AN: Well, here it is-the moment you've all been waiting for. Or maybe not, I can't know what goes through your head (unless you tell me in a review ;P) But it's the moment I've been waiting for. Literally-I have been waiting 10 years to write this chapter. It has been in my head, even when I had no plans on resuming my writing. This baby has sticking power. So anyhow, now that I've gotten your expectations up, I sure hope I don't disappoint.

Just a heads up-there is some mature content in this one. I don't think it rises to the level of a "M" rating, but if you're sensitive about that stuff, be warned.

Logan loved the sound of rain on the window; the unremitting beating of water against glass soothed him. He was a man constantly on the go—school, writing, business trips with his father, and a healthy amount of partying left little time for sitting around doing nothing. But when a storm hit, it was like the world slowed down and Logan could just stop and breathe.

He was flipping through his copy of The Wall Street Journal when he heard a knock at the door. He took a second to finish his paragraph before getting up from his article on the SECs new rules governing mutual funds.

Logan pulled the door open, and his relaxed expression immediately turned to one of consternation.

"Hi," the sopping wet girl in front of him squeaked.

"What are you doing here, Rory?"

"Well," she said shifting back and forth on her feet, partly from nerves, partly to keep warm. "I was home studying because my classes were cancelled, and I realized you had the book I needed."

It was true that she wanted to study the material in that notebook, but it was also true that as she sat there in her dorm room, all she could think about was seeing Logan again. She'd made up her mind about getting back together with him at the Harvard-Yale Game a few days ago, but for some reason, she had still been too nervous to do anything about it. She was used to Logan pursuing her. It was nerve racking, being the one to make a move in their relationship. Maybe that's why she had left the book in the first place; she didn't know how to be forward with someone like Logan who was used to having girls throw themselves at him.

And now, seeing the annoyed scowl on Logan's face, her nerves were in double time. Had she waited too long? Had she done something to upset him? Had he changed his mind about her?

"Classes were cancelled on account of the hurricane," he scolded her angrily.

"Tropical storm," she defended.

"You're soaking wet," he growled, his eyes travelling up her body. Her jeans were extra clingy with moisture and her lightly colored t-shirt had gone see-through. His eyes lingered on the prominent outline of her—visibly—purple bra.

Rory crossed her arms uncomfortably which only acted to make her chest even more pronounced. She was obviously cold, and Logan was starting to feel very warm.

"My umbrella broke." Rory held up the tattered remains of her "Hello Kitty" umbrella.

"Get in here," Logan sighed, grabbing her hand and pulling her in, closing the door behind her. If she stayed in her current state much longer she was going to catch pneumonia.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked, chewing her lip worriedly. She still wasn't sure what he'd be mad at her for, but his reaction to seeing her at his door was not exactly welcoming.

"Yeah, I'm mad, Ace. It's not safe out there," he admonished. "I can't believe you'd be stupid enough to go outside in this weather over some stupid notes."

Rory felt a smile creeping up. He wasn't angry with her—he was worried about her. "It's not that bad out," she defended even though she had just admitted the storm had broken her umbrella.

"Oh, look," Logan pointed out the window behind him. "A cow just flew by."

"I think you're thinking of tornados."

Logan let out a sigh. There was no point arguing with her now. She was here, and other then being wet and cold, she was fine. He turned, walking towards his room. "Come on," he waved her with him.

"I can wait here while you get the notebook," she told him. "I don't want to drip water all over your apartment."

He stopped at a small closet on the way to his room and opened it up, grabbing a towel from within. "Here," he tossed it to her. "Dry off and take a seat."

"Oh no, that's not necessary. Really Logan; if you just get me my notebook, I'll be on my way…" Damn her sympathetic nervous system. Every time she was close to letting Logan back in, she felt that fight or flight response kick in. Why couldn't she just accept the towel, take a seat and tell him she was ready to give them another go?

"You're not going back out there. Not until the storm passes," he told her resolutely.

"Logan," she protested, rubbing the towel through her dripping hair.

"Will you just get in here," he chided, continuing into his room without looking back at her. He knew instinctively that she would follow.

"I have to study," she said, scurrying after him as he disappeared from the common room.

"Well then, it's a good thing your notes are here…" She followed him into his bedroom.

"Really Logan, my building is right across the quad, I'll be fine." She noticed him pull open a dresser drawer.

A flash of light cut through the clouds outside, illuminating the room with a blue glow as Logan pulled out a Yale t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. A second later, the rumble of thunder followed, shaking the ground slightly.

"Well, I guess I could stay and study here for a little while," Rory relented.

Logan looked up triumphantly, about to hand her the change of clothes, but the look in her eyes stopped him. He studied her quizzically.

He knew she was nervous. She had been since the moment he opened the door. He loved that he made her feel that way. It meant he still had a shot with her. But the look in her eyes was different now. This wasn't the butterfly kind of nervous. She was scared. He took a moment to replay the last few moments over in his head, trying to figure out what the problem was. She was fine when he handed her the towel, arguing for the sake of argument when he walked into his room. It wasn't until he went to give her the change of clothes that her demeanor seemed to change. Was she worried he wanted something more? But if she feared staying with him, why had she suddenly agreed to it? And then it hit him…

"Oh my god!"

"What?"

"You're afraid of lightning."

"What?! No!" she protested, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

"Yes," Logan laughed. He was sure of it. "You were all ready to go running from here into the 80 mile an hour wind gusts and torrential downpour, but the second the lightning struck you decided to stay."

"I am not afraid of lightning," she insisted again.

Logan just stared at her, trademark smirk firmly in place and eyebrow quirked in amusement.

Rory looked away in embarrassment. "It's the thunder that scares me," she finally mumbled.

Logan laughed heartily. "Of course, you're afraid of the one that's actually harmless."

Rory shot him a death glare. "You really want to mock me now?" she growled.

"No…no…" Logan said, trying to stymie his laughter. "I would never. It's cute," he said, his grin never fading.

"Give me that," Rory growled, grabbing the clothes out of his hands as Logan's chest continued to shake with the effort of not laughing.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Ace. I used to be afraid of thunder and lightning too."

"Oh really?" she asked, glowering at him in disbelief.

"Oh totally. Of course, I was five at the time. But if Honor hadn't been there to help me through it, who knows where I'd be today," he informed her with mock seriousness.

Rory's anger and embarrassment faded with the image of a frightened five-year-old Logan being consoled by his sister.

"And how did big sis manage to quell your fears?" she asked, hoping to build on the adorable picture in her head. She instinctively wanted to know more about Logan's childhood. What had made him into the man he was today. She highly doubted it was his parents' doing.

Logan leaned back against the dresser, happy to partake in some light-hearted banter. "Well, she had just learned about thunder and lightning in school, and she made up a song explaining exactly what they were…"

"Really?" Rory asked, her eyes lighting up with glee at the thought of a young Honor singing about meteorology.

"Yep. To the tune of Wheels on the Bus."

Rory remained silent for a moment, waiting for him to continue, but he didn't. "So…" she prodded.

"So?" he asked in confusion.

"So I want to hear it!" She was bouncing excitedly on her feet at the thought of Logan singing the made-up childhood song.

He scoffed. "No way."

"Oh, come on. What if this song is the very thing I need to cure me of my astraphobia? Are you really going to deny me that?"

"Sorry, Ace, not gonna happen. I need at least three drinks before I sing an actual song, let alone a ridiculous refrain composed by a seven-year-old."

"Please?" she asked, stepping closer to him.

"No."

"Pretty please?" She batted her eyelashes, getting even closer to him.

"Not even for the eyelashes." He shook his head.

"Pretty please with a cherry on top?"

She was right next to him now and he was still backed against the dresser with nowhere to go. He could feel the heat radiating off her—still damp—clothes. She looked adorable with her pleading eyes. Before he could stop himself, he leaned in for a kiss.

It was quick, and chaste and he pulled back immediately. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

Logan's apology was cut off as her lips crashed back into his. Her arms wrapped around his neck, the sweats she was holding falling to the floor. Her chest pressed firmly up against his, the moisture from her rain-soaked clothes seeping through his own shirt.

After a few seconds Logan pulled back for a quick breath of air. His arms were around her waist, preventing her from running. "I would like to issue a formal retraction of my apology," he whispered. "I am definitely not sorry."

"Either am I," Rory agreed, shaking her head slightly. She grinned up at him and he leaned back in for another kiss, smiling giddily the whole time. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to kiss her.

"The door is open," he reminded her as his hand grazed up her side caressingly, his forehead resting against hers.

"So?"

"So, if Finn sees us kissing, he'll have the marching band parading through here in celebration," he teased. "And I would prefer some alone time first."

"Right," she smirked, knowing full well that Logan's statement was not hyperbole. She removed her hands from his neck, allowing him to go.

Rory stood there anxiously as Logan walked the few steps to the door and closed it. He turned and stalked back towards her, wasting no time in plastering his lips back against hers. Now it was Rory's turn to be backed up against the dresser. She found herself trapped as his hands planted themselves firmly beside her. She wasn't complaining; the fight or flight instinct was finally gone. There was nowhere else she wanted to be.

Logan move his right hand up to cup her face as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping hungrily through her mouth. His left hand made its way to the small of her back, pulling her body even closer to his. After a few moments, the hand on her face trailed down her side, lingering for a moment on the side of her breast, to join the other on her back. She wrapped her arms around his neck, raking her fingers through his artfully tousled hair.

She felt Logan's hands drop even lower, grabbing her ass and dragging her up to sit on the dresser. She immediately wrapped her legs around him. She moved her hands to his chest, loving the feel of his taut muscles under her fingers. The fabric of his shirt was damp where her chest had been pressed against his. "I'm getting you all wet," she murmured.

Logan chuckled and she could feel the rumble of his chest under her fingers. "You're stealing my lines, Gilmore."

"Oh, it definitely works both ways," she replied cheekily, tightening her legs around him and pulling him in until he was pressed up against her core. Her hands slipped under his shirt to trace the lines of his abs.

"God, Rory," he groaned. Taking her lead, his hands dipped under the hem of her shirt. Her skin was cool and slippery from the rain. He began trailing kisses down the side of her neck and his hands kneaded frantically into her flesh.

The room lit up again as a streak of lightning flashed outside. Thunder crashed.

Logan pulled his lips away from her but continued to hold her close. "You okay?" he asked seriously.

The corners of her lips quirked up into a smile. "Never better," she answered honestly. It was true. Why had she been resisting this for so long?

"Are you sure, because I can put on some music…drown out the sound…" He started to pull away even more, but Rory's legs tightened around his waist, trapping him there.

"I'm fine. In fact, this…" she leaned in for a kiss, "is excellent therapy. I believe cognitive behavioral therapists refer to it as counter conditioning."

"Well then..." Logan relaxed back into her embrace. "Far be it from me to interfere with your recovery."

Their mouths melded together again as they continued their make out session. Logan's hands continue to explore the moist skin of her back, her stomach, inching ever higher. He reached the band of her bra, fingering the delicate material. He wanted to go further. He wanted to cup her breast in his hand, flick his thumb over her puckered nipple. He wanted to feel her arching into him. But this was Rory. He needed to take things slow. She was worth waiting for.

"We should slow down," he breathed, his hands continuing to caress the underside of her breasts.

"Don't want to…" she panted.

"Rory," he protested weakly.

She reached up under her shirt, taking his hand in hers and pulling it up to cover her, squeezing lightly.

"Jesus, Ace." Her kissed her neck, burying his face in the crook of her shoulder. "You're gonna be the death of me." He was getting unbearably hard.

"I want this, Logan," she whispered. "I want you. I'm tired of fighting it. I want you."

She wasn't just talking about a little boob action and he knew it. "I want you too," he promised her. "But not like this. I'm not going to take your virginity in some frenzied recoupling on top of my dresser." He tensed suddenly as a ripple of fear coursed through his body. She was being awfully forward. And not like that time in Monte Carlo, when she had been drunk and insecure. No, she seemed pretty certain of herself right now. And they had been apart for a while... "Wait. You are still a virgin, right?"

"Yes," she insisted, but she diverted eye contact. She wasn't lying, why did she feel guilty? Besides, they weren't together, she didn't owe him any fidelity.

"Ace," he said sternly, taking her chin in between his fingers and gently forcing her gaze back to his. His stomach was sinking, his heart was pounding. She was hiding something from him. He knew it was hypocritical to care; he hadn't exactly been a monk when he was in the South Pacific. Still, the thought of anyone touching his Ace like that…

"I almost…" she couldn't turn her head, but she cast her gaze down. "But I didn't." He should have felt relieved, but he didn't. Who had she been with that she'd felt strongly enough about to even consider taking that step? Was it Marty?

Logan took a deep breath. "I know I have no right to ask…"

Rory didn't owe him any answers, but she wanted to be open with him. She wanted to be able to tell him anything. If they were going to be together, that's the way it should be. And she was ready to be with him...emotionally and physically. "It was a couple weeks after we broke up…"

"A couple weeks?" he gasped. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

"I was at a party. Jess was there…" Logan felt rage building up in him at the mere mention of the name. "He was upset, and I went to check on him. I was upset too. I was mad at you for leaving. It was comfort, for both of us, and it got out of hand."

Logan's fist clenched angrily. "Breathe," Rory told him. He tried to do as she said. "I stopped it. I didn't want to be with him. I wanted you. It's always been you."

"I hate that asshole," Logan ground out.

"If it makes you feel any better, Dean kicked the crap out of him." She smiled slightly, trying to defuse the situation.

"At least one of your ex-boyfriends is tolerable," Logan sighed. He paused for a second, before looking up suspiciously. "Why?

"'Why?' what?"

"Why did Dean beat him up?"

"Umm, well," Rory shifted her gaze again. "Jess might have gotten a little angry when I stopped things, and Dean might have seen me run out of the room crying."

"I'm going to kill him," Logan growled. What kind of asshole pressured a woman into doing something they didn't want to do? Made them feel bad about saying 'no'?

Rory chuckled wryly. "You'll have to find him first. He disappeared a few days later."

"Smart man." Logan looked back into her magnificent, blue eyes and felt the tension draining away. He still felt uneasy about what had happened with her and Jess, but that was the past. Here, in the present, she was his again. How could he be anything but happy about that? "We really should get you out of those wet clothes," he told her.

"Now, that's my Logan," Rory smiled happily at the return of their playful flirtiness. She jumped off the dresser and grabbed the change of clothes she had dropped earlier. She grasped the edges of her wet shirt, slowly drawing the hem up over her head. Logan swallowed, his Adam's Apple bobbing tensely as he watched her. She picked up the dry t-shirt, dropping it over her head and doing some weird acrobatics before finally pulling her wet bra out through the sleeve. She removed her wet jeans and underwear next, replacing them with his sweatpants.

Logan felt himself harden slightly at the thought of her going commando in his clothes.

Rory sat down on his bed, patting the space next to her. "Your girlfriend would like to snuggle now," she told him.

He grinned broadly. "Well, what my girlfriend wants, my girlfriend gets."

A few hours later they were still curled up in his bed, listening to the sound of the rain. Rory hadn't flinched once at the thunder, in fact, she was finding it quite relaxing.

"I meant what I said before," she told him, gently caressing his cheek.

"And what was that?" he asked.

"I'm ready—to be with you."

"Patience, you must have, young Padawan," he smiled cheekily. A very large part of him would be happy to roll them both over and have her right there, but it was important to him to do it right. He was going to make sure it was night she would remember forever.

"I know," she agreed. "I just…I want you to know that I meant it. I think maybe that's why I resisted this for so long. I knew once we got back together it would mean…"

"It doesn't have to," he cut her off. "I can wait. I may have to take a LOT of cold showers, but I can wait." He meant it. A year ago, he never would have believed he'd be willing to forego sex for a girl, but Rory wasn't just any girl. Besides, he'd already been waiting for months.

"And that means more to me than you know, but it's not necessary. I don't want to wait anymore."

"You're sure?"

Rory nodded. "You're going to plan some grand, romantic thing, aren't you?"

Logan laughed. "You know me too well."

"I just need you," she told him, knowing it was meaningless; Logan was surely already planning the whole thing in his head.

Logan kissed her. "You've got me, Ace. I am all yours."

AN: Alright, there you have it. I hope it was worth it. Please, please, please leave me a review. Reviews on the last chapter were few and far between, so let's make up for it here. Seriously though, this chapter was a big one for me and I'd really appreciate hearing what you thought.