Author's Note: Sorry, guys. A lot going on in my life at the moment. So updates have been more along the lines of a week and a half. (But better than none, right?). Again thank you for favoriting, following and reviewing. It keeps me motivated to know you're reading and enjoying.

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MATURE SUBJECT MATTER

Spending time with Natalie Manning had been a good thing. Jeff had been a little apprehensive at first. Because they hadn't seemed to be able to get back to the easy friendship they'd had before their fling. Of course, it had been his own fault, not being upfront about how he'd had feelings for her for so very long, how he'd drunkenly, stupidly informed her late husband, his good friend and brother-in-arms, that he'd coveted her.

He'd regretted not just the end of their intimate relationship, but losing the trust their friendship had been built upon. And that seemed to be returning. Rather than pushing Natalie further away, his relationship with Sarah had seemed to draw his old friend closer. Maybe it made her feel safe, secure in the knowledge that he wasn't expecting anything romantic from her because he was in love with someone else.

And so was she, frankly. He'd noticed the way Nat looked at Will Halstead. The way the red-headed Emergency Department doctor looked at her.

Jeff had thought about making a discreet, friendly inquiry, even about nudging her in the other man's direction if possible (she deserved to be happy). But that wasn't his business. And it was definitely not a subject to bring up that evening as he helped her go through her deceased husband's things. Jeff Manning's family was holding a memorial on the second anniversary of his death, and Nat's in-laws had asked if she'd kept any mementos that they could use for a little display. She hadn't wanted to go through the boxed up remnants of her husband's life alone.

And Jeff had done his damned best to keep it light, sharing happy stories about the man who'd been his best friend for years, closer, a war buddy, a fellow marine.

It had been rough. It brought up all those old feelings of loss, memories of death and suffering. And seeing the sorrow in Natalie's dark eyes was... well, it was tiring. He was looking forward to a hot, soothing shower and bed.

He tossed his bag on the floor beside the door. Normally, he was good about taking care of his things, but frankly, he just didn't feel like dealing with it. It was heartbreaking seeing how fleeting love could be, life could be. It was a knowledge buried deep in Natalie Manning's dark eyes and sad smile. Maybe that's why he felt like just ignoring reality for the rest of the night. Because it had made him feel guilty. Guilty over Sarah, that something was wrong between them and he hadn't fixed it yet. Time was precious and he didn't feel like he had the energy to face whatever he'd done to hurt her.

He should-

"Jeff?" The young woman actually startled him. Not many could sneak up on a man who'd had Marine instincts drilled into the marrow of his bones. Not to sound like he thought he was this badass warrior. It had little to do with talents as much as relentless training.

And he hadn't expected her to be at his place. He smiled. Because he couldn't help himself. The sight of Sarah Reese made him light up because he was a complete fool for her, wasn't he?

But she had a serious expression on her face as she padded down the hall towards him in her bare feet. It contradicted the effect of the silky nightie clinging to the feminine curves of her slender body, revealing she was wearing nothing beneath.

"Sarah, what's going on?"

He was confused, but also more than a little aroused by the display of so much of her perfect olive skin. Skin that felt so soft and smooth beneath his hands, so warm beneath his lips and mouth, so utterly amazing sliding against his naked body when they were tangled intimately together.

She stopped a few feet in front of him, a few feet too damned far too appease his palms itching to touch her. But he held back, because there obviously was something on her mind. Her clever brown eyes studied him, her face otherwise expressionless, until they locked onto his own eyes and delved into his soul.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice quavering just a little. "You've done nothing wrong, but I've been feeling jealous."

He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat as she confirmed what he'd feared, what he didn't know how to deal with, an insecurity that both frustrated and pleased him. Sarah had been jealous of Natalie, which as she just admitted, was unfounded. And yet, his much younger, attractive and smart girlfriend (who could do far better than him) was jealous. He knew that she loved him. But now he knew it was intense enough a feeling of attachment that she guarded it, was suspicious that others might try to claim it. It pleased him to know she felt an iota as territorial about him as he did about her.

He was hers. And she was his. But, "I never intended to make you uncomfortable. But Natalie's a friend. And I couldn't let her face memories of her loss alone."

Sarah nodded. "I know."

She stepped in closer. She smelled like strawberries and bliss.

"I'm just feeling needy." Her dark eyes were still serious, but he could see the desperate yearning in their depths. It was easily recognizable, because it was the same mix of desire and insecurity that had been quietly plaguing him all day. A love so intense that it seemed impossible that it could ever be reciprocated, fostering self-doubt and something bordering on despair.

He cupped her face in his hands and she closed her eyes leaning into one of his palms and sighing. Waiting for her to open her eyes and stare into him again, he stroked his thumbs over her soft cheeks, enjoying the feel of her in his hands. And when she locked eyes with him, he knew she already knew, but also that it needed to be said. That she could never hear it enough times. He could never say it enough times.

"I love you, Sarah. You are the only woman I'll love for the rest of my life."

Her eyes got shiny, but no tears escaped. Instead, her smaller, slender fingers curled around his wrists and she turned her face in his right hand and kissed his palm before she took a couple steps back.

He frowned, puzzled, trying to figure out what she was up to... Until she pulled the straps of her nightie off her shoulders and let the sating fabric fall to the floor, wriggling a little when it caught on the swell of her breasts and flare of her hips. (As often happened) when she was naked, all other thoughts besides making love to the young woman (his woman) seemed to evaporate.

"Prove it to me," she said. (As if he needed the invitation or command or whatever it was.)

He was to in her a single stride, scooping her up into his arms and using all of his remaining concentration to figure out how to kiss her and make it to the bedroom without walking them into a wall.

All exhaustion he'd felt earlier had melted completely away, probably because it had more to do with the unsettling idea that Sarah was unhappy with him than any physical weariness. He was currently working hard (oh, so hard) on making her happy. Because he'd meant what he'd said. He loved her. Only her. It would only ever be her for the rest of his life. And he fully intended to make her understand that fact, bone deep, soul deep.

He'd kissed nearly every inch of her skin and she was practically glowing, purring with pleasure. He could feel her arousal and her bliss as if her body was literally humming. He kissed her mouth, swallowing her soft moans as he caressed the silky, damp flesh between her thighs, as he pushed a finger inside of her. And then another, beginning to stroke her plush, wet warmth.

He coveted the snug, damp, warm embrace of her body. He ached for her, for the pleasure of burying himself inside of her, filling her, and being fulfilled by her. But this was not about his needs right now. It was about hers.

Not that he didn't thoroughly enjoy kissing her mouth, her skin, sucking and nipping at her pert breasts, running his hands over her lean body, feeling the muscles of her thighs quiver and twitch, feeling her satin-smooth, damp insides convulse greedily around his fingers, watching her eyes grow dark with lust, her pupils blown wide and black as her pleasure reached its climax.

Her fingers dug into his arms, bruising, and she arched off the bed like a bow pulled taut. It must have been a good orgasm, because Sarah Reese was quite a vocal lover and this time her mouth opened wide only to release a silent scream. And then she melted except for her death grip on his biceps that pulled him down on top of her.

He laughed, burying his face her neck and nuzzling her soft, sensitive skin. She was panting like she'd run a marathon. And she was beaming, glowing, like she'd won it.

"Are you convinced yet that I love you?" He lifted his weight off from her, primarily so she couldn't feel how incredibly, painfully aroused he'd become by pleasuring her. He didn't want her to feel pressure to reciprocate, because he had done it for her. Not to arouse himself, or just to prepare her to be taken.

Her brown eyes trapped his blue-grey ones. And she looked into him in that penetrating, curious way of hers.

"Not enough," she said, holding his gaze and making him frown in confusion. Until she began to tug the waistband of his boxers down his hips. Then her intention was completely clear. "I need more. I need you, need to feel your pleasure. It's part of your love for me. Show me. Please."

No man could resist a woman begging for it as badly as Sarah was. Especially when her desire spoke with more than just words. It was in her eyes and her body. And her greedy but gentle hands.

She was still in the afterglow of her orgasm, her body soft and supple and slick. It yielded to him so easily, his gasp was as much surprise as pleasure when he was able to fully sheath himself inside. She moaned, long and low in the back of her throat, her slender arms and legs wrapping about him. Slender but strong, the tension gradually returning to her muscles, in her limbs, and inside. He groaned as she tensed around him, her body resistant, inviting him to make her yield once more. Or maybe it was just claiming him.

"Tell me it's the same for you," she said, her voice a low, husky whisper that tickled his neck. "Tell me that it only feels this way with me. Because for me, it's only you."

The woman had said she was feeling needy. And how could he deny her what she craved when all she wanted was to know he was crazy about her? Because he was. And he wanted her to know how completely in love with her he was.

And it was the absolute truth.

"It's different with you, Sarah." He was breathless, trying to keep it together, because she felt so damned good. Part of him was glad they weren't the same age, hadn't met twenty years ago. Because he wasn't sure his twenty-something self would've had the kind of restraint he needed when making love to Sarah. Not that he held anything back. Emotionally, it was the most intimate he'd been with any woman. And physically, too, for that matter. But, "I've never been so honest or open with anyone else. And it's the hottest thing I've ever experienced."

A single look into her brown eyes could send from lethargy into acute arousal. A touch could undo him, if he let it. It was overwhelming and exhilarating.

"Good." She hummed with delight, and an edge of smugness. "You're mine."

"Yes. And you're mine." He grabbed her hips, sliding out and thrusting back into her wet heat, this time having to apply some force. She'd recovered from her post-orgasmic melted state, and she felt as snug as ever. Her body was that mesmerizing, paradoxical mix of supple and resisting, soft and strong, yielding and demanding, as she met the thrust of his hips.

He was on top but, as often was the case when they were in the throes of passion, even when he was technically in the dominant position, he had absolutely no idea who was in control, who was driving the experience. Was he the one riding her, pumping in and out of her, losing his control and restraint inch by inch, losing himself to her? Or was she the one riding him, her legs wrapped about his waist, thrusting her hips upward to take him deeper and deeper, consuming him, drawing everything he was out for her to claim?

Or was it simply a joining? More than lovers. Two halves of a whole, merging, coming together. It was like an explosive chemical reaction, and bliss was the byproduct.

It engulfed him, wiped all external awareness the universe from his mind. There was only exquisite pleasure and Sarah as he climaxed inside of her.

She clung to him, pulled him down on top of her and cradled his body against hers as he slowly returned to the world. The ecstasy of sexual release was really fucking good. But he thought he actually liked this part better, when she held him close, his whole body tingling and satiated and engulfed by her, her warmth, her scent, the humming of the blood in her veins, the feel of her slender strength wrapped around him, blanketed in her affection.

There was only one more thing to make it perfect. Despite feeling spent head to toe, he found the strength in his arms to raised his upper body off from her (her legs still held him firmly snug against her, inside of her). She stared up at him, her brown eyes warm and inviting and defining the boundaries of his entire universe.

"I love you," he said.

She stared into his soul and replied with two words that changed his entire universe. "I'm pregnant."

He didn't know how to process the information at first. His brain was still pretty messed up from the orgasmic high. Also, although they had talked about it, had made a conscious choice to let it happen if it was going to happen, he'd never dared to hope. He knew that if he wanted kids, he should have them soon, or else he would be too old to run around after them, likely die before they even graduated college (or high school).

How could he have gone in just six months from being so alone to finding the woman who completed him, and now the prospect of a family, too?

"Really?" He must have looked as shocked as he felt because she smiled at him, and it was a nervous little smile. Her eyes were still filled with unconditional affection but she also looked afraid. He couldn't blame her. Even devoting some time to, well, daydreaming about it, the prospect of being responsible for a tiny, helpless human being was daunting to him.

She swallowed, as if she, too, had a lump in her throat. "Yes. I just realized today that I might be pregnant. I had blood work done at the hospital during my lunch break."

"You can't skip meals like that anymore. You need to take care of yourself better." She laughed at him, lighting up. And he had to laugh at himself for scolding her without even realizing how ridiculous he sounded. She released him, letting pull away and roll onto his back to lie beside her.

"This is really happening?" His hand found her stomach slid lower to cover the flat expanse of skin that would soon enough be swollen and round with his -their- baby.

"Yes." Her hand covered his. "Are you happy?"

He turned his hand palmed up, grasping hers and raising it to place a kiss along her knuckles.

"Yes," he said. "Are you?"

"Yes." He released her hand as she shifted and snuggled up against his side. "I've never been happier. Or more terrified."

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled in her closer, breathed in the comforting strawberry scent of her hair. "Me, too, Sarah. But we can do this together."

She sighed and melted into his embrace. Sex was fantastic. But this? This was Bliss.

"I love you, Jeff."

"I love you, too."

A/N: I decided to end this here, since it was a good conclusion

point and there was a significant lack of response for chapter four (so I removed it).