A/N: Hope I didn't leave you hanging from the cliff too long, and that it was worth the wait. This chapter is definitely where it earns its M rating. Enjoy.

Chapter 4

For a minute, Jim stood, frozen, trying to come to terms with the fact that a) Pam was in his arms, and b) she'd apparently just broken up with Roy. But then, when she held him tightly around the waist, her cheek pressed against his chest, crying as if her heart were breaking, he snapped out of his daze. His arms wrapped around her, her head resting just below his chin. He softly murmured words of comfort into her hair, as he rocked her gently from side to side like a child.

"Hey…it's okay…it's okay…"

He didn't know how long they stood like that, but when her crying began to subside to quiet sniffles, he became achingly aware that she was only wearing a tank top and sleep shorts, so he was touching and seeing more of her skin than he ever had before. He tried not to tense up, closing his eyes so he could keep lightly rubbing her back. He felt tremendously guilty that he was getting so much pleasure from this intimate contact while clearly she was incredibly upset. But having her pressed so closely to him, his t-shirt damp with her tears, he couldn't ignore how unbelievably warm she was, her skin so soft, her curly hair, tickling his neck, so fragrant…he wondered how much longer he could bear it.

He was saved from stepping away out of self-preservation when Pam disentangled herself from his arms, stepping back in embarrassment. She avoided his eyes, seemed flustered as she wiped at her cheeks with shaking fingertips.

"Sorry…I…Roy found out that I'm here with you…he wasn't happy."

"Let's sit down," he said, taking her hand and leading her to his bed. He grabbed a few tissues from the nightstand and she took them gratefully. She blew her nose on one, dabbed at her face with another.

"What did he say?" Jim asked, not letting on that he'd heard her side of the conversation, had guessed what Roy had probably said.

"He called me a—a liar, which I guess technically I am, by lying by omission. But he also asked me how long I've been...having an affair with uh, you."

She looked over at him quickly, to see his reaction, and was surprised to see him blushing. He laughed without humor, and he was the one who looked away this time, though he didn't say anything. Pam took a deep breath, figuring she owed him the whole story, considering the tear stains on his shirt, and considering Roy might be out for his blood when they got back to Scranton.

"But I've never cheated on him," she continued. "I can't say the same for him, though. Last Fourth of July, Roy got really drunk—I think I told you—but what I didn't tell you is that I found him making out with my cousin Meghan down by the lake where my family always goes for the Fourth. We were about to watch the fireworks show, and the two of them were nowhere to be found, so I went looking. They were in my dad's boat that was tied to the shore. She had her bikini top off—Roy was only in his shorts. If I hadn't found them…well, anyway, Roy begged my forgiveness, said it had never happened before, and never would again. He said later he was drunk out of his mind, that she came onto him—a million excuses, which I chose to believe. I was mad at him for about a month, and he tried everything to make it up to me. And like an idiot, I forgave him. And now he has the gall to accuse me…"

Jim didn't say anything. He was angry on her behalf, hating that bastard for her, his hands tightening into fists, but he didn't understand why she hadn't kicked Roy out months ago. He held his breath, waiting for her to confirm what he thought he'd heard her say: that the wedding was off. That she was breaking up with Roy. Maybe she hadn't meant it though. Maybe she'd just been angry, and she would forgive him like she had before.

He risked a glance at her, and all he could see were her bare legs and arms, gently toned from the yoga and aerobic videos she told him once she worked out to. He'd teased her about that, but man, had those videos paid off. The desire to touch her was almost overwhelming, especially when she turned her body so that she was directly facing him, her eyes luminous from her tears, her face blotchy and vulnerable but still heartbreakingly beautiful. She sat cross-legged on his bed, nervously toying with her damp Kleenex.

"I told him I was done," she said in a whisper, looking down.

Jim exhaled, and when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, like he'd been yelling. "And, what does that mean exactly?" he dared to ask. He had the dizzying sensation that he was standing on a precipice, waiting for her to either rescue him—or push him over the edge.

For the first time since she'd entered his room that night, she looked at him straight on.

"I can't be with a man I can't trust, who doesn't trust me. When we get home, I'm moving out." Then, in a sudden burst of renewed ire, she slid Roy's ring off her finger and threw it at the wall. It bounced with a metallic ping, then rolled onto the carpeted floor. He didn't bother following where it landed, because he was too busy studying her face—determined, angry, and satisfied. His heart swelled in a strange mixture of pride at her bravery, and a small flicker of hope at what this might mean for them.

"I'm sorry," he heard himself say, but it was for her pain, certainly not that she was ending it with Roy.

"Me too. Sorry that I've been so stupid for ten years. That I've wasted my life on this asshole." Her words were bitter, but the tears were back, following a familiar slow track down her cheeks. And then it was that Jim realized that there was nothing stopping him now from touching her, if she would let him, if that's what she wanted. Tentatively, he reached out and put his fingertips on her knee, felt the usual jolt he always did when he touched her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Can I get you anything? Water? A cold cloth? A stiff drink?"

She blotted her cheeks again, giving him a wobbly smile at his words before her face fell again. "Will you…will you just hold me…please?" she asked, her voice trembling like a child's.

Without a word, he immediately moved to gather her in his arms, where she cried quietly-nothing like before, when she'd seemed so broken. Her arms snaked around his torso again, her full breasts pressing against his chest, her cheek in the crook of his neck. Without thinking, he bent and kissed her forehead, meaning only to give comfort…but then he felt her head turn slightly, her lips open against his skin. His body grew hot all over, though her warm breath made him shiver, and he could have sworn he felt the faint wetness of her tongue.

God, was she kissing him?

He stilled, and he was sure she must feel the pulse racing in his neck, but her soft lips were now sliding slowly up to his jaw, to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth.

"Pam," he said breathlessly, turning his head to look down at her, unwittingly allowing her lips to move over his. His eyes closed against the overwhelming sensuality of the moment, as she molded her mouth to his. He pressed back slowly, his movements and his stuttering heart not quite in sync. Then, as if someone flipped a switch, their mouths opened hungrily, his hands coming up to rest on her cheeks, to slide into her hair as he kissed her with everything he had, unleashing at last all the unspoken love and desire he'd suppressed for years.

His tongue slipped between her lips, deepening the kiss, and he was elated that she kissed him back with equal fervor, her hands impatient on his chest, then his shoulders, drawing him ever closer. He reveled in the taste of salty tears and strawberry milkshake, in the scent of flowers and the softness of her curls. Without a thought he lowered her beneath him on the bed, half-covering her body with his own. Her fingers found his hair, and restlessly played at the back of his head as he pressed her into the down comforter.

When his hands moved up to rest below her breasts, she turned her head from his to gasp to take in oxygen, while he kissed his way to her neck, then up to her ear, his tongue toying with the small hoop on her earlobe, his hot breath making her feel like she was melting into the bed. The pounding in her head was so loud and fast she couldn't think—especially when his thumbs brushed over her tight nipples. Her back arched involuntarily and she could feel him, hard and heavy against her thigh. She tensed, reason seeping into her muddled mind.

Too fast.

"Jim," she breathed, but she wasn't sure he'd heard her, especially when his thumbs increased their attention on her breasts, and his mouth recaptured hers. Her mind went blank for a moment, and she briefly forgot the feeling that she was hurtling toward something she wasn't ready for when his tongue tangled so seductively with hers, when his body felt so right on top of her own. But when she inadvertently moved her leg against his crotch, he moaned into her mouth, moved his head to breathe heavily against her neck. She snapped out of it again and said his name.

This time he heard her, and opened his passion dazed eyes to meet hers. He saw the look on her face and immediately grew concerned.

"Am I—are you okay?"

"We should slow down," she whispered.

His eyes widened in sudden awareness. "Oh," he said, "okay…sorry." But when he began to move off her, she reached up to brush his hair from his eyes, and he stopped when he saw her small smile.

"I didn't say stop, exactly. I mean, I want to be with you. I just…could we maybe be together without, you know, being together? It just feels too soon, too fast…does that make any sense?" She was blushing furiously now, both from residual desire and embarrassment that he might consider her a tease.

He nodded slowly. He felt like a heel. She'd just broken up with her fiancé fifteen minutes ago, for God's sake, and here he was, attacking her like a wild animal.

"No, you're right. Whatever you want, okay? But I should probably maybe uh, not lay on top of you right now."

"Yeah, right," she said awkwardly. He rolled off of her, laying on his back while his chest rose and fell in time with his hammering heart. He closed his eyes, then felt her cuddle close to his side, resting her head on his shoulder while he attempted to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to go that far so..quickly," she said.

He smiled wryly. "You weren't the only one there, Beesly."

They lay like that for a few minutes, while their bodies cooled enough to have a coherent conversation. Then, Pam began to talk.

"I know this might seem totally out of the blue, with Roy, I mean. But it seems like in the last two years, I've had to try so much harder than before to stay with him, to tamp down my anger, to forgive him constantly for crap. It's been little things, mostly, stuff that hurt my feelings, but that I could excuse by telling myself I was being overly sensitive. I've told you some of it over the years—you know, how he spends more time with his brother than with me, how he gambles too much, or drinks, or misses my birthday or Valentine's Day, how he blows off doing things that are important to me. But there have been other things too, bigger things, like how our long engagement turned into the butt of a joke. And I've suspected he's cheated before Meghan, but I could never prove it, and when I hinted around to him when he seemed interested in other women, he brushed me off, told me to quit being so insecure. I convinced myself he was right. God, I've been such an idiot."

Jim moved to his side so he could look her in the face. She turned too, so that they faced each other, mirror images, heads resting on hands.

"You're not an idiot, Pam. I've always thought that he didn't deserve you, or your loyalty to him. I've bitten my tongue so many times-"

"I wish you hadn't," she said. "As my friend you could have told me what you thought."

Jim let out a bark of disbelief. "Yeah, because you totally wouldn't have told me to mind my own damn business," he said sarcastically.

She was self-aware enough to look sheepish. She sighed. "You're probably right. But still, it would have been another voice in my head telling me how stupid I was to stay with him. But it's nobody's fault but my own, I guess. I just feel like the biggest fool. What you must think of me…"

She bowed her head, and he watched a silent teardrop drip onto the comforter.

"Hey," he said, reaching for her chin and lifting it till she met his eyes. "I think you're incredible. And you loved the guy, right? You made a commitment to him. He's the fool, Pam, for betraying your trust. God, if you had been mine…" He shook his head as the familiar fantasy took over.

"What?" she prompted shyly, and he blushed, but he was dying to tell her something of what he was feeling, what he'd felt forever.

"I-I would never treat you that way. You would be my whole world. You would be…everything."

As she stared at his impassioned face, Pam Beesly's eyes were finally opened, and she realized she had been in denial about Jim for years: he was in love with her. How hadn't she seen it? She'd been so blind for so long about so many things. He'd admitted to having a crush, and she knew that he really liked her, but no man says you are their everything if it's just a simple crush.

After his declaration was met with silence, Jim rolled again to his back, one forearm flung over his eyes in mortification. She watched him, suddenly empathizing with him like she'd never allowed herself before. These feelings she'd had for him lately, the ones she realized now were what had really given her the courage to finally break it off with Roy—well, finally, she was free to let herself feel them. And she could also put a name on them now, surprised at how easy it was as she looked at him, really looked at him, the taste of him still lingering on her lips.

I love this man. This wonderful, sweet, funny, beautiful man.

She hovered over him, her heart in her eyes, and reached for his arm to gently move it from covering his beloved face.

"You don't need to be embarrassed," she said softly to his closed eyes. "Any woman would be lucky to have a man who cared for her like that. I—I would be lucky…"

Before he could open his eyes and see her emotions totally laid bare, she leaned over and kissed his mouth. He sucked in a breath of surprise, giving her the chance to slip her tongue inside, his gasp turning into a moan of pleasure. His hands were in her hair again, holding her to him as he met her passion tenfold, their tongues boldly exploring, arousal slamming into them both with the force of a Mack truck.

This time, Pam climbed on top of him, straddling him in what she knew in the back of her mind were clearly mixed signals, but she didn't care, and judging from Jim's renewed hardness, he wasn't caring much either at the moment. The kiss, the most sensual one of her life, went on and on, and Pam had never felt so turned on, her skin hot to the touch, as if she too were sick with a fever.

Jim was holding on to his control by a thread, forcing himself to remember her earlier wishes, despite how she pressed her body to his, moving over him like she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her hair hung around his face, the curls tickling his cheeks, as she kissed him with so much fire that he was quickly reaching the point where he was either going to have to take her or embarrass himself in his pants.

"Pam," he said, forcing himself to pull his mouth from hers. "If you want me to stop, you're gonna have to stop…"

"I don't want to stop," she breathed into his ear. "I want this. I want you." I love you, she finished to herself, though it was still new, so raw, she couldn't muster the courage to admit that yet.

It occurred to Jim that he was about to become her rebound, but he'd gone past the point of caring, and feeling was quickly taking over. And God, how good she felt beneath his hands, beneath his lips-how good she was making him feel.

As if to prove her sincerity, she sat up on him, and, eyes glued to his, pulled off her skimpy tanktop, tossing it to the floor. His mouth went dry as he beheld her full breasts, encased in a simple, nude colored bra, her nipples pressing insistently against the soft fabric. Her cheeks and chest flushed, she reached for the front closure, releasing it and slipping the straps off her delicate arms, her back gently arching at the movement.

Then, with a boldness that surprised both of them, she reached for his hands, placing them on her naked breasts.

"Jesus," he said, eyes closing briefly at the overwhelming sensation, far surpassing any dream he'd ever had of such a moment, and he'd definitely had some dreams. But then, he was looking at her again, a hunger in his eyes that would have frightened her, except that this was Jim. It was her turn to gasp and close her eyes against the wonder of the moment, as he cupped her, employing his thumbs again, making her breath hitch and her crotch press harder against his. He pulled her forward, raising his head off the bed so he could suckle her, her hands going to his shoulders for support, her sharp sounds of desire cutting through his body.

Her breasts had always been incredibly sensitive, and she had actually orgasmed in the past by being touched there alone, but that had been a long time ago. As Jim increased his attentions, alternately using his mouth and fingers on each breast, she was well on her way to revisiting that forgotten peak. It was a great surprise to both of them when she began shuddering uncontrollably, crying out in ecstasy at the combination of his mouth on her breasts and the hardness of his erection pressing right against where she needed him to be.

The waves of heat engulfed her, and she began breathing so heavily that she saw stars, before finally collapsing against him, her body twitching with residual sparks of electricity coursing through her veins. Jim's hands moved gently over her damp, trembling back, realization setting in at what had just happened.

"Oh my God…Pam, did you just…?"

She nodded once, burying her face bashfully into his chest.

He hadn't meant to embarrass her, because what had just happened had been so exquisitely beautiful he would never in a million years want to make her feel bad about it. He was quite simply in awe of her, and more aroused by it than she could imagine at her responsiveness…to him.

"It's okay," he whispered. "That was just so…hot. You have no idea."

She looked up at him shyly. "Really? Because I feel like a teenage boy."

He chuckled, his body shaking beneath hers in amusement. He took her by surprise—again—and rolled her to her back, pinning her there with his body and with his eyes. "Believe me, there's nothing remotely boyish about you, Beesly. That was…amazing."

And when she looked into his eyes, so filled with love and admiration, she believed him. Confidence flooded her again, and her expression became determined, her hands slipping beneath the back of his t-shirt, making him shiver as her nails glided over his bare back.

"Take off your clothes, Halpert, and let me return the favor."

He didn't waste any time then, stepping off the bed to pull off his shirt, then unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants. She sat up on her elbows to watch the show, impressed by his wide shoulders, the lightly muscled biceps and stomach of a basketball player, the heavy bulge in his gray boxer briefs. She followed him with her eyes as he went to the head of the bed and pulled down the comforter and the top sheet, then held out his hand, his expression warm and infinitely inviting.

She crawled over the bed to join him, and what should have been awkward and weird, seemed completely natural, as she knelt on the bed before him, taking his hand as he bent and kissed her. Mouths still connected, he lowered her slowly to the pillows, where they slid beneath the covers, kissing and caressing, discovering smooth, bare skin and hardness encased in velvet; wetness and softness; sensitive nerves and quivering flesh.

She used her hands and her mouth on him until he was shaking and begging, and with a smile on her lips she moved up his body to lower herself upon him, both of them moaning at the perfection of their joining, the sense of completion, the pure pleasure. His hands at her hips, he helped set the pace—torturously slowly at first, then building in tempo until they were both gasping and making incoherent sounds of rising ecstasy. When his fingers found her swolen little pearl, he rubbed it once, twice, before she cried out, her inner walls tightening around him, sending him over the edge along with her.

He held her trembling body to his, not quite believing what had just happened between them. He felt his eyes water in sheer joy, never having felt this way with anyone else, ever. Emotion welling inside of him, combined with residual adrenaline, he held her more tightly, unable to hold back the words he'd longed to say to her since the day they met.

"I love you. God, Pam…you'll never know how much…"

A/N: A little nicer cliffie, don't you think? More soon. Thanks so much for all the positive and encouraging reviews.