I wake up in stages.

The first thing I notice is a firm, weighty, masculine body wrapped around me in a bevy of arms and legs and crazy bedhead that tickles my nose.

I blink slowly and fuss with the sheet, yanking it up so it covers our shoulders, listening to the muffled, almost snore of Jensen's breathing. I kiss the nape of his neck, soft and warm.

The next thing my senses pick up on is the blaring of my phone alarm where I left it on the nightstand.

Jensen grunts awake and runs a tongue over his teeth, eyes still screwed stubbornly shut.

"Gonna fucking trash that thing," he mutters, flopping back onto his own pillow and wrapping an arm around his head to muffle the sound. Yeah, that's my love.

"Definitely not a morning person," I smirk, one arm snaking out from under the covers to silence it. Jensen's pectoral muscle twitches as he adjusts his position, burrowing deeper into his pillow with a contented sigh.

Wincing, I pull myself into a sitting position on the bed. I think for a second that we should've called it a night - or rather, morning - after round five.

But only for a second.

I slip out of bed with a sheet around me and go over to stand looking out the window. The sun is rising over the courtyard of the hotel and it dapples through the canopy of the shady trees, painting the cars in the parking lot golden fire and burnt shadows.

"Good weather for the trip back," I murmur thoughtfully.

I hear the soft rustle of sheets and the creak of the bed, followed by the padding of footsteps. Jensen comes up behind me and wraps an arm around my waist, tucking his chin into my shoulder.

He's totally unashamed of his nudity, a fact I'm inherently grateful for because every inch of him is fucking beautiful.

"More sex," he growls, his hair tickling my jaw as he nuzzles my neck.

"Good morning to you too." I roll my eyes.

I'm tired, stretched out from our earlier activities; my throat is busted, voice slightly hoarse, and even my runners' thighs are aching. I'm forty-freaking-two years old.

We collapsed together in a tangle of sweaty limbs at around 4 A.M., breathing deep in contentment, Jensen's chest flushed a pretty pink and his heart racing under my cheek. And I was sure we were done for the night. I was sure it was no longer physically possible for either of us to orgasm.

Then the fucker whistled a catcall from his perch on the bed when I got up for some towels.

Which irritated the hell out of me.

Which led to more angry sex.

I sigh, embarrassed by my apparent regression into my teenage years. I was reckless back then; I hadn't borne a family and career on my conscience yet.

But maybe I need a bit more recklessness in my life.

And, shit, Jensen makes me feel reckless.

He fits his hands low on my backside, kneading the firm flesh. "C'mon," he murmurs, leaning around to brush our lips together. "Come shower with me and then we can get breakfast." Another kiss, coaxing my lips open with a swipe of tongue.

"You know we can't take too long. If Clif-"

"You promised," he growls.

"Okay, Jensen."

Jensen goes ahead to start the shower while I fix the bed.

When I enter the bathroom a few minutes later, I'm dizzied by the beautiful sight of him. He's standing in the halo of steam, all lean muscles and graceful flesh, beckoning me to come in. Hot. Damn.

I let myself get pulled forward into the hot spray, sputtering a little at first.

"So," I murmur, wetting my hair before swiping a handful of lather from Jensen's head. "We're going back to the studio today."

"Don't remind me. I hate packing."

I lather his hair, massaging the back of his head with deft strokes. I finish at his temples, applying soothing, gentle pressure strokes.

"You'll have to pack again for your trip back home to Malibu in, like, a month."

Jensen ducks under the spray, using his own hands to free the suds from his hair.

I let the water beat me numb as he washes my back, planting both palms on the tiles and resting my forehead between them. Jensen steps closer, until he's pressed against my body.

"Come with me." His mouth moves over my jugular, teeth barely grazing the skin.

"What?"

"The filming break. Jared and Gen are staying over, and you're welcome to come to Malibu with us."

I have a sudden, fleeting vision of Jensen and Dani, perched on ultra modern designer stools, eating pancakes around their marble kitchen island. Not something I want to think about, much less endure seeing every morning for two weeks.

My mouth works as his words tumble over and over in my head, fighting for dominance.

"Not sure I'm up for that," I confess at last.

I turn and kiss the top of his head in apology, not caring that he tastes faintly of shampoo.

"I have a big bed," Jensen rushes to continue. "And Dani will have hospital visits and girls' nights out and mani-pedi appointments..."

I feel my mouth hanging open, a furious blush running up my own cheeks.

"And if she comes home early from any of those and catches you in bed with me?"

"Hmm," Jensen chuckles, his low voice doing interesting things to my pulse. "I wonder how she'd react if I kept you chained to it for the entire two weeks."

I roll my eyes, threading my hands in his hair and tilting my head so he can mouth my pulse points.

"I don't see any problem at all with an impromptu, two-week siesta from my life..."

I flip our positions, adjusting the shower head so the spray avoids his face.

"Seriously, though," Jensen continues, sobering. "The fridge is stocked, the beer is plenty-"

"Jensen."

"-and there's my fifty-two inch flatscreen in the living room with three hundred plus channels-"

"Jensen. You know, you're awfully cute when you're flustered, but you could let me get a word in edgewise."

"I know it's a lot to ask," Jensen mutters. "If you can't do it, I get it. But as far as I'm concerned, the rest of the world can take care of its own shit for two weeks while we have this tiny, minuscule sex-filled vacation."

I sigh, lowering myself slowly onto my knees in front of him.

A part of me, foolish and irrational and selfish, yearns for this too. I never ask for much from the universe, I figure I'm due. But he and I both know it won't be like that. Not with Dani and the others around twenty-four seven. It may be a long time before I have him in front of me like this again. I never know with him, when I'll get him alone again.

I nuzzle into his crotch, panting softly at the heat and smell of him. His cock is beautifully full, curving towards his stomach. I pet him, fingers toying gently with the hardness, lightly dragging across the leaking tip. Then I suck him down in one long swallow, drawing a hoarse shout from Jensen's throat. It's wrung from his lips along with a breathless sigh, I pull off with an obscene pop.

"Jensen, it's a bad idea," I murmur, slurring the words as if intoxicated. And the truth is, Jensen is a perfumed poison saturating through my system.

I feel a longing grip my entire frame, and I take in his length again with one desperate inhale. I latch on hungrily, suctioning my lips around the base and laving it with my tongue. I sweep my tongue from the underside to the tip, swirling it counterclockwise over the head until Jensen hisses and tightens his grip on my hair. He scratches his fingernails from the crown of my head to my neck and gasps, don't stop. He tastes like fabric softener and musk and sweat. My mouth waters, and I go down on him until he orders: "Get up here."

My mouth skirts his groin, brushing along the soft skin above his public bone, laving his navel, trailing slowly upward to lick at his nipples as I straighten up. I brace myself against the wall, my forearms bracketing his head.

Jensen presses against me, pumping his hips in an excruciatingly slow drag back and forth, pressing us tighter and tighter together. Our cocks slide together, slick and hot and perfect, and he kisses me like his life depends on it.

"We're talking about your home, Jensen," I whisper into his mouth. "Us, together...in your home with Dani. This could all go to shit in a million different ways."

He rolls his hips, holding me firmly against him, cradling my hardness in the juncture of his thigh and rubbing against it once, twice. I whimper, licking my lips.

"Please." He thrusts into the valley between my hip and thigh, slick with shower water. "Stop thinking so much."

Jensen gathers us both in his palm, the wetness and my mouth having created the perfect slip. I chase his tongue, kisses hot and wet and messy. After a while, my hands join his: stroking, filling in the gaps until there's nothing but one long, endless movement of palms and fingers. His mouth is open, his skin feverish everywhere it presses against mine. I groan and shut my eyes.

Jensen cries out first, head falling back against the tiles, twitching in my hands. I increase the speed of my fist incrementally, our fingers entwining, riding along on the finishing strokes. He comes with a shudder, Misha falling from his lips in a sinfully hot drag of sound.

The soapy-wet slide of his fist on my length and the sound of my name pulled from those lips in that husky tone makes my blood simmer, stomach clenching and knotting around a feverish burst of sensation that is so good. I take in his air and he brushes the wet curls from my forehead, promises, "I got you, baby."

My orgasm punches out of me. I let Jensen catch my weight, hold me up as bliss washes over me in a crashing wave, my fingers digging into his hips brutally hard as he holds us flush together. I collapse against his chest in a rush of air, water sluicing over both of us.

Jensen runs his hand slowly down my back; our body contours fit together perfectly, each piece of him slotting into a piece of me. There's nothing in the world like this. Nothing like intimate contact between two people who love each other. And it seems like I tumble deeper and deeper into love with him with every ragged breath spilling from those perfect lips, trying to parse the overwhelming fury that flares to life at the thought of Dani touching Jensen, being with him, like this.

"Okay, Jensen. I'll do it."

He slings an arm around my back and pulls me closer, fingers playing along the length of my neck.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "I know it's probably too much. But I really want you there with me... Two guns are better than one, right?" His eyes are soft and imploring, teeth clenching his lips into a tense, pale line.

"Yeah," I smirk. "I suppose we'd know."

"Funny." Jensen chuckles as he runs a soapy hand over my arm, rosy from the heat and the steam, thoroughly cleaning all the way down from the juncture of my shoulder to the webbing between my fingers.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Jensen surprises me by grabbing my face with both hands. "I like your nose," he confesses, before smacking a generous kiss to the tip.

A grin spreads across my face and I shrug.

"My nose, my ass, my hands-"

"Okay," Jensen snorts. "I give the romantic crap a try and now you think you're hot shit."

I quirk my left hand as if to say if customized, golden shoe fits.

"You do have nice hands," he relents, smiling sheepishly.

"Mmm I think you're a little biased," I grin, reaching between us to grip him in lewd demonstration. I pull long and slow, massaging the base, then brushing lightly across the tip until Jensen stops me and leans in close, whispering seductively in my ear.

"I think we should take this over to the bed."

I feel my breath catch in my throat, my heart dancing around in my chest like it's trying to escape. Even my relationship with Vicki doesn't feel this way, full of butterflies and things I associate more with chick flicks than real life. I never expected to get so lost in someone else.

I have to remind myself that he isn't mine, was never mine, no matter how well my body might know him. I'm in for a rude awakening if I think this is some kind of fucking honeymoon.