A/N: Hello lovelies! Here's another chapter! I'm sorry for the inordinate amount of sexual content, if it has been bothersome to anyone. But I figure the morning after a wedding holds a certain amount of desire for everyone. Plus, I figured some of this stuff was long overdue for Hanna and Holmes, who have been so patient dealing with their sexual tension until now, haha.

I have a couple more topics to cover before wrapping up the story. I'm currently plotting out Part III, fully intent upon making this a trilogy. I would love to hear your input.

Please enjoy!

CHAPTER 21

Spencer awoke with the sunrise the next morning. Though the dim illumination of the fading night sky was enough to normally make her draw the covers further over her head, she couldn't help but feel more appreciative of today's dawn in particular. It was the first day of being officially married, and in a couple short hours, they would be on a plane heading for Hawaii. Neither of them had ever been there before, and no amount of research had made her feel adequately prepared. Somehow, however, she was surprisingly okay with feeling a little spontaneous.

She stretched gratuitously, rolling over to appraise Toby's sleeping form beside her. The early morning glow danced beautifully across his perfect features, outlining the immaculate shape of his jawline. His naked figure was flawless, as though drawn up from a classic Victorian painting. She struggled to understand how he could grow more beautiful with every day they shared. There was not a single part of his body that she disliked – though admittedly, there were certainly parts she gave extra special attention to. The night before had been a blur of sensual endeavors, complete with cries of ecstasy, whispers of sweet nothings, and unbridled passion. After their stint in the bathtub, he had tossed her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, quickly setting the tub to drain while he whisked her back into the bedroom. He tossed her onto the bed and climbed on top of her greedily, putting his lips and mouth in some very risqué places that Spencer had not entirely expected. The biggest turn-on, however, was the manner in which he so desperately wanted to go for Round 2. The knowledge that making love to her once was not enough, and that he needed more to feel sated. She could not complain – it was the same for her as well.

She smiled softly to him before quietly slipping out from under the covers, grabbing her black satin robe and tying it around her small frame. Ever-so-silently, she pulled back the handle of the door wall, creeping out onto the balcony. It was impossible to recall the last time she had witnessed a sunrise. But today it felt quite appropriate. Today symbolized a new chapter in her life – and she fully intended to longingly appreciate the little things that it entailed.

Leaning against the railing, she found that she was surprised by the warmth the morning carried in. To her understanding, February in Michigan was never free from snow and the bitter chill of winter. So perhaps it was the high she was riding from the night before, or the sheer disregard for any obstacles that stood in her way, or maybe, in fact, there was a blip in Mother Nature's schedule. Nevertheless, nothing could distract her from the sight before her. As the stars faded away into the blanket of morning, the sun peeking over the horizon to make its daily debut, the fresh smell of the crisp dawn air floating towards her, Spencer felt at home.

"What are you doing out here, baby?" Toby whispered as he came up behind her. He snaked his arms around her waist, planting sleepy kisses on the back of her head. She leaned into him, sighing contentedly.

"Enjoying the view. It's beautiful, isn't it?" she marveled.

Toby gently turned her face towards his, instantly melting the chocolate of her eyes with the steely blue fire of his own. "I like this view much more."

She felt her knees shake involuntarily, craning her neck to the side to kiss him gently. The stale taste of morning breath lingered on both of their lips, but she could not find the effort to care.

"Your husband is cold without you in bed," he murmured into her ear. "Please come back."

Husband. It was a simple word, derived from some Latin or Greek root, probably, but it resonated to her like utter poetry. As though it were a word that Toby had formulated on his own to purposely make the butterflies in her stomach do complicated acrobatics.

She giggled sheepishly. "We have to be on a plane in two hours, baby."

"A lot can happen in two hours," he mused, trailing kisses from her earlobe to her shoulder, pulling her robe away slightly to allow easier access. She leaned into him.

"Yeah?" she retaliated flirtatiously. "Like what?"

"Well, I'm heavily considering two options," Toby continued, burying his face into the dark locks of her hair. "Both involve going back to bed."

She chuckled in spite of herself. "Mr. Cavanaugh, are you suggesting that making love to me is in equal competition with sleeping?"

"I'd be lying if I said you didn't wear me out last night," Toby laughed. He planted a short kiss on her temple. "Another hour of shut-eye would not be opposed..."

"All right, all right," she conceded, turning to approach the door. "Point taken. Let's lay down for a while."

"Yessss," Toby muttered with mock triumph. He took her by the hand and led her back inside and towards the bed, turning to face her only long enough to play with the opening of her robe. "This," he began quietly, tugging at the slick satin ropes that held it together, "needs to go."

"Which is it, then? Sex or sleep?" Spencer demanded laughingly. He planted a kiss on her lips in reply.

"Sleep. For now," he decided. Nonetheless, he slowly pushed away at the robe, slinking it around her shoulders so that it fell to the floor. "There," he murmured seriously. "Much better."

Spencer blushed slightly at his silent admiration of her body, but knew that he probably couldn't see the crimson in her cheeks with the weak morning light. He removed his sweat pants so that he, too, was completely devoid of clothing. He climbed in, holding the blanket open to invite her, as well. She crawled in beside him.

"Why can't I wear clothes?" she asked innocently as he curled his arms around her once more.

He kissed the back of her shoulder where his lips rested, and sighed tiredly. "I like the feel of your skin against mine."

Her heart swelled at this, simple as the statement was. She, too, had begun to feel more at ease with sleeping naked beside him. Somehow, those were the best nights of sleep she ever got.

"All right," she whispered, allowing her eyes to flutter shut. "We can only sleep for a little while."

"Mmm," he mumbled noncommittally, losing further consciousness with each passing second. Spencer yawned involuntarily, drifting back to sleep in his embrace.

There were very few things that could wake Hanna Marin. The first, of course, was the unbeatable Early Bird Sale at Macy's. The second was the delicious aroma of warming coffee beans.

The third though – and probably her favorite – was the feeling of a man pressing into her backside.

It took her a moment to comprehend her surroundings in their entirety. She was not in her own room, but Derek's. His bed, she hated to admit, was surprisingly more comfortable than her own. He certainly went the whole nine yards with decking out his sanctuary of slumber, something that most men did not bother to do. She painstakingly recalled Caleb's lumpy mattress, and the horrible number it played on her spine. Holmes, however, got it right.

She craned her neck slightly to observe his face, which was still shrouded in sleep. He looked so peaceful lying beside her that she could not bear to wake him. Instead, she simply admired his features, recalling the events of the evening before.

She had only ever slept with one boy before. Caleb, of course. And allowing herself to become intimate with Derek so quickly had been a bit of a surprise to both of them. But after their steamy tryst in the reception hall's bathroom, it had been all that she could think about for the rest of the night. No sooner had they unlocked the door to their home that they were at each other's mouths again, hungrily feeding on one another's passion.

It was different, somehow. Different from Caleb. She had no doubt in her mind that what she had shared with Caleb was romantic and intimate, and full of love. But with Derek, there was an additional facet – unyielding desire. Never before had she felt so desperate to rip somebody's clothes off. He took care in the way he made love to her, but he had somehow made her feel more sensually attractive than Caleb ever had. There was a fiery desperation in Holmes's eyes as he backed her into his bedroom, fumbling clumsily with her dress to purge her of it. She had been given the distinct impression that he had no other care in the world aside from making her feel completely and entirely satisfied.

And the way he made love…God. It made Caleb look like an amateur. Holmes had more tricks up his sleeve than Hanna had ever thought possible. And it only made her ache for more.

So when she began to trail her fingernails down his chest this morning, she regretted nothing.

"Mmm," he murmured quietly as he stirred, his eyes opening into uncertain slits to survey her. He smiled instantaneously as he gazed upon her face. "Don't suppose I could ask for a better wakeup call."

She giggled slightly, unable to control herself. He roped his fingers into her hair, pulling her face towards his own. She kissed him back with sleepy affection.

"Do you mind if I check something?" he asked softly. She furrowed her brow, but shrugged in allowance nonetheless. He thrust the blanket towards the ceiling, surveying her naked body beneath it for a moment. He then allowed it to fall back into place. "Just as I thought," he yawned. "Still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She laughed and playfully shoved him in the chest, backing away only enough to take a good look at him. She propped her elbow on the pillow and held her head in her hand, looking down at him and using her free fingers to trace shapes on his dark chest. "Last night was fun," she offered stupidly. It wasn't as though she had no desire to have a more intelligent conversation – It was simply that she could not gather her rational thoughts long enough to make any sort of poignant reflection.

"Fun?" he asked with mock incredulity, scoffing in reply. "Really? That's it?"

"Well, okay," she mused, blushing profusely. "It was pretty damn amazing."

"Better," he chuckled. In the blink of an eye, he had grabbed her by the arms and pulled her on top of him, running his fingertips lovingly across her hips. She shuddered in reply.

"I almost hate myself a little for waiting so long," she expressed, sitting up to gaze down at him. The blanket fell aside, revealing her completely naked figure towering over him. Any self-consciousness she had felt in her past, however, was forgotten. The sudden shift of weight caused both of them to exhale shakily, her legs straddling his waist.

"You had a boyfriend," he stated rationally. He grasped her thighs gently, massaging where his hands lay. She sighed happily.

"True," she admitted. "But you have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this with you."

Holmes cocked his head to the side, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. "Oh?" he inquired. "How long is that?"

She averted her eyes, as if suddenly unsure of herself. He moved his hands up to her waist and held fast, awaiting her answer.

"I had a dream about it…once…" she muttered uncertainly.

His interest was certainly piqued. "When?"

"You're seriously going to make me tell you?" she whined sheepishly. He grinned.

"You can't get out of it now."

"Fine," she declared brashly, trailing her fingers along his abdominal muscles, but avoiding his eyes. "It was the night Toby left for Afghanistan."

He studied her face, attempting to recall the events of that day. Somehow, the sorrow he had felt at the time created a thick fog that surrounded the memories. "Why then?"

"I walked in on you getting out of the shower, remember?" she said indignantly, almost angry with him for not recalling this very embarrassing moment. "No towel – no nothing. Completely naked, everything hanging out in front of me."

He chuckled. Ah, yes. He remembered.

"And…well…for some reason, I couldn't get that picture out of my head," she murmured bashfully. The scarlet spreading across her cheekbones only made her more attractive. She raked her hand through her frizzy blond locks, breathing a sigh of dejection. "Are you happy now?"

"Nope," he quipped teasingly. There was something so easy about pushing Hanna's buttons, and he enjoyed himself far too much for his own good. "What happened in this dream?"

She delivered a half-hearted punch to his chest, her blue eyes flaring up with frustration. "What do you think?"

"I'm not sure," he said, feigning innocence. "We could have gone bowling in this dream, for all I know."

She huffed impatiently, climbing off of him and out of bed. She was pulling on the first clothes she could find, which happened to be Holmes's button-down dress shirt from the wedding. The way her porcelain skin glowed against the white color was breathtaking. She tossed her hair out of the collar irritably, whipping around to face him.

"Go ahead," she hissed. "Make fun."

"I'm only making fun of you because – well – you have to admit it's pretty funny," Holmes reasoned. This was clearly the wrong thing to say, for she released a growl from somewhere deep within her diaphragm. She was buttoning up the shirt now, hiding her body from his eyes.

"Oh, c'mon, Han," he pleaded laughingly, reaching out to take her hand. "Come back."

She wouldn't look at him. "No," she stated definitively, sounding surprisingly like a child.

Holmes rolled his eyes in spite of himself. "Hanna," he began in an even tone, "this is what we do. We tease each other. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

She crossed her arms, still looking away from him. The testosterone within him couldn't help itself – the underside of her buttocks were peeking through the bottom of his shirt, and God help him, he couldn't avert his eyes.

"Well, you did," she replied, but was clearly losing some degree of her anger in the process. She smoothed down the shirt over her figure, as if making sure none of his favorite parts were any longer visible.

"Look," he sighed resignedly. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I had a dream about you, too?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, as if afraid to trust the bait.

"The night of our house party," he recalled aloud. "You know – when you came with Caleb. And Cody basically ruined the entire night for everyone."

She was slowly turning to face him now, unable to resist hearing the rest. "That was the first day you met me," she reasoned.

"Yeah," Holmes admitted, playing with the hem of the sheet around his waist. "And you were stunning."

She was approaching him with hesitant steps now, still looking unsure of whether to trust his words. "What did you dream about?"

"Hmm," he mused, reaching out to take her hand. "Well…it was the sexiest dream I've ever had, I'll tell you that much."

She blushed slightly, but did not completely cave. "What happened specifically?"

"Oh, that," Holmes teased, running his hand up the outside of her thigh. She gasped quietly as he brushed her buttocks en route. "I could tell you…but I'd rather show you."

The scarlet in her cheeks increased tenfold, but she did not protest. He sat up to take her gently by the hips, pulling her closer to him.

"It started out much like this," he mused as he began to unbutton his shirt from her frame. He allowed his fingers to linger in each spot as he delicately began to disrobe her. "I'm ashamed to admit that I had this kind of dream about a girl I had just met – who was clearly already taken…"

"You can't control what you dream about," Hanna rationalized quietly, perching her hands on his shoulders as he continued his work. "They just…happen."

"I suppose they do," he agreed as he relieved the last button from its duty. The shirt fell open against her skin once more, held only slightly closed by the inner curvature of her breasts. He peeled it away to gaze at her, planting kisses along her stomach. She sighed happily.

"I don't know what you're doing to me," she admitted out loud, snaking her fingers through his short hair. "I seriously can't say no to you."

"Good," he murmured at her belly button, grazing his fingers along her hipbones. She flinched only briefly. "Because I have never felt so in love with somebody my entire life. So completely enamored with somebody's body…so outstandingly unable to keep my hands off of you."

Within seconds she was climbing back on top of him, running her hands along his chest, leaning in to kiss desperately at his neck. The feeling of her hair brushing against his face and her breasts pressing into his ribs was enough to send him spiraling out of control.

"I didn't expect to love you," she mumbled into his collarbone. "I felt guilty for even thinking about it."

"Me too," he panted, grabbing desperately at her chin to pull her up to his mouth. He kissed her with reckless abandon, pawing at her body like a pubescent high school amateur. It was something about her, though – something that made him unable to strategize any of his next moves.

She rolled her tongue against his, cupping his face in her hands as she did so. He could feel the heat generating at their nether-regions, which rested precariously close to one another.

"You're amazing," he murmured into her mouth. "I have no idea how to control myself right now."

She sat up to look at him then, running her hands down his abdomen. He shuddered. "Then don't," she whispered seductively. She swiftly repositioned herself so that they fit together, continuing what they had only begun to explore the night before.