Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows Chapter 6: The Dance Part IX, a guiding light fanfic

Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

Author: Kimberly21570

Fandom: Guiding Light

Pairing: Olivia and Natalia

Disclaimers and Other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia Rivera, Josh and Bill Lewis, Alan and Phillip Spaulding, Reva Shayne, and Frank Cooper are owned by Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The character of Lena Kundera is owned by All My Children, ABC/Disney. The song Back to You by John Mayer is the joint property of John Mayer and Sony Music. The song I'm Done by the Pussy Cat Dolls is the property of ***. No copyright infringement intended with regard to GL, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, AMC, ABC, Disney, John Mayer, Sony Music or any other entity.

The dialogue, props, etc. in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.

Rating: Chapter 6.8 is rated NC-17 for a graphic sexual encounter between two women. Please note that the NC-17 scene involves original characters Jen and Tracy; not Olivia and Natalia. It was written as a little treat for those of you who are enjoying Jen and Tracy's story. As much as I would've loved to write something similar for Olivia and Natalia, it's just simply not time for them in this particular story. I promise you though, they'll get their turn, and when they do, it will not disappoint. Your patience will be rewarded—multiple times, in multiple chapters. Believe me… my mind is capable of conjuring up more than enough smutty ideas to keep everyone well-satisfied. I can provide references if y'all so desire… ;) In the meantime, if you simply can't wait for some Otalia smexy, check out the little Christmas one-shot I penned for y'all, titled Underneath the Mistletoe… It was written as a thank you to you all for your patience here with Confessions, and is posted on this site, as well.

That being said, I hope you all enjoy the continuation of Confessions…

Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows

"Back to you… It always comes around, back to you.
I tried to forget you. I tried to stay away.
But it's too late.

I'm so good at forgetting, and I quit every game I've played;
but forgive me, Love…
I can't turn and walk away."

John Mayer

Chapter 6.8 – The Dance | Back to You:

Spurred into action by Josh's urging, Olivia gave chase, calling out to her, as Natalia briskly made her way out of Watershed into the Beacon lobby. Comfort breeds carelessness, her head rambled, as she ran; the heels of her Gucci pumps clicking rapidly against Watershed's pristine hardwood floors. Nice work, Genius, she inwardly chastised.

As Olivia exited Watershed, Natalia was just reaching the revolving front door, her temper still flaring like a firestorm. She shoved the door with impressive force, and Olivia surged forward, attempting to catch her before she made it through. In the process, she misjudged her gait, causing the heel of her right pump to catch the edge of the large area rug just inside the doorway. The heel broke with a loud snap that reverberated through the lobby, echoing off the vaulted ceiling. The sound caught the attention of several guests, as well as the front desk employees, who gasped at the sight of the usually poised hotelier attempting to maintain her balance. But even this quandary didn't distract Olivia's attention from Natalia.

Passing through the translucent entryway, making her way out onto the covered drive, Natalia attempted to slam the heavy glass door behind her. The realization that it wouldn't slam only served to stoke the raging inferno that blazed inside her, scorching the edge of her sanity. She screeched out angrily, releasing what one could only term a raucous bellow, into the frigid night air, and attempted to slam it again—just for good measure.

Eyes fixed on Natalia, Olivia teetered, her body threatening to topple. Without a second thought, Jonathan, the night auditor, dropped the pile of reports in his hand, and scaling the front desk, he quickly landed on the other side. Skidding across the marble floor, he reached her in what seemed like a flash, and grabbed her elbow, steadying her.

The assistance caught her off guard, and she turned abruptly; startling them both. His blond hair fell into his eyes, and he smiled at her, inquiring as to whether or not she was okay. Receiving an affirmative response, followed by what could only be termed as breathless noises of appreciation, he released the hold he had on her arm, bid her good-evening, and returned to his post to pick up the mess of reports left lying in his wake.

The entire exchange took mere seconds, and then she was glancing down at the broken shoe. She cursed under her breath, and without a thought, she quickly extricated her feet from the now-useless contraptions; tossing them behind her, as she resumed her pursuit of Natalia.

Once outside, Natalia realized she was trapped. It was freezing. Her coat and purse, and thus, also her cell phone, where inside at their table—and worst of all, Olivia had driven that morning, leaving her with neither keys nor car with which she might wage an escape. Damn the luck. She was stuck, and Olivia was literally on her heels, so to speak.

Reaching the covered drive, barefoot, but in record time, Olivia leaned against the pillar, attempting to catch her breath as she watched Natalia doing the same. All concerns about the broken shoe cast aside, she barely noticed the coldness of the concrete under her stocking-feet, as her thoughts turned to Natalia's scuffle with the door. She bit her lower lip; cutting off the smirk that threatened to appear. "Ya know… whoever said nothing was impossible, obviously never tried to slam a revolving door…" she said; her tone dripping with her distinctive brand of charisma, with just a pinch of sarcastic wit.

Breathless from the brisk pace she had adopted while attempting her now-foiled escape, Natalia turned on her heel, glaring at Olivia; clearly annoyed, and in no mood for games. "Don't try to charm me, Olivia," she snapped; her breath puffing out into the cold night air. She crossed her arms resolutely in front of her. It was mostly an attempt to ward off the chill; but what Olivia saw was a gesture that clearly reflected Natalia's mood. "I'm pissed at you right now, and I don't think you're funny." Her tone was decisively biting.

"I'm not trying to charm you," Olivia denied; the hint of a flirtatious grin on her lips. Damn, she was good at self-denial. It was a strong-suit.

Natalia shot her a look that told her she was onto her crap. "That sexy grin of yours isn't going to work this time," she warned sharply. "If I had driven this morning, I would be gone right now. And you would be standing here looking like the fool you made me to be in there," she snapped; pointing a determined finger in the direction of Watershed.

Olivia wanted to point out that Natalia had not even grabbed her coat or purse; thus making it impossible for her to leave, even if she had driven that morning. But the expression on Natalia's face told her that now was not the time for rationalization. She clamped her mouth shut, and waited; silently cursing herself, once again, for not having listened to that little voice in her head.

Natalia's temper hadn't been this enraged since before Gus's death—if even then. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

"Doing what?" Olivia countered; confused.

"Playing these games with Josh and me," Natalia answered. "Are you testing me, or something?"

"Natalia, what are you talking about?" Olivia sighed, planting her hand firmly on her right hip.

"Vying for his attention," Natalia said; "Flirting with him, and throwing it in my face!"

"I wasn't flirting with him, Natalia," Olivia denied; her voice rising defensively.

"Oh, yeah?" Natalia retorted. "Well, then what would you call it?"

"Getting us a jet," Olivia replied directly; clearly believing there was nothing wrong with her tactics.

Natalia growled at her.

Startled by the reaction, Olivia jumped back instinctively, despite the nearly ten yards that separated them, and blinking twice, she cringed at the unnatural contortions in Natalia's face as the woman scowled at her.

"God, you're infuriating!" Natalia barked, her teeth clenched as tightly as her fists, as her anger reached a fever pitch. "How could you possibly think it okay to behave that way, especially with an ex-husband? How would you feel if I were to flirt with Gus that way?"

The question about Gus stopped Natalia in her tracks.

If Gus were alive to flirt with, there would be no Olivia, Natalia realized. There would be no Emma. There would be no farmhouse to call home; no family with the two of them. No family meant no family movie nights, no cookie baking in their cozy kitchen, no snowwomen in their front yard, no hot chocolate and S'mores in front of the fireplace, no fighting over Christmas trees or home décor, no laughter, no hugs, no soft caresses, no slow, sultry kisses before bedtime… Without Olivia, there would be no life; there would be no love…

The stark realization was sobering, in a way that Natalia had never experienced. She remembered Emma's tear-filled eyes and the sad little pucker of her lips as she expressed her fears. And then she remembered her promise to their little girl that she and Olivia would always be together. They were supposed to be together—that was God's plan. Of that, Natalia had no doubt. But damn it, she was angry. No—she was infuriated!

Olivia was startled by the fury in Natalia's eyes, and her heart lurched at the question about Gus. She knew it was rhetorical, but it sent her thoughts scattering in myriad directions. Gus being alive to flirt with meant she would most assuredly be dead—but never mind the thoughts of her own mortality. This was about Natalia, and how she had hurt her. It was unintentional. Or was it? Perhaps, on some level, she really had been testing Natalia. Regardless, it didn't matter—at least not right then. What mattered was that it happened at all. It shouldn't have, and Olivia damned well knew it. It ripped her heart in two, to see Natalia in such pain—and knowing it was all her fault left Olivia feeling even less… she couldn't allow her mind to go there—some fears were better left hidden in dark depths of her soul, never to be acknowledged. She willfully turned her attention back to Natalia, and searched for something to say, some way to rectify her foolish behavior.

The frigid night air wrapped itself around Natalia's body like a cloak made of thorns, stinging her skin, and she buried her face in her hands, as the tears began to fall. "We have to fix this, Olivia," she cried. "We can't do this to Emma. We can't do this to us…"

Olivia approached her cautiously. "What does Emma have to do with any of this?" she asked, confused. In her own mind, no matter how badly Olivia fucked up, Natalia would always be there for Emma. Of that, she had no doubt. What she couldn't manage to wrap her mind around, was that Natalia would never leave either of them. That understanding would be hard-won, and would only come with time.

"Emma has everything to do with this," Natalia insisted, tears streaking down her face, threatening to freeze in their tracks. "And the fact that you don't realize that, really scares me," she said forthrightly. Massaging her temples with her fingertips, she sighed heavily; then covered her mouth with steepled hands. "Do you know why she was so upset earlier?"

"No—," Olivia admitted, moving closer, attempting to brush away the tears, "but you promised you would tell me." Her voice sounded reticent, but hopeful.

Natalia warded her off, stepping back from her, and swabbed the tears from her own face. Wiping the remnants on her pant leg, she fixed a deliberate stare on Olivia's face. "She was afraid that sleeping here tonight meant that the farmhouse wasn't gonna be her home anymore… That we weren't gonna be a family," she explained. "She's been through enough, Olivia. Had too many parents bail on her," she maintained. "And I won't let that happen to her again. As angry as I am with you right now, we have to fix this—for Emma's sake."

"I know you won't," Olivia said softly. "And I couldn't agree with you more—Emma comes first," she said; firmly establishing their solidarity when it came to their daughter's well-being. Her love for Natalia was immeasurable; but never more so than when that fierce Mama Bear was in action; protecting and defending their little girl.

"Then I ask you again, why are you doing this?" Natalia said exasperatingly; her anger rising again. "Why are purposely pushing my buttons? Because I know you are…"

"I'm not, Natalia," Olivia vehemently denied. "I swear I'm not." Liar, her subconscious accused. She silently cursed that damnable thing. It's only a lie if I'm testing her on purpose…, she inwardly argued.

Natalia quirked an eyebrow. "So… basically what you're saying is… that little display in there was just you demonstrating to me how completely oblivious you are to my feelings." It was an accusation, not a question.

"Of course not," Olivia answered weakly. Damn, this woman could argue!

"No?" Natalia challenged. She wasn't about to relent. "Then how could you not see how uncomfortable I was in there? Or did you see it, and just not care because you were so hell-bent on getting what you wanted from Josh? Is that it, Olivia? Are you claiming a random act of stupidity, caused by tunnel vision?"

"Don't put words in my mouth, Natalia," Olivia warned; her tone icy.

"Well, someone sure as hell has to, because you're not doing a damned thing to help your case," Natalia harangued. "So what is it, Olivia?" she demanded, "Because I'm running out of ideas here."

Olivia sighed. She hated being pushed into a corner. "Okay, so I flirt, Natalia. But I flirt with everyone. It's nothing personal. You said it yourself earlier tonight—I'm shameless when it comes to flirting. It's just what I do," she defended. Her argument wasn't very convincing—even to her. Yet, she continued on. "And most of the time, I don't even realize I'm doing it. Until it gets me into hot water, that is," she said, disgruntled. "Hell, I even flirted with Lena this afternoon! That didn't bother you, so why is Josh such a threat?"

"You were never married to Lena, Olivia. You never slept with her," Natalia answered. The emphasis she placed on several key words revealed the crux of the situation to the hotelier.

"So this is about the fact that I had sex with Josh nearly a decade ago," Olivia said flatly. It wasn't a question. "Jesus Christ—," she mumbled; truly baffled by the sheer ridiculousness of such a thing.

Natalia gave her a stern look in response to the blasphemy, and sighed, "I don't give a damn who you slept with a decade ago, Olivia—if I did, we'd be arguing about half the damned town!"

Olivia's face wore a mixture of hurt and disillusionment.

Natalia knew it was a low blow, and she was immediately sorry. Her voice softened slightly, "This is about the fact that you were in love with him, and—"

"That was years ago!" Olivia roared; completely incensed by the insinuation in Natalia's words.

"Don't interrupt me," Natalia warned; her pointed finger nearly as sharp as a dagger.

Olivia stilled immediately.

"You were in love with him then, and you were flirting with him tonight—right in front of me, no less. And it really pisses me off!"

Olivia was stunned into silence. Why hadn't she seen it before—the way her behavior with Josh was affecting Natalia? Comfort breeds carelessness. Clearly, she was a fool.

When Olivia said nothing, Natalia sighed heavily. "Damn it, Olivia, don't you get it? You literally ooze sex. It drips from your pores when you're not even trying. That's why half the Beacon staff gets fidgety around you—you walk through the door, looking like… that," she said, motioning up and down with her hand, indicating Olivia's naturally sexy appearance, "and… you send them into a tizzy! If the staff reacts that way when you haven't even done anything, then how the hell is Josh supposed to resist you, when you're throwing yourself at him?"

"Josh is not a threat to you, Natalia," Olivia insisted. "And I wasn't throwing myself at him," she defended.

"Well, he sure as hell feels like a threat!"

Olivia's defenses were on the rise again. "Well, since you brought up my history with 'the whole damned town'," she said accusingly, pointedly making quotations in the air with her fingers, "Are you threatened by Alan and Phillip, as well? What about Bill? Is he on your radar, too? He is a Lewis, ya know," she spat, her voice dripping with acrid sarcasm. She knew she was being a bitch, but she was pissed, and she didn't care. Part of her wanted to scream about how it had been Alex who had seemingly posed a threat to Natalia just hours before; but she thought better of it, and clamped her mouth shut while she was ahead. No need to revisit that particular misunderstanding while in this midst of this new firestorm.

Natalia just glared at her. "No, I'm not threatened by Alan, Phillip, or Bill," she said flatly. "And just so ya know, I'm not threatened by Jeffrey, either," she added. "Yeah, I noticed that you left him off the list," she said sarcastically; drawing a sharp wince from Olivia. The dagger pierced even deeper, given that Natalia now knew Olivia had married Jeffrey not out of love, but rather, out of fear of dying alone.

Immediately sorry for allowing her anger to fuel such a hurtful comment, Natalia's demeanor completely softened. "Oh, God, Olivia, I'm—," she began a gentle apology; reaching out for her.

But before she could finish, Olivia drew back with a quiet, "Don't—" Holding her hand up as a buffer, her eyes filled with tears, as she took a step back. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she turned her back on Natalia; avoiding those penetrating eyes. "Look, you either believe that I love you, or you don't," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "It's as simple as that."

"Of course, I believe you," Natalia said softly. She inched forward, placing a gentle hand on Olivia's forearm.

"Then why can't you believe that I would never sleep with Josh, or anyone else for that matter, now that we're together?"

Natalia paused, considering Olivia's question. "I guess… I'm just afraid that because you're so scared of this thing between us, and you're not sleeping with me, you might revert back to what you know, because it's… easier," she quietly confessed.

Olivia turned to her then, taking Natalia's face in her hands. "I'm not scared of loving you, Natalia," she said softly. Her voice was quavering, but whether from the bitter cold or the intensity of emotions, she couldn't tell. "Please, don't ever think that…" she implored, the warmth of her breath creating puffy clouds that shielded the pain in her eyes from Natalia's gaze. There was so much more that needed to be said, so many fears she needed to express, but the very thought of admitting such vulnerabilities overwhelmed her. She just wasn't ready to go there—to admit to Natalia, fears that she couldn't even acknowledge to herself. And so she reiterated the one fear she could manage to face. "I'm scared of fucking this up by sleeping with you too soon," she said forthrightly. "I think we can both agree that, while I've fucked up a whole lot more than you have, we've both made the mistake of rushing into sex without thinking. And I told you before… I don't wanna make that same mistake with you."

Natalia nodded her concurrence. "I don't wanna make that mistake either," she said softly. "But honestly, Olivia, for someone who's so afraid that taking me to bed will fuck things up… you're doing a damned fine job of it, without ever touching me."

"I know—," Olivia ruefully acknowledged; tears of shame and regret welling up in her eyes. "Oh, God, Natalia, I'm so sorry. I never meant for you to get hurt." Her voice cracked as she choked back the sob that threatened to explode from the confines of her chest, and she covered her face with her hands, turning away. "I just wanted to make everything perfect for our trip, and I fell into the behavior that comes naturally to me, to make that happen." It wasn't an excuse, only an explanation.

Natalia reached out, gently touching Olivia's shoulder. "I just don't understand why you find it necessary to use sex to get what you want," she said softly. "You're so much better than that."

Olivia shrugged her shoulders. "It's what I know, Natalia," she said ashamedly.

"It's what you know?" Natalia parroted back in a questioning tone. "I seem to remember you getting pissed at me when I used that line on you," she reminded.

"It was different when you said it to me," Olivia contended.

Gently coaxing Olivia to turn and face her, Natalia asked, "What made it different?"

Olivia's head shot up, her eyes locking on Natalia's gaze. She couldn't believe Natalia didn't know the answer. "I could see your true value, Natalia—so much untapped potential just waiting to be cultivated. You couldn't see how amazing you really are, but I—"

"And you're not amazing?" Natalia gently challenged. "My God, Liv, do you really feel so badly about yourself that you think sex is the only thing of value you have to offer?"

Natalia's question hit way too close to home, as Olivia's subconscious tauntingly whispered, It's what you know…

Olivia looked away, clamping her eyelids tight to ward of another onslaught of tears, as her subconscious argued, Well, it's not the Only thing… What sex doesn't buy you, money certainly will… That thought certainly didn't make her feel any better. She cast it aside, and steeling herself, she ignored Natalia's question by saying, "After Marissa died, the only friends I really had, were men. And men respond to sex, Natalia. It's as simple as that."

"And what do women respond to?" Natalia asked.

"Money."

"That's not what I responded to, Liv," Natalia said softly. A gentle hand fell on Olivia's forearm, offering reassurance.

"I know—," Olivia quietly acknowledged.

"And what about Lena?" Natalia asked, pressing forward. "From everything you told me today, she wasn't interested in sex or money from you. She was simply your friend."

"Lena was different," Olivia contended, shrugging her shoulders. "She's a lesbian, so I never felt threatened by her like I did other women. I didn't have to compete with her, so it was easy for us to become friends."

That statement felt unsettling to Natalia. "Is that true of us, too?" she pondered aloud; kicking at the rock salt on the weather-worn asphalt. "Were we able to become friends because… I never really posed any serious threat to you? I was never really in your league, so you didn't feel compelled to compete with me?"

"What? No—of course not!" Olivia vehemently denied. "Do you not remember what a stark-raving Bitch I was when I had my sights set on Gus?" She hated to bring up their past scrimmages, but it was the only way to make Natalia see how completely off-base she was in her contention. "Natalia, you were the fiercest competition I've ever faced!"

"Yeah, right." Natalia's laugh was completely devoid of humor.

Olivia met and held Natalia's gaze for the first time in several minutes. "I mean it, Natalia," she said gently, but insistently, "I've never met anyone who's challenged me the way you do."

"Is that why you hated me so much?" Natalia's tone was soft, her timbre pained.

"I never hated you, Sweetheart," Olivia quietly admitted. She brushed her knuckles across Natalia's cheek before shoving her hands into her pockets. "I was jealous of you. Hell, I wanted to be you."

"What? Why?" Natalia said; sheer bewilderment in her tone.

"Because you're the kindest, most honorable person I know, Natalia. You're just… innately good, and… I knew that I could never measure up." Her voice was quiet, but brimming with passion. "Everyone who knows you, loves you. Most importantly, Gus loved you—and I was so desperate for him to love me the way he loved you, because I was so scared of dying alone."

"He did love you, Olivia," Natalia adamantly reassured. "That's why I fought so hard to keep him," she admitted. "And why, when I found out how sick you were, I let him go, so he could be there for you when you needed him. The truth was, he needed that too, and it would've been selfish of me to deny him that time with you."

"You were there for me too," Olivia whispered.

"Once I stopped fighting you for Gus, I found that I could understand you," Natalia said simply. "And once I understood you, I began to love you."

"Lucky me." Olivia's voice was barely audible, but brimming with unmistakable emotion, as her eyes turned to crystallized jade, and the tears began to fall.

"Lucky us," Natalia said softly; pulling Olivia close, where she held her tenderly until the tears subsided, and all that was left, despite the bitter cold, was sanctuary of their warm, familiar embrace.

With the warmth of Tracy's body resting against her own, Jen returned to the pages of her book; but her mind was no longer entranced in the spellbinding tale. It was on the memory of Tracy holding Dylan as he slept; marking the first time she realized not only the true depth of the Tracy's love for her sons, but also that of her own love for the young woman…

They had been friends for nearly a year, and for the majority of that time, Tracy, having maneuvered her own course schedule to be opposite of Jen's, had been keeping the boys on Tuesday and Thursday evenings, while Jen attended class.

Jen walked through the kitchen into the living room one such Thursday evening, expecting to find Tracy on the sofa, engrossed in a textbook or journal article. She was carrying almost a full load of courses, and working full-time, as well. Thus, study time came at a premium, and she would often hit the books after putting the boys down for the night. Her energy seemed boundless, and Jen lived in awe of her.

What she found instead of textbooks, made her heart melt: Tracy reclined on the sofa, with Dylan curled up on top of her, both of them sound asleep.

She quietly dropped her backpack onto the chair adjacent to the sofa, and approached them gingerly, so as not to startle either of them. Smiling, she lowered herself to the edge of the coffee table, sitting close, watching them sleep.

Dylan was almost two-and-a-half by then, but he still looked so tiny as he lay there, his legs tucked up underneath him, his little toes peeking out from under his Scooby-clad derrière. One pudgy little hand clutched a fistful of Tracy's blue and white Dallas Cowboys jersey, as his head rested in the valley between her breasts. Tracy's arm was wrapped around him, protecting him, like a mother cub, as he slept so peacefully; the rise and fall of his chest perfectly synced with hers, as slowly, they breathed the soft, rhythmic cadence of dreams. A powerful, yet fleeting thought told her how lucky Dylan was to have such a privilege; but she quickly tossed it aside, staving off the longing in her heart, the reaction in her body, as she returned her attention to her son.

He had outgrown his Elmo, Grover, and Big Bird jammies, taking over Jacob's Scooby, Scrappy, and Mystery Machine ones in less than a year. She smiled to herself, remembering how Jacob had been none too happy about the transition, until he realized giving up the old meant picking out new. Then, of course, he had been perfectly content with the arrangement.

Eyes finally leaving her son, she couldn't help but allow them passage to the beckoning world of Tracy's beautiful countenance. It was safe to allow it now, while the girl was sleeping, she reasoned.

Slowly, she traced the soft contours of that gorgeous visage; indulging in one delicate feature at a time, as her heart constructed the masterpiece of forbidden splendor. Following the line of her brow, and the locks of soft, dark curls that teased there, she smiled; reaching out, tenderly brushing those locks aside, lest they continue obstructing her view of perfection.

Then she moved on to those eyes. She knew the amalgam of softness and spark that lay beneath those lidded pools of simmering russet liquid. Those eyes would gaze at her—one moment with tender regard; the next with tantalizing suggestion. Both brought reactions from her body—the first, a gentle longing just to be near her, if only for a moment; the other, a smoldering want from which she could find no respite. She willfully tamped down the embers that flickered low in her belly, and moved on.

The delicate way those long, dark lashes fell across lightly tanned cheeks, made Jen's heart flutter. She wanted to kiss them, the way they kissed the softness of those cheeks.

And when her eyes followed the delicate curve of that cheek as it sloped into an angular jaw line, trailing along the taut cord of muscles in Tracy's neck, Jen fell headlong into forbidden yearnings. God, the girl was beautiful. Jen wanted nothing more than to drown in the soft, musky essence of her. She wanted to know the pleasure of replacing the touch of fingers that left her skin burning for what seemed like days, with the touch of that mouth. Her lips were so perfect. If a simple touch of fingertips could leave such an imprint upon her, what glorious mark would a kiss leave behind? She wanted to know. She wanted to slake the smoldering need within them both.

She wanted—

God, how she wanted.

But instead of indulgence, again came chastisement. She's barely Nineteen! And a Woman! You Can't love her.

It was only in those moments of chastisement that Jen allowed herself to regard Tracy as a woman. Any other time, she forced herself to regard her as a girl. It was her feeble attempt at warding off the physical and emotional longing she felt for her; that indescribable connection that bound them to one another. Clearly, it wasn't working.

Clearly—

Again came the warning: You Can't love her.

Yet, I Do…

Reaching out, she gently touched Tracy's cheek with the backs of her fingers; allowing them a moment of soft caress, as she whispered to her, "Hey, Sleepyhead…" in an attempt to draw the girl from quiet repose.

Tracy felt the softness of Jen's fingers on her cheek, and instinctively yearned for more. She pressed lightly against that delicate touch, her eyes slowly fluttering open; and even in her sleep-induced haze, the spark of joy flashed within them upon registering Jen's smile.

"Hey…" she whispered, offering a sleepy smile in return, as she stretched languorously. She could think of nothing better than waking up to Jen's touch, to her smile every day. It was what she wanted, more than anything.

"So, what's up with Splash, here?" Jen asked, grinning at the nickname. "Bad dreams?"

Tracy shook her head, indicating a negative. "He woke up with a fever, drenched with sweat and vomiting," she reported in a hushed tone, so as not to wake him.

"Oh, my God," Jen said, panicked; immediately feeling a surge of guilt for not having been there.

"No, no, it's okay," Tracy said, reaching out a hand, catching Jen's in an attempt to calm her worry. "I gave him Children's Tylenol, and his fever seems to have broken. I would've called, but—"

"I know, I know… my phone was on silent," Jen said, finishing Tracy's sentence, which drew a smile from her. "I never remember to turn that thing on vibrate before I go into class," she sighed.

"I know—" Tracy's smile was warm, knowing.

Tracy did know. She always knew. It was like she had some sort of recorder in her brain that captured every nuance of Jen's personality, her habits, her likes and dislikes, her—

"I gave him another bath, and washed his sheets, too," Tracy was saying, interrupting Jen's mental tangent. "They're in the dryer right now. And I disinfected his mattress, but I didn't wanna put clean sheets on it until it was dry, so—" she said, indicating their current entanglement on the sofa, as if to say "here we are…"

Jen smiled at her. "You did exactly what I would've done," she said reassuringly. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Gently touching Jen's cheek, Tracy offered her a tender smile. "You'll never have to find out," she said softly.

That ubiquitous flirtatious undercurrent was replaced by something much more substantial—the soft resonance of promise in the low, velvety cadence of Tracy's voice, and it warmed Jen in places she had forgotten existed.

"That's good to know," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, as she struggled with her emotions. You have no idea how good…

Drawing her head out of the mental gymnastics that might have ensued, Jen asked, "Are you staying tonight?"

"If that's alright with you," Tracy answered quietly.

"You know I love having you here."

"You mean you love having me fix you breakfast," Tracy teased.

Jen's laughter was soft. "Perhaps," she said, in that carefree way of hers. "Come on, let me take him," she said, motioning Tracy to relinquish custody of the sleeping boy. "I'll keep him in my room tonight."

"No, no, I've got him," Tracy said, "I'll carry him in for you."

Jen smiled her thanks, and offered Tracy a hand; pulling her up from the sofa, as Tracy held Dylan firmly against her chest.

Following her down the hall toward the master bedroom, Jen turned down the bed, and Tracy laid Dylan down in the middle—the two of them lying down on opposite sides of him.

As they lay there together; Dylan nestled snugly between them, talking quietly, as they often had, Jen allowed her heart to acknowledge the boundless love that flowed between Tracy and her boys—and that which flowed between Tracy and her own heart. It would still be an uphill battle between her heart and her beliefs—reconciling the two would take time and a concerted effort, but tonight marked a sharp turn in the pathway toward their future. And all it had taken was the image of Tracy, holding her sleeping son…

Turning her head, Tracy shifted upward, slowly placing open-mouthed kisses against Jen's neck; drawing a breath from Jen, as she pulled Jen back into the present. She snatched the book from Jen's hand, tossing it across the room.

"Hey, I was reading tha—," Jen began to say, but her protests were quickly allayed by the possessive claiming of her mouth.

"I think I promised you a repeat performance of our first time," Tracy said seductively, as she deepened their kiss; her hands deftly sliding under Jen's t-shirt, finding pert breasts.

"Oh, you remember that, do you?" Jen murmured, grinning into Tracy's mouth. She groaned as Tracy's fingers brushed against her nipples, causing them to pebble.

"Mmm… yes, I do," Tracy moaned. "And you know I always keep my word…"

"Thank God—," Jen exhaled, groaning again, as Tracy's hands continued their enticing brand of magic on her breasts.

Mozart peered up at them from the foot of the bed; regarding them with a distinct air of disinterest. A few licks of his sandpapery tongue soothed the ruffled fur of his coal black tail, and then he curled his head under, draping his snowy-white front paw over it, as if to shield his smoky gray eyes from what he knew was coming next…

When Natalia finally released her hold, Olivia pulled away from their embrace, offering her a sheepish expression. "I should be the one comforting you," she said softly, her thumbs caressing Natalia's cheeks. "I hurt you so deeply, and—"

Natalia silenced her with a single finger pressed to soft, full lips. "Stop, okay?"

"I can't stop, Natalia," Olivia insisted. Her hands swept across Natalia's neck, tunneling into soft raven tresses. "I need you to know something…"

The fingers on the nape of her neck were magical, and Natalia relaxed under the delightful pressure. "What's that?"

Looking away for a moment, Olivia closed her eyes, as she contemplated her words carefully. Then, sighing softly, she dropped her hands to Natalia's biceps, as she met mahogany eyes with measured determination. "There were a few times, while I was trying to run away from my feelings for you, that I… I tried to hook up with someone," she confessed. "A couple of those times, I tried to hook up with Josh, just to get you out of my head, but—"

"I so did not need to hear that, Olivia," Natalia sighed, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Natalia. I'm not telling you this to upset you—," Olivia said softly. "I'm trying to tell you I'm not running anymore. I couldn't really even run away then. I couldn't go through with it. Not one single time. It always came back to you," she whispered. "And no matter how scared I might be, there's no turning back for me. Even if it takes us the next ten years to figure out the physical aspects of this relationship," she exaggerated to make her point, "I won't change my mind. I won't go back to any man, let alone Josh. I would never do that to you. I promise you that."

Natalia's eyes brimmed with tears again, as she mentally tracked through the information she had received, landing on one key point. "Wait. Are you telling me that you haven't…?"

"Yes—"

"Not since your transplant—"

"No," Olivia stated. "It was maddening!"

"Not once—," Natalia said; more verification than inquiry.

"Not even once," Olivia said softly, the knuckles of her right hand tenderly caressing Natalia's left cheek.

"Really?"

"Natalia—"

"Sorry," came the sheepish apology. "I just can't beli— Really?"

Olivia made a face at her, and whacked at her with an imaginary object, drawing a soft laugh from Natalia. It reminded her of the spoons on Family Day. She waited a beat then, for Natalia to speak again, and when she didn't, Olivia offered explanation. "After the transplant, I was too weak and depressed to even think about sex, Natalia," she said forthrightly. "All I could think about was how much I wanted to die…"

Natalia dropped Olivia's gaze. "I know—," she said softly.

"Hey… this story has a happy ending, y'know," Olivia gently reminded, smiling, as she caught Natalia's chin with her index finger, drawing her gaze back into place.

Natalia returned the smile, and relaxed, as Olivia continued to talk.

"You were the reason I fought my way out of the depression," Olivia confessed. "Did you know that?"

"No—," Natalia answered, voice quavering.

"Well you were," Olivia reiterated. "You were so incredible, Sweetheart. You never gave up on me, even when I wanted to give up on myself. I was already falling in love with you then," she quietly confessed. "And the last time I came on to Josh, we ended up admitting that while meaningless sex could be not only fun, but incredibly gratifying, it wasn't enough for either of us anymore, because we both really wanted the real thing," she shared. "All I could think about that night was you—how much I loved you and wanted to be with you. I didn't think there was any hope that I could ever be with you, but still, I couldn't share that part of myself with anyone else anymore. All I've wanted or needed, for as long as I can remember now, is you. And you know what I told Josh tonight, Natalia?"

"What?"

"I told him about us, Natalia," Olivia confessed. "I told him that I've finally found the real thing…"

"You did?" Natalia said, surprised.

Olivia nodded her head in confirmation. "I did," she said with conviction. "I told him I've never loved anyone as much as I love you," she quietly shared.

"Well, I'm sure that made him feel good," Natalia said; just a hint of sarcasm in her tone.

"Actually, it did," Olivia replied with confidence. "We even laughed about how neither of us is the love of the other's life," she explained, chuckling at the memory.

Shoving her hands into her pants pockets, she sighed softly, "Look… Josh Lewis would do anything in the world for me, Natalia, but only as a friend. He's not in love with me. I don't really believe he ever was—any more than I believe I was in love with him. Yes, we felt love for one another, but it was never the kind of love that I feel when I look at you—when I hold you, or kiss you," she said softly; inching her way closer to Natalia again. "He belongs with Reva," she firmly asserted. "Whether I liked it or not way back when, I've always known it was true. But even if I didn't, it wouldn't matter," she said softly, tenderly taking Natalia's face in her hands, "because I know I belong with you…"

"You know you belong with me?" Natalia said softly. It was both an attempt to process the statement, and a quest for confirmation.

"Of course, I do—you're everything to me, Natalia," Olivia whispered impassionedly; her heart speaking directly to Natalia's, providing her with the sense of security she was seeking. "Josh knows it too, and he's happy for us."

"He is?" Natalia said, seeking reassurance.

"Truly, he is," Olivia smiled, her thumbs gently caressing the coolness of Natalia's cheeks; attempting to warm them.

She drew in a deep breath then, exhaling slowly; her breath turning to puffy clouds as it entered the cold, damp air. "I know I hurt you tonight," she quietly acknowledged. "But I never meant to, Natalia, and I'm truly sorry that I did," she said apologetically. Comfort breeds carelessness, she heard again; her thoughts on a relentless automatic replay. "I promise to be more mindful of my words and actions, especially with Josh," she vowed. "And I promise you, he will never be a threat to us."

Natalia reached up, gently touching Olivia's cheek. It felt frozen beneath her fingertips, and suddenly she realized how frigid the air was around them, as they stood there in the Beacon drive. She wished Olivia had thought to grab her coat; yet, she thought nothing of the fact that she wasn't wearing one either. "We should go inside," she declared; her eyes locked on the warmth that emanated from Olivia's—a sharp contrast to the brusqueness of the winter's night. "It's freezing out here, and I don't want you getting sick."

The words, spoken barely above a whisper, and filled with love and concern, were Olivia's pardon—and they both knew it.

"Not until we've resolved this," Olivia insisted; needing to hear her absolution spoken out loud.

"It was resolved the moment you told me you belong with me—that I'm everything to you," Natalia said softly; her fingertips tenderly tracing Olivia's face. "You're everything to me, too. You know that, don't you?"

"I do now—," Olivia murmured, drawing Natalia into her arms.

Natalia went willingly, and nuzzling into Olivia's neck, she whispered, "I'm sorry for acting like such a jealous fool today."

Olivia smiled into Natalia's neck. "You were jealous?" she said teasingly.

"You know I was," Natalia chuckled, playfully poking at Olivia's ribs, causing her to giggle. "You just wanted to hear me say it."

"Maybe—," Olivia grinned, laughter sparkling in her eyes.

She leaned back then, meeting Natalia's eyes, as laughter gave way to sincerity. "I'm the only one who owes an apology here," she acknowledged. "I was an ass, Natalia. I was careless with your feelings, and that's something I never want to be again," she confessed; her words carrying within them a promise to do better in the future.

Natalia searched Olivia's face, her eyes imparting confidence. "I trust that you won't be," she said resolutely.

"Thank you for that," Olivia said softly. "I'm not perfect though," she cautioned. "Remember that…"

"You're welcome," Natalia said, offering her a smile, "and believe me, I know…"

Her eyes turned playful then, as her smile widened into a full-dimpled bloom. "So… it always comes back to me, does it?" she said, her tone full of suggestion.

"Yes—," Olivia breathed softly, as jade eyes fell headlong into mahogany, searching their dark depths by the shimmering light of the moon. "I can't explain it, Natalia. All I know is that from the moment I first set eyes on you, every argument, no matter how volatile, every action, kind or hurtful, every decision, good or bad—Everything has always come back to you…"

Natalia's entire body warmed, and her eyes flooded with tears; but she said not a word, as she gazed into Olivia's eyes, savoring the moment.

Wordlessly, Olivia watched golden flecks dancing in liquid warmth. And tenderly taking Natalia's face in her hands, she leaned in, her mouth hovering near Natalia's, close enough that they could feel the warmth of one another's breath.

"You know, you're about to lose a lot of money," Natalia quietly cautioned; recognizing the intent in Olivia's eyes. It was one thing for Damian to have witnessed them kissing in a booth inside Watershed; and entirely another for them to kiss out there in the open—with what was certain to be a whole gaggle of Beacon staff members only feet away. Their noses had probably been pressed against the glass for the last twenty minutes. It gave new meaning to the term "nosey," she thought.

Olivia smiled softly at her. "I don't give a damn about money, Natalia," she crooned, her thumbs gently caressing Natalia's cheeks. "I love you, and I want you to know, without a doubt, that you are the only one for me…" she whispered; drawing her into a slow, sultry kiss.

Natalia sighed softly, as she fell into Olivia's kiss. She wrapped her arms around Olivia's neck, pulling her closer, as her lips parted, inviting the deepening of their kiss. And as their kiss continued, slow, deep, passionate, Natalia's only coherent thought was that Olivia Spencer was the love of her life; and like Olivia, she didn't give a damn who saw what, or when.

Sadly for Frank, it was he who witnessed the passion in their kiss, as he was driving past the Beacon on his way home from Company. He felt guilty for having lied to Reva about babysitting his grandson, but he simply couldn't bear another moment of listening to her prattle on about Natalia. It was bad enough that he couldn't stop thinking about the woman—hearing her name spoken over and over was just too damned much. Perhaps bearing witness to their kiss was his punishment for having lied…

It had taken him forever to scrape the ice from the windows of his police cruiser, but finally, he was on his way home. Leaving Company, he had taken his usual path, south on Forrest Avenue for a block, turning left onto East Clear Lake Avenue, which landed him right at the corner of Clear Lake and South Livingston Street, where the Beacon was located—walking distance from Company, really, weather permitting. He wished there were an alternate route that wouldn't take him thirty minutes out of his way; but the fact was, driving past Clear Lake and South Livingston was the quickest route to Eastdale Avenue, where he passed the golf course on his way to the home he shared with his father, his daughter and her husband, and their son on Southgate Drive.

It was late enough now that Marina would have put Henry down for the night, and he hoped that she and Mallet were otherwise occupied. Ordinarily, he would find such thoughts disturbing. In fact, he often had to force himself not to think about the fact that his best friend, his former brother-in-law, even, was now married to his only daughter. But tonight, all he wanted was to get home. There, he could escape into the privacy of his bedroom, finding solitude within his thoughts. Or so he thought.

Instead, he had come across an elderly woman, stranded in the ditch just south of the Beacon. Her car had spun out of control on the ice-covered pavement, and she had practically dug trenches with her tires, attempting to extricate it from its entrapment. It wasn't in his job description to rescue little old ladies, but that "good man" inside of him never would've granted him rest that night, had he not stopped to help.

Given the current condition of the streets he had recently navigated, he assumed the transportation department had turned their focus back to the main road and thoroughfares when the freezing rain began to fall earlier that afternoon. So much for clearing the city streets, he silently groused, as he climbed out of his cruiser.

He greeted her kindly, showing his badge as he introduced himself. It wasn't a boastful move, but rather one meant to offer her a sense of security. Being the Chief of Detectives, his cruiser was unmarked, and he wanted to reassure her that she was safe.

As it turned out, the elderly woman was Rosalie Lombardi—the aunt of a buddy of his from the old neighborhood; and unfortunately for him, the head of housekeeping at the Beacon. She recognized his name the moment he uttered it; but had she not heard it, she never would've identified him as the young auto mechanic who once chopped stolen cars for extra cash. He looked so different now. But then, she supposed, that was just the marching of time. He was no longer that twenty-year-old, doing what he thought needed to be done to provide for his wayward younger sister, Harley. She wondered where on earth that girl had gotten to…

She embraced him warmly, calling him "Frankie," and thanked him for stopping to help. It was "a very gallant thing to do," she declared, as she shook her head and wondered out loud where chivalry had gone.

He didn't tarry in his assistance, but rather jumped right in, trying several different approaches to extricating her vehicle, including using the engine to rock it forward and backward—why he thought that would work for him, when it clearly failed for her, she couldn't say. He tried pushing it from the front, digging under the tires, and pouring rock salt under them for traction. Nothing worked. But all the while he worked, she chattered on gregariously, praising him for his achievements, telling him over and over how pleased she was to know that he had done so well for himself.

She inquired about Harley, and about his family; and he had answered politely, chatting about his Pop, his daughter, Marina, and his grandson, Henry. He didn't mention that his wife Eleni had left him—he was quite certain everyone in the old neighborhood was long-since aware.

And then the unthinkable began—she started talking about Natalia.

Damn it! Was it safe anywhere in this town?

She chattered on about what a "nice you woman" Natalia was; how she had truly "come into her own" after taking the position as the hotelier's assistant, and how she remembered seeing him come to visit her at the Beacon on occasion. Were they close friends?, she had asked. She knew it could be nothing more than that—Natalia was clearly in love with the hotelier. She didn't say that part aloud.

He smiled politely, and told her that they had dated a few times. "Casually," he had said, attempting nonchalance. It killed him to admit that was the extent of their relationship, but he knew it was true.

She seemed surprised that they had dated; but when he asked her why, she simply said that she hadn't realized Natalia had dated anyone since her husband's untimely passing. She would never betray the woman who had become a close friend, by telling anyone what she knew to be true about her relationship with the hotelier.

After forty-five minutes of failed attempts, he finally threw his hands up in the air; admitting defeat. He assured her though, that everything would be fine; and fishing his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed the number of another of his old buddies—this one, the owner of a local towing business. He made arrangements to have her car pulled from the ditch, and towed back to her home, as a personal favor to him. And then, in an effort to keep her from having to endure the cold night air and poor road conditions any longer, he escorted her home.

He dropped Mrs. Lombardi off at the home she shared with her eldest daughter, son-in-law, and several grandchildren. Seeing her to the door, to ensure she didn't slip and fall on the ice on their front walk, he declined an invitation to join her for coffee, but humbly accepted another round of undying gratitude—as well as a container of freshly-baked cookies. Why was it that the women in this town always wanted to give him cookies? It's no wonder he had gained fifty pounds since Eleni left him…

Ice and rock salt crunched under his boots as he made his way back to his cruiser, the container of cookies tucked under his arm. He sighed heavily, as he dropped back into the driver's seat, cranked the ignition, and backed out of their driveway onto South Fifth Street—his old stomping grounds. Then, making his way north on South Fifth, he turned left onto East Jefferson, following it until it turned into East Clear Lake Avenue once again. Eastward he navigated, until he reached South Livingston, and when he saw them there under the covered drive, he stopped his police cruiser short; thankful that traction control had kept it from sliding on the icy pavement.

Sitting there, just yards away from the Beacon entrance, he watched them; not in a stalker-ish sort of way; but rather, it was more like a sense of disillusionment had overcome him. He didn't know why, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from them. It was a sight he would not soon forget—the image of Natalia wrapped in Olivia's arms. In all the times she had kissed him—not that there were all that many to count—she had never kissed him the way she was kissing Olivia now. The way her body pressed into Olivia's, he could tell that it was Natalia, not Olivia, who was instigating the intimacy; though, Olivia certainly wasn't resisting. She had never pressed against him with such fervor—not even when they were making love. Yet more proof that Olivia was truly the one Natalia wanted.

There was laughter as they kissed, and he could tell that Olivia was teasing her. It would've made him cringe to know their laughter was the result of Natalia groaning and begging Olivia to promise her it wouldn't take ten years for them to have sex—and Olivia teasing her about being so easily turned on. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh the way she laughed with Olivia; but he realized now, that he never stood a chance.

He cursed under his breath. If only he hadn't stopped to help Mrs. Lombardi, he would've been home long before their little tryst had begun. He glanced at the passenger seat, his eyes catching the container of cookies. It glared back at him like a mocking consolation prize. Sometimes, he wished "Good Man Frank" would just go take a flying leap.

When their kisses finally ended, Natalia realized that something was aesthetically wrong—Olivia was slightly shorter than her. She glanced down, spotting the hotelier's stocking-clad feet. "You're not wearing any shoes," she said, the crinkle of confusion in her brow begging the question.

Olivia chuckled. "I had a little wardrobe malfunction while I was chasing you," she explained, kissing Natalia again.

"Your feet must be freezing!" Natalia exclaimed.

"Actually, at this point, they're kinda numb." Olivia offered her a lopsided grin.

"Then I really think we should go inside," Natalia insisted.

"Are you gonna rub my feet to warm them up?" Olivia's tone was flirtatious.

Natalia arched an eyebrow. "Don't push your luck," she said with wry caution.

"What, I chase after you barefoot, in freezing-cold weather, and I don't deserve a foot massage?" Olivia teased.

"You deserve to have your head examined," Natalia said flatly; but the twitch of her lips gave away the smile that lurked beneath.

Olivia laughed, and kissed her again. "You, my Love, may examine anything you'd like," she murmured against Natalia's mouth.

Oh, but if that were true, Natalia thought; shocked by her own desire for such exploration. "Tease," she groaned, kissing Olivia thoroughly, before taking her back inside.

Their reentrance into the Beacon lobby was met by a cheerful round of applause from staff members and guests, alike. Natalia blushed at the attention, and buried her face in Olivia's shoulder, drawing a soft laugh from the hotelier.

Her arm securely fastened around Natalia's trim waist, Olivia scanned the impromptu welcoming committee with measured intent. The Cheshire grins on the faces of several of her nightshift employees told her exactly which ones had been most prosperous in the betting pool. She was too happy to care about losing the money. She didn't even care that the games she had planned for the betting members of her staff had come to an abrupt halt the moment she kissed Natalia just beyond the front doors of their hotel. She would happily pay up for the pleasure of being allowed to kiss this woman who stood, blushing, but not ashamedly, at her side; and ultimately, she vowed to make it even more worth the gamblers' while.

Jonathan approached her, albeit tentatively, handing her the pair of discarded shoes, complete with the wayward heel. She thanked him politely, adding her appreciation again for his earlier assistance. This time the expression of appreciation was less a show of hurried frustration, and more one of genuine acknowledgment for his kindness.

Natalia smiled at her, impressed by the effort.

He blushed under Olivia's direct gaze, and nodded his head. "Happy to help, Ms. Spencer," he said, a nervous smile toying with his lips. That endearing lock of blond hair flopped into his eyes again. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do for you."

With a nod of thanks, Olivia took Natalia's hand into her own, fingers intertwining, as they walked back into Watershed to find Josh and Matt—and another round of texts began to fly.

The men were still lounging in the booth where they had been abandoned; though, the seating arrangement had changed to mirror the original. Olivia apologized to both of them for their abrupt exit; taking full blame for the incident. Begging their pardon, she requested that they might adjourn for the evening. They could pick up discussions regarding the renovations once the numbers had been crunched, she suggested.

Josh was agreeable to the suggestion. It was getting late, after all, and Reva would be waiting up for him, he explained.

Olivia smiled her thanks to him for finding a way to casually remind Natalia that he was, in fact, taken, and thus, posed no threat to her relationship with the hotelier. And with a quick round of jovial goodbyes, where Olivia was careful not to embrace him, he and Matt headed out the door.

Finally retiring to the penthouse suite, they thanked Jane for staying with Emma, and confirmed plans for the following evening. Given that Olivia was uncertain as to how late they would be out, she suggested that Jane make plans to spend the night at the farmhouse with them. The suggestion was agreeable to Jane, and thus, plans had been set firmly in stone. Olivia and Natalia would take Emma home after school to feed her dinner, and Jane would arrive around five thirty to handle homework, bath time, and bed. Once plans were confirmed, they bid Jane goodnight; closing and locking the door behind her.

Taking her shoes off, Natalia set them neatly next to the door; in sharp contrast to Olivia, who had carelessly flung her broken pumps in the corner near the closet door. Natalia shook her head and smiled, as she sauntered across the room toward Olivia, who was watching her with rapt attention.

Reaching her, Natalia slowly ran her hands up Olivia's chest, across her shoulders, and down her arms, causing the most delightful gooseflesh to materialize everywhere she touched. She could feel the warmth of Olivia's body under her fingertips, and she smiled into liquid jade, as she took Olivia's hands into her own; their fingers instinctively intertwining.

"I promised Emma we would stay here tonight," Natalia quietly reported, leaning in, gently brushing her lips against Olivia's. "That we could have a sleepover in your bed," she explained, the corners of her mouth twisting into a crooked smile. Now she wished she had stopped with simply reassuring the child that they would all stay together in the suite. She wanted to be alone with Olivia. To hold her, to kiss her, to fall asleep with their bodies intertwined, the way they had been that afternoon. Somehow, here in Olivia's suite at the Beacon, it didn't feel as threatening as sharing a bed at the farmhouse. She wasn't certain exactly why.

What she did know, though, was that Olivia's tension, or rather the lack thereof, mirrored her own. They hadn't talked about it. They didn't need to. It was something they both just understood; and neither of them had the emotional energy to analyze it—at least not at the moment.

Olivia's heart skipped at beat when Natalia first began to talk. Based upon their afternoon nap, she knew staying in the suite would likely include having Natalia in her bed—all night long; and the idea paradoxically excited, frightened, and calmed her; more than she cared to admit. Holding Natalia in bed that afternoon, kissing her, falling asleep in her arms had been the sweetest torture; and she wanted nothing more than to simply be near her.

Then her sweet longings turned sour, as she thought about how she had hurt Natalia that evening; and she wondered whether her transgressions might cause Natalia to seek solace in the sofa, rather than Olivia's arms. Her worries were squashed, though, by the utterance of Natalia's next words, telling her that Natalia would indeed be in her bed that night—Emma in tow. The excitement that came with the realization that Natalia would be sharing her bed was quickly swallowed up by regret that they wouldn't be alone. Yet, she knew she should be grateful that the possibly of being so close to Natalia even existed at all, after the things she had done to hurt her.

Swallowing her disappointment, she offered Natalia a warm smile. "I think staying here tonight was a good call," she acquiesced. "After all, it's late, and we've had a few drinks…"

"Yeah, that's what I thought, too," Natalia replied. "Better safe than sorry…"

Olivia nodded her head; yet remained silent. Fatigue was evident in her eyes.

Natalia reached up, gently caressing Olivia's cheek. "You're exhausted, Honey. Why don't you go shower and get ready for bed, while I clean up some of this mess, and check on Emma," she suggested. "I folded your pajama bottoms and tank top, and left them in the bathroom this afternoon."

Olivia smiled at her. "Thank you for taking such good care of me," she said softly.

"It's my job," Natalia shrugged. "That's why you pay me the big bucks. Remember?" she teased.

Arching an eyebrow, Olivia knowingly asserted, "That's not why you take care of me."

Natalia responded with a grin. "Oh, yeah?" she playfully challenged. "Why else would I put up with you?"

"Because you love me…" Olivia quietly reminded.

"Oh, yeah, well… there's that, too," Natalia agreed, playfully passing that fact off as insignificant, as she wrapped her arms around Olivia's neck, pulling her into a kiss.

A few well-placed kisses later, Natalia sent Olivia off to the shower, and turned her attention toward the half-empty bowl of popcorn, dirty glasses, and displaced pillows and throws that were cluttering the sitting room; just as Olivia called back toward her saying, "You're not the maid anymore, Sweetheart. Leave that mess for housekeeping…" as she sauntered toward the private bath in her bedroom.

Natalia heard the bathroom door click shut, and smiled, shaking her head. She knew Olivia's emphasis on the endearment was meant to punctuate the point that they were no longer just employer and employee, but equals, partners, in work, life, and love. Natalia accepted that fact, embraced it, treasured it, even; but there were some areas where she still held steadfastly to her convictions—and this was one of them. It was bad enough that Rosalie had made their bed that afternoon. She certainly wasn't going to leave such a glorified mess for her employee and friend to clean, when she was perfectly capable of cleaning it up herself. After all, Emma was her daughter, not Rosalie's, she reasoned. She was stubborn that way, Olivia would say. But Natalia simply saw it as the Christian thing to do.

Olivia stepped into the luxurious cascade of water that fell from the dual shower heads in the master bath of her private suite; and immediately, the heat of the water began soothing her aching bones, even as it warmed her skin from head to toe. She hadn't realized just exactly how cold it was outside, and how frozen her toes were, until they had walked back into the Beacon lobby. And now, thanks to this fountain of warmth that poured over her body, finally the blood in her lower limbs was on its way to rejoining the world of circulation.

God, she loved showering here. She had forgotten how much. After months of suffering those old, worn pipes and what they ironically referred to as water pressure at the farmhouse, it was like stepping into transcendent bliss. Somehow, she would have to convince Natalia that a bathroom renovation, complete with a walk-in shower with dual pulsating heads and Jacuzzi tub, was in order for the master bath. She smiled to herself, thinking of all the glorious things they could do together in such an auspicious setting; and suddenly, her body was suffused in heat of a more visceral kind—the kind that made her feel simultaneously flushed and freezing. She was beginning to understand what the Pussy Cat Dolls meant when singing about being swept up in passion, and "done, so done…"

Olivia's heart sang, even as her breath sighed. "Shit, I am so fuckin' done," she groaned; but she wasn't the least bit sorry for it. Lord, help her, though, she could never admit such a correlation to Natalia—after the whole Styx confession, she would never live down an affinity for the Pussy Cat Dolls. She sighed again. At least she could take solace in knowing Barry Manilow would never be included on her iPod Shuffle. Score one for having at least a modicum of good taste when it came to music.

She reached across the shower, grabbing the bottle of her favorite body wash. It was imported from Yardley of London—a total extravagance, but Olivia loved it. Drizzling the liquid soap over her loofah, she cast aside all thoughts other than those of Natalia, and her mind drifted into a world of soft caresses, as she fantasized of the day when Natalia might join her in this very shower.

The small of Jen's back felt deliciously warm against the palm of Tracy's hand, as she effortlessly slid her lover's body beneath her own; hungry mouths never losing contact. Even five years after their first kiss, every kiss still felt wondrous and new; and never once was that taken for granted by either of them.

Dragging her mouth along Jen's perfectly defined jaw line, her hands explored the warm expanse of soft skin hidden beneath the faded Boston University t-shirt. "You feel so good," she whispered; the tips of her fingers tingling from the heat of Jen's body.

"Mmmm… so do you," Jen growled, her body aching for Tracy's touch. "Have I ever told you, you have magical hands?" She nipped at the skin covering Tracy's right shoulder, causing her to moan.

"I think I've heard that a time or two…" Tracy's mouth met Jen's in another slow, steamy kiss, as her hands slid around to that abdomen, trekking northward toward pert breasts again; where once again, she sought to prove that magic. She felt the low rumble of Jen's throaty groan reverberate through her body as her hands made contact, and she exhaled a groan in response. She loved the way Jen's body responded to her touch, those nipples instantaneously stiffening in her palms.

"God, I want you," Jen husked against Tracy's mouth between kisses; and the urgent need in her voice was nearly Tracy's undoing. "I'm so glad you weren't too tired tonight…"

"I'm never too tired for you…" Tracy's fingers tightened around taut nipples, as she ground her center against Jen's pulsing mound.

Jen whimpered, and arched her body into the contact, seeking more—of everything.

"Do you wanna use something tonight?" Tracy husked, delving her tongue into the warm, wet recesses of Jen's mouth, as she moved her hips in just the right motion.

"No—," Jen gasped around the tongue that tangled with her own, "I just want you," she exhaled sharply. "I just need—"

"What? What do you need, Cara?" Tracy softly enticed; her mouth against Jen's ear. "Tell me—"

"I just need you…" Jen pleaded, with another low, throaty groan. "Oh, God, Trace, I can't wait to feel your mouth on me," she growled. "I've been thinking about it all day…"

The flooding of liquid heat between her thighs warred with the sharp intake of air from Jen's mouth into Tracy's lungs, marking her response, "Why didn't you say something, Cara?" she whimpered, trembling. Catching her breath, another slow kiss followed, "I would've taken care of you at lunch," she grinned against Jen's mouth, "I'd rather eat you, than pizza, any day…"

Jen exhaled a soft laugh into Tracy's open mouth—their passion was often tinted with laughter. "You say the sweetest things…" she said breathily. "But I didn't want just a quickie in the back of the Escalade."

"You're never complained about that before," Tracy grinned.

"I know—," Jen concurred; the corners of her mouth tipping into a smirk. "Thank God our uniforms are mostly wrinkle-free."

"No shit," Tracy laughed; settling herself against Jen's right side. "So why not today?" she asked lightly, brushing short blonde locks from Jen's forehead, replacing them with feathery kisses along Jen's brow, her temple, cheeks and nose.

"I just needed… more… this time," Jen quietly confessed. She nuzzled against Tracy's ear, nipping lightly, "Please?"

Braced just above Jen with her left arm, Tracy lifted Jen's chin with a finger, and caught her lover's gaze. "Hey," she whispered, calling Jen's attention, "are you alright?" she asked, concerned. "You seem—"

The comment was halted by the gentle pressing of Jen's fingers to Tracy's lips. "I'm perfect," she quietly reassured, replacing her fingers with a soft kiss. "I just… I really need to connect with you," she whispered. "Even more now, after this evening. I—" Her voice fell silent as the backs of her fingers brushed across Tracy's cheek, and fell into the tangle of soft dark locks; gently caressing the nape of Tracy's neck. And the soft expression in the dark eyes that peered down into her own told Jen that Tracy understood exactly what she needed, and why.

Reaching across Jen's body to the nightstand, Tracy tapped the switch on the base of the lamp, extinguishing its light. And then all that was left was the soft glow of firelight dancing in the hearth across the room—it was one of the things they loved most about the master suite; so many memories having been made right there on the floor in front of that fire.

Holding her close, Tracy covered her in whispered promises and breathless kisses—across her brow, along her cheek, and down the delicate slope of her neck, before returning to bathe soft lips in tender kisses.

Jen whimpered softly as Tracy's mouth moved across her skin, and her lips trembled when Tracy kissed her.

And then, cupping Jen's chin in the curve of her hand, Tracy's fingers splayed out across her cheek, lightly caressing silky skin, as rich mocha eyes fell into seas of sparkling blue. She loved the way those eyes flickered in the firelight; like sunlight dancing on water. "I love you, Jennifer," she whispered softly; their gaze never faltering. "I can't even begin to tell you how much…"

"Then, show me…" came the quiet entreaty, followed by a coiling of sexual anticipation in her abdomen that sent shockwaves of desire flowing downward toward her center, like a rolling electrical pulse. Her body trembled, and Tracy caught her in a tight embrace, steadying her, even as her own heart fluttered in her chest at the memory of the first time Jen had whispered those words to her. Released on a breathy moan, those two words—show me—had opened the door to the most sensual night of lovemaking—a night, the splendor of which had been relived many, many nights hence; and Tracy found herself lost there, suspended in the past for a fleeting moment before Jen caught her attention again.

Exhaling a satisfied moan at the need-fulfilling contact of their bodies, Jen's fingers slipped beneath the fabric of Tracy's t-shirt, effortlessly drawing her from the past back into the present—to the woman whose sinuous hands now caressed the warm skin of her lower back.

Leaning on her left elbow, Tracy pulled Jen impossibly closer, her right knee sliding between Jen's legs, her thigh nestling against the warm center. Her right hand wandered, slipping under the soft t-shirt; fingers creating a light tingling sensation as they slowly explored the bare skin of her lover's left shoulder and upper back.

A whispered request from Jen soon found them on their knees in the middle of the bed, t-shirts quickly cast aside; Mozart having lodged his vehement protest at being unceremoniously covered with Tracy's discarded wears.

They laughed together at the little Norwegian Prince's feisty objections, and then Tracy was kissing her again; slow, sensuous kisses that left her yearning for more, as long, lithe fingers tangled into soft blonde locks.

The heat between them intensified when Jen's hands found their way to the curvaceous wonder of Tracy's breasts. Cradling them in her palms, she marveled at their weight in her hands, as she gently caressed them; her thumbs enticing already-taut nipples to stand at attention.

Literally growling at the contact, Tracy's skin tingled beneath those fingertips, and her groin clenched in visceral anticipation, as more liquid passion pooled between her legs. Abruptly breaking away from their kiss, Tracy leaned down, taking Jen's left breast into her mouth; sucking hard.

Jen gasped and groaned, nearly climaxing from the intensity of the contact; and the unmistakable scent of their growing arousal swiftly rose between them.

Tracy reveled in how perfectly the mound of soft flesh fit into her mouth, and in the way Jen's nipple felt, rock-hard against the back of her tongue. She groaned against pliant flesh, and gave it another hard suck for good measure, before releasing it as quickly as it had been captured.

Jen's whimper of protest was quickly swallowed by the reclaiming of her mouth in an insistent kiss. She moaned into their kiss, and her arms wrapped tightly around Tracy's body, as Tracy effortlessly settled them into the pillow-top mattress again. Nipples brushed lightly, their bare breasts pillowing together like pieces of a puzzle, as Tracy's body spread out partially atop Jen's; their mouths never parting. Tracy swallowed more sounds of increasing arousal, and then her mouth left a trail of warm wetness in its wake, as she kissed her way down the taut cord of muscles in Jen's neck once again. And when she reached the fluttering pulse point, she lingered, feeling her lover's pulse racing beneath her mouth, before moving her exploration toward bare shoulders and on to pert breasts and nipples that strained, begging for her rapt attention.

Slowly, tenderly, she loved them, sweet, velvety kisses gently caressing the dusty-rose areolas surrounding Jen's straining nipples. Her tongue swirled around the taut peaks of her lover's breasts, her exploration culminating in the capturing of one, then the other within the warm recesses of her mouth.

Jen moaned softly, as alternately, Tracy teased with light flicks of her tongue; then gentle, rhythmic suckling, as she reveled in the sensation of pleasuring her lover's enticing breasts. The first time they made love, Jen had worried the petite size of her breasts would leave Tracy yearning for more; but her fears had quickly been assuaged, as Tracy declared the sensitive mounds a perfect palm and mouthful.

The intensity of Jen's responses increased in direct proportion to Tracy's tender loving of her breasts; sending waves of liquid passion surging through their veins. Fingers tangling in soft dark locks, a blonde head fell back, hips stirring in time with the slow, measured rhythm of Tracy's mouth on her nipples; causing Tracy to intensify the pressure and pace of her tongue against those sensitive nubs.

When Jen's moans turned throaty from the combined stimulation of the avid mouth and tongue on her breasts, Tracy returned to the silky softness of mulberry lips. Their kisses were long, and deep, and slow, as she captured Jen's tongue, sucking lightly; taking their shared arousal into overdrive.

Jen reached out with her own tongue, seeking and finding its partner, as her eyes fell into the warmth of Tracy's gaze. Then, mouths agape, hot breath lingering, tongues danced; lightly touching, tangling, as breathing grew more labored and desire blazed in their eyes.

Breaking away from their kiss, slowly Tracy's mouth and tongue traveled, brushing delicate kisses across her lover's taut, alluring abs, down along the curve of her pelvic bone to where it slipped beneath panties, wet with Jen's arousal; before turning northward again.

Relaxing under Tracy's touch, darkening blue eyes fluttered closed, as she moaned softly at the contact. Shifting her body slightly to allow Tracy greater access, long, lithe fingers effortlessly entwined in soft dark locks, gently massaging.

Continuing her slow exploration, Tracy edged along Jen's left side into the curve of her back; sinuous hands following, gently caressing along the path where the warmth of her mouth had recently crossed. An appreciative grin spread across her lips, as she felt the muscles in Jen's abdomen undulate and twitch under her caress. Lightly, her tongue teased Jen's bellybutton, eliciting a sharp intake of air, as Jen succumbed to the manipulations of her lover's hands and tongue; the subsequent surge of liquid desire that rushed through her veins, nearly causing her to climax.

Finally, reaching her ultimate destination, Tracy nuzzled and brushed gentle kisses against the soaked fabric of Jen's panties; drawing in the heady scent of her arousal. She felt drunk with desire, even as she elicited throaty groans of pleasure from Jen.

At Tracy's urging, Jen lifted her hips, and the thin, sodden barrier was quickly tossed aside. Then, Tracy's smile and the gentle nudging of long, lithe legs sent a tacit message, and Jen instinctively bent them at the knee, planting her heels firmly on the mattress.

Lightly kissing the slickness of Jen's thighs, the muscles rippled against Tracy's lips, urging her closer to the ecstasy that awaited her. Jen was wide open, waiting for Tracy, and God, her mons was beautiful, with its perfectly trimmed patch of downy blonde; and her center, so soft, and pink, and swollen with need. So close now, Tracy could no longer resist. Slowly, slowly she made love to her with tender open-mouthed kisses and feather-light brushes of her tongue, the same way she often kissed Jen's mouth. It was sweet, delicious torture, and Jen's hips began to roll, surging upward to meet Tracy's mouth again and again.

Soft, husky moans of pleasure billowed out from deep within Jen's chest, as that expert tongue moved through warm wetness; teasing, tracing, pleasuring each crevice and fold. Damn, this woman knew how to love her!

Holding Jen's hips in place then, Tracy concentrated on the packed bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. The more she nipped and licked at the quivering organ, the more erratically it began to pulse against her mouth, until finally, Jen whimpered out a plea; begging for release.

Tracy didn't make her wait long. With the expert precision of a lover who knew her body well, she brought her to climax; holding her there until her cries of pleasure turned to sated moans and babbled words of appreciation, and her body fell limp against their bed.

And finally, her face and fingers wet with Jen's passion, Tracy tenderly nuzzled, then kissed Jen's sweet, wet center one more time. Her tongue snaked out; the tip lightly teasing the top of Jen's slit, causing her center to clench again, as Tracy's own belly flip-flopped at the response. Then she kissed Jen's inner thigh, feeling the muscles quiver beneath her lips. And when those lips departed, they left Jen's flesh burning in their wake, as she moved up that long, lithe body, claiming Jen's mouth in a slow, simmering kiss.

When the kiss ended, and their breathing returned to normal, Tracy wrapped herself around Jen's body, holding her from behind. She nuzzled into her neck, as her hand fell instinctively to Jen's center. "I love the way you feel beneath my fingertips," she whispered; her fingers lightly tickling the soft, damp tendrils between Jen's legs, as she kissed her lover's bare shoulder.

Jen rewarded her with a soft moan, as she shifted her hips, pressing into Tracy's hand.

Tracy responded by gliding her hand along the silky contour of Jen's center, slipping further between her legs, where she allowed her fingertips to tickle and tease just a little more.

Jen rewarded her with another low moan. God, it was so pleasurable, and she had silently chastised herself more than a few times for having put Tracy off for so long when it came to sex. "Sex with you is so amazing," she murmured. "You satisfy needs in me that I didn't even know existed."

Smiling against Jen's shoulder, Tracy kissed the smooth skin again. "I could say the same of you," she whispered. She pulled the covers over their bodies, snuggling into the warmth of Jen's body. "I think that makes us a perfect match."

Grasping Tracy's free hand, Jen intertwined their fingers, kissing them softly. "Mmm… there's no more perfect person in this world for me," she whispered sleepily; her eyes fluttering closed. And as she drifted off to sleep, her only awareness was the warmth of Tracy's breath against her skin, and the light sensation of those fingertips, gently caressing her in the place they both loved most.

After straightening up the sitting room and checking on Emma, Natalia made a quick trip downstairs to the front desk to grab one of their complimentary toothbrushes and a new razor. She knew Olivia had left a stash of her own personal hygiene items and a few of Emma's things in the suite for emergencies, so she only really needed to worry about herself. Anything else they might need, she could retrieve in the morning.

There were sly glances and knowing grins from several employees as she approached the front desk; but she simply smiled, and continued on. Grinning sheepishly at Jonathan, she collected the needed items; knowing exactly what he was thinking. She thought she might actually blush. And then she decided the best way to handle the innuendo was to ignore it, and carry on with business. So she chatted briefly with him about the errors in that morning's audit report, explaining that he should work only the numbers from that day, and that she and Jennifer would reconcile the reports the following morning. Nodding, he acknowledged her instructions, and they bid one another goodnight.

Returning to the suite, she crept in, quietly closing the door, lest the hotelier fuss at her for not having just called the front desk for delivery. She knew if she had called down to guest services for the required items, they would have been at the door before she could even hang up the phone. That was their job, after all; and any request from the hotelier's private suite was handled with the utmost urgency. But they were her staff, not her servants; there was a difference for Natalia, and she felt wrong taking advantage of the service. Someday, she supposed she might get over that; but for now, her conscience simply wouldn't allow the indulgence.

While Natalia waited for Olivia to finish in the bathroom, she made her a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows—a soothing treat to help her relax and take any remaining chill from her bones. As Olivia exited the bathroom, Natalia handed her the mug, receiving a quiet "thank you," followed by a kiss of appreciation from the hotelier. And then Olivia was on her way to the sitting room with a bright smile on her face, and a mug of steaming hot chocolate in her hand. A girl couldn't ask for more…

Entering the steam-filled room, Natalia immediately noticed that Olivia's suit had been hung neatly on a hanger on the back of the door, and the wet towel that would have ordinarily been thrown on the floor, was folded and hanging on the towel rack to dry. Score one for change, Natalia thought to herself. Smiling, she reached into the shower, turning the faucet to a moderately hot setting. As the water quickly warmed to the perfect temperature, she stripped off her clothes, folding them neatly, and setting them aside. And finally, she stepped into the fall of water, allowing the heated spray to melt away the stresses of the long, emotionally-charged day.

As the water cascaded down her body, she reached across the shower, grabbing the bottle of Olivia's signature body wash—the one that made Olivia's skin so soft, her scent so musky, yet so distinctly feminine in the same breath. Everything about the woman was sensual and alluring, and Natalia was at a loss as to what to do with such luxurious amenities. As she lathered up a washcloth, she wondered what it would feel like to have Olivia there with her—to feel the warmth of Olivia's mouth, or the tenderness of those strong, soft hands, caressing her body under the heat of cascading water.

The soapy washcloth wended its way across the soft swell of her breasts, and her entire body flushed with heat at the memory of Olivia's mouth kissing her there just hours before. Sitting there in Watershed, the soft, wet warmth of that mouth against her skin had suffused her body in a swirl of tingling, vibrating heat. The washcloth dragged across her nipples, causing them to pebble. Natalia's eyes fell closed as she moaned softly. Never in her life had she been so acutely aware of her own body; of the sensations it was capable of experiencing, the responses that could be evoked from within it, of the possibilities it possessed for pleasure. Olivia had given that to her without even really touching her.

She had never showered with a lover before—not that lovers had been all that plentiful. There had only been Nicky really—at this point, she counted Frank a walking lapse in judgment, not a lover—and Nicky had never suggested such a thing. Other than Nastassia when they were children, she had never bathed with another human being. Not even at school after gym class. Not in Catholic school. There they were taught that their bodies were vile, shameful things that would lead them astray, especially if exposed to others; and nearly every inch of skin had been covered in one form or another—exposed only to oneself in the privacy of the shower stalls in the locker room.

The washcloth traveled the length of her taut abdomen, as she continued imagining, fantasizing. Another low moan sprang from the back of her throat, as the washcloth grazed "down there." Natalia could only imagine how good it would feel to have Olivia's hand guiding the expedition. Her body flushed even hotter, as she felt the evidence of her arousal, warm and slippery between her thighs; and not for the first time that day, she wondered where such thoughts had come from—and how she might go about turning fantasy into reality.

"Anything I can help you with?" Natalia offered, as she padded into the room fifteen minutes later; wavy, raven locks still wet from her shower.

"Nah, I'm just looking over a few of these last-minute cost projections," Olivia answered, casting a brief glance toward Natalia. She smiled at her, receiving fully-bloomed dimples in return. "I wanna be prepared for anything the finance committee throws at me tomorrow."

"Are you concerned about the renovations running over cost?" Natalia asked.

"No, not at all," Olivia said casually. "If anything, I think Lewis Construction will bring the project in under budget," she reported, taking care not to mention Josh's name directly. There was no need in adding salt to a wound they were trying to heal. "They've always had a firm handle on materials costs, but they usually finish early, which will save us on labor."

"Really," Natalia said, surprised.

"Yeah, I can generally count on anywhere from two to five percent savings on labor with them, depending upon the project. Doesn't sound like a lot, until you consider project costs often run in the millions."

"No wonder they're your first choice," Natalia reasoned.

"Well, that, and I know they won't purposely underbid just to get the contract, and then cut corners to make good an under-inflated bid."

Natalia offered a warm smile. "It's good to have people you trust, partnering with you in business."

"Yes, it is," Olivia agreed, with a confident smile. There was something covert in the undertones of that smile—something Natalia would come to understand in time.

Natalia navigated the furniture, marking a path to Olivia; and reaching down she removed the folder full of spreadsheets from Olivia's hands. "No more work," she declared; earning a smile from the hotelier. She loved it when Natalia was bossy.

"Is it time for play?" Olivia said suggestively; lifting an eyebrow.

"No," Natalia chuckled, "but it is almost time for bed," she decreed. "I know you're exhausted; and frankly, I am too." She winced inwardly at her choice of words. Anything that evoked the memory of Frank just plain nauseated her.

She encouraged Olivia to sit upright, and squeezed behind her; slipping her right leg down alongside Olivia's. Wrapping her arms around her from behind, Natalia slowly brushed her lips across Olivia's face and neck, concentrating on that sensitive area just beneath her ear; extracting a series of soft moans for her efforts. She continued, complementing her kisses with soft murmurings, telling Olivia how beautiful she was, and how much she loved her, until finally, Olivia turned in her arms; capturing Natalia's mouth with her own.

Natalia leaned back against the arm of the sofa, pulling Olivia against her, as their kiss continued, insistent, yet not demanding.

When they were finally able to part, Olivia snuggled into Natalia's embrace; her cheek resting against Natalia's chest. "Thank you for a wonderful dinner, Liv," Natalia said softly, as she gently ran her hand across the hotelier's upper back.

"It was nothing, really. Just my way of saying thank you," Olivia explained.

"Thank you, for what?" Natalia asked.

"For listening to me today, and for not judging me," Olivia said quietly. She glanced up, meeting Natalia's eyes. "Plus, I wanted a way to tell you how much I enjoyed just being with you today. I liked feeling so close to you…" she whispered, gently brushing the back of her forefinger along Natalia's cheek.

Natalia smiled under her touch, causing a dimple to form just beneath Olivia's finger. "I liked it too," she whispered. "And I want more of it; more of you…" she said candidly. She wasn't talking about sex, but Olivia misinterpreted the comment, and the panic began to rise.

Olivia swallowed hard. She thought Natalia finally understood, and yet, here they were, having the same conversation again. "Y-you do…" she stuttered; not really knowing what else to say. She wasn't certain whether she was asking a question because she was intrigued by the notion, despite her rampant fears; or panicking again at the very thought of it. She was even more uncertain as to how she felt about the prospect either way.

The faint hint of nervousness in Olivia's eyes, in the crooked smile on her face, reminded Natalia of their mutual tacit trepidation. She reached out, taking Olivia's face in her hands. "Would you relax, please," she said softly, more directive than question. "I'm not talking about sex…" Images evoked from her shower-induced thoughts warred with her rationality. Well, she wasn't talking about just sex, so it wasn't a complete fabrication, she reasoned.

"You… you're not…" Olivia exhaled, by way of clarification; not certain whether she was more disappointed or relieved.

She closed her eyes against the intensity of Natalia's gaze, her internal wavering beginning to weigh heavily on her, frustrating her in ways she never would've deemed possible. It was a dangerous game she had been playing with herself; this teetering on the precipice of fear and desire, and it was beginning to take its toll.

But what was it, really, that she feared?

That was the question that haunted her. The question for which she knew the answer—an answer she did not want to know. Admitting to such vulnerability within herself terrified her, and the thought of such an admission to Natalia seemed akin to willfully jumping into the abyss. Olivia Spencer did not surrender that kind of control.

"No—," Natalia answered softly, "I'm talking about just being with you, feeling so… connected with you…" she whispered, leaning close, nuzzling the hotelier's cheek. "I've never been this… intimate… with anyone, Olivia," she quietly confessed, "and it has nothing to do with sex…"

Olivia nodded her head, a wobbly smile toying with the corner of her mouth. She was loath to admit it, even to herself, but it was this newfound intimacy that scared her the most.

Olivia Spencer knew Sex. She knew what to do with sex. It was animal instinct for her—something that resounded within her, at the most fundamental level of her existence. And even if Natalia was terrible at it, Olivia had no worries, at least so far as her own satisfaction. She had been with many of what she deemed considerate lovers, but not since Alex, had a man been so attuned to her body, so focused on pleasing her. Not even Josh, who had been designated her favorite ex-husband for more reasons than one, and whom she had to admit came a close second to Alex with regard to her sexual pleasure, had not been as attentive to her as she desired him to be; and thus, she had long-since become accustomed to seeing to her own needs, both alone and with a partner.

After Alex, and given her history with Jeffrey, this forced attentiveness to her own physical needs was what had ultimately merged sex with control for Olivia; thus making it the strongest source of empowerment for the young woman who struggled to regain her dignity, to reclaim her life, after all the loss she had endured within her relatively short lifetime.

But that was sex, and as Natalia had so wisely tutored, gratuitous sex had nothing to do with intimacy.

Olivia knew nothing of intimacy, except that which she had shared with Natalia over the weeks and months since her transplant, as they gradually drew closer together; and within the past week, in particular. She knew that within the deepest parts of her, she craved more of this intimacy with Natalia, the way she craved all of life's essential elements; but in the same moment, it terrified her beyond all logical reason. Emotions have nothing to do with logic, she thought, reminding herself of the wisdom she had imparted to Natalia not so very long ago.

And yet, there it was; this battle within her—Emotions crying one thing, as her mind screamed another. How could the two not be somehow related, when they pulled so insistently against one another? The battle threatened to tear her into pieces, but no matter how much she fought it, the truth remained unchanged: the one thing that she desired more than anything… was also that which terrified her the most.

She had told Natalia that she wanted to take things slowly because nearly all of her past relationships had started with sex, and ended in heartache. This was certainly true, both of her history, and of the foundation for her current trepidation. But if she were honest with herself; something which she did not want to be, at least not at the present moment, she would have to admit that this was only the tip of a very deep, daunting iceberg. Her fears were firmly anchored beneath that iceberg, tied to her by the twisting cord of her past; and only the most innocuous of those fears were visible, lurking just beneath the surface of her chaotic pattern of thoughts and behaviors.

Still holding Olivia's face in her hands, Natalia gazed intently into the crushed liquidity of those darkening jade eyes, as if attempting to read her thoughts.

Olivia shuddered under the depth of intimacy in nothing more than locking eyes with this woman. She drew in a deep, cleansing breath; then exhaled slowly, steadying herself. "I've never… shared this kind of intimacy with anyone either, Natalia, and… I want more of it. I want more of you, but… at the same time it… it really scares me…" she whispered in confession; her eyes narrating the full depth of the story, while still managing to shield the specific content.

More than anything, Natalia wanted to ask her what it was that scared her so much. But she knew better. She knew that Olivia would talk when she was ready, and prying would only cause her to retreat further into the protective shell where she hid her deepest, darkest thoughts and emotions.

Natalia leaned in, tenderly pressing her lips to Olivia's, bringing a modicum of comfort to her.

And when their lips parted, she found Olivia's eyes again, locking into place. "I'm scared, too, Olivia," she whispered in confession, "but I'm not gonna let that stop me. I want this with you. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life… And I'm not gonna let anyone or anything take you away from me," she said resolutely. She smiled softly then, her thumbs gently caressing Olivia's cheeks, "So if that means I have to keep us grounded, while you grapple with your fears for a little while longer, then that's what I'm gonna do," she said determinedly, without even a hint of recrimination in her tone, "because I love you, Olivia Spencer… It's as simple as that."

All Olivia could do was gaze at her in awe, as tears flooded her eyes. "Where did this resolve come from?" she asked, simply amazed by the clarity and resoluteness in Natalia's voice, in her words.

"When I realized what God's big plan was for us, I knew it would take nothing short of a miracle for you to feel for me, what I felt for you," Natalia explicated.

Olivia opened her mouth to argue, but Natalia halted her with the pressing of two fingers to her lips, as she continued, "Not that there was anything wrong with me, but because I know you've never been attracted to a woman before, and it just seemed so impossible that you could ever want me," she was quick to clarify.

Olivia didn't ask how she knew. Her history, tainted as it was, spoke loudly enough for itself. She offered Natalia a faint smile, and remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"I've never been attracted to a woman before, either, you know that," Natalia said, shrugging her shoulders, "and it really freaked me out at first. Ultimately, though… I had the advantage here, because as I struggled and prayed all those months, against what I was feeling for you, God slowly revealed His plan to me. And once I understood it, I promised Him that, if He would bring you to me, if He would give me that miracle, then I would never take it, or you, for granted…"

Reaching out, Olivia tenderly tucked a wayward raven lock behind Natalia's right ear. "It's funny, y'know, how even in our denial, we were so perfectly in sync," she recognized. "We were both freaked out in the beginning, and then, as we came to terms with our own feelings, neither of us thought the other could ever love us. You loved God, and I loved men, and never the twain shall meet—the logic made perfect sense…"

"But emotions have nothing to do with logic…" they said in unison; then laughed together at the shared memory of that conversation, and the deeply personal meaning it held for the two of them.

Natalia brushed her lips against Olivia's. "I'm glad we threw logic out the door, Liv," she said softly.

Olivia smiled at her. "So am I…"

They talked for a while after that—innocuous things for the most part. There had been a joke about how Olivia owed the infamous swear jar some serious cash after her colorful use of language throughout the day. To which Olivia aptly pointed out she was not alone. Natalia conceded that it was true, and they laughed together; agreeing that any and all money collected would be used to fund playtime on Martha's Vineyard. And though it was still more than two months away, they were both looking very forward to the trip.

Half an hour later, they were crawling into Olivia's bed; both of them thoroughly exhausted. In her sleep, Emma had rolled to the far side of the bed, leaving more than enough room for Olivia and Natalia to join her.

Crawling into the middle, Natalia tenderly kissed Emma's cheek; then curled up next to her, waiting for Olivia, who wasn't far behind.

Snuggling up with Natalia, Olivia brushed those long raven tresses back, revealing Natalia's graceful neck to her. She dropped soft kisses along Natalia's neck, making her way to a delectable earlobe, where she nibbled, then paused, whispering a barely audible, "I love you," before draping an arm around her love, spooning her from behind.

Natalia reveled in every kiss, every touch, as Olivia's fingers met the silky warmth of Natalia's abdomen, gently caressing her there. It wasn't a sexual caress; but more a comforting, reassuring one—one that said, "I love you. I'm here, and I'll never leave you."

Olivia closed her eyes, basking in the closeness of Natalia; in the deep sense of contentment she felt with this woman in her arms. There was still so much that needed tending; so many unanswered questions; so many decisions that, despite her new reality, she could never take back, could never reconcile. But still, Olivia felt a sense of peace that she hadn't felt just a few hours previous. Natalia, with her comforting spirit, her unshakable optimism, had given that to her. She had given her that, and so much more… Olivia Spencer had always thought contentment would be scary. In that very moment, she realized, she couldn't have been more wrong.

And finally, the steady cadence of Olivia's breathing told Natalia that she had drifted off to sleep. Natalia shifted in her arms, turning to face her; and as she laid there, her eyes slowly traced the soft contours of Olivia's face—she was so breathtakingly beautiful when she slept. In the midst of that thought, Natalia's lips adopted a soft, knowing smile. She reached out, tenderly brushing a lock of chestnut curls away from Olivia's face, as she whispered to her, "I know you're scared, Olivia. I'm scared too. But I know everything is gonna work out for us. I have faith…" And then she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep in Olivia's arms.

The Dance was, at times, tender, and at others, antagonistic. It was sometimes fast, sometimes slow, and oftentimes, sensual; fulfilling on levels neither of them fully understood. But no matter the cadence of the dance, it was always filled with unbridled passion. It was the story of their life, of their undeniable love. It was the very essence of Otalia.

TBC…

FINALLY, on to Chapter 7—their first official "date"!