Sam wasn't sure where the hours of the train ride went, but he was grateful to still be alive. He'd dozed off. Actually dozed off and left both him and Skye unprotected.

Then there was the matter of this thing that had happened which, in his groggy and dizzy state, he couldn't figure out if it had been real or a really awesome dream.

Because in his dream/potential reality, Skye had kissed him. He hadn't fallen asleep after crashing on the cot, just decided to rest his eyes for a while and mentally prepare for his shift and not sleeping for another few hours. He'd heard her fidgeting, but was too exhausted to provide any helpful input.

And then... There she was, her lips on his, not once but twice until he decided he wanted more of that and kissed her back. And as his dream went, they'd gone on like this for what felt like hours, not speaking, not doing anything else but kissing, until with a tired smile, she'd pulled away and fallen asleep in his arms.

And that was the part where he'd possibly dozed off or something because holy hell the entire night felt like one giant mess inside his head.

Sam had no idea how to feel. Because if all the kissing happened, hell yeah, best night ever. If not... It was fighting to be the disappointment of the year in a year which had Chrsitine and Harry sleeping together behind his back.

He needed to sort out his priorities.

The feeble light of dawn filled the train as Sam leaned his back against the wall two doors down from his and checked his notifications. He'd sent the damning evidence he'd collected from the party to Herrison, but had left out the part about the police. Except a confirmation that the assignment was complete, he hadn't gotten anything from the Agency. So now he was more preoccupied with news outlets. So far, everything was quiet, which got him feeling even more nervous.

He heard a disturbance from a few doors away and pushed himself off the wall just as Skye's distraught face popped into the hallway. She spotted him, let out a loud groan, and disappeared back inside.

Well, that was one way of reacting to seeing him again. The chances of the kissing actually happening were dropping with the speed of light. He walked to their compartment and let himself inside only to find it empty.

"Skye?" He turned the corner into the tiny washing area and found her leaning her hands on the sides of the sink. Her elbows were shaking. "Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"I just thought something had happened to you," she muttered, "but you're obviously fine. Where were you?" The words came out a little jumbled.

"Keeping guard outside. Just wanted to let you sleep."

"How long have I slept?"

"About four hours I think."

"For hours?" With every word, her voice was becoming more panicky. "It doesn't feel like I've slept half an hour!"

"You're exhausted. It's going to take a lot more sleep to make up for what you've been through."

"We've been through! It was both of us."

He walked to her and wanted to take her in his arms to calm her down, assure her that they'd be okay, but the space didn't allow him. His own lack of sleep made his movements sloppy so he found himself leaning against the counter to stay on his feet. Skye glanced at him, her eyes wide, trapped between his arms.

Heat pooled in Sam's chest as he looked down at her, his gaze lingering on her lips a little more than was proper. But he knew their shape, their taste and he wanted more of it.

"Did we...?" he asked, which was a stupid question because no matter the answer, it was still awkward for her. For him, for either making it up or not remembering.

"I... I didn't... We..."

Yeah, that was about right. But there was something in her eyes, a flicker of desire that had him bending closer and closer.

"Sam," she breathed, but it sounded like an invitation.

"All you have to do is say no," he whispered back.

"Why would I?"

That was enough for him. He closed the space between them and his lips found hers. They were familiar in their shape and softness and tasting them again gave him a high he never wanted to come down from. But while last night their kisses had been tender and tame, this time there was fire.

She sunk her hands in his hair, and he pressed closer to her, grabbed her thighs and placed her on top of the counter. This was even better than what they'd been doing last night. She pulled the t-shirt out of his jeans and snuck her hands to touch his back, his stomach. It drove him up the wall.

He moved away from her mouth, kissing her cheek, her jaw, going behind her ear. The little moan she let out had him pulling her sweater up, touching her back.

"Sam," she breathed again, except this time it sounded like a no.

With his head filled with wool and barely registering what was going on, he pulled away from her.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"No, don't be sorry," she said, her voice a little strangled. "It's just... Maybe we should just be more careful of our surroundings."

Yeah, that too. "Good point. I just wanted to..."

"Make sure last night wasn't a dream?" she asked shrewdly.

"Pretty much."

"Good, I was afraid it was a dream for a while as well."

Sam smirked and left her to it, returning the little energy and attention he had left to making sure they reached Chicago safely. So while Skye packed their stuff, he checked the train again and they spent the reminder of the journey in the restaurant cart, discussing their assignment.

Even if he wanted to take in every word coming out of her mouth, half of the little attention Sam was still capable of focused on what had happened, on the happiness filling his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't had a hole in his chest.

Now there was just overwhelming heat and the sense that the world made sense again. Bad things happened, but the tables turned and happiness was possible again. And what he loved most was that there was no awkwardness between them, no guilt, no games.

They reached Chicago without incident and took a cab, first to her place, then his. When they reached her apartment building, he helped her with her luggage and gave her a short kiss before hopping back in.

He really liked kissing her. Really liked her. Everything about her. And who gave a fuck if it was projection or whatever? The feelings were real. She made him happy. He only hoped his happy haze wouldn't disappear once he got some sleep.

♠️

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Once in the safety of her apartment, everything she'd done wrong came crashing down on Skye like an avalanche.

It had been so easy to pretend while they'd been away, act as if it was a temporary thing, confined to their adventure. At least that was what she'd told herself to justify kissing Sam one more time, touching him, talking to him like nothing had happened.

Except once they were back, it didn't stop. She'd chosen to hold his hand in the cab and lean against him. Answered his kiss just minutes ago when he dropped her off.

No, this can't be happening. He's your patient. Just a child. He's eight years younger than you.

For crying out loud, she was already in school when he was born. What the fuck was wrong with her?

But all that reasoning didn't make it gross. She'd seen him, ran her hands over him, kissed him, and nothing about it had felt wrong. Just the thought of touching him again made her shudder.

Your patient! That was a real problem. Because it was something she couldn't justify in any way. Except... He hasn't exactly been your patient in over a month now.

And after he'd spoken with Christine and Harry and gotten his closure, he was definitely well on his way to being healed. He didn't need her anymore and they'd been more friends than doctor and patient. She'd constantly had to make up reasons to be around him.

She wasn't his doctor anymore. Couldn't be anything. She'd fucked up and she had to end this now, when she was sure of it, rather than later when she was sure she'd find some insane reason to keep manipulating him to keep her around.

So she dropped her luggage, got into her car and drove to his place, chanting all the reasons she had to end this inside her head on the way.

He's your patient. You broke your hippocratic oath. You took advantage of his need for love, enabled him. This is sick, this isn't right.

"This is sick, this isn't right," she whispered as she knocked on his door.

But the moment he opened, an exhausted smile on his face, her saving mantra instantly disappeared from memory. He'd taken a shower, so his hair was once again jet black and a little wet, and he only wore a pair of worn out jeans and a t-shirt.

"Hi," he said, then the smile slipped off his face. "Everything okay?"

No, nothing was okay. For a moment, she wondered if now was the best time to spring this on him. He hadn't slept in days and could very well forget everything by the next morning. She should go back home. But then she'd lose her nerve and as much as it sucked for him, they needed to do this now.

"We need to talk. Can I come in?"

"Sure, sorry." He moved out of the way and took her jacket, hanging it in the hall next to his. As if it belonged there and they should totally live together.

She shook away the stupid thought and took her boots off then stepped into the living area.

"What's going on?" He moved to the couch but didn't sit, turning to face her instead.

"Sam, we need to end this," she blurted out.

He squinted at her. "End what?"

Okay, she hadn't expected that answer. "This thing between us."

"Are you putting labels on things?"

"This isn't right. You're my patient. I took a hippocratic oath to make you better, to do no harm, and instead--"

"Skye, I think we both know you haven't really been my doctor for weeks now. At least I haven't considered you a doctor. Just a very smart, insightful friend."

He was giving her a way out, but she didn't want to take it. "That's not how things work. I have charts on you! I still fill them in with your progress. I took advantage of your vulnerability, for Christ's sake. I knew that if I encouraged your projections I could benefit from your affection."

Sam ran his hand through his hair. "Shit, I'm way too out of it for this. Look." He took in a deep breath. "You helped me more than you can imagine. You know me best and, even if you didn't have to, you stuck around, chose to enter my crazy life. And I'm grateful. Being with you has helped me heal in ways you couldn't imagine. To me, subjecting yourself to my affection only means that you want it. Me. And that makes me happy. But if this feels like too much and you want to walk out that door and never see me again, I'll understand. I won't like it, but I'll understand."

She blinked at him. What the hell was wrong with him? Couldn't he see how this was fifty shades of messed up?

"Let's try this another way, Snowflake. I'm eight years older than you. And your doctor. And yet, I kissed you, let you kiss me." Felt him up and oh, how she wanted to do that again, run her fingers through his hair and all over his body. "I know you have a pathological need to love, I know you're only showing me affection because I'm your current outlet--"

"What if you're not?"

His words silenced her, as did the look on his face. There was nothing apologetic about him. If anything, he looked a little ticked.

"I am," she said quietly.

"No, you're not. Not anymore. Because I've actually managed to figure out some things on my own. Like how feelings are feelings, no matter the reason they exist. Happiness is happiness, no matter how old you are."

It couldn't be. He wasn't saying what she thought--hoped he was saying. She shook her head, trying to drive back the warmth inside her chest.

"You used to hate me. You called me old lady. A soccer mom."

"You're the sexiest woman I've ever seen."

That was a damn lie, but he seemed to mean it. How could he look at her like that, with so much determination, as if he knew exactly what he wanted?

"Sam..." He was making it so hard to do this.

"Again. That's just me. If you want to walk out now, I'll understand."

His gaze zeroed in on her, assuring her that he meant it. He wasn't trying to bullshit her or shift blame or even guilt her into staying. He was clearly and concisely stating how things were.

He wanted her to stay in his life, but she was free to go. Only that, she couldn't. Ever since she'd realized her mistake regarding him and vowed to make up for it and help him, she'd also started diving deeper into his life.

Training, going on missions, learning about his brothers, going to his father's funeral... It had all been a silent and unconscious build up to enter his life and stay there. Cope with the stress of it, be there for him.

And after what happened on that train, she'd be a fool not to admit it. She was in love with him. She was attracted to him. And right now, there was nothing she wanted more than to melt into his arms.

He was right. Feelings were feelings, no matter the reason. The heart wanted what it wanted, and hers wanted him.

"I can't be your doctor anymore," she whispered.

"I think we've established that by now," he said with a curt nod. "But..." He hesitated a few seconds. "I'm thinking maybe not tell the Agency yet? This way you have an excuse to come to Egypt with me should you want to."

He'd really thought of everything. Her exhausted mind could no longer find reasons not to do this. She wasn't his doctor anymore. He was healed and on his own. He didn't care that she was older. He thought she was sexy.

"Okay. What are we then?"

"Do we need to label it? I will if you really want to. I just don't feel the need to."

He shook her head, because she didn't either, at least not now. Whatever it was, it was just beginning, a small bud which had yet to blossom.

"What do you want, then?"

For a moment, he just looked at her. Then, in three strides he reached her, took her face in his hands and kissed her.

It was like an explosion and she couldn't get enough. Her fingers moved through his hair, still damp from his shower. The smell, the feel of him was overwhelming and she touched and explored every inch she could reach. His hands did the same, moving from her face to her shoulders, then under her sweater.

It felt like they were back on the train, feeling each other up in a tight space. Except this time, they were no longer in danger, there was no need for extra attention.

Suddenly her feet left the floor and he was holding her up, moving into the bedroom, dropping her on the bed. Her head spun and her entire body arched towards his. She grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Ever since she'd seen him by accident in the locker room at the Agency, she couldn't get his body our of her head.

He came closer, letting her touch him all she wanted, then took her sweater off, leaving her wearing only a tank top. Then he lifted that too and kissed her stomach. The heat of his lips on her skin had her moaning again, writhing under him.

A part of her screamed in protest. She was not the type of girl to just jump into bed with some guy. But this wasn't some guy, this was Sam. And despite his intimacy issues with Chrsitine, he knew exactly how to touch her and where for maximum effect.

He stopped and raised on his forearms, looking at her with hazy eyes. Yes, he was exhausted, that much was obvious, but there was so much fire there, so much desire, her entire body shivered.

"Now's the time to tell me what you want," he whispered.

He was giving her an out again, but even if it was crazy, this time she wouldn't even dream to take it. Whatever the consequences, she wanted this too much.

"You," she breathed. "All of you."

His smile was the sun after months of rain. "Great, because I'm willing to give you just that."

She didn't think so, but when he kissed her again, she didn't want to waste precious time on pointless contradictions.

"I know you, Skye," he said as he trailed kisses along her stomach. "I know what you mean."

"Is it your turn to be a mind reader?" she asked, hardly keeping her breathing in check.

He raised to face her, the hottest smirk on his lips. "Don't be so surprised. I've learned to be perceptive over the years."

How could he be so gorgeous, so perfect? And how could she be so convinced that she could do this with no consequences? At least a formal warning was in order.

"Look, Snowflake, I'm not usually the type of girl who jumps straight into bed with people."

"I should feel special then," he answered with a laugh, moving his kisses to her inner thighs. "And as an FYI, you just make Snowflake sexy." Even through the thick material of the jeans, the touch had her back arching.

Unfortunately, he stopped and returned to stare her in the face. "I don't judge you, Skye. And I can understand this better than anyone. Don't overthink it. Lose control."

"Great advice," she breathed, barely able to focus as he peeled her jeans off.

"Heard it from a very wise person," he muttered into her skin, kissing his way from her ankle up.

This time she really did moan, without trying to hold it in. He was strangely good at this and his confidence was beyond sexy. For the moment, it was all she wanted. To give herself away.

Without hesitation, without overthinking. Without labels. Without expecting anything in return. Which was, as Sam had put it, the best way to love.

And even if he didn't love her, it didn't matter. Not then. She loved him, and it was maybe his turn to enable her. Because whatever happened next, she was never going to regret giving herself. Not to him.

♠️♠️♠️

No one was probably expecting an update, but I couldn't not. Because LC has reached 10k reads! THANK YOU! This is a very big deal for me because I've never had an ongoing book reaching that number of reads. I know the book is huge, but still!

So it's only fitting that you get this chapter 😂 Not much going on except, oh, you know... Sam having a first as well.

I had fun with this and hope you did too. Of course, as things go, I'm going to totally ruin it because screw happiness in this book.

Also love the song and it fits the moment and Sam's growth through this book. Do check it out of it's available in your country 😅

Until next time... *evily flies away*