Chapter 4 – Hold Me In Your Arms

Though I'm a little scared
That all the times we shared
Almost too perfect to ever last

And when I'm lying here
And you are holding me

I know the fear in me will pass

The Gryffindor Common Room was empty as Sam and Janey returned, with everybody surely still at the feast. The lights were low, the fire was burning—it was all deeply romantic.

Janey dropped Sam's hand like it was a dead fish.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. It was too early to be going to bed, so they couldn't just hastily retreat to their dorm rooms. Well, not without the other knowing it was only to avoid them. But what were they supposed to do, alone in the common room?

Talk was the obvious answer. But Sam and Janey had never been alone just to 'talk.' They'd never exchanged pleasantries, or engaged in friendly, casual banter. They were either in a group or yelling at each other. But Sam also knew it would be hopeless to try and coax her into having that heart-to-heart she was so furiously avoiding.

"The fire," Sam began awkwardly, both of them still just standing by the portrait hole, gazing into the empty room, desperately trying to think of something to say. "It, ah, it kind of makes me miss Rosewood."

"You actually miss Rosewood?" Janey scoffed. It had been far from the luxury Janey was accustomed to. Grimy and murky, and full of darkness.

"Well, no, not the place," Sam said, "but, like, the experience, I guess."

Janey cocked her head inquisitively. "Which aspect, exactly?" she asked sarcastically. "The part where some wild outlaw held a dagger to your throat and threatened to kill you? The part where one of our closest friends was nearly assassinated? The part where we had to literally fight for our lives? Or maybe even the part where—"

"That's not what I meant at all," Sam said irritably. His hand subconsciously moved to the base of his throat where the dagger had been poised. "I meant"—he glanced down at Janey by his side, looking sheepish—"us as a group. It was nice… If you take out all the dangerous aspects, of course. It was nice to just all be together, out in the woods, sat around a campfire…"

"I hate camping," Janey said distastefully. "Never again."

Sam rolled his eyes. She seemed to be doing all she could to shut the conversation down. "So you've been camping before?" he prompted.

"No."

"Really? Not, like, with your family or anything?"

Janey stared hard into the fire at the mention of her family. "No. Never."

"Oh. So, err, so what's it like then… in the Davington family?"

"Sam, stop it, I know what you're doing," Janey snapped, turning to glare at him.

"What?" he asked defensively. "I'm just trying to make conversation."

"No," she said firmly, "you're trying to pry. You're digging for anything a little deeper about me."

"I'm just trying to get to know you," Sam insisted, feeling irritated at her stubborn refusal. It wasn't like he was asking for much.

"Yeah, well, knock it off."

"Janey—"

"Sam," Janey interrupted with a sigh, "can we not do this now? Please?"

"What?" Sam demanded. "Talk?"

"Argue," she replied.

Well, he wasn't going to fight her on that. "Alright, fine, I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"I'm too tired to do this now."

You weren't too tired to do it earlier, Sam thought spitefully. Oh, no, she'd had a grand old time yelling at him in the corridor. Although, to be fair, it might have been his fault.

"I'm pretty tired too," he sighed, finally walking fully into the room. He went over to one of the armchairs by the fireplace, surprised that Janey followed his lead.

Sam settled himself down into the chair, wondering if she was going to join him in the adjacent one. But then what? She didn't want to talk, so were they just going to sit there in silence together?

But Janey hesitated in front of him. She didn't take the chair by Sam's side but remained standing, peering at him with wide, curious eyes, shyly biting her lip.

"Do you want to… sit down?" Sam suggested, confused that she didn't seem to have taken that initiative by herself. Honestly, what was she waiting for?

"I, err, I just… Can I sit with you?" she asked shyly. The way she peered at him through her fringe made her look like a child, as though afraid of asking for something she knew she couldn't have.

"Well, yeah, that's what I—" But Sam had to stop abruptly as it hit him what she'd meant by her request. Janey didn't mean sit with him as in sit in the chair next to him. She meant sit in the chair with him. As in… on him.

Sam found his face suddenly hot, and it had nothing to do with the burning fire. It was an intimate request, an affectionate one. She wanted to sit cuddled up with him by the fire. It was a romantic one.

The armchair was big, more than enough for two people to sit comfortably, but not so spacious that they wouldn't have to be pretty huddled up together. Janey was small, but not so small that she could fit on the seat beside Sam. She would definitely, or at least part of her, would have to be on him. She would be sat pretty much on his lap. He'd probably have to put an arm around her to support her.

Sam gulped.

It was crazy to think that no more than ten minutes ago she'd had him pressed up against a wall, forcefully driving her body against him, and yet he was nervous about this.

"Yeah, of course," he gulped, trying to mask his anxiousness.

But Janey looked just as nervous as she approached him.

Sam desperately racked his brains, trying to figure out why she'd wanted to initiate such an intimate situation. It wasn't that he wasn't more than up for it, it just seemed odd, coming from Janey. An hour ago she'd been doing all she could to ignore him. Half an hour ago she'd been furiously making out with him. But out of fury, out of passion.

This would be something else altogether. There would be a closeness, not just physically, but emotionally. This was the kind of soppy thing couples did.

It was the kind of thing Sam had always dreamed of doing with someone he cared for, but the kind of thing Janey had made perfectly clear she wasn't interested in. So what had changed?

Both of them too scared to say anything, but making nervous eye contact with each other, Janey tentatively began to clamber into the chair with him. Sam was frozen with anxiety, unsure whether he should be helping her onto him or else repositioning his body to make her comfortable.

Janey's knee was dangerously close to his groin at one point. Sam just gulped.

After a bit of shuffling and repositioning from them both, they were settled. Janey was lighter than he'd thought. Not that Sam had expected her to be heavy, of course, but he didn't feel uncomfortable with her on his lap. It felt nice.

Janey was sitting with little of her body weight actually on him, perched mostly on his thigh with her back up against the arm. One leg was curled up under her, the other stretched out across Sam's legs. Sam wasn't sure what to do with his arms. One was just resting on his other thigh, whilst the other was placed on the part of the chair arm Janey's body wasn't touching.

Should he move it so that it was around her though? Maybe not tightly—just resting on her back?

He didn't have time to amend anything.

Janey was cupping his face, her delicate fingers gently running over his jawline. Sam's face tingled at her touch. He wasn't even aware that he was holding his breath.

Their eyes, hers a sky blue, his a rich brown, were intensely locked on each other, soulful and longing. Sam wasn't sure he'd be able to look away even if he tried. He was transfixed; she was mesmerising. Even though they weren't yet kissing, there was something so deeply intimate about the way their gazes were held, their heads a breath apart.

Sam could hear her heart even from there. Or maybe that was just his own.

But something hung between them in that moment. They had never lingered before they kissed. Each of those five times (not that Sam was counting), it had been urgent, and panicked, and rushed, fuelled by an insatiable longing, a desperation to have their mouths pressed together. But in that moment, there was a tension between them, both heavy and light, both tender and passionate, both innocent and longing.

A meaningful gaze, a meaningful silence. Never had any words they'd spoken to each other been as meaningful and affectionate as the limbo they seemed to be stuck in right then.

Sam's eyelids fluttered shut in preparation, the only sensation he wanted to feel being that of her touch against him. When Janey kissed him, it was different, it was gentle. Not like all those times she had now crushed her mouth against his, hungry and wild.

It wasn't even a kiss at first. She had placed her lips against his, just delicately brushing the surface, as fragile as a butterfly's wings. For a few seconds, she simply let them linger just there, before applying a fraction more pressure, slightly parting his lips with her own.

Sam could do nothing but sit, paralysed by the sensation, his breath shuddering in his throat.

And then Janey did something she'd never done to Sam before, and that he'd never once had done to him. Gently, slowly at first, she put her tongue in his mouth.

Sam was surprised, unprepared for such a motion, and not even entirely sure how to respond to it. But as usual, Janey exerted a sense of graceful expertise. He didn't need to do anything but savour the sensation and follow her lead.

She shifted her body so she was closer to him, no longer allowing the chair to take most of her weight. With her legs entangled with his, her fingers raking gently through his hair, and with her chest pressed up against his once more, Sam found her waist again, trying not to think about how much of her body he could feel pressed against him. Nor how much of his body she could surely feel pressed against her.

But rather than clinically holding her waist once more, a hand placed either side, Sam wrapped his arms fully around Janey, drawing her ever closer as she deepened their once gentle kiss. Her urgency was picking up, not as frantic and wild as they'd been in the corridor, but her lips were rolling against his with a more dynamic rhythm, her tongue, rather excitingly, still stretching into his open mouth.

It was then that Sam thought about his own tongue. Although he was very much enjoying the sensation of hers in his mouth, learning how to respond, he was very much aware that his own was just lying inanimately at the base of his mouth whilst his lips continued to do all the work.

What was he supposed to do with it? Was he supposed to do anything?

He had never kissed a girl with tongues before—he didn't know the routine. Was only one person supposed to have an active tongue? Were they supposed to alternate? Was he supposed to just slip his tongue into her mouth too?

And then what? Circle her mouth? Try and avoid each other? Or was there supposed to be collision?

If he wasn't enjoying it so much, he was sure he'd find it all rather disgusting.

Sam decided to pluck up some Gryffindor courage and take a risk. It was just kissing after all, and Janey would know and understand that he maybe wasn't as experienced as her. Well, that he definitely wasn't as experienced as her.

So as tentatively and slowly as she had, he too worked his tongue into her mouth. He felt stupid and uncertain, not really knowing what he was supposed to do, but Janey seemed to notice, so that at least was a good start, and urged him on with her mouth.

Sam had to admit, though he'd very much enjoyed those frantic, hungry snogs, where their senses had taken control and they'd eaten away at each other with starving urgency, he thought this was his favourite kiss with Janey.

So far.

Every sense in his body heightened at her touch, tingling, buzzing. He felt light and weightless, like they weren't pressed up in an armchair in the deserted Gryffindor Common Room, but were just kind of floating—he and her, she and him, their own bubble, their own world. He liked that they weren't just grabbing at each other in an animalistic way, but that their bodies were fully entwined—their legs plaited through each other, his arms wound around her waist, her hand soothingly caressing his face—connected in a way that felt deeply more intimate than just their mouths. It was like they were not two separate people, but one. One person, one body, one heart.

And even though the kiss was more tame, it was new. It was exciting.

The subtle smell of the burning fire was intoxicating. Woody and ashy, the aroma enveloped the entwined couple. It seemed appropriate that, as the fire blazed, Sam and Janey too felt something of a fiery sensation burning through them.

Janey smelt nice, Sam thought to himself. He'd been in proximity with her quite a lot recently, that was fair to say, and he was starting to identify what he considered to be her scent. He didn't know what it was—perfume, soap, or maybe just her general, natural aroma—but it was fruity. Sweet, fragrant, citrusy almost.

Maybe it wasn't her at all. Maybe just being near her sent his senses into overdrive, associating pleasant feelings, and in this case smells, with her.

But indeed, in that moment, during that kiss, Sam felt closer to her than he ever had before. Not physically, although that was probably true too—but emotionally. He felt close to her on an almost spiritual, soulful level. They were pouring everything they had into that kiss, both gentle and passionate at the same time, senses exploding with euphoria.

It was gentle, soft, romantic almost—not fierce and driving like before. Whereas previously the kisses had been fuelled by anger—fury with each other condensed into that physical act—this was the opposite. It was all about a gentler type of emotion—one of affection rather than aggression.

Tongue-wise, Sam still wasn't sure he was doing what he was supposed to be doing. He dipped it into her mouth every now and again, not really sure what else to do, and also rather worried that if he got too enthusiastic, and too deep, their teeth would accidentally collide. And that would surely be a bit of a mood-killer.

But Janey didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was pretty sure he could feel her smiling through the kiss. Hopefully out of endearment rather than laughter.

It was then that Sam realised, hopefully, this was just the beginning. There was still so much to learn, so much to explore together. He wanted to be able to memorise every arc of her body, explore every cavity of her mouth, trace every inch of her skin.

And not even just the physical stuff. He wanted to know everything about her—to know her deeply, emotionally. Everything she was hiding from him, everything she'd buried deep inside herself, too scared, too vulnerable to reveal to the world.

He wanted to know her in every way there was to know a person.

Janey withdrew her tongue, mouth, hands, everything.

Sam opened his eyes in surprise, desperately missing her warmth, even after only a second's separation. She was smiling coyly, the edges of her mouth turning up ever so slightly, like she was proud of herself.

He didn't blame her. If he could kiss like that, he'd be pretty proud of himself too.

Sam left his arms wrapped around her, hands gently cradling her back. No longer fixed on either side of his head, fingers raking through his hair, Janey had one hand lovingly resting on the back of his neck, the other simply placed on his chest.

In the way that he'd seen Ebony do to James before. In the way he'd seen Rose do to Scorpius before.

In the way that couples did.

But they weren't a couple, not Sam and Janey. Were they?

No, he thought firmly. They were just two people who happened to snog a lot. They weren't even really friends, per se.

Was that what he wanted though? Was he okay with that? Just being a casual snogging buddy, seemingly no emotional depth? But just then, even though they had indeed been snogging, hadn't it also seemed more emotional? Hadn't he truly felt like it was more than just a snog?

Well, for him maybe. But what about her? Had she felt anything deeper?

Sam didn't have time to dwell on it for too long because Janey kissed him again. Nothing exotic, just a simple brushing of her lips against his, no more than a second. In and out, no lingering, the way a parent would kiss their child.

Again, he looked at her in surprise. That was so unlike Janey. That was the first time they'd ever just kissed.

Not snogging—not tongues, and hands, and bodies—just a kiss in its most simple and purest form. Gentle and affectionate, you didn't kiss someone as simply as that if you didn't deeply care for them. Did you? It wasn't like mindless snogging, driven by craving and lust, just two bodies, two random strangers seeking a bit of action.

So Sam kissed Janey too. A fleeting peck, her lips soft and warm against his, though only for a few seconds. And he found he enjoyed it even as much as the heavier snogging. It was brief, and it was sweet, and it felt nice.

So much nicer than any of those times he'd kissed Isabella.

Janey was laughing gently, coy and playful, so Sam joined in too. It was like they were sharing a secret, just him and her. Her hand was still delicately placed on his chest, and her body still felt warm and familiar, entangled with his, curled up in that chair by the fire.

Sam kissed her again, but this time brushing only the corner of her mouth. Not quite a cheek kiss—he was still scared to put his lips anywhere on her body (even her face), that wasn't her lips—but just something different.

"You missed," she teased, running her hand up from his chest to the back of his neck. It felt soothing.

"I meant to," he teased back.

Janey planted a kiss on his forehead.

"You missed," Sam said playfully.

"I meant to."

"So, uh," Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, the heat starting to creep up under his collar.

It was in those moments that he felt most uncertain. Post-snog, yet they were still in quite an intimate position, their legs and bodies entangled. Did they talk? But then what was he supposed to say? Casual chit-chat? Were they supposed to acknowledge the snogging?

"I guess loitering in the common room is allowed then," he said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah," Janey agreed. "Just not snogging."

And then she and Sam were laughing again. It felt familiar, even though they'd probably never laughed together pre-Rosewood. Not just them anyway—not laughter that they shared together, private and personal.

And then Janey sighed, somewhat out of contentment and somewhat out of exhaustion. Her body sunk down against Sam until her head was resting against his chest—her arms, legs, and body all curled up—with one of his arms protectively wrapped around her, safe and warm. Sam wondered, with her ear pressed right up against his heart, whether she could hear his heartbeat, whether she could feel it in the way that he could.

They didn't say anything. They didn't need to. They just sat, curled up together, enjoying the warm embrace, the soft crackle of the fire, and the comforting silence of simply being.

What would people think, Sam wondered, if they were to walk into the room right then? Anybody who didn't know Sam and Janey, upon seeing them in such a cute and endearing embrace, would immediately assume they were romantically involved. Friends didn't hold each other in such a way, not when armchairs and snug little fires were involved.

Were they romantically involved, Sam wondered. They weren't dating, obviously, but something more than casual was definitely happening. In just that last hour alone, they had snogged three separate times. And with tongues, too!

That wasn't just innocent flirtation—that was serious.

For all intents and purposes, especially given the situation they were in right at that moment, they were acting like a couple. The only difference being without the actual commitment. Sam had no doubt the sentiment was there, just not the labels. Janey could very well go off the next day and snog some other random Hogwarts student, and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

Would she though? Would it hurt him if she did?

But no, Sam thought, that was stupid. He'd be hurt but he wouldn't have any grounds on which to call her out on it. They weren't exclusive, after all. They weren't really… anything.

"Why did you kiss me?" he asked suddenly.

Janey didn't even lift her head to look at him, but he could sense her surprise at his question—he could feel her tense in confusion.

"Why did you kiss me?" she countered. "It seemed to be pretty mutual…"

"No, not now," Sam dismissed, blushing slightly. "I mean… back in Rosewood Manor. When you—after the battle—and you—you saw me, and you ran at me, and you—you kissed me," he struggled to explain, embarrassed to address it so blatantly.

It had been playing on Sam's mind. After years of bitterness and hostility, daily arguments over the simplest of things, it had all changed in a matter of seconds. Sam knew his own heart, of course. He had struggled with his emotions towards Janey for a while, deeply conflicted. He had known, to some extent, that the passion he felt for her was not strictly of anger, but he'd refused to acknowledge it within his own heart. Whether she felt the same had always been questionable.

But since setting foot in Rosewood, it had all changed. Having her imprisoned, and him suddenly fearful of her fate, it had been then that Sam had been forced to more openly address his feelings with regards to the irritable blonde girl who had riled him for so long. That pain of not being near her, and that fear that something terrible would happen to her, had been all the wakeup call he'd needed.

And yet, even with that epiphany, Sam never would have run to take her up into his arms and kiss her with all his might upon being reconciled once more. In fact, he likely wouldn't have pursued anything romantic with Janey—he would have stubbornly denied, even to himself, how he truly felt.

He certainly wouldn't have been able to kiss her with such spontaneity and passion as she had.

And that was the point—she had. Janey had kissed him. Unprompted. And Sam was still unsure of her intentions behind it all. But he desperately wanted to know. Had she, too, over those few hours of agonising separation, come to realise the same things as he had? Those same feelings forcing themselves through?

Sam was almost glad that they couldn't make eye contact from the position they were in. It was easier to talk about when he couldn't look Janey in the eye. The weight of her entire body against him felt comfortable though, reassuring and oddly familiar. He felt like when the time came to untangle themselves and go to their separate beds, he would feel oddly empty without that warmth and that pressure from her body against his.

Sam expected Janey not to answer or else dismiss the question. But to his surprise, she didn't.

"I'd been thinking a lot," she said in a thoughtful voice. "In the cell. With Jinx."

Sam was ashamed to admit he'd forgotten about Janey's temporary imprisonment during the time they'd returned to Hogwarts—well, up until then—and felt immediately guilty. She was tough as nails, but no one had actually checked she was alright. He was certain she wouldn't have opened up, even if it had been traumatising for her, but he felt like he should have actually asked after her wellbeing at some point amongst all the snogging.

"About what?" he asked gently.

"You," Jany admitted.

"In a… positive way?" Sam gulped. That would be a first.

"I was thinking about when we first got to Rosewood. And how Piper had held the dagger against your throat and threatened to slit it."

Sam was surprised and a little embarrassed by the reminder. "And how you told her to 'kill me' because you 'didn't want me,'" he said sarcastically.

He could almost feel Janey blush. "I told you—I only said that because I thought if she thought you weren't important to us then she'd let you go."

"Or actually just kill me," Sam mumbled.

"Anyway," Janey swiftly moved on, "I was thinking about that. And about how I'd feel if… if she really had killed you then."

"And," Sam gulped, "your, err, verdict was…?"

Janey did not answer straight away, but Sam was holding his breath. This was the most emotional exchange they'd ever had. It was the closest she'd ever really come to speaking about what was going on in her heart.

When she did speak, it was in a shy voice. And even though he couldn't see her face anyway, she was hiding beneath her fringe. "I'd be… sad."

"Sad?" Sam repeated, a little disappointed. He'd been hoping for traumatised or heartbroken. "Oh."

"I'd miss you, I mean," Janey tried to elaborate.

"As in, like, you'd miss me in the same way as you'd miss… James?" he suggested. "Or—or Albus? Or—"

"Not… exactly," she mumbled.

Sam was pushing her. Not in the way he had done during dinner, when he'd been trying to goad her and make her snap and yell. But she was so close to actually confessing something just a little deeper about her feelings towards him—the first time she'd do so without it being forced out of her with a Truth Potion. He was desperate to hear her say the words.

But Janey was up and down. Even just throughout that day, she had been in a whirlwind of emotions, swinging from one extreme to the other. First cold and bitter, doing all she could to ignore him, then frustrated and angry, and now—and this was rare, Sam knew—a lot more affectionate. A lot more open.

In the morning, Janey could very well go back to ignoring him or snapping at him for every little thing with none of the gentleness and tenderness she was displaying just then.

Sam was so close. Just a little bit further.

"So, like—"

"Sam, stop it," Janey ordered, cutting across him impatiently, like a repeat from earlier. "I know what you're doing."

"What?" he asked innocently. "I'm just trying to make conversation," he mumbled in protest.

"No," she said furiously, "you're trying to dig for something deeper. And I told you earlier—knock it off. I'm not ready to do this yet."

Sam frowned, his heart sinking. "But—I just don't understand—I'm not asking a lot of you."

"Well, it's a big deal to me."

"Why?" he demanded. "I don't get it. You just spent a lot of time snogging me. You're willing to stick your tongue in my mouth, but you can't even actually just tell me how you feel?"

Sam immediately felt annoyed at himself. Why would anybody be that blunt? He'd had a good time that evening, and now he'd probably just compromised everything. Janey was probably going to storm off again. He could feel her tensing in his arms, visibly uncomfortable.

"If you were against it so much, you didn't have to join in," she said spitefully.

"I'm not against it!" Sam protested, suddenly horrified that she thought he was resentful of the snogging. "I'm very, very up for it," he clarified. "I just… You know, I'd like to know how you're feeling. Whether it actually means anything to you or not."

Janey didn't respond, and Sam groaned internally. Why, why, did he have to ruin it? They'd had such a pleasant, semi-romantic evening up until then!

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, feeling hugely guilty. He should have just let her take it at her own pace rather than trying to push for something more. Janey was strong-willed—she needed to set the terms.

Sam squeezed her slightly, nestling his chin into the top of her hair. She didn't push him away—a positive sign. Several seconds of silence passed.

"I was thinking," Janey said in a quiet, shaky voice, unprompted by Sam, "about how I'd regret it if I'd lost you at any point during our mission. Because"—she paused to gulp, uncertain about whether to go any further.

Sam remained silent, trying not to prompt her.

"Because I… I would regret only having been mean to you. And part of me… didn't want to be mean to you," she said weakly.

Well, Sam thought, it was something.

But Janey wasn't done. "Part of me knew," she burst out, desperate to elaborate more. "Part of me knew I didn't—well, that I—I didn't hate the idea of… you."

Sam could sense that she was trying but that it was hard for her. But he respected the attempt a lot.

"And me," she gulped.

Sam still didn't say anything. It seemed to work better when he didn't—when he let Janey try and explain it on her own terms. He thought it rather helped that she wasn't looking at him either. It was like he wasn't there. She was more at ease at the notion of talking more to herself than to him.

"And it frustrated me to think I might have wasted my chance. Not that I wanted anything to happen," Janey said hurriedly. "But… But it frustrated me that I might never have the chance to, err, have that opportunity," she finished quietly.

"So what you're saying," Sam said, gently teasing, "is that had it been, say, Mason, or Albus, or someone else stood where I was, you wouldn't have strictly reacted in the same way?"

"What?"

"It wasn't just the thrill of victory," he explained. "It wasn't just that you were excitable, and pumped-up, and wanted to, err, throw yourself at someone—anyone. It was because… it was… me?"

"Are you suggesting I just wanted a victory snog?" Janey asked playfully.

"Well"—Sam shrugged, a grin breaking out—"you never know."

"Well," Janey considered, "Rose was right there next to you, wasn't she? I suppose I could have just snogged her."

"Oh my God," Sam murmured, a very vivid image suddenly branded into his mind. "You," he gulped, "you, ah, you could have, yeah. Yeah," he breathed. "I wouldn't have minded that…"

Janey snorted. "Are you saying you'd have rather I snogged Rose instead?"

"No," Sam said wickedly. "I'm very glad you snogged me. But, well, if you had wanted to snog Rose instead, I certainly would have been okay with that."

"Pervert."

"No, no, I'm just tolerant of your choices," he teased. "But yeah, no, that was a good choice you made. In, err, in snogging me. I very much approve of it."

"It would have only been you," she clarified. "I'm not insatiable."

"What?"

Janey rolled her eyes—not that Sam could see. "I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you—no one else. And not because I just fancied a bit of a post-battle snog," she scoffed.

An uncontained grin had spread out across Sam's face—not that Janey could see—and his heart, he could swear, actually skipped a beat. She might as well have just proposed to him for what it was worth in terms of progress.

Rather than verbally respond, not wanting to make Janey uncomfortable by drawing attention to what she'd said—it was a pretty big step for her, after all—Sam just kissed the top of her head, once more giving her an affectionate squeeze within their embrace.

She responded by turning her head up to look at him with a shy smile and innocent eyes, full of tenderness. Sam returned the smile with ease, wondering if his eyes could possibly convey that same affection.

With a slight sigh, and this time Sam was sure it was of contentment, Janey turned her head away, once more resting it against his chest, just above his heart. She said nothing more, her eyelids gently flickering closed, and neither did he. He ran a soothing hand up and down her arm for a while, enjoying the warmth of her in his arms, until his eyes flickered shut too.

Lovingly entangled, heart rates slowing but beating in sync, with the fire still burning, filling them further with warmth, Janey and Sam fell asleep in each other's arms. They remained like that the entire night. It would be but the first of many nights spent in each other's embrace.

It was that memory that Janey dreamt about, her first night alone after the divorce, a cold and noticeable absence in the bed she had shared with her ex-husband for the past three years.

Sam, however, did not. For he didn't sleep at all that night. He lay awake, his mind in turmoil, trying not to disturb Isabella.

Author's Note: Title and epigraph inspired by Pixie Lott's 'Hold Me In Your Arms'