his creation. He'd been surprised to get the call from Vince and even more stunned still, when Vince had explained to him that because of the need for a ratings boost on the currently struggling SmackDown Brand show, that there needed to be a major shift in the roster, just as there had been when Cena had been drafted to Raw. Dave had known what was coming before Vince had finished the sentence. He was being sent to SmackDown and there really wasn't another alternative. Vince had softened the blow by announcing that Dave would be taking the Championship with him, since Cena had brought the WWE Championship over from the other brand when he'd been drafted…little consolation. Ordinarily something like this wouldn't have bothered Dave…he liked change on occasion. But there was Nancy and then there was the sudden rush of fear at the thought of her being left behind where he couldn't know what might happen to her.

The call had ended and the wheels in his head had begun to spin out of control, thinking of a thousand different dangers that might befall her without him there to keep an eye on her. Two of those dangers just happened to be in human form and also just happened to have already caused a hell of a lot of trouble for her already, and the last thing he wanted was for Nancy to be at Christy's mercy or be the brunt of Triple H's whim. And so he'd calmed down long enough to think things through while she rested. He knew what had to be done, had come up with a perfect solution and had rehearsed what he would say…how he would ask. But it had to be done tonight, because he would be leaving for his meeting with Vince, and a promotional photo shoot tomorrow morning.

The five days she'd been here had flown by faster than he'd wanted, and though Nancy was stiff and sore, because of the arthroscopic aspect of her procedure, she seemed to be in very high-spirits. That hadn't been the case the entire time though and he thought back to the red-eye flight they'd taken to get her here, and how she'd opted out of painkillers at the hospital, but had accepted the injection of phenergan to help with her nausea. She'd had a bad reaction to that, he remembered. It hadn't taken affect until they were in the air, and then she'd clamped onto his forearm with her small hand, leaned over and whispered in his ear that she was worried because she could see two of him. He'd tried to ease her mind and told her that if that was the case, then 'both of him' thought she should lie back and try to sleep. He hadn't worried much, at least not until he'd had to carry her from the cab to his bed and then support her lethargic body with one arm while he undressed her with the other.

She had barely responded to him, even then, being limp and incoherent, much like a drunk…and so he'd called her physician and been reassured that none of her symptoms meant she was in danger, and that some patients, though fewer than one in a thousand reacted this way to certain medications it was no cause for alarm. The doctor had given him subtle signs to look for that might indicate duress and he'd spent the remainder of the night propped up in the bed next to her fussing over her sleeping figure like he currently was the Roasted Rosemary Pork Loin.

A glance toward the upstairs master told him she was awake, standing at the top of the railing, watching him…how long she'd been there, he didn't know. His stomach did a tiny flip-flop, when he saw her wearing his favorite shirt again, barely buttoned…giving him a sinful glimpse of her upper thighs. He had hidden her clothing again in Audrey's room as a joke…but if he had to go many more days without touching her he was tempted to start hiding his own clothing from her too. He curled his fingers motioning for her to come downstairs, as the practiced speech ran over and again in his mind.

"I knew you were up to something…it smells wonderful." Nancy breathed in deeply and even though she was tempted to peek, she obeyed when he pulled out her chair and motioned for her to sit. "Is there a special occasion?" She asked as she watched him pull the steaming pork loin out of the oven and slice it into medallions.

He only winked, because speaking would cause him to lose his train of thought. And he was already finding it hard to keep his mind on what he had planned, what with her being barely clothed in his dining room. His throat was dry as he placed the entrée at one end of the long table, where he'd positioned both settings close to one another. He didn't want to find himself trying to talk to her and ask her important questions, over top of the gargantuan contemporary centerpiece--some garish piece of art that he still could not clearly identify.

Nancy watched him work with the fluid ease of a seasoned chef…a seasoned chef who had either forgotten how to speak or was so focused on the task at hand that he chose not to. By God, the man could do everything…if she hadn't seen him pull the culinary work of art from the oven with his own two hands and seen the few remnants of preparatory items in the sink she might have thought he'd called into a restaurant and tried to pass the meal off for his own. One thing was for certain, he was anything but a one dimensional man.

She hadn't missed the thoughtful way he'd dressed the table, or the way he'd dimmed the lights in the normally austere main living area. He had absolutely been right when he'd described to her how cold and uninviting the designer had made his condo. Nancy hadn't seen much of it the first couple of days she'd been here, but after finally getting up and around she had been able to take in the rigid surroundings, a decor in that was in complete contrast with the man who called it home. Tall exposed rafters, with tension cables running from the center I-beam and then spanning out toward the load bearing walls, seemed to stretch into the heavens.

Each room was open to the next and sparsely furnished, save for the immense white sofa that had been placed at an intimidating angle in front of the largest inset television she'd ever set eyes on and the long, oversized dining table at which she was currently seated. The stairs were nothing but concrete risers and treads with steel airline cable attached to steel railings, and surrounding a huge concrete pillar that seemed to be the veritable mast of the condo itself. One could not see into the bedrooms from the main floor but once atop the landing, a person could see the entire bottom floor in any direction they chose to look.

Dave's bedroom had been cold too, not with regard to temperature, but aesthetically. It was far too large a room to have so few furnishings. She had noticed a rather large bed, a night table, chair, dresser and some sort of nondescript stone sculpture atop a concrete pillar in the corner near the entrance to his master bath. He must have tried to make her surroundings more comfortable while she slept, because he'd thrown a fluffy blanket over the edge of the hard lined chair in the one corner as if he'd wished to hide it and another one on the bed. He had filled two empty stone vases with calla lilies, her favorite flower, placing them on the dresser to the left of the massive bed, the tiny gestures giving immeasurable life to the harsh surroundings.

She watched him again as he sat down, filling two wine glasses. He appeared so silent and so in thought…about what? She did not know. The smell of the food alone was enough to make her mouth water and she found it hard not to devour it the instant it was placed in front of her.

"This is really nice of you." She told him. "I had no idea you were such a fantastic chef." Her words were soft as she stared intently at him, trying to figure out why he appeared so nervous.

"Why? Do I not look like a chef?" He laughed softly.

"You just surprise me, that's all." She admitted, still not taking her eyes off of him.

"Even still?" He asked, meeting her gaze, and wondering if now was the right moment to tell her about the phone call and ask her the things he had to ask.

"Even more so still." She told him.

His words failed him, as he wet his lips and then took to cutting his meat. In a moment he would ask, when he could concentrate again and reform the phrases that were as of now eluding him. He should just be able to come out with it…but it had to be just right, it was far too important to come out sounding like an afterthought.

She complimented his cooking again, thanked him for the hundredth time since waking up coherently the day after he'd brought her here, for spoiling her, and as he tried to draw on his courage again, the words escaped him once more and before he knew it, the meal was over and he hadn't even gotten around to asking her what he had planned. He didn't panic though, because he had a plan, maybe…and maybe not. All he knew was that he couldn't let the night go by without laying all the cards on the table. So when she'd suggested that he allow her to help him do the dishes, he'd politely refused suggesting that she have a bath and let him do the dishes…a creative ploy to gain the precious time needed to realign his brain with his mouth so that the two of them would work in unison.

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Triple H, a.k.a Paul Levesque, leaned back in the oversized leather club chair in his media room and propped his bare feet on the ottoman in front of him. He shuffled through the newspaper in his hand, perplexed by the fact that Nancy's story had never ended up in the paper, not the day after the match…not even five days after the match, nor had it ended up in the low rent tabloids that the young columnist was in charge of running. Something had gone awry…again. The scandal would have proved a bit difficult for the WWE, but only momentarily. They would have certainly terminated her and started damage control immediately, especially when the tabloid would no doubt have stretched the truth about an already dark story. The shame that Nancy would have endured, however, would have lasted a lifetime. It was a shame that he wasn't going to be able to witness it.

"Mr. Levesque?" The slight Spanish accent from the door caught his attention and he turned to regard his Major Domo with a scowl and a grunt. "Sir, they say that the vehicle is a total loss, but thankfully your insurance will cover the vandalism, though not at full replacement cost."

"Thank you." His clipped reply was obviously forced, his anger over the condition of his car and over the fact that his plan had crashed and burned, had him able to do little more than grace his petrified staff with monosyllabic responses, requests and demands. He'd had them running like marathoners all morning. Even his wife's Pomeranian hadn't made an appearance this morning, preferring to stay under the bed in the expansive bedroom, so as not to have a run in with his ill tempered master.

His only comfort was the phone call he'd had earlier this morning with his father-in-law…a post suggestion confirmation that had turned the tables in his favor once more. The last element of his plan had taken shape in the form of a proposal, introduced in a corporate meeting months prior to the phone call this morning. It had been inserted surreptitiously by Paul Levesque, via his wife Stephanie. He'd been using her power to swing the axe, and had finally dealt the blow. Ratings booster…it was pure genius…and pure luck, because they could have just as easily sent him to SmackDown instead of Dave Batista. Triple H was a ratings booster even without the belt and he had known the chance he was taking in even suggesting it to Stephanie and so he'd done it in the middle of a particularly hot sexual encounter, the best time to get what he wanted…she tended to say 'yes' to anything when she was on the edge.

The one thing that had him ready to spit nails, despite his sudden windfall of good fortune was the fact that the Championship was changing brands as well…this, only because he hadn't won it, via Christy Hemme in the proxy match. He had Nancy Adams to blame for that one, and though her secret past would stay safe…as it evidently was not in the works to hit the presses anytime soon…she was still going to pay. Now that his wife had contracted her for a new designer line of clothing…at Paul's behest, Nancy would be securely tethered to Raw, while her beloved Dave Batista was being shipped to SmackDown with Christy Hemme and Stacy Keibler as a conceded bonus, soon to follow. Eventually Dave and Nancy would find it far too difficult to try and keep up their long distance relationship and they would part…but not without emotional ramifications…and that was something he was counting on.

And as for Christy…that was a matter for the history books…he'd never seen an obsession as sick as hers, except maybe for his own. She had been so hysterically giddy when he'd called her to relate the news and to explain how she was to meet in Massachusetts this week for her contract re-signing, that she hadn't been able to stop squealing and thanking him. Unfortunately for her, the draft guaranteed nothing in the way of a future with Dave Batista…it only created a way of distraction and maybe an opportunity to slip in while Dave's guard was down, but he'd never tell her that. And Triple H didn't much care whether or not the two of them got together, just so long as he didn't have to deal with either one of them anymore, and could still be in the ring on RAW. And as for Nancy…well he would enjoy the desirable prospect of tormenting her until he tired of it. It would be easy since she would be working very closely with his wife in future months. Who knew, she might even be showing up at his house every now and again to confer with Stephanie and he'd have the opportunity to show her what an awkward situation was all about.

He tossed the newspaper in the floor next to the club chair and picked up his cell phone dialing the number to Miller Motor Cars, the Ferrari dealership in Greenwich, Connecticut. Damn vandals…he had some idea of who might have obliterated his collector's item vehicle, but the tape in the security office that would have detailed every second of what transpired that evening in the parking garage had mysteriously disappeared.

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Nancy sank down into the hot running water, covering the area of her shoulder where her three small sutures lay, with a dry washcloth so as not to splash them with water. She sighed when her back touched the warm inside surface of the massive roman tub. The floors had radiant heating throughout, and it was a good thing too, because no area rugs had ever been put down. And as large as the tub was, if it hadn't been heated on the sides and bottom, the water would have become cold as ice in mere minutes. But Nancy wasn't quite as interested in the tub and its amenities as she was in figuring out why Dave was acting so strangely. Throughout dinner she'd caught him staring at her several times and it even appeared as if he'd wanted to say something important, his deep mahogany eyes filled with trepidation, but then he'd turned back to his food in silence. This had happened several times leaving her half tempted to demand that he spit it out…whatever it was.

Nancy had also thought it rather interesting that he'd orchestrated so fine an atmosphere for something…something he'd not gotten around to completing. Or perhaps she was just reading too much into the whole scenario. Likely Dave was merely as disinclined as she was for the week to be over and his demeanor was simply a result of that. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to dwell on it, because soon enough, they would both be required back on RAW, in their respective positions, hopefully able to concentrate on that facet of their lives. Nancy found herself fortunate to be permitted to use the personal trainers on staff for the minimal physical therapy that she would be required to undergo, a blessing, since she wouldn't have to take time off of work and travel to a special facility and then she would be back in Wardrobe at the same time and never in the ring again.

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Damn! If he didn't feel like kicking his own ass! He'd had the words…they'd been right there on the tip of his tongue and just as always her presence had him so rattled that he hadn't been able to get them out the way he'd wanted. What in the hell had happened to his equanimity, his nonchalance? Where had all of his confidence gone? Or was it just the sensitivity of what had to be asked that made him feel like writing it out and hiding behind a closed door while she read it, just so he wouldn't be embarrassed. Dave slid the platter into the bottom rack of the dishwasher, making certain that the blade cleared the top of it, before jamming the rack back in. He was nowhere near done with the dishes and already his heart and his head were in absolute opposition with one another. His conscious mind was logically reminding him that if he wasted too much time, he could lose her. All the while his inner animal was reminding him that she was naked in his master bath…and yet his heart told him that he had to tell her what he must, no matter how the words came out and that if she loved him, then the verbalization, steady or stuttered, eloquent or ordinary, wouldn't really matter.

He tossed the towel down on the marble topped island and left the dishes to do themselves. He fully intended to ask her, right now and to hell with how it came out of his mouth. Dave ascended the stairs and crossed the landing, a determined stride leading him down the open hallway past the girl's bedrooms and into the master bedroom. The wall sconces in the massive room had been turned on automatically by the home's electronic system and dimmed accordingly, casting a soft glow on the harsh surroundings. The room was so large, however, that the light barely chased the shadows from the corners. He glanced at the thermostat on the wall, thankful that he'd opted for a smart system to be installed in the condo, instead of something manual, because it meant that the house automatically kept up with the outside temperature and light levels, and adjusted those respectively inside of the house, based on body temperature and time of day. It had cost a small fortune, but he'd never once, in the year he'd owned the place had to adjust the temperature himself.

There was no door on the master bath, just a sharp, square opening that led inside of a cavernous, yet sparsely adorned room. The roman tub, surrounded by four large concrete columns and on a raised platform, was imposing in the center of the large bathroom and he guessed that it had been the designer's particular interpretation of a contemporary-modern Greek palace. Nancy was soaking in the bath with her head leaned back, a washcloth on her shoulder and another one over her eyes. He smiled because she appeared to be extremely comfortable…not just in the warmth of the water, but in his home all around, despite the rigid design of the interior which he himself hated.

Looking at her from behind, he could see that she'd already washed her hair and secured the thick curls to the top of her head with some contraption that he was certain only a woman would know how to operate. He detected the faint trill of music muffled by headphones and could see that she had already commandeered his MP3 player to which she was currently listening as she let the water ease away her aches. Dave rounded the tub, to look at her fully and clenched his jaw when he realized that she wasn't taking a bubble bath, but soaking in clear, warm water. He could see absolutely everything…and for someone who hadn't had anything in nearly five days…it was pure inhospitable torture.

He quietly slid the towels off of the small tub-side bench and sat down. Dave watched the water lap against her breasts as she lay with one leg stretched completely forward and the other leg bent, her knee poking out of the water. Both of her delicate hands rested on the sides of the tub and he wondered if she might be dozing off. A wicked grinned drifted across his lips at the though of his covert voyeurism, and then remembering what he'd come up here for in the first place, he reached out and grazed one long finger across the soft skin of the knee that was peeking above the water. She jumped and he laughed as the water rippled gently…but she certainly knew it was him, because she smiled, even before pulling the cloth away from her eyes. He noticed that she appeared to be exhausted. She tugged the headphones out of her ears and placed them aside, yawning and stretching in the tub, unintentionally giving him a rather nice view of her form. By God, he was half tempted to climb in there with her, clothing or no clothing.

"I was just about ready to get out and go to bed." She said a sleepy lilt to her voice.

"It looked to me like you were already falling asleep." He told her as he watched her lean forward.

"Much longer in that hot water and I might have." She admitted, smiling. "Will you help me?"

He grasped her good arm as she stood and then lifted the towel up as he helped her step out. The muscles of his stomach clenched involuntarily at the sight of her body, as the water dripped from it. He had things he needed to say…and this kind of distraction wasn't helping…wrapping the towel around her, as she leaned into him for a hug, he cleared his throat preparing to speak, but he could tell by her incessant yawning that she was tired. He wished that he could pull the words from the slate in his brain on which he'd prepared them and just hand them over to her.

"Come on." He led her out of the bathroom toward the bed, resolving that he would have his talk with her in the morning. He would put her in his bed, finish the dishes and then spend half the night trying to justify his senseless procrastination. 'Chicken Shit!' His inner animal spouted slanderously. Dave was for once inclined to agree.

At the edge of the bed, he brushed a stray curl from her forehead, deciding that he would merely tuck her in and tell her 'goodnight', but then his unruly hands ached to pull that thing out of her hair, and so he did. The damp curls tumbled free, spilling into his hands and along with them wafted the delightful hint of her perfume oil, which he now knew she used, after having discovered it while helping her get ready for her hospital dismissal.

It would just be 'goodnight', he told himself, as his hands slid beneath the towel, to grasp her hips in an attempt to lift her onto the bed. He didn't want her to have to struggle just to get up there with an injured shoulder…at least that's what he told himself…but his hands on her hot, damp flesh and the sensation of his thumbs against her hipbone scattered his ability to reason.

Dave lifted her onto the edge of the bed, she was eye to eye with him and his hands, still on her hips grazed the top of her thighs as he stood between her knees. He could ask her now…he could. Couldn't he? No, he would let her sleep and then ask her in the morning. It would just be 'goodnight', he reminded himself again when he leaned forward so he could kiss her. But oh, the feel of her thighs as he splayed one hand on each of them, when her lips met with his. And then it could not just be 'goodnight', not when he pulled away to tell her such and saw the moist gleam on her lips where his mouth had just been, and not when he spied the rapid pulse at the base of her throat causing that tiny diamond to move about, casting shimmers between the two of them. No, it could not just be goodnight, not after what she'd just whispered in his ear.

And how had his shirt been unbuttoned without his knowing?…He hadn't done it. No matter, he shrugged it off quickly. He should really let her rest…he reasoned, but he could not do that, not when her hand was fighting with his belt buckle and her lips were meeting with his, teasing in a way that he could never resist. And certainly not when her hand glided fearlessly over the flesh of his chest as she asked him to stay…not just goodnight when he felt the waist of his pants slide open and felt her hand slide inside. What was that he'd wanted to ask her? Damned if he remembered anymore…His body reacted instantly, leaping to life in her hand, and then all he could do was brace his hands against the mattress on either side of her hips to keep his legs from giving out on him as he stood there with his eyes closed. Dave lost his entire ability to think as the blood rushed from his brain to his nether regions, but it didn't matter if his brain was working or not because he could still feel that hand.

Nancy had been tempted by him before he'd snuck in while she was in her bath. She'd watched him from above while he'd prepared some of their dinner, muscles working under the fabric of his shirt with his every movement, as he constantly peeked in the door of the oven as if the dinner might have grown legs and run away. She'd been tempted even just a few days ago when she'd woken up the first morning, barely able to remember the flight here, and found her own head on his chest.

Nancy wasn't finding it an easy task to resist him, not when he was this close, not when she was feeling so much better and not when he'd spoiled her so much. And after nearly five days of being deprived of his touch, all it had taken was that tiny stroke of a long finger over the skin of her knee, to send a lightening bolt rocketing through her. And when every voice in her body screamed out in want of him, when her body reacted to him of its own will regardless of the circumstance, how in the world could she possibly refuse to give in to it?

And now she had him in her hand, hot and hard and thick against her palm and she couldn't possibly imagine letting him just tuck her in, not now. She found her lips on the copper skin of his neck as she caressed him, running her tongue from the hollow of his throat, past his Adam's apple and then gently suckling the flesh just below his jaw line. Her other arm limited her, giving her restricted range of motion, but she was still able to push the waist band of his slacks down past his hips. Her lips curved into a smile against the flesh of his neck when she heard him groan. "Please." The soft request rolled of its own accord off of her tongue as her lips met with his ear. And yet she hadn't even known for what she was asking. She squeezed him gently in her hand and instantly she felt his desire vibrate deep within him.

"Nancy…" His voice was low, ragged and broken. "If you do that…I can't…I won't be able…"

"And you shouldn't have to." She finished his confession for him, taking his bottom lip between her teeth. "Please." She asked again.

Well, he didn't need an engraved invitation, and she was lucky he had enough sense in his muddled brain to remember her shoulder, because he wanted to throw her back against the covers and take out five days of sexual frustration on her…and no, it would not be just goodnight…but there was the shoulder and so he would be careful.

When he was finally able to command his hands to work again, he sank them into her curls and gently tugged her head back, whispering in her ear, responding to her request for him not to leave. His lips were on hers as he laid her back, restraining the animal, one hand lifting her leg up as he leaned over her…because he had to have something to touch, and because he wanted to kiss her knee, her calf, her ankle…he knew how those kisses affected her.

Hovering above her in his bed, he wondered if the words he'd practiced even mattered, he loved her, and he believed she loved him, though she'd not yet told him. He wanted to ask her if she was sure…if she had the energy for what they were about to do, but before he could finish his question, she cut him off with her kiss…drugging him…giving him silent reassurance that she was perfectly fine. He would be slow, he resolved as he felt the sweet pressure of her thighs on either side of his legs.

Nancy felt the length of him as he seated himself between her thighs, ready to complete her and then suddenly she couldn't wait for it, couldn't hold off for his kisses to finish…she arched against him with all of the power of five days of sexual neglect. The brazen action pulled him fully, deeply inside of her. She could hear his breath audibly catch in his throat, along with some other primal noise that resembled a growl following it. She was wild with the need of him, and completely devoid of anything but the knowledge of the woman she was when she was with him.

Impossible to stop, he moved within her…cautious of her shoulder and yet she didn't seem to be the least bit bothered by it. His hands tangled softly through her curls, as he propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at her. The green eyes he loved glimmered with an energy that defied her earlier claims of being sleepy, and yet even this very moment, they were hazing with the cloud of desire, as her hips rocked beneath him.

Her palms gripped his powerful biceps as she lay beneath him, staring at him…the intensity of his gaze propelling her toward completion. Three words…she could say it…couldn't she? She felt it…didn't she? Nancy found the words tumbling from her lips without her effort, against the flesh of his neck when he leaned down to nibble her ear. "I love you." And she felt his body melt against hers for a mere second.

Dave might have missed it had he not been thinking at that very minute of how he wished she would say it. And then she had said it again, a second time…his heart needed to hear it, his mind needed to know it. And suddenly everything he'd ever heard, or seen, or done since the moment he'd met her came flashing before his eyes in one swift emotional culmination that forced his physical body over the edge. He released before her but not without her, barely able to hold himself up. His heart was thundering in his ears, but it had not been able to drown out her words, nor his response, as he suddenly realized that this was where he wanted to be right now and every single night for the rest of his life. He whispered again in her ear, as she shook with the force of the coupling, reaffirming the promises he'd told her in the closet…the ones that he'd been afraid of not fulfilling. He felt her breathing begin to calm, as he laid his head on her chest, unwilling to leave her. He even felt her fingers playfully caressing the flesh of his arm and was tempted again to ask her the questions he had, but he couldn't help but feel that tomorrow would be a more appropriate time to ask. Besides he was still having a difficult time thinking, in light of the sudden deprivation of blood from his brain.

And now her eyelids were drooping as he raised himself up to glance at her. His questions would have to wait.