If the hotel room wasn't the best that money could buy, quite frankly, Simon didn't care. Katie was off of that God-forsaken island and Henry Coleman was no longer droning in his ear. He really should have hired another pilot to fly Coleman separately, after all, Craig was -- well, Barbara was paying for this little rescue mission anyway. Putting thoughts of his wife's 'friend' out of his mind, he concentrated on watching Katie as she flitted about the room. "Sheets! Simon! Actual sheets!" she squealed with delight as she rubbed the soft, cotton material against her face, a sensuous daze falling across her expression. His gaze moved away from her, and onto a more banal view -- the bed.

The bed.

Letting out a heavy breath, he laughed inwardly at the direction of his thoughts. No one would guess that the two had been living side by side for six months now and that he had slept in the same bed as this woman with only general moments of discomfort, easily soothed by a long shower. No, judging by his racing hormones and one-track mind that resembled the race that hers had been on all along, one would think that he was madly in love with her, couldn't get enough of her and hadn't had the opportunity to be alone with her and just ravish her within an inch of her life.

"Oh, Simon," she murmured and he found his gaze drawn back towards her. What a difference co-habitation, the streaming of Lily from his blood, one kiss and one month of absence had done for his sex drive. He truly just wanted to take her. Grab her up in his arms, throw her on that bed and just take her. Now. A heavy sigh escaped him again as he gazed at the fall of her slightly, tousled blond hair, the flesh of her back exposed above the low cut of her top. The sun was setting and streaming rays of the multi-colored rays fell upon his wife's form. Hues of rainbow kissed each flaxen strand, peaches and violets danced across the soft heat whispering across her face, flowing upon the ivory top taut across her breasts, clinging to the curve of her wait, the short skirt, leaving her long legs bare as she moved idly about the room, her fingers playing with various objects.

Oh, this was too much. Much, much too much. He took a step forward, his gaze locked upon her body, her soft hair, silently willing her to turn and look at him. As if sensing his thoughts, she stilled slightly, that luscious body going quiet before slowly, as if she swam underwater, the muscles in her back, in her neck moved beneath her pale skin and she glanced over her shoulder. Their eyes met and her lips parted, shock -- much too strong to be mere surprise -- filled her gaze as they took in the intensity of his ... his eyes hot, full of an unspoken need that she had been aching with for so long now.

Heat and fire. Desire and need curled and beckoned in their smoky depths. He had never, ever looked at her like this. This look was reserved for other women -- not her, but he was looking at her with heat and fire, desire and need. He was. Her lids grew heavy beneath the onslaught of his hunger, her tongue darted out, licking suddenly dry lips as her gaze fell upon his and his mouth curved into a sweet smile, a smile that transformed the dark wanting of his face. She looked into his eyes and found herself moving a step closer. "Simon," she whispered, finding his name the only word she could summon. His lips curved even more and the sweetness lingered only in her memory - here was a smile of knowledge … he knew her, knew that she felt the same invisible pull that he did - here was a smile of sex.

Sex. Images unbidden flew through her mind of this man, his hands - those long, supple fingers - upon her body, those lips upon her flesh. A gasp escaped her at the primitive surge of heat that ran through her. She snapped her eyes close, remembering that one night vividly, so vividly. The music, the thunder crashing, the backseat of the convertible. The memory was so loud, beating into her. She felt alive; every pore of her being, every sense of herself opened to the scent, the vibration, the presence of him. The steps. The steps of him as he walked toward her. She could hear him. She could feel him. She could practically taste him.

"Katie," he murmured. His voice was soft and low, a husky rumble of desire caressing each syllable. She felt his breath, moist and hot upon her throat and the heat of his body burned into her as he moved closer, closer until only the whisper of space stood between them. If her very life had depended on it, she could not have moved away from him. She would never, ever want to. Not Simon. Never Simon.

Slowly she turned, her hips brushing against his groin and if he hadn't already been captured and held by her eyes -- liquid, soft, heaven -- he would have closed his own in ecstasy at the feel of her body pressed -- even for that moment -- against his. Taking a step back, he held out his hand. Slowly, her every movement a symphony of eroticism and elegance melded into perfection, she laid her hand upon his, her fingers brushing over the tips of his. The flesh of her palm was damp and he wanted to taste her as they moved as one body towards the bed. Bringing her hand to his lips, he turned it over as he took the tip of one finger, another, and another and another softly, quickly into his mouth, gathering just a hint of her taste.

Her entire body breathed toward him as she let out an exhalation, her eyes never leaving his. His hand held her wrist firmly, his thumb caressing the fragile bone there as he bent down, his gaze still holding hers and he pressed a kiss in the center of her palm. Languidly her arm rose, her fingers dancing upon him as her body moved towards his, molding against him. This was lust. This was passion. This was desire in its purest, most basic form.

Oh, heaven, this was love. This she had never felt before. His hands entangled in her hair as he made love to her with his eyes. In his eyes, she could see the same images that had burned through her - the same images that swam headlong through her now. His hands, his mouth, his tongue, his sex in her, on her, devouring her.

The jeans and top he had brought for her molded to her waist, to her derriere, as his hands kneaded her flesh, as he pulled her closer to him. To him. She could feel the hard heat of him, pulsing, erect, pressing into the juncture of her thighs. And she wanted to feel him inside of her. Again. Now. She closed her eyes, unable to breathe. Unable to think, to do anything but feel. Her head fell back and the silken, creamy column of her throat lay bare to him. A sheen of sweat glistened upon her flesh and again that insatiable need to taste her once more -- it had been long, such a long time ago -- swelled within him. His head bent, his tongue finding the hollow at the base of her throat, caressing the delicate bone there before sliding upward along the soft, so soft, skin offered to him. A breathy sigh escaped her and he curved his hand around her neck, bringing her face to face with him. Her eyes opened slowly as if in a dream and her lips were parted, moist, waiting for the kiss that she knew was coming.

He lowered his head and his mouth captured the soft pillow of her upper lip, sucking gently and then his tongue slid in between her mouth, sliding along her bottom lip, tasting her. He withdrew for a moment and her lids slowly opened as her tongue came out, gently licking her lips in a daze. His mouth descended upon hers once more, raining whisper-soft kisses upon her, his tongue flicking out, dancing with hers. Her lips were so soft, so full, so lush, so perfect. He devoured her, hunger and need filling him as his kiss deepened and her soft, her heat, everything about her flooded through his body.

Blood was rushing through her, she heard thunder in her ears as her heart began contracting and she could feel the blood pumping in and out as the taste of him filled her. She felt dizzy, light-headed. She was whimpering, soft sounds emanating from in between their kisses. This went beyond desire. This went beyond anything she had ever known. She loved him so much. She wanted him. She needed him. She felt so much more than she had on Halloween -- now, there were real feelings and just the two of them and sobriety. Her breath came fast and heavy as she pulled away, her gaze meeting his and seeing the mirrored need revealed there.

He stood silent, just gazing down at her, marveling at the perfection of the woman before him ... a perfection that he had taken for granted. "I want to look at you," he whispered. His hands fell between them and grasped the hem of her shirt, pulling it off over her head. Quietly, his fingers rested against her waist before slowly sliding up her skin, cupping the weight of her breasts covered by lace in either hand. Her breathing was unsteady, soft hitching noises coming from her throat and he loved the sound. Loved it as he pulled her to him, lifting her up. He felt the lace of her bra, her nipples were hard, pressing into his shirt. Running his hand over her back, feeling the skin, as soft as satin, he loved it. And he kissed her, long and hard, pouring all of the need and desire he had felt building up since that kiss in their suite so long ago now it seemed.

She wound her arms about his neck, wrapping her legs about his hips. His hand drifted down to the curve of her derriere and he pulled her up more firmly against him. Setting her down, he grabbed her hand; held her face, kissed her once more, a short, passionate burst of energy exploding between them. He looked at her as the kiss broke and could feel the grin spreading across his face. Pulling his tee-shirt off, he reached for her again. She swayed against him, her hands exploring his chest, his back. Pushing at him and he fell away from her, towards the bed, and laughter broke free from her. Happy, lusty laughter as she said his name softly once more.

"Simon."

Landing with a soft thud, he still held her hand and so he pulled slightly. "Katie." And he laughed with her as she moved between his knees. Reaching up with his free hand, he tugged at the white rose nestled between her breasts. The bra remained securely in place so he tugged harder, the grin spreading wider across his face as she fell against him slightly.

"Simon," she purred his name and tugging her hand free, she reached behind her as he leaned back, enjoying the view. She undid the clasp and her bra fell, landing on his spread leg. He breathed in the sight of her, flashes of lightning and tangled clothes being his only viewpoint that night. His hands skimmed along her arms, dropped to her hands and after a moment's clasp, he released them. Reaching up, he captured her breasts and she leaned into his touch and as his fingers circled their tips, he gloried in the soft weight held within his grasp. Winding his arms about her back, he pulled her roughly against him.

A gasp escaped his mouth, a cry from hers, when her naked flesh met his. Simon kissed her, long and hard and decided in that moment that he could live forever like this, just holding his wife in his arms, feeling her nakedness against his, kissing her lips. Tasting her. Breathing her. Listening to the sound of her breath. Feeling the touch of her breath on his skin. He felt a peace, an inner contentment within himself that he had never known before. As the thought passed through his mind, his body demanded more. Her hand brushed along the front of his jeans, her fingers found the snap, the zipper. She pulled away from him slightly, her breath lingering on his lips. Her eyes stared into his and he wondered that he could ever have not wanted her, desired her. He was a fool.

She reached out a tender finger, running alongside his face. "I love you," she whispered with a soft smile. Sliding down, she knelt between his knees and pulled his throbbing shaft out from his boxer shorts, her eyes never leaving his. He bumped the sight before him to the top of his list of the perfect moments in his life. Her fingers encircled him, her pinkie dancing along his head. She lowered her eyes and began to dip her head towards him.

He reached out, one hand cupping her face, the other curving around her arm, about her back. She looked at him in question. He shook his head, he couldn't speak, there had only been that one time and she had been a virgin. He wasn't going to rush her, she had already given him so much. Right now, he just wanted her, just wanted to be inside her, hold her in his arms. Pulling her up, he pulled her flush against him once more. Leaning over him with a wide smile upon her face, as if she had read his mind, she kissed him, her tongue dipping into his mouth as she opened herself to him completely.

Gave herself to him completely ... as she always had.

He ran his hands up her thighs, under her skirt. Laughing throatily, she leaned back as he stood up and turning her a little, her back now facing the bed, and he pushed her down. Once she was seated, he divested himself of his clothing, pausing to remove her shoes and panties. She let out a heavy sigh, her gaze drifting over his body, her eyes wide as she took in the glory of his form and felt a glow of pink suffuse her as he looked her over just as intently. And then he was on the bed, and again he ran his hands under her skirt, an urgency roughening his movements a bit. Pushing her back against the soft mattress, he leaned over her, laying down upon her carefully. Her eyes were locked on his. Trust. Love. Acceptance and joy centered in their gaze. Her eyes were a radiant blue, a slight sheen of liquid still glistening at their corners, happiness filling them.

He raised a hand, cupping her face, bending down for a kiss. His lips touched her and she grabbed him, once again opening herself to him completely. She spread her legs, wrapping them about him. His fingers explored her inner folds, she arched her back slightly, her breasts pushing into his chest. Dipping his tongue inside her mouth, he entered he in one smooth thrust. She stiffened, pulling from his kiss and her eyes were wide. "My God, Simon," she cried, clutching him closer as he moved within her.

He felt her tightening about him, her muscles contracting, her breasts against his chest, her breath against his face. Moving with her, faster and harder and she was crying, crying his name, crying God's name, crying incoherent words of love. She was with him. He could feel her on the edge right with him. He smiled, they would go over together. He pulled almost completely out of her, and then with one final, powerful thrust slid fully inside of her, bursting.

"Simon!" she screamed. She screamed his name, he murmured hers in a whisper. She was crying, her arms wrapped about him. She rained kisses on his shoulders, his throat before he pulled her to him, cupping her face in his hands and he kissed her with what little energy he had left inside of him. And her name fell from his lips once more and as he looked into her eyes, he realized that it was the sweetest word he'd ever spoken.

"Katie."