If you ain't got someone
You're afraid to lose
Everybody needs just one
Someone to tell them the truth
Maybe I'm a dreamer
But I still believe
I believe in hope
I believe the change can get us off our knees
"What Do You Got?"
Bon Jovi
May 29, 2012
Echo Park, Los Angeles, California
Sarah woke up feeling hungover. Her tongue felt thick and dry, adhering to the roof of her mouth. Both of her temples pounded, and her throat ached when she swallowed. Her eyes felt gritty, burning, swollen in their sockets as she squinted into the morning light that traced lacy patterns across the blanket tucked around her. The dried salt on her eyelashes both sparkled and blurred to hazy dots in her vision. Tears, she thought, suddenly remembering.
Apparently she had woken from sleep walking, somehow outside alone in the rain. Her body remembered the cold, shivering again despite the warm envelope of blankets currently surrounding her. Deep, heart-rending tears, pouring from her eyes as Chuck held her.
He was still holding her. His arm was underneath her, pressing her against him, the warmth from his body suffusing her skin. His arms were too tensile for him to be sleeping, she thought. She shifted her head, to look at his face. He was lucid but pensive. She estimated he had been awake for a long time. He looked like he had been crying for hours, she thought with a pang. His eyes were dry now, but washed out and bleary.
"Chuck, did you sleep?" she asked, her voice scratching its way out of her burning throat.
"For about an hour. But I woke up, and I couldn't fall back to sleep," he whispered, his voice hushed like it hurt to vocalize. His eyes were haunted, empty.
Hours had passed, the rain slowing to a stop as the darkness gradually paled to gray as the sun rose behind an overcast sky. Awake and troubled, he had stayed still, to not disturb her peaceful sleep. She needed the calm, after the horrors she had recalled last night. He had always known this would be hard, helping her build her life back, to put all the shattered pieces back together. His sister had not let him in any way underestimate the strenuous nature of dealing with the trauma, all of it, even things he could never have imagined might have happened to her. Sadly, he had to acknowledge the constant strain of holding her together like this was starting to take its toll on him.
And that thought had rallied him, making him sick to his stomach with disgust, directed inward. He promised he would be there for her. She had been the one to live through the horrors he couldn't begin to imagine. What right did he have to cringe away from her pain, when she needed him? He knew he would carry any burden, no matter the weight or the cost, for her. Endure any and all amount of pain, to spare her from it. He had done enough backing away from that to last him the rest of his life. More than ever before, she needed to be able to talk to him, and have him listen to her. He owed her that.
His eyes stayed locked with hers, his face still like the surface of a bottomless sea. No words passed between them, just emotion, running back and forth across that same invisible wire that connected them at their hearts. They were acknowledging the night, the pain, and the truths that they both now knew.
"I think we should call my sister right away. To let her know…what happened. And to get some help, Sarah," he added, tears standing in the corners of his eyes. "She has some contacts that General Beckman gave her, before she left California. Company psychiatrists she authorized to see you still. We need help," he stressed, running his thumb across her cheek.
She noted his word choice, including himself always. He was here, with her, helping her through this. But he was right, she accepted silently, if only for the fact that she knew she was slowly wearing him down, disturbing his sleep, grating at his peace of mind, feeling as if she were killing him, a little bit at a time. She couldn't stand one more minute of his pain, pain she believed she was exacerbating.
"Ok," she said meekly.
He sighed, relieved. "Sarah, you need to talk to me, too. Go back and suss the memories, like we've always done. Even if they're really bad. Please, tell me what you remembered," he insisted.
His eyes never left her face, his whole body aching as he watched her anguish twist her features. She struggled to control her breathing, closing her eyes and eventually resting her head back on her pillow. The fact that she chose not to rest against him stood out, coldly stabbing into him. He reached down and grabbed her hand, heartened as she squeezed firmly.
She waited many seconds before she started talking. "I'm groggy. Drugged, I think. Tranq dart," she said, hushed like it had just dawned on her. "My hands are tied, and the light hurts, like ice picks in my eyes. I can't see who's there. Until I hear his voice," she added with a growl, her voice dripping with acid.
"He tells me I'm going to help him get the Intersect. I tell him I will never help him. He tells me I won't have a choice. That he knows I lose memories when I flash." Her voice intensified, becoming desperate. "He knows how to force me to flash. I keep telling myself to close my eyes, but I can't look away. He forces my head up, so I have to look." Tears escaped from under her closed eyelids. "He wants me to forget you. Every time I flash the thoughts in my head are gone when it stops. It hurts…and I'm screaming. I must black out. He wakes me up and starts all over again. Then I'm in a different place. But I'm tied up the same. I hear him say he wants to use me…to kill you. That I will do it and I won't be able to stop him from making me do it."
She was silent for a long time, and he felt her shaking. "I remember there's a knife…in the same pocket as the beacon. The beacon is gone," she wailed, immersed in the same despair. "I can't cut the rope myself without him seeing…but I can slit…my wrist at this angle. The blood will accumulate under my cuff, a long time before he sees. By then it will be too late. It'll be slow, but it will work. Before I forget everything." Her words became mangled, her voice saturated with tears. "All that's left in my head is the picture of your face. Oh god, I'm so sorry…I can't even tell you goodbye…or that I love you…" Heavy sobbing stole her voice.
He had to turn his head, struggling to breathe as the tears overwhelmed him. All of his insides had turned liquid, roiling through him, burning like lava and scorching everything in its path. His hand ached, pinched together hard, her fingernails breaking into his skin, but he never flinched. He felt the tears running across his temples, accumulating near his ears. It was taking all of his strength to stay calm, even as he felt his heart shatter to pieces inside his chest. He forced it, constantly telling himself this was for her, that she needed to tell him this, to set it free, so she could start to heal.
"He sees what I'm trying to do and he kicks me in the chest. The chair tips back and I hit my head on the floor and I'm unconscious again." Her breath shuddered. When she spoke again, she was frightened, her voice much higher pitched. "I wake up and I'm in my hotel room. My old hotel room? It feels old…but I live here. I sit up and the room is spinning. Why am I alone? Someone…is supposed to be here. The sun is too bright. I have on light blue pajamas…I'm sleeping on top of the bedspread. I don't remember putting them on…getting into bed…" The fear becomes absolute. "Or anything. At all." He felt her let go of his hand, sitting upright quickly, holding the blanket up to her chest, wiping the tears from her cheeks. She rocked back and forth slowly, in a twitchy, uneven rhythm.
After minutes of silence stretched, she sat forward, pulling her knees up towards her chest, adjusting the blanket again. The sigh rattling inside her chest, she looked up at the ceiling before she started talking again. "Listen, Chuck, there's something I didn't tell you…before," she said pointedly, turning her face to look at him. "Things were so…weird…and then strained…and you were so…"
He sat up quickly, his face ashen under layered streaks of tears. "What?"
He looked so panicked, she had to look away before she continued. "I went to the doctor, before I left California. Not a regular doctor, not like you're thinking. Someone I knew through back channels. After I came to say goodbye to you. I was worried…about…probably the same thing you've been worried about. I felt…strange." There was more she could have said, but she couldn't find the words to say them. She decided a graphic description would only make him feel worse, so she stayed quiet, hoping he had at least a vague idea what she meant.
He felt his heart beating in his mouth as he waited, even as he had to lean closer to hear her, as she lowered the volume of her voice, each word falling like lead as it left her lips. "Did we…were we…" Language was insufficient at the moment, the blaring contrast between the best and worst case scenario shutting down any possible word choice that could describe those interactions as the same thing.
"Yes," he said, a quick puff of air, followed by labored panting that he sucked down. "About an hour before you were taken."
He heard the sound, gurgling in her throat, a relieved cry. She had been afraid to ask him, afraid of how she would react if the answer was no. "It was a little more than 72 hours of me not being able to remember…so they ran some tests, but they couldn't run everything. Any DNA would have degraded." Fresh tears fell from her eyes. "He told me there was no evidence of trauma," she added in a shaky voice. "That doesn't mean…you know. But it makes it less likely."
He felt like he had been punched in the throat, tears in his eyes, wheezing like an anvil sat pressed against his rib cage. Every nerve fiber in his body felt like it was burning, like he had been struck by lightning. He swallowed down the sickness as he dug down deep for his inner calm. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it didn't answer any questions. Only created more, that we probably might not ever be able to answer." She looked at him, wincing and turning away as she saw the tortured pain on his face. "Because I knew it would make you feel the way you feel right now. All of it, it's too much, Chuck."
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her backward to rest against him. "That's why we need to talk to my sister. The both of us. Together," he said. She could hear his heart hammering in his chest, almost feel it against her back through her nightgown. She absorbed his strength from his embrace, surrounding herself with the calm that could only come from the knowledge that she had someone who loved her as he did. Time ticked away as they sat, quietly, together.
Eventually she felt him press his lips against her temple, while she threaded her fingers through his and pulled his arm tighter around her. The emotion swelled, crashing over her like a wave. "You were always my why," she reiterated sincerely, as from before. "But sometimes, I know now, you were my how too." She sat forward, turning her face up to look at him.
He gazed into her eyes, mesmerized. He mouthed the words, I love you, strengthless to speak at all. She pulled him down beside her, snuggling her head against his chest. Time seemed to stand still, and she counted his breaths, one after the other. He never relaxed, his winded noises never quite subsiding. "Please sleep," she pleaded. "You're exhausted."
"On one condition," he said, a gentle lightness in his tone that surprised her.
"What?" she asked suggestively.
"After we call my sister, we are getting the hell out of the apartment and actually doing something today besides grocery shopping," he said.
"Like what?" she asked curiously.
"Hmm," he thought. "Dinner. A nice long walk on the beach. Does that sound nice?"
"Perfect," she beamed. "Absolutely perfect."
"We do, uh, need groceries, though. But after that, I'm all yours, I promise," he said with a smile.
"Deal. Now please, get at least a few hours of sleep, Chuck." He sank deeply into unconsciousness as his fatigue washed over him. She kept her arms around him.
XXX
She stood still in front of the bathroom mirror, her back to Chuck as he walked back into the room to hang up his wet towel. "Any more of that and I think the state of California is going to fine us for violating the water ban—" he started, a comic lilt to his voice as he commented on the longer than normal shower they had just taken.
She turned around, her forehead creased in her concentration. She had a round plastic pill pack in her hand, shuffling it back and forth. When she looked up, she was confused. "Chuck, I don't know why I never questioned it before. Why am I on these? Don't I have up to date injections?"
His pale, still face shocked her. "You…uh…you switched. Mid-January."
"Why?" she asked innocently.
"Because…because oral contraceptives are more…flexible. Easier to stop…stop taking," he finished shakily.
"I've been taking these since I came back. In February. For some reason, I was all messed up at the end of January," she said, tilting her head, waiting for more from him.
"I know you were taking them," he affirmed quietly. "I wouldn't have allowed anything that happened…to happen…unless you were."
Her eyes shifted back down, as she nervously opened and closed the case, the soft clicking filling the silence in the room. "I just…refilled the prescription. I only had one month's supply left and when I did I had to call the doctor because the pharmacist said I'd canceled the refills."
"Right after Christmas, you thought that you could have been pregnant. You took antibiotics after a dental procedure. You told me you didn't read the…package insert," he finished softly.
Her eyes wider, she asked him, "But I wasn't, right?"
"No, no, false alarm," he sighed.
She covered her mouth, putting the pills back into the medicine cabinet. Deep in thought, she spoke slowly and deliberately. "You said…the family that we were going to raise," she quoted him, her voice breaking as the past context always accompanied those memories—him, on his knees, pleading with her, tears streaming from his eyes.
She kept her back to him, sure she had made him cry again. "You meant, like, now. Didn't you? We wanted to have a baby, didn't we?" she spun, waiting for his answer.
"That's just good spy work, right?" he scoffed bitterly. "You don't remember that at all, do you?"
"No, Chuck, I don't," she answered him sadly. "The new company, the house. That was all because of those plans, wasn't it?"
"It was. But plans change. Dreams change," he said, remembering when his sister had told him the same thing, on the eve of giving up on her own dreams for the sake of her husband's happiness.
She reached for his hand, pulling him out of the room and led him back into the bedroom. She sat, patting the bed beside her, asking him to sit beside her. Her mind was sifting through his behavior over the past few months, she could pinpoint the vagueness, the waffling he had always seemed to do. "Talk to me, Chuck," she said gently, resting her hand on his knee.
He didn't know where to begin, so he started at the beginning. "It was always hard for you, you know, to put down roots. Commit to anything. Even saying that you loved me, out loud, although I knew that you did. But we lived together, we got engaged, we got married. But you were always a little afraid, whenever having kids ever came up in conversation. It was always, sort of, a future thing. But once you thought you were pregnant, you had that idea in your head, I think it made you realize that…you weren't really afraid anymore."
"I stopped taking them, didn't I?" she asked him.
He could tell from her face, that particular fact was a recovered memory. "The day I got kidnapped," he sighed sadly.
"There's a file, with baby names on it, on my computer," she said, tears from her lower eyelids spilling down her cheeks. Also a recovered memory, he knew.
He was back in the moment, over her shoulder in the bedroom. It brought into stark contrast the cavernous emptiness in his chest, an endless longing that he still feared would never be filled. "I had to…let that go. You didn't even remember that you loved me, never mind that you wanted to have my children. It's going to take more time, if you even still would consider it–"
"I remembered that I loved you," she said passionately, her eyes penetrating to his soul as she turned to him. "And then I fell in love with you again." She touched his cheek, pulling him to her and kissing him.
His eyes reflected melancholy, his smile not quite reaching all the way to his eyes. "It's just…hard…to let go of something like that. But I will never let go of you. Of us. No matter what happens."
"Chuck, I won't lie. The thought of having a baby right now…scares the hell out of me. For a lot of reasons," she said cautiously. "If I stopped being scared, before, I'm sure…it was because I felt comfortable in my own skin. Confident that I could do it, you know, be a mother…even when I had no idea how to be."
"Sarah, when I watched you walk away from me, in the courtyard, I thought I was never going to see you again. I have never been in that much pain in my life. But you came back. And you decided to stay. Anything else, it doesn't matter. I know what it feels like to live without you. And I…can't," he said, the words grating in his throat.
The tears accumulated in her eyes, racing more quickly down her face. But could she take that away from him? Stay with him, knowing he wanted something she couldn't give him? "It's not fair to you…if that's what you really want," she wept.
He shook his head violently, several times before his voice caught up. "No, no, no, no, Sarah, stop," he said harshly. He grabbed her, crushing her into his arms. "I was avoiding this topic for this very reason. It's too much pressure right now. Can we just…you know, put this on the back burner for now?"
The feeling came creeping back in, that no matter what she did, she was destined to hurt him. But after what she had learned living with him these past few months, was that the only way to ensure she didn't hurt him was to love him, with all of her strength and trust him, with all of her heart. She reached up, encircling his neck with both arms, nodding gently.
"Get dressed, so we can call Ellie," he told her, kissing her forehead.
May 29, 2012
Los Angeles, California
"Ah..ah.." He teased, clashing forks with her as she made a move to take the last bite of his cheesecake. She laughed, the genuine warmth lighting up her face. He couldn't help but smile to himself, her happiness the balm for all his wounds. He poked the last piece, turning the fork and offering it to her across the table. She closed her mouth onto the fork, pursing her lips seductively as she pulled it cleanly off the fork.
When she was done chewing, she took a sip of wine. "This is so nice, Chuck," she gushed. "I'm so glad you suggested we do this." The entire evening–the restaurant, the food, the wine, the conversation–it was comfortable, easy, almost familiar. She was completely relaxed, enjoying a normal night with her husband.
While the waiter was clearing the table, the DJ in the restaurant bar had enticed some of the diners to get up and dance. Chuck heard the Everly Brothers' Let It Be Me. Chuck put his hand out, palm up, toward his wife. "Would you like to dance, Mrs. Bartowski?" he asked with a dashing smile.
"Why, Mr. Bartowski, that sounds fantastic," she said with a smile, sliding her hand into his.
She wore a simple black dress and heels, the skirt short but fluttering around her legs, as it fell just above her knees. Most of the couples on the floor were older, and Chuck could feel many eyes on them. Chuck held her close, her hand in his and pressed to the center of his chest, while his other hand rested on her back. She leaned into him, tucking her arm into his jacket and encircling his waist.
"Why is everyone looking at us?" she whispered.
"They are admiring my breath-takingly beautiful wife," he replied softly against her ear.
She hummed softly. "I taught you how to dance, huh?" she asked.
"Real dancing, yes. The tango, salsa, etc. I had the high school sway down pat already, mind you," he said, his voice coming from deep in his throat.
They were still dancing when the music transitioned. The DJ spoke over the microphone. "This one is a special request," he crooned. "This one is for Sarah, from Chuck."
He heard her gasp, lifting her head in surprise, as she saw him tip two fingers from his forehead toward the DJ. Her soft blush added a beautiful color to her complexion. "I tipped him," Chuck said. "Do you remember this song?" he asked.
They're playing our song
They're playing our song
Can you see the light?
Can you hear the hum?
It felt familiar. Being in his arms, the almost delicious scent of him that filled her lungs as she rested her head on his chest. She closed her eyes, seeing the picture in her mind. "Your sister's wedding," she said, tightening her grip at her excitement from the recall.
"Yes," he almost laughed, resting his face against her cheek.
Of our song
I hope they get it right
I hope we dance tonight
Before we get it wrong
She started speaking again, a soft, inflectionless string of words. "You were so sad. You thought I was leaving." He stopped, surprised, almost tripping over his feet for a moment. "I knew I should have told you sooner that I wasn't going to go. But I broke your heart, when I told you I was leaving. I didn't know the right thing to say. And then I tried, but we got interrupted."
And the seasons
Will change us new, but you're the best I've known
And you know me, I could not be stuck on you
If it weren't true
"Bryce told me…before he died," Chuck told her quietly. "I was in shock. I couldn't wrap my head around what he really was saying. I don't think it really sunk in, until it was too late."
"Did I know that?" she asked him, stumbling over his foot as she ruminated.
I was swimming
My eyes were dark 'til you woke me
And told me that opening is just the start
It was
"No," he admitted, the weight of the admission settling on him. "Do you…uh…remember being in the Intersect room after that happened?"
She shook her head, her hair fluttering gently before she rested her head back down.
"I had never seen you…react that way before. I convinced myself that you were still in love with him, that you chose him and the life he offered," he mumbled.
Now I see you 'til kingdom come you're the one I want
To see me for all the stupid shit I've done
"I cared about him," she mulled. "I only ever loved you, Chuck, in all my life," she whispered lovingly.
Soil and six feet under
Kept just like we were
Before you knew you'd know me
And you know me
He choked up, feeling like his legs were jelly, hearing her say that. "Sarah," he whispered, like a prayer against her ear.
Blooming up from the ground
Three rounds and a sound
Like whispering, "you know me.
You know me"
"You told me you wanted a real life, a normal life," she mumbled, talking to herself though she was addressing him. "I was trying to tell you that was all I ever wanted too." She smiled in wonder, feeling that again. It had been derailed, back then, she knew, but in her heart, it had always been what she wanted.
He pulled her closer, hope blooming in his chest, despite everything he had told her. He knew she would remember. It would just take time.
May 29, 2012
Oceanfront, Malibu, California
She shivered slightly, feeling the breeze as it billowed to shore from the ocean. Chuck wrapped his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder and tucking her against his body for warmth. The sun was gone, already slipped behind the horizon, but the sky still glowed crimson in a ribbon that stretched along the edge of the water as far as they could see in any direction. They had walked, hand in hand, for almost two hours, talking. He couldn't remember the last time they had done that–just talk, about something other than problems. The entire course of their marriage it had seemed had been nothing but one stressful situation after another, caused by external forces. He had at times almost forgotten that she was different now, for the more she talked to him, the more she laughed, the more she just seemed like his wife, her old self.
Now they sat, side by side on a blanket, on the deserted beach. The silence was comfortable, her closeness to him peaceful and relaxing, as the light slowly faded in the sky.
When she spoke, she startled him from the absolute silence. "You know, after I left, when I told you I needed time to think, once I was outside, I felt lost," she told him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I drove back to the hotel and changed, but I was so restless and anxious I couldn't sit still. I got back in the car, thinking that maybe a drive would help me clear my head. I drove for hours, but I ended up back here. I was surprised, because when I was driving I felt like I knew where I was going, but I didn't remember being here before. But I felt…safe. It made no sense. So I just walked to the water and sat down, listening to the waves and the sea gulls."
She adjusted herself, sliding her hips closer to him, tucking her arm around his waist. "I tried to understand what it was that I was feeling–besides feeling lost and angry, sad, scared. I realized most of the sadness, all of the anger, was because I felt like something had been taken away from me. But…I just missed you. Every time I was near you, I could see how much pain you were in. I couldn't figure it out–that you being in pain was hurting me. I never had that kind of connection with another person in my life. And then I heard you, walking behind me. You said you hoped I was here. I knew it was you, a long time before you sat next to me. I didn't realize how much I was actually missing you, until you were there, and the longing went away."
He touched her cheek, turning her face up to look at him. How was it possible that every time she looked at him, she loved him more? The absolute adoration in his eyes was riveting, humbling. Hypnotized by him, she sat forward and kissed him, probably more passionately than what was appropriate for a public place, but he responded vigorously nonetheless. Company was only a scattered few people, some with dogs, meandering at a safe distance.
They continued kissing, while the sky above them darkened to black. Cloud cover blocked out the moon and the stars, and a slowly settling fog blotted out the distant lights that ran along the shore. Sarah hadn't realized how dark it had become until she opened her eyes. The night surrounded them, inky black, so dark she could barely see what was in front of her. With no ambient light, all she had to orient herself was the sound of the ocean, sounding so distant as the tide had been going out the entire time they'd been here.
She felt him more than she could see him, though they were touching. She found his mouth again, gently pushing on his chest to lay him down on the blanket. He pulled her with him, threading his hands into her hair and holding her head. "Have we ever made love in a public place like this?" she asked, her voice husky as she murmured against his lips.
He gasped, then swallowed. "Not like this, technically no," he said, a chuckle in his voice, though she couldn't see the smirk she knew was on his face. '"In an airplane, yes. In the supply closet in Castle, yes. In the Home Theater Room, yes. Falling out of an airplane–well, almost. And that was an accident, one which Casey said scarred him for life."
She giggled, then kissed him again, lingering, tasting his coffee and his after dinner mint as he opened his mouth, flicking his tongue against hers. "Our honeymoon, maybe, but that beach was private," he said, out of breath from kissing her so hard.
"I kept having these…vivid…dreams about…being with you. Only the bed was rocking back and forth, like we were on a train," she said, in between kisses.
"That wasn't a real honeymoon," he told her. "Just three years worth of frustration relieved in a few days. It's the longest I've ever stayed in bed though, aside from having the flu."
"France? Or Switzerland?" she asked curiously.
"Yes," he answered. "After the Eiffel Tower."
He had been talking, but she had been hard at work, undoing his belt, opening his pants. He shifted ever so slightly to accommodate her.
Pitch dark was a new sensation. He felt the night air, cold on his exposed skin, in sharp contrast to the warmth where her legs touched him. He felt the fabric of her dress tickle as she slid across his hips, as he reached to touch her, feeling the warm moisture as she moved ever so slightly.
They were alone because of the dark, but vulnerable and out in the open just the same. She was silent, feeling the depth of his touch, biting on her lip to keep from crying out at the sensation. He knew to be silent as well, his only acknowledgement of his pleasant surprise at how aroused she was already just a hitch in his breath, then a long sigh as he luxuriated in the feel of her, waiting for him, swollen, warm and wet.
She kissed him, moving as the warm pressure filled her, her own sigh drawn out as he took his time, moving almost in slow motion. She couldn't see anything, just the dark outline of his body. Everything in the moment was intensified through her other senses, almost as if she were blind. The taste of his mouth, the scent of his cologne, the sound of his breathing and the magnificent feel of him inside her.
It took almost no effort, as close to the edge as she was before he ever touched her. She angled her hips, leaning against him, relaxing into the feeling as her body shuddered, the pleasure washing over her entire body.
His breathing changed, as he acknowledged her climax, at the same time surprised at how quickly and easily she had achieved it. He sat forward, kissing her, feeling her legs wrap around him, followed not long afterward by a break in her breathing as she climaxed a second time.
He rolled, cradling her head and back as he lowered her underneath him. Was he crazy to believe tonight, the closeness and ease of it all, had increased her desire for him? It had only been five days, but it felt like it had been like this forever.
She clung to him desperately, her breath and heartbeat matching his, and she felt his softest breath brushing her ear at the same time she felt him release inside her. After he calmed, she fixed his pants, since he still had his hands around her back. "I hate the clothes between us," she whispered against his ear.
"I promise when we get home, I will remedy that with as much skin on skin as you would like. For as long as you'd like," he whispered in return, his voice still breathy from his exertions. "What got you so…turned on?" he asked with a sexy chuckle.
"Cheesecake," she laughed, squeezing him around the waist. Her body shook as he laughed in return. "Or you. That's all it takes," she told him. "It felt like I was turning inside out," she told him, the same breathy quality to her voice.
"Can we wait til we get home for the dirty talk? I still have to drive home, you know," he laughed.
Her hysterical giggling was like music, the sweetest song he had ever heard.