A/N (1) Previously on Chuck versus The Journey: Chuck has a bubble bath prepared for his weary heroine. There are all kinds of emotions in the air. We seriously should ask ourselves who is charming whom or if there is any serious business going on at all and if the sound coming from the, sooner or later inevitable, heap of mixed limbs will be peaceful snoring or happy sighing.

A-splish splash, I jumped back in the bath,
Well, how was I to know there was a party going on!
"Splish-Splash" (Bobby Darin & Murray Kaufman)

Chapter 44: Sarah vs. The Jacuzzi

"Careful," Chuck said as he lowered Sarah into the bath. Most of her slender form disappeared below the foam as she experienced a languorous wave of warmth engulfing her. She sat upright, looked down at herself, and then up to him in faux reprimand as half of her breasts were above the waterline. He turned as pinkish as the candles on the vanity basins, not knowing why. This was his girlfriend, so he was permitted to adore her charms. But he was so receptive to her words, miens, gestures, moods, and everything Sarah Walker that at times he reacted in preemptive obedience.

"You're too easy," Sarah burst out laughing, amazed that he could blush over something that was not more than cleavage - admitted, ample cleavage - as foam covered the rest. However, above all, she laughed happily because his reaction proved that he didn't take her for granted. Until yesterday, she had been nothing but flesh and bones, muscle and blood. Now that they had shared the worst and best, her whole life emotionally condensed into merely twenty-four hours, she knew it wasn't solely based on bodies moving in harmony, as orgiastic as that was. She was more than that. They were more than that, and they had more than that. She accepted it readily. But she was nonplussed that the clarity of this all-encompassing recognition made her pretty much as uninhibited regarding the physical side of their relationship as she had never been before.

Huh, finally understanding what 'he's the one' means, she thought. I'm turning into a love-addict with Chuck. Gah! Let's face it, Walker, after less than twenty-four hours, you already are!

Sarah slipped under the water, so the bubbles were up to her chin. Her left arm rested on the edge of the Jacuzzi. She saw a pair of sponges at the foot end. They had not been there earlier in the day, so Chuck placed them there.

For me? Or would he wash me? The thought was nice. Very nice.

She inhaled as she stuck out her left foot's toes and examined them with medium interest. "That foam smells wonderful… that's lavender."

"Right," he confirmed as he picked up one of the sponges, came to her side, and dipped it into the water, making sure it was wet and warm. It was easy to guess what he was about to do. Still, she followed each of his movements with big, expectant eyes. It was all about her, he promised, and she wanted to enjoy every second.

Lavender is relaxing and calming… even sleep-inducing. He would not have chosen that if he wanted to woo me … he's simply the loving man I always dreamt about. How could I ever survive until now without him?

She had been a bird with its wings clotty from the mire of her past, and he had cleaned her feathers and set her free.

And I decided not to roam but to stay with him and fly together.

When she came out of her reverie, he kneeled outside of the Jacuzzi.

"Your right arm," he requested, and she obeyed, stretching up her arm. He gently washed it down with the sponge, followed suit on her left arm, which she raised automatically. It was an all-new experience to be washed by the man she loved, almost therapeutic in its effect of rearranging her thoughts and removing anything that was not about her and him – at least for the time being.

"Legs," Chuck jovially commanded as he moved from the top of the Jacuzzi to the side. With a snicker, she lifted her right leg, making it stick out of the water straight up, looking like out of a commercial for the perfect sudsy soak. She enjoyed physically and visually how he caressingly washed her leg, her skin shining wet and slick in the vagrant light from the candles. Her gaze darted to his face. She had learned to read him and picked up what made him tick, not only yesterday but also over the year of their faked relationship. It was unmistakable that he sensed what was going on. Probably he sincerely had planned only to pamper her, but he was caught in the dream he created himself.

It was sublimely erotic in a deliciously slow-burning way.

Given how dead-beat she was, she accepted that it wasn't turning her hot and bothered. It was a subdued yet pleasant echo of more sizzling feelings, and Chuck masterfully kept her enjoying the sensuality without breaking the overall chill-out atmosphere of the moment.

"You should insure those legs," he said admiringly.

Sarah watched him, holding her breath, as he moved down lower and lower on her inner thighs. Earnest about full service, he dived into the water to painstakingly clean every inch but avoided touching where her legs met. Still, that prickle on her skin reminded her that she was a natural woman. But Sarah relished in the idea of his touch more than the contact itself, lazily simmering in visions of love instead of acting them out. If he had placed a pillow behind her head, she would drift off to sleep and very stimulating dreams.

His lanky frame got up and rushed to the other side of the Jacuzzi. Chuck attended to her other leg the same way, eventually leaving her with the urge to feel him closer. Step by step, almost timidly, her body awoke. It sent confusing signals, ranging from, 'You're never too tired for a bit of nookie with one Charles Bartowski - so what are you waiting for?', to, 'Can you get your randy self under control and finally catch some to shut-eye? He'll still be here tomorrow morning!'.

Before she could make any decision, he picked up the second sponge, moved behind her, and gently bent her slightly forward.

"Change in plans," he explained. "Guess we won't need that massage table after all. I sense you're worn to a frazzle, so I'll save you the table and will massage you in the bath."

Then the sponges were on her shoulders and her upper back. Chuck washed her with the same affection as he cleaned her arms and legs.

"You have a beautiful back," he said. "Feminine and silky, yet so attractively trained."

Sarah liked the word feminine. It expressed the vast array of emotions she had discovered about herself with his help. Not nearly every one of them came from the sex they had because he also had pleasured her soul, but all of them had to do that she was a woman.

Chuck put the sponges down and started gently kneading the muscles in her shoulders and blade-bones. Sarah gave in merrily and dwelt only in the steady rise and fall of her lungs and his blessed hands. She memorized how he had told her that he simply touched her and sensed what felt right. It was the antidote to washing her legs, sensual without the erotic undertone and genuinely relaxing.

"Uuuuh," she moaned. "That's perfect!"

Sarah leaned forward so he could reach deeper, and she transcended into a nurturing, restoring stupor. It cleared her thoughts and transported her far away from all worries. Nothing mattered but his gentle hands.

She startled, blinking unfocused at the bubbles. Time became blurry.

"You'll keep me from drowning if I drift away, will you?" she murmured.

"Yes, I will," was his answer that made her ponder if he sent her a secret message with these words.

You're an agent. You should be able to decipher the message.

There was nothing else to do but to pursue such little thoughts and enjoy the massage; his nearness; the idea of being truly loved.

Chuck and I and the time we spend together, content with each other.

Sarah startled again.

"What are you doing?" she whined as he pulled on her shoulders.

"That's the second time you fell asleep," he laughed. "I promised to save you from drowning. This is a Jacuzzi, not the Titanic."

She frowned. "I didn't… hold on… I did?… How long?"

"Almost ten minutes," he said.

Ten minutes? God, Walker, you really entrust your life and soul to Chuck. How beautiful!

"Oh, so I really slept," she gladly admitted. "I feel refreshed, somehow. Can you… two minutes more, please?"

Chuck simply continued his massage. Sarah began to hum that merry little melody that had haunted her earlier yesterday. It had first entered her world when she was showering alone, an eternity of fewer than twenty-four hours ago, and was making up plans how to lure him into her arms.

He halted. Sarah slowly raised her head and half-turned to him.

"Chuck? Everything OK?" she asked, watching him from the corner of her eyes.

I haven't done anything, have I?

He stammered. "That…? That song? … You know it?"

"I remember it from the first evening when we had dinner. It sounds so carefree and uplifting. Why? It's only a melody I can't seem to get out of my head."

"So you have no idea about the lyrics?" he asked, a curious expression on his face.

Sarah searched her mind. She knew the melody, but that's all she could have added to a witty conversation – 'Yeah, I've heard that tune before!'

Her silence was all the answer he needed. It was undeniable that Sarah Walker lacked the nerdy knowledge to compete with the Master Nerd, but he didn't spell it out for her. This was her midnight hour, and he was as determined to pamper her like his earlier vow to make her happy. Conveniently, old and new vows were along the same track.

"Hum it once more," Chuck said, and Sarah cleared her throat – there probably was something weird coming up, and she didn't want to look like a total fool in the end.

No way, mister. I can hum and pun like the rest of 'em.

As she did, like she was told, he began to sing along.

"I'm gettin' married in the morning, ding, dong, the bells are gonna chime," he sang and then hummed too as he didn't know the full lyrics either, but chimed in again for the end of the verse, singing, 'Get me to the church on time.'

"That's that tune?" Sarah asked, partly shocked, partly glad.

The happily-ever-after had suddenly arrived at their romance, which wasn't even two days old. She was a big girl enough to know that never-ending happiness was a rampant superstition. But it was an illusion well worth trying for with Chuck in her life.

Or in my bathtub.

Before the man could answer, she tugged at the hem of his robe, almost made him stumble as he scrambled to meet her motion, and dragged him to her right side, still outside the bath. She pulled at the terrycloth belt holding his robe until it was not closed anymore and unashamedly looked at him, a bit too tired to immediately understand that he very much knew where she was directing her gaze - and too refreshed to look away.

Don't think about sex, Walker. Don't look at him – Little Him - like that. But am I to blame? Isn't it his fault when the Jacuzzi adds its tickle to the prickle I already feel?

Sarah was not ready to let him know that she would marry him if he only asked, so the only way out was to take the bull by the horns.

Oops, or not so precisely. Don't think about sex.

"Won't you join me?" she asked.

Yeah, having a disrobed lover next to me in the cozy bath will undoubtedly help to avoid sinful ideas. Brilliant thinking, Walker, brilliant. If guys think with their dicks, what is it you're thinking with currently?

Chuck hesitated for a few moments. When he saw her yawn, he decided that there sadly wasn't any chance for her jumping his bones, as zonked out as she seemed. Horny enough he was, but he had promised himself to pamper her and not aim for a quick release of what had become an admitted painful condition. It would ultimately add to her exhaustion by making love throughout the rest of the night. Chuck raised a finger, made a meaningful face, and, after a pompous gesture, produced a bottle of water from where she could not see and placed it at the edge of the Jacuzzi.

"You know how to spoil a girl," she chuckled.

God, he is so cute I could forget that I am too weary. Don't think about sex.

Chuck wiggled his eyebrows as he presented her with a silver tray. She instantly recognized the bottle's pale blue color and the swirling decorations on it, but she had trouble accepting what else was there on that tray. Thus she diverted for a few seconds.

"Zyr vodka? How did you know?" she asked, stunned, having registered that the bottle must come directly from the freezer, as foggy as the glass was.

"By simply following your gazes down at the beach bar yesterday," he explained, and she looked up at him in wonder.

"I underestimated you. You're pretty good at reading people."

And pretty good at reminding me about all the things I am too sleepy for.

She took a second look at the tray, hoping that she could come to terms with what was next to the bottle of vodka, but somehow still failed.

"This can't be true," she muttered. "Are these mini-burgers?"

"With extra mini-pickles," he said a bit too casually.

"Join me," she repeated, this time not asking but ordering.

His gaze was so unbearably loving that she almost forgot about the Zyr and the burgers, feeling ready to pull him down in the Jacuzzi for a kiss with open-end, not caring about anything that got wet in the process.

Oh. Well. What was it I didn't want to think about?

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he said, clearly against his desires. "My plan saw you nibbling a bit on a burger, slurping a bit of Vodka, and enjoying the bath while it's warm."

Sarah bestowed him a mildly amused look.

"As your goddess, I should have a say about the things I nibble and slurp on," she quipped. "Hey, don't faint," she quickly added when she feared exactly that would happen. "I just want you to join me for a bath, a burger, and a Zyr. I'm pretty beat, and I would love it if you would spend these moments with me. And this jacuzzi is heated. We've got all night if we want."

Half drew she him, and half sank he, and ne'er again was seen, Chuck remembered a poem, wondering where he had taken the superhuman powers not to give in the first time she asked.

There was only so much a mere feeble guy can hold against an enchantress like Sarah. Come hither, she conveys with her eyes, and I'm running towards her. We seriously have to reconsider which is the weaker sex, he pondered, dropping his bathrobe.

He slipped quickly into the water while she lowered her head not to look at him. Still, she could not keep herself from glancing out of the corner of her eyes at his all too obvious predicament. He was trying to make no big deal out of it – ha, Walker, you're impossible, big deal, what the… or better not – as he glided next to her and put his left arm around her. She thankfully nestled against that arm, the touch of his skin cuddly comfy and excitingly thrilling, both emotions kind of balancing out themselves.

For a minute or two, they just sat and sighed and enjoyed each other's company. On her right side was a tall, dark, and curly man. It was nice to chill out with him, but slowly, she was a little bothered about the effect of their nude forms pressed against each other. A little devil inside her raised its head and urged her to play with fire.

"You're not done yet washing me," Sarah eventually reminded him. "Full service hopefully means squeaky clean?"

Chuck's face was a question mark.

I'm offering him my boobies, and he looks me straight into the eyes, searching what I'm up to. Hm. Let him find out. Are we a bit tired and slow yourself, sweet Chuckie?

She made it easier for him and sat upright, lifting her chest above the bubbles.

Give him a look of love and expectation and a touch of brashness. … Not too much, though. It would be lovely to get erotically massaged—a soft touch, sensual but not so much as to flare up passion. Just nicely tempered to the tiredness in my bones, making me dream about all the things we could do when we wake up in the morning. Anticipation is half the pleasure.

"I didn't mean to grab a quick feel," Chuck explained while he reached for the sponges and began to massage and pet her torso with them. She watched his face first. He looked very dedicated to the task, and a bit challenged by it at the same time. Sometimes his fingers made contact with her bare skin, and he flinched slightly every time.

"You're every man's fantasy," Chuck began reverently, "I can't believe that you're in love with me, out of all the men you could have chosen."

Sarah caught the sigh that was about to escape over her lips.

Do we have self-esteem problems again? How can I heal that scar on his soul? He did so much for me - I want to help him out of his mental trap as well.

"No, I'm real," she corrected him, "and yours. I chose you. Look at your hands what you're doing to me. It's you. Not anyone else. Never will be. You're not here for tonight, you get that, do you? I'm exclusively yours for all the nights you want me."

She knew her little speech was as powerful for him as other historic speeches, like "I have a dream... I have a dream to make Chuck Bartowski the happiest man on earth", but her words were the most honest she ever spoke and she hoped he knew that.

Chuck stared at her, torn apart between the agonizingly exciting job she had given him and what blood was left in his brain to understand her words.

"And everything in between," she added, although it made her dizzy a bit, not having understood herself what everything included in a serious relationship she never had.

Sarah stared back, out of the blue worried. The imminent danger that moments like these would have never happened had reared its ugly head earlier. It had hit her more brutal than Casey's fist in the face of a bad guy.

All because he was such a good boy scout and followed Ginger down to the basement. When will the day come when I won't be there in time, or I will be the one dead on the floor after trying to rescue him?

Before the fear that even Sarah Walker shook to her foundations could grip her, she made a decision. It was now or never to straighten that issue out. She would not order him around, bellow at him or give him a mean look. Their deep connection had changed her. She had grown. Her character was more open, and her relation to him not defined by the abundance of images in his head anymore.

"Chuck, listen to me carefully now," she began, feeling this setting of attachment and bonding was right to bring her biggest fear up, even risking that both of them sobered up.

"Do you like what you're doing?" she asked, her eyes darting down to her chest for a jiffy.

Chuck gasped. That was too much. Didn't she know she was playing with an untimely death - what if he short-circuited in the water?

"Look down, please," she pleaded. "Look down. Do you like it?"

"Yes," he croaked, no idea where this was leading but having a thought in his mind that he needed to tell her. "I want you to enjoy yourself so much I could cry."

She was taken aback by his confession. She had found a love inside herself for him that surpassed everything she ever experienced, and she was unspeakably grateful that he felt in the same, consuming way. She was reinforced in her choice to have a serious talk - as much as she enjoyed the moment, this was when he would finally understand that her words were not orders but precautions every agent had to take to stay alive.

I have to be crystal-clear, leave no room for misunderstandings. Possibly grab him where he's most sensible currently. Ugh, Walker, get your mind out of the gutter… but, basically, the approach is valid, so...

"Chuck, I want to make love with you so many times you never can imagine it. I want to drive you crazy, and I want you to drive me crazy as well. You know, when I only can babble some words I don't understand myself because you do me so fantastically."

He still googled, his face as confused as Luke Skywalker's when he heard the fateful line, 'I am your father'. Sarah knew she should push it. They were on the same level – not agent and asset, but partners in love.

"I want to experience all the tenderness we can give each other over and over again. That super-duper cuddling. And I want you to-"

She made a pause for effect because she didn't use such words usually, but she needed to drive home a point without any possible misunderstanding.

"-fuck me until I forget my own name - and I'll do the same for you. Will you do all that … for us?"

She didn't wait to hear the 'Yes' that was in his eyes.

Am I unfair to put our love in the balance? No, I am certainly not. Our love and our lives are at stake if he gets into trouble, and he can do something to minimize the risk – he can help me to protect him.

"Then Chuck, I beg you from the bottom of my heart, listen to my words. If I want you to stay within my sight, please do so. If I want you to wait in the car, please do so."

He gaped at her, continuing his sensual massage, the sponges having dropped from his fingers, and Sarah sensing that she could not keep her countenance any much longer now that their contact was skin to skin. The washing, as poorly concealed a smooching it was, had turned into foreplay while she still was busy explaining something that weighed most heavily on her mind.

"I almost lost you today. Have you heard who that was? Were you already conscious when I found out? She was one like I was once, a CIA Spartan. She was the deadliest killer other than me, going to kill me and take you away. … I would die for you without thinking twice, Chuck, no problem."

That was the most surreal moment of his life. Chuck was caressing the most enticing breasts that he – and he was sure any man that ever lived since the first man or woman crawled from a tree and found it was a merry way to be – could lay his eyes on, while the owner of these assets gave him, if he was honest, a lecture about spy life. Lovingly pleading and begging with a lonely tear in the corner of an eye.

"But I want to be with you instead of dying or losing you. I'm here long-term if you want me."

As tired from the day and as excited from his hands as she was, Sarah almost got frantic. She wiped that single tear away with her wrist and emphasized her words with one last plea.

"My heart is yours. I hope we will turn old and gray together. I need you to be in my life. I hope you want me the same way. Please, please, if I tell you where to stay, stay there. Your life depends on it, mine does, our life does."

Chuck looked at her as if he saw her for the first time, and possibly that was true. Before the panic attack, she never had talked long, and not that urgently. He relived the moment when he thought Ginger had him for good. While he should be horny beyond belief right now, caressing Sarah's chest, he felt his eyes burn. It was one of those abnormally crazy moments that leading a life in danger provided.

"I promise," he swore, and she felt his determination like a physical object. "I promise to follow your words. I don't want to miss any second of the life we could have."

Sarah relaxed into him as he continued, thinking her breasts could never find a better place than the palms of his hands, snuggling there like brittle, lively birds seeking shelter from the storm she always needed to be ahead of to succeed - to survive.

"I have to make an exception. I take the same liberty as you do – I will choose to die if I can save you doing so."

"That's only fair," she said, to his surprise not countering him with the argument of the Intersect. Chuck certainly knew that he did not have her prowess to defend himself, but it was the message that mattered, expressing that nothing was as important as the other – not even that computer in his brain. By teaching her to be human and talking about her fears and wishes, she, in turn, gave him the opportunity to learn how precious life was and that her words were no orders but heartfelt requests to stay alive - verbatim.

Sarah put her hands on his, wanting to feel what he was doing to her. He looked shocked and aroused at the same time, literally having in his hands and at plain view what he would miss.

She closed her eyes for a short while, softly moaning her approval now and then, until she could hear that his breathing turned more labored, and she instinctively reciprocated his example. Opening her eyes, she found him still fulfilling her wish, with loving but by now feverish eyes taking her in.

I'm cruel, she realized now that the relief that he had learned not to be reckless anymore sank in. I ask him to look at my charms, play with them and expect him to attend to the task, not caring what it does to him. Possibly he's not so tired after all.

Sarah snickered over the expression on his face, then looked down and watched his large and tender hands, making her chest move most delicately. The sensual prickle began to crawl over her skin again. Her needs to eat, drink, sleep, and then make love reorganized in priority, and she knew it would quickly go out of control.

"Thank you," she sighed after a languorous shudder, with a heavy heart deciding it was time to cool off. "I know where this is leading," she continued with an apology to have stopped him as he pulled his hands away, "but you mentioned other things too, earlier."

The bath, the massage, and their talk had taken quite a while. She was not surprised that her stomach vehemently touted for her attention. Her guilty conscience over immersing herself so freely into being spoiled was washed away like the sweat on her skin when he smiled apologizingly too. Chuck picked up the meaning of her words, grabbed a small towel he had placed in foresight near the Jacuzzi, and dried his hands with a mixture of relief and regret. In turn, Sarah followed what he was doing a bit mirthlessly, now entirely out of touch with his hands. He reached over and poured the Zyr into a tasting glass.

"Never off-service," he eventually replied and pressed the glass into her hand.

Sarah looked at him quizzically. "Vodka needs company," she said.

He smiled. "I thought I would feed you so you don't have to dry your hands."

"Then we will drink from the same glass," she decided and snuffed at it before brandishing it under his nose.

"Clean," he said, and she nodded in approval.

"That's the first impression you should have of a perfect vodka," she confirmed. For a moment, she looked like she was going to elaborate but didn't. She took in the nose once more and then slowly took a sip.

"Hmm," she produced a long sigh of content. "There's no vodka as smooth and creamy as this one."

"They could hear that sigh all the way to Russia," Chuck grinned.

"Don't let Casey hear that!" she smiled as she brought the glass to his lips and made him drink, watching his reaction.

"I never thought I'd drink vodka neat, but this is good!" he judged. "Na Sdorowje!"

Tsk, 'good', she thought, but let it slip. There are quite a few 'good' vodkas, but mine is beyond compare.

"You know," she annotated a bit abashed, "actually, they don't say that when toasting each other."

Chuck's eyes grew wide. "Don't say you speak Russian?"

"Good enough to get around in Moscow at night," Sarah said and pointed at the tray, her hunger now blanking out every other thought.

She admired the mini-burger that looked like a work of art before taking a bite as he fed her, humming in delight. They silently ate and sipped for a few minutes until she had to tell him. In plain English.

"My life has become so great so fast I can't believe it," she almost chanted. "And it's all because of you."

Chuck rewarded her with that crooked smile that - she had known that long before they became a couple - he reserved only for her. That smile, the vodka, the tasty appetizer, irrevocably turned her mood adventurous. Like a Greek tragedy, she knew what road she would be going, but humorously reckoned that possibly, she would fall asleep before anything sinful would happen. The bath, the massage, the alcohol, and the meal were contending with her carnal desires.

Don't drink and bonk. It would be the biggest embarrassment of my life if I fell asleep while giving him a - whoa, Walker, slow-burn, please. He promised to pamper you. Thus, it's his turn first for… uhm, what actually?

"Now, where do I file a complaint?" she inquired with a grave face, but Chuck only grinned cheekily, and the responding waggishness in her eyes spoke volumes. "I was told this is a full-service hotel. I am still waiting to be fully serviced."

As self-confident as he was, he was lost where she was going, and it heightened her arousal.

Yup, that's arousal now. Who would have thought it?

It was sweet that he was a tad naïve.

She wiggled her head challengingly at him.

"I'm still not fully washed. Might I mention 'squeaky clean' again," she mockingly complained. She didn't need to explain anything else.

It was sweet that he wasn't too naïve.

Chuck's breath hitched, and he stared into her eyes, finding the answer there but still asking to be sure. "Really?"

Sarah turned her head to the side and pondered his question - it was a good one.

It wasn't nearly as tricky as, 'Who am I?', which would require significant introspection and a myriad of questions leading up, most of them beginning with, 'Why?'. It wasn't as crushing as, 'What will remain of me?', not as dangerous as, 'Does this make my butt look fat?', not as ominous as, 'What's your safeword?', not as nerdy as, 'Which was your favorite Munchkin from The Wizard of Oz', and not as slippery as 'Guess how long you will last against my lips?'.

But the most challenging question was always the one you faced in a given moment, so she admitted he had a point. She was prostrated and craved sleep. Still, with all the closeness and touching, that vague prickle of earlier had turned into a distinct tingle between her thighs. Admitting that she wasn't even sure if she could make it through one of their wild love-making sessions like yesterday, she didn't know how to solve that sweet dilemma.

I let him decide, she thought. Look into my eyes, Chuck, and choose for me.

Sarah turned her head back to him and let her sapphire orbs do the speaking. Chuck watched their beauty for only a handful of heartbeats before his right hand reached for the sponge. She quickly grasped his hand, bit one side of her lower lip as a lusty smile spread over her face, and took the sponge from him, throwing it casually behind her. Chuck gulped as he understood that the fire he saw flickering in her eyes wasn't necessarily mirroring the candles anymore.

Ha, let him decide… I should have known that applying my beepers on him would make him melt. He promised to pamper me. I only call him out on that... and will make up later.

Sarah kissed his hand, then sent him a smoldering look from under her eyelashes that Facebook would ban as porn. Before she leaned back into his left arm, she brought her lips to his ear and made beguilingly sure that there would be no misunderstandings about what she wanted as she pushed his right hand under the foam.

"Do your worst…"

•••••••••••••••••••

A/N (2) And there it is, cliffhanger again. I don't know why I keep doing this. It just happens that way.

A/N (3) Get me to the church on time: Yeah, you guessed it! 'Get Me to the Church on Time' is a song composed by Frederick Loewe, with lyrics written by Alan Jay Lerner for the 1956 musical 'My Fair Lady', where it was introduced by Stanley Holloway (as Alfred P. Doolittle).

A/N (4) Half drew she him, and half sank he, and ne'er again was seen: Last two lines from the poem 'The Fisherman' (1779) by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832).

A/N (5) There's nothing to do but sit and wait for the next chapter. Gosh, wrong, there actually is: You could spare a few words in a review.