Disclaimer: These characters belong to Marvel, and I have nothing to do with Marvel.

Rating: Rated M for sex.

Author notes: This ficlet takes place at the tailend of 52 Pickup, literally right after the last word of the last sentence of that fic. It's been playing on my mind for several months now, but I never really knew how to work it, until I started writing a birthday fic for the lovely Jehilew (go see her work), and it all started coming together. The fic I wrote for her in chapter 2 of this story, btw. Thanks, Jessi! ;) x

Since I got quite a few requests to write some smut from various readers, here it is! I figured the 'vacation' these two took before taking that plane to London was as good a reason as any for them to bone each other endlessly. I'm just making it canon that they did. ;)

BTW... There IS a proper sequel to 52 Pickup in the making, but it is being a bitch, so may take a while to come through. Thanks to the betas who've been working on it. You know who you are. Couldn't have got this far without you! XXX

-Ludi x

- 96 Hours -

Almost, Definitely, Maybe

She's awakened from a dreamless sleep by her phone pinging at five in the morning.

It can't have been 3 hours since she fell asleep, but she recognises the tone of those pings – it's the one she's assigned to Kitty, and so she forces herself into wakefulness and reaches out from under the covers for the nightstand.

Her hand closes over the phone and she opens up the notification. She doesn't know why her heart is beating so fast – the past couple of months all she's had are false leads and frustration after all. She should probably just go back to sleep, but… …

She rubs at her bleary eyes and opens the first image Kitty has sent her.

And her heart stops.

It's him.

Remy LeBeau, standing on the steps outside a fancy Georgian building in a dark grey suit, his hand half-raised to press a cigarette to his lips.

She sits up, a shallow breath caught in her throat.

It's a spontaneous shot, a moment of unguarded openness she's rarely seen in him before. He's staring at something off-screen, an absent look that nevertheless hides an intensity that she remembers only too well, that takes her breath away.

He hasn't changed.

It's the first time she's seen him in nearly 14 months, and her heart gives a sudden pang of unabashed longing. She doesn't even bother replying to Kitty; she simply hits the vid-call button and only a few seconds pass before Kitty picks up.

"Anna," she says. "Hey. I didn't think you'd be awake."

She doesn't have the inclination for pleasantries.

"It's him, Kitty," she says instead, breathless. "It's him."

Katherine's eyes go wide. Two months of searching in, and she's finally hit the jackpot.

"Are you sure…?" she asks, and the question is almost ridiculous to her – could she ever forget that face?

"Yes. It's him. I'm positive." Her heart is racing a mile a minute, so fast she feels giddy with it. Kitty rubs the back of her neck and lets out a pent-up breath.

"Okay. Wow. I was beginning to think your hunch he was in London was all wrong." She can almost sense the small smile lighting Kitty's lip. "You sure weren't lying when you said he was drop dead gorgeous…"

She's hardly listening. She's opened up the images on her tablet and is flipping through them one by one. It's him. It's him.

Finally.

"Kitty…"

"Yeah, I know. You want me to arrange a meet."

She nods. She can't speak. Her heart's in her mouth.

"Okay." Kitty takes in a breath. "Give me a few days. I'll see how I can make this work."

-oOo-

Anna stepped out of the Worthington Hotel's rotating doors and onto a practically empty sidewalk, on a balmy late Monday morning in New York City.

She'd powered up her phone on the elevator down, and was now amused to find it pinging virtually non-stop. There were a few messages from clients, several notifications for orders she needed to pick up, and auctions that were nearing deadlines… Raven, for a change, was tellingly quiet. A good thing, Anna thought grimly, as she headed towards the café next door. Most of the messages, it turned out, were from Kitty, and she scrolled through them quickly with a growing smile, till she got to the last one – I'll take it as a good sign that it's 10 in the morning and you still haven't replied to me yet.

With a grin on her face Anna hit the call button.

It'd barely rung before Kitty picked up.

"Oh my God, you're alive!" Kitty greeted her breathlessly. "So – how did it go?"

"Ohmigod, Kitty, he is so—"

She was gushing already, and she halted, suddenly remembering the need to breathe.

"What?" Kitty prompted her excitedly. "He's so what?!"

There were no words good enough. She couldn't get them out.

"Amazing," she exhaled, finally settling on the only word she could find. "He's amazing."

"Well obviously," Kitty replied testily. "Otherwise you wouldn't have gone to such insane lengths to find him. I want details, woman! Details!"

"Kitty," Anna retorted, half-laughing and half-remonstrating. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not into kiss-and-tell. What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom."

Kitty's reply was to tut and sigh.

"God, you're no fun! At least tell me you didn't just spend all night talking!"

"Well," Anna answered mischievously, stepping into the shabby chic little café next door and finding the queue thankfully short. "We did do some serious talking last night… As well as this morning…"

"Anna, you are killing me right now. Stop messing with me please. I know you fucked each other senseless all night. I just want a little more than 'he is amazing', 'cos that's a given… …"

Anna couldn't help but chuckle gleefully. It was rare that she ever got to rib on anyone, and the fact that she could with Kitty was something she took great pleasure in.

"I'm not lying," she said, eyeing the colourful rows of cakes and sandwiches at the counter. "We talked." She paused. "He asked me to go back to London with him. He even had the ticket."

"Oh my God!" Kitty squealed, in a paroxysm of ecstasy once more. "And you said?"

"Yes. I said yes." She paused, added quickly, sternly: "Don't tell Raven. Please."

"Oh pfft," Kitty retorted rudely. "Why the hell would I tell Raven? Why should she care anyway? Oh—stop changing the subject! You're the worst damn tease!"

She laughed again.

"All right, all right already! We had hot, passionate, dirty sex till it was about 3 or 4 in the morning, and neither of us could see straight!" The statement came to an abrupt halt as she realised she was finally front of the queue, and the gay barista who usually served her was giving her some very intrigued looks. "Uh… I'll have a double espresso, a latte with cream and an extra sprinkling of demerara sugar, and… a flat white."

"Wait," Kitty interrupted her. "Are you buying him two coffees?"

"Well, yeah," Anna replied, balancing the phone on her shoulder and digging around for her card. "Remy likes his coffee either of two ways – very sweet or very strong. Sometimes both."

There was a short pause as Kitty evaluated the statement, and Anna paid for the drinks with an apologetic grin at the barista.

"Are you sure you guys aren't, like, married already?" Kitty asked suspiciously.

"No. He just drank a lot of coffee while he was at my place... When I was at his place. I notice these things, you know?"

"Uh huh." Kitty's voice was sceptical. "You know, you always told me it was just some hot fling you guys had… But I'm beginning to get the feeling that isn't the whole story."

Anna rolled her eyes and bit her lip. She picked up a wooden stirrer and tapped it testily against the counter.

"We were thrown together on a job for a couple of weeks," she explained, turning aside when she noticed the barista was still trying to subtly listen in. "It was ...intense. Things… happened."

"Things, huh?" Kitty sounded amused. "If you say so. But I definitely think there's a story there. The way you got so worked up about him… ... One of these days I'll make you tell me what really happened. I mean – the fact that Raven hates him is a thing in itself. The fact that she knows about him at all…"

"Raven doesn't hate him," Anna countered irritably. "She just… can't stand the fact that he can play the game pretty much as well as she does."

Coffees one and two had arrived, and she slid them across the counter towards her and placed them in the carry tray.

"Oh, believe me," Kitty replied seriously. "That woman is jea-lous as hell of that man. And now I'm beginning to see why, when you say how 'intense' things were between you two a year ago. She has competition, and the thought of being second best drives her nuts."

Anna screwed up her nose with distaste.

"Ugh, you make her sound like an obsessed lover."

"Try obsessed mother."

The third coffee had finally arrived, and as the barista put it in the tray he winked at Anna and added:

"You know we deliver to the Worthington, right? Just call us with your order and your room number, and we'll send it up asap. Extra demerara included."

Anna grinned, mouthed a sincere thank you, and headed out, grabbing a business card from the counter as she did so.

"Kitty," she said as she hit the sidewalk again. "Can we not talk about Raven, please?"

"All right. I only really wanted to know how things were going with this hot fella of yours anyway. If he's treating you right, and making you happy, then I'm happy. Okay?"

It was still kind of weird to her – to have a totally uninvested person interested in her well-being. In the past, such behaviour had always caused her to be suspicious. Only the past few months had she learned that there were truly good people in this world – people who had been willing to love her unconditionally. She thought back with a sudden pang of longing to Caldecott… the beautiful river and the lazy old farm… and Irene, the blind old lady who would have adopted her and changed the course of her life.

What would that life had been like, she wondered? Certainly there would have been no Remy LeBeau in it right now.

"Seriously, Kitty, don't worry," she assured her. "He is… Well, so far, touch wood… He is just…" and she couldn't help from grinning giddily, "…like I said. Amazing. Perfect."

"Okay, well," Kitty laughed. "I'm glad to hear it. Check in with me, okay? I want to know he's not suddenly turned into an ass."

"Liar," she shot back, skipping up the steps to the hotel and back into the revolving doors. "You just want all the gory details. I'm not telling you, you hear?!"

"Ha. You're on the verge of telling me, I can feel it. You just want to talk all about that 'hot, passionate, dirty sex' you mentioned. It's only a matter of time!"

"Ugh!" Anna stepped in the lobby and headed to the elevators. She'd never known anyone quite like Kitty before – at least no one who she'd ever associated with this closely. She was almost becoming something Anna had never really had before – a friend. "You are terrible, Katherine Pryde, you know that?! Now listen," she continued, hitting the elevator button for her floor. "I'm going back to the room, so I'll have to check out for a little bit, okay?"

"Yeah, I know. More hot sex. I'll just leave you guys to it."

"Stop it!" Anna was almost actually giggling now. "We're going to have breakfast and coffee!"

"Yeah, right. Whatever. Just check in with me again when you're not fucking. Okay?"

Oh my God, this is the worst! Anna thought, stepping inside the elevator and massaging the growing headache between her eyes. I don't want to have another friend again, ever!

"All right, all right! I'll text you when we've finished fucking! Now I'm hanging up! Go!"

She ended the call, only to realise that there were two other guests in the elevator who had heard the entire tailend of the conversation. She didn't even bother hiding her chagrin.

"Dammit!" she muttered out loud, stabbing ruefully at the close door button.

-oOo-

The hotel room was quiet, and Anna stepped inside, setting the coffee on the desk.

"Hello?" she called.

There was movement by the net curtains, and she noticed Remy on the other side, standing out on the balcony, smoking a cigarette.

Anna stopped, perfectly happy to stand a moment and simply watch him. Leaning on the balcony, in only the dress pants he'd worn the previous night, with the sun shining in his auburn hair, completely oblivious to her presence… Just looking at that man with his long, lean, half-naked body was taking her right back to last night, and all the things that long, lean body of his could do to her.

Anna bit firmly into her bottom lip.

Circumspect she might be about what happened in the bedroom, but one thing she was not shy about was sex itself. For so long it had been such a throwaway thing to her – a means to an end – a moment in time that, once over, was over. But last night, with him… honestly, the thought of it was bringing the colour to her cheeks and making her wet just contemplating some of the things he'd done to her. Anna Raven certainly was no shrinking violet, but she definitely wasn't used to the kind of sex that left her weak at the knees the morning after.

In fact, the last time she'd felt like that had been with him, and that had been well over a year ago. Before that… she couldn't think of a time she'd been with anyone who'd made her feel like this.

She shook her head slightly and grinned ruefully to herself. This was a feeling she'd been taught made you vulnerable, wide open to the kind of mistakes no one like her should ever make. But if felt so darn good that she wasn't inclined to sabotage it.

Instead she went up to the French windows and gently slid them open, standing in the doorframe to watch him a moment longer. He, however, had sensed her approach, and he turned at the railings, fixing her with a welcoming little smile.

"Hey," he greeted her.

"Hey," she answered softly.

For a little while they were silent, content just to soak in one another's presence.

"Coffee's here," she finally broke in, nodding back towards the room with a smile. "Pretty sure breakfast will be soon too. So I hope you're hungry, sugar."

"Hmm." He pushed himself off the railings – she saw his phone was in his hand. "I'm definitely hungry for somethin'," he remarked suggestively, looking her up and down like she was something sweet enough to gobble up in one whole bite.

"Meat's off the menu, Cajun," she lilted back wryly. "At least for now. I'm starvin', and not for more of the kinda tasty morsels you're thinkin' of."

"Oh really?" He slowly covered the distance between them, coming to a standstill right inside her space. "Such a shame, chere. You're lookin' pretty damn delicious right now."

She was practically blocking his way back into the room; but the current close quarters didn't faze her. She met his gaze with a smouldering glance.

"Well, so are you, darling – but I reckon I've had my fill of being filled by you, Cajun – if'n ya know what I mean."

With that final food for thought, she swung right back round and into the room.

"Business call?" she called back to him breezily over her shoulder, wickedly satisfied to see him still standing in the doorway like she'd stunned him into some sort of paralysis. The mischievous look was enough to break the spell. He grinned almost helplessly, slipped the phone into his pocket, and followed her in.

"Nah. Just got my test results back."

"Oh?" she asked, confused, as she took the coffees out of the tray and laid them on the little breakfast table.

"Yeah. Got myself checked out before I came out here – when I figured it was you makin' me run your li'l maze anyways. Unfortunately, gettin' anythin' done in a timely manner on National Health is a bitch. But the main thing is – I'm clean."

He was standing next to her and she gave a sour grunt, picking up the espresso and the latte, offering both to him.

"Great," she replied sarcastically, not surprised when he went for the espresso. "Such amazin' news."

He gave her a quizzical look, not sure whether to be bemused or hurt by her obviously belligerent tone. Last night he'd insisted on using protection, which they'd rarely used before, especially once he'd figured there was zero chance of her ever getting pregnant, and he'd made a point of assuring her he always got himself checked out. At the time she'd thought his insistence could only have meant one thing – that there was someone else he was seeing – and while it had irked her in the moment, the distraction of their lovemaking had pushed it to the back of her mind.

Now it was there again in full force, and while she was reasoning to herself that maybe he wasn't seeing anyone else back in England, that this had all just been a necessary precaution, the idea that he'd had to have himself checked out at all was making her unreasonably cantankerous.

"Don't look at me like dat," he chided her cheerfully, seeing her expression. "It's good news. I was runnin' low on condoms. Dat woulda been a nightmare."

She was just about to make some suitably scathing reply when there was a knock at the door.

"That'll be breakfast," he said, seemingly oblivious to the gloomy places her mind was going right now. "I'll get it."

He came back with a tray of delicious delights – croissants and Greek yoghurt with fresh fruits, butter, honey and jam. The special portion of French toast she'd ordered was on its own tray, and she pounced on it gleefully as he laid everything out on the bed.

"Oh, I've been hankerin' after these for an age!" she exclaimed, her bad mood suddenly forgotten. Since leaving for Mississippi all those months ago, it'd been so much easier to take pleasure in the simple things, and she knew that on some level, she had him to thank for it.

For a little while they sat on the bed with only the tray between them, quietly eating. It was in that very same silence that Anna realised that it was the first time either of them had had the chance to slow down and contemplate one another's presence since she'd walked right back into his life the evening before. Everything since then had been a whirl of emotions and hormones, and sure, that was all still there, but… … Sitting here now, doing something so normal and run-of-the-mill… It was a thing neither of them had ever really had. Back a year or two ago, there had always been something in the background to distract them. Now, for once, they only had one another.

He was looking at her with the kind of smile she rarely saw on him – contented.

"What?" she asked. The word skipped out of her mouth, a single, giddy syllable that gave away exactly what she was feeling. He shrugged.

"Y'look different, is all," he replied. "You look happy."

"Hm." She took a swig of her coffee. "That might be 'cos I got fantastically laid last night."

He cocked his head sideways, the smile hitching higher on his lips as he recalled pleasurable memories of the previous night.

"I don't mean that," he said. "I jes' mean you look happy. In general. Like I ain't see ya look before." He didn't push the observation, merely continuing after a bite of his croissant: "Last time I saw ya, bein' happy or content wasn't exactly on your agenda. Mind you, I don't reckon it ever was, not in all the time I knew ya." He lifted his coffee to his lips and gave her a look. "Don't gimme that face, chere," he continued. "It's nice t'see ya like this, all laidback and relaxed. I sure hope it wasn't just gettin' laid that's responsible for it either."

She straightened her expression, totally unaware that she'd been pulling a face at all.

"Don't think I ever met a body who was so intense before," he added when she said nothing. "Y'had that look in your eyes all the damn time. Wild. Intense. Like you was all ready to pounce on the world."

"And I don't now?" she asked him, curious.

He regarded her stoically.

"It's still there," he concluded after a moment's thought. "Not the way it used to be though." He paused and leaned back on one arm. "Nice, ain't it? No more fightin', no more battles to be won or lost. I'm speakin' for myself too, chere. I used to think the thrill of workin' for Essex was what kept life excitin', but…"

"But it was only keeping you alive," she finished for him. "Because you were dead inside."

She'd expected the smile would drop from his face, but it didn't. It was only because she knew him so well that she could see there was a sadness there.

"I don't think you or I were very diff'rent on that score," he said.

Her own smile was wry as she looked down into her hands.

"I guess not. Running around, being other people, is one way of dealing with it." She looked up at him pointedly. "So is lying, cheating, and thieving your way through life for a shitzillion dollars. And I bet that's the least of what you got up to."

"And I bet stealin' identities is the least of what you got up to."

"You know what they say. The higher the risk, the bigger the thrill."

"And now?"

"And now…" Her eyes flickered as she gazed round the room, pondering. "Now there are other things to fill in the gaps than cheap thrills. Or expensive ones, for that matter." She eyed him critically. "You?"

"Me?" He clearly hadn't been expecting the question. "When you come this close to losin' the thing that plugged in those shitty gaps for ya… well, I guess you learn that some thrills ain't exactly equal."

She knew he was talking about her. To hear that kind of honesty from him, however covertly given, made her heart soar. And he merely sat there, looking at her, gauging her reaction. When she found she couldn't get the words out, he picked up a strawberry from the plate of fruit and handed it to her.

With a sardonic little smile, she took it, popped it into her mouth, and bit into the sweet flesh. Her heart began to flutter more when he pushed himself forward from his leaning position, his eyes fixing intently on her mouth. God, this feeling was delicious. How could he do this to her with just a look?

"Speaking of work," she began with false nonchalance, "looks like you've managed to get together a fantastic set-up back in London. Russell Square? That's some prime real estate."

His eyes lifted to hers, then back to her mouth again.

"Ha. That had nothing to do wit' me. Jake was the one who managed to fandangle that one."

"Jake? As in Jacob Gavin Jr.?"

The smile flickered, his gaze now firmly back on hers.

"Right." His mood swerved from cheerful to guarded in a second at her apparent knowledge. "You got Raven t'track me, chere?" he finally asked after a few cautious beats.

"No." She was almost offended he'd even think it. "The last thing I wanted while I was away was to have Raven tempt me with news of you." She picked up another strawberry, added in a more serious tone: "And anyway – you told her not to track me. Even though you must've been curious. So I figured I'd return the favour."

"Peh." He waved a hand. "Even if I had asked, she never woulda done it."

"But you didn't ask. That's the point. And I... I respected you enough not to watch you from afar. I gave you what you gave me. Life, on your own terms."

She felt a little self-conscious at her own earnestness, and it made her instantly want to bring back the lightness they'd maintained so far.

"Anyway – it made it a nightmare trying to track you down once I was ready for it," she continued quickly, biting into the strawberry. "It took me weeks to find you. You're pretty good at going dark. Even Raven was impressed."

He gave a sour look, like he didn't give a damn what Raven thought at all.

"And everything I learned about you," she ploughed on in a rush, "well, that was all Kitty – not Raven."

"Katherine?"

"Yeah. She only reported back to me what she saw – and I didn't ask for anything more than that. There wasn't much else I was interested in apart from you yourself."

Having said that, she licked the strawberry juice very thoroughly from each finger – maybe a little too voluptuously – but there were endless ways in which she wanted to impress him, keep him snared. There was an art to snaring men, after all, that she'd studied extensively out of pure necessity... But she wasn't sure if the same rules of engagement worked with him.

He lifted an eyebrow and drained the rest of his coffee.

"Hm. I hope I didn't disappoint."

"Remy LeBeau, disappointing?" She gave a satiny laugh. "Is that even possible?"

He set his cup down slowly on the tray.

"Anna-Marie," he murmured. "I'm fairly certain, goin' on things you've said t'me in the past, that I disappointed you more than once before we got t' this point."

She didn't want to talk about it. She took the final strawberry from the platter and proffered it to his lips. The look he levelled at her was practically smouldering. He caught the fruit with his tongue and pretty much licked the whole darn thing into his mouth. The sight sent tingles zagging down her spine and right into the root of her.

"We played one helluva game, Cajun," she felt the urge to say. "I think I only started feeling disappointed when it stopped being a game and started to become something else."

"Hm." The sound rumbled in the back of his throat. "'Somethin' else', huh?"

"Yeah. For a little while back there, it became 'something else', while we were still playing by the old rules. It got a little bit more fun once we abandoned them."

He laughed quietly.

"Y'mean abandoned them as in threw all caution to the wind and just fucked each other senseless for those amazin' couple of days? 'Cos if so, 'fun' ain't exactly how I woulda described it."

The heat of his gaze was like a brand; but she'd never been the type to flinch, and she didn't now.

"Yeah, I guess we were pretty distracted by that Empharma heist," she replied with a humorous twist of regret. "Maybe it wasn't as fun as I remember."

"You tease me, chere," he rejoined drily. "I couldn't'a given a shit about Empharma or Essex at the time. All I'm sayin' is, describin' those couple of days as 'fun' woulda been an understatement."

"Oh yeah? So what would've been a better word then?"

"Oh, I dunno." He leaned in close to her, a breath away from a kiss. "Dirty? Sexy? Fuckin' hot?"

So saying, he bridged the few centimetres between them, kissing her fiercely; and she kissed him back just as passionately, her hands coming up to cradle his cheeks, to hold him closer. A few seconds in and he pulled away quickly, quick enough to make her think that he was purposely toying with her. For a heartbeat or two they stared one another down, only an inch or so apart – close enough for her to think that maybe he'd close the gap again. He didn't. Just when she'd thought he would, he backed off, sliding off the bed and making a grab for his shirt.

"And where are you goin'?" she asked him, watching on with mingled feelings of frustration and lust as he slipped on the dress shirt and buttoned it up slowly, hiding away all that tight, tanned flesh from her gaze.

"I need t' check outta my room, pick up my stuff," he answered briskly. "I'm already late for checkout."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to charm the receptionist outta any trouble," she threw at him pointedly, still put out by the way he'd teased her with the promise of kisses that had never come.

"Now there's an idea," he agreed cheerfully, picking up his wallet and feeling the pockets of his suit jacket for his room key.

"Don't pretend you didn't think of it already," she almost huffed.

"Chere, I been so distracted the past few hours, checkin' out and charmin' receptionists have been the last thing on my mind." He swiped the latte from the breakfast table and headed for the door.

"Darlin', knowin' you like I do, distractions rarely divert ya from the task at hand." She popped the last of the French toast into her mouth and chewed irately on it. "You were always plannin' on charmin' your way outta payin' a fine." She got to her feet, drained the rest of her coffee, and headed towards the bathroom. "I'm going for a shower. You've made me all dirty, Cajun."

She decided that if he was going to torment her, she was going to do the same, undoing her blouse and shrugging it off casually as she went. It was enough to get him to halt in the doorway, hand poised over the handle, and watch her with his usual shit-eating grin. When she got to the door she stopped, turned, and slowly thumbed open the button of her pants.

"What you waitin' for, Cajun?" she drawled at him in her native Southern accent, slipping off her pants. "Ain'tcha late already?"

"Chere," he answered sincerely. "I ain't never too late to watch you give me a striptease, if that's what this is."

"Oh, it's definitely a tease," she assured him with a smile, opening up the bathroom door and retreating just an inch or two inside. "Don't'cha make me wait too long, darlin'," she added sensuously, before stepping over the threshold and shutting the door with a neat click behind her.

-oOo-

Anna stood under the showerhead, working shampoo through her hair, her mind occupied with pleasantly sordid thoughts of her wily, Cajun thief.

Of course, she couldn't call him hers yet, but for some reason she did, and mentally she'd done so for a while now.

He was hers. It didn't matter that, in actuality, he never really had been.

She smiled to herself, her body still alive with the wickedly sinful things they'd indulged in the past few hours.

The previous evening, while waiting for him to arrive from the airport, she'd been a complete and utter mess – anxious in ways she'd never been in her entire life. She'd booked the most expensive hotel room, primped and preened herself up into something he couldn't possibly have said no to. When she'd gone down into the lobby to wait for him to make his entrance, fully intending to reveal herself to him as soon as he did, an irrational fear that had been building up for days had suddenly reared its ugly, demanding head. What if he hadn't wanted her? What if there was somebody else already?

And then there he'd been.

Walking through those rotating doors and heading straight to the front desk, carefully groomed in a plain black suit and grey pea coat, effortlessly turning the eyes of a group of pretty young twenty-somethings who'd been milling in the lobby. Her heart had failed her. It was the first time she'd laid eyes on him in over a year, and he hadn't damn well changed a bit. Still so heart-stoppingly beautiful, so elegantly self-assured. He'd flirted with the attractive receptionist like he'd never almost, definitely, maybe, given his heart away to the mysterious but broken identity thief named Anna Marie Raven.

The sight of him had left her paralysed. She'd turned tail and fled, right back up to her room.

Was he even aware of what he did to her, the woman they'd once called Weapon Zero, the Rogue?

"Just do it," Kitty had told her. "You need to do it."

Need. Yes – it hadn't just been about want anymore, it had been about need. The need for a resolution, for closure, if that was what it had ended up being. There were things she'd been prepared to do for him – that she was still prepared to do. Debase herself in all sorts of ways that would've left her wide open. She'd realised, at that point, that even if he'd refused her she would've taken a single night spent with him, even if nothing else.

And it was morning now, and he was still here, and while he always had been the morning after, it seemed like an insurmountable battle won that he hadn't refused her outright.

Like he could've refused you, gal, she thought to herself, ducking her head under the water jet and rinsing the suds out of her hair.

She'd known he wouldn't have said no, deep down – but that hadn't eased other questions. Last night, other needs had been paramount. Like connecting with him on a purely physical level, knowing that he still wanted her. These were things she'd had fulfilled in the most lavish way she could ever have imagined the previous night. When he'd kissed her back down in the gallery, it was all the answer she'd ever needed – everything afterwards had been the glorious icing on the cake.

She'd practically dragged him up here, and neither of them had felt it necessary to say a word. As soon as they'd got through the door, they'd been unable to keep their hands or their mouths off one another. It was amazing they'd even found the time to talk at all.

Now that all those pheromones had been worked through – at least partially, she thought wryly to herself – all those other niggling questions she'd been asking herself were beginning to rise back up to the surface. The sex had been great, yes – but it wasn't entirely why she'd wanted to see him again. Now that she knew that he wasn't going to run a mile, there were suddenly a million other things she was allowing herself to want. To hope for. Things that frightened her, precisely because they were possible.

She stepped out from under the water slightly, wringing the moisture out of her hair, and—

"Hey, chere," his voice suddenly murmured behind her, right there in her ear.

She jolted with surprise at his magical appearance as if from thin air, a kneejerk reaction born from years of training bringing her fist up, lightning fast, to deck him in the face. Lucky for him – and partly to her relief – he caught her wrist easily, laughing when, in the process, she almost lost her balance on the slippery floor. It was the perfect excuse for him to catch her, an arm shooting round her waist and scooping her up against his already fully naked body.

"Jesus Christ—ya scared the hell outta me, Remy!" she yelled, elbowing him in the gut when his only answer was to hoot with laughter. She was only partially appeased by his pained "Oof!" and a prompt end to his snickering. He let go of her; but tellingly, she didn't quite have the heart to move out of his space.

"Sorry," he said, still with a smile in his voice. "I couldn't resist gettin' you back for that striptease."

"Oh really?" she replied archly over her shoulder. "That striptease was just payback for you purposely spoilin' what I thought was gonna be a really hot make-out session."

"Aw." He put his hands on her hips and pulled her back up against him. "Don't be like that, chere. I wasn't lyin' about bein' late for checkout."

"I know you weren't," she answered, her ire at him rapidly fading as she felt him push her hair from the back of her neck and press an open-mouthed kiss there. She closed her eyes and purred a little at the sensation of his lips on her again. "Didja manage t' charm your way outta payin' a fine?" she asked after a moment, her voice thick with sudden desire.

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed against her neck. "I'm officially stayin' wit' you in dis room now. Don't worry, beb. I put everythin' on my card."

He reached over her shoulder for the shower gel and squirted some onto her back.

"You shouldn't have," she mumbled sarcastically, as she felt his hands finally begin to massage the soap into her skin, working up a lather.

"Shouldn't I?" he put his face back into her neck and kissed her with more than just a hint of bite.

"No," she said. "But I really ain't in the mood t'fight you over it." She fell silent a moment as his fingers expertly worked at all the knots and kinks in her body. "Mmm. That feels so damn good," she crooned. "You should do this for a livin'. I swear you'd be richer than Hades within a year."

He unlatched his mouth from her neck and laughed softly.

"Make a livin' from feelin' up naked women in the shower?" He rested his chin on her head as his hands came up over her shoulders and kneaded them with a firm yet gentle rhythm. "Sounds great. When can I start?"

"You can start with me," she said, eyes still closed from all-out bliss. "I'll buy your services outright. Have ya do this… hm. At least two days outta the week."

"And the rest of the week?" he asked, his hands moving down her back again.

"Hmm. The rest of the week… I'll keep you chained to the bed."

A laugh sounded in his throat.

"That don't sound very profitable, p'tit."

The bottle of shower gel was back in his hand, and he squeezed a liberal amount onto her chest, right in the valley between her breasts, throwing the bottle aside into a corner with a clatter.

"That depends on how you wanna get paid, sugar," she half-whispered, as his hands came around her waist, her senses tingling under the texture of his roughened fingers.

"I dunno what you mean, chere," he bantered back smoothly. "Are you suggestin' you're gonna pay me wit' sex?"

"Don'tcha think it could be very profitable for the both of us?"

"Hmm." His hands reached up and cupped her breasts, palming them slowly, sensuously. "How about I carry on wit' my thievin', and you carry on wit'… whatever it is dat you do… … And I give you de sex for free. How does dat sound?"

She loved how thick and gravelly his accent got when he was worked up like this. She didn't bother answering him. Instead she leaned her head back on his shoulder, slipped a hand round the back of his neck, and pulled him down into a kiss. Almost immediately his mouth was hungrily eating up her own, his hands thumbing her nipples, his pelvis pressing almost instinctively against her back. He was hard already, his erection pressing against her backside; and she pushed back against it, eager to have every square inch of her flesh in contact with his, to have him against her in ways that weren't yet possible.

He didn't leave her wanting for long, his hips responding by grinding back into her like he couldn't get enough of her either. She hardly noticed when his right hand left her breast; but she did when it trailed downward and slipped right in between her legs, his fingers promptly giving her a massage of a different kind. She moaned aloud into his mouth, all but breaking their kiss.

"Dat's right, chere," he whispered into her ear. "Sing for me."

The words were so damn sexy in the moment that she pressed his hand in hers, guiding his movements, moving her body to the timing of his strokes. She was peripherally aware of his lips pressed against her temple, of him watching her body, mesmerised by the little show she was putting on for him. Most of her focus, however, was on the fire he was so effortlessly stoking inside her.

She felt his smile against her skin, his lips move as he hissed: "Anna, you are so fuckin' hot… …"

God, he was like a drug. She wanted more and more and more.

She twined her fingers into his hair and pulled him back into a searing kiss, proclaiming roughly right in the middle of it:

"I want you inside me right now, you bastard."

One thing she also loved about him – give him a prompt, and he was always quick to act on it. Without a single second of hesitation, he'd hooked her left knee under his hand, lifting it aside, as his right arm moved to hook her waist. Shifting his weight, he'd lined up their bodies like it was instinct, like he didn't have to think about it – and she marvelled at the way he did it, like bodies fitting together was an art to him, complete and utter second nature. With a thrust of his hips he entered her with a grunt, hitting the deepest, most sensitive spot inside her so effortlessly that she let out a yelp. Within seconds the rhythm of his thrusts had turned her legs to a quivering mush, and she put out a trembling hand, finding the shower wall and holding on for dear life.

He slowed a little, leaning in to her ear and whispering in that smug drawl of his:

"Am I too much for you, cherie?"

Her only answer was to dig the fingernails of her free hand into his ass and speed him up again.

As a rule, Anna had never enjoyed shower sex, although she was beginning to think her current lover might change her mind, or at least prove to be the exception to the rule. The first time she'd ever tried it was with Cody, and they'd both ended up flat on their asses on the shower stall floor, laughing at each other, a bruise or two thrown into the bargain. She was beginning to think that Remy, however, had the insane athleticism, poise and grace to make it work. He had no problem flipping her into all sorts of positions, a fact that would've made her laugh out loud if she hadn't been so darn beside herself with orgasmic ecstasy. The things he wrung from her were things she didn't even think she understood herself. All she knew was that they felt good, and that she didn't want them to stop.

By the time it was all over she was a pruny mess and in need of another thorough clean, which he was only too damn happy to provide. This time, however, she got a little of her own back by thoroughly scrubbing him off too, which almost ended up being more fun than it was worth – another little ploy she was sure he'd planned all along.

"You are the worst," she chided him, as she briskly worked soap into his chest, sounding so scathing in her pronouncement that he almost looked crestfallen.

"Who, moi? What'd I do?"

"I came in here to get clean, Cajun," she shot at him, half-vexed and half-amused by his school-boyish expression of dejection. "Not get even dirtier than before!"

She had no problem paying attention to his jiggly bits, nevertheless cleaning them so vigorously that there was no way in hell he was going to start getting any other degenerate ideas into his pretty head.

"No need t'be so aggressive, chere," he remarked at her less than tender ministrations. "I need at least another hour to refuel before I'm ready for you again."

She looked up at him, her eyebrows working furiously as she tried to be more cross than entertained by his endlessly risqué banter.

"Why aren't you passed out on the bed or somethin'?" she snapped at him uncharitably; although she was softened enough to let up a little on the brusque and decidedly unsexy scrub she was giving him. "Isn't that what most guys do when they've blown their load about ten times in the past ten hours?"

He winced.

"You exaggerate, beb."

"Ha. If only. I'm gonna be waddling around with an ice pack between my legs for the next couple of days, I hope you know that!"

He laughed so heartily at the image that it was almost contagious. It annoyed her, but she couldn't help it – a traitorous smile began to work its way across her lips.

"Ha! The Rogue don't bat an eyelid at knives or bullets, but give her a thorough reamin' and she's brought to her knees." He lowered his voice, and added with a waggle of the eyebrows: "Sometimes literally. Which I love when you do, by the way."

She slapped his chest, which backfired when it sprayed soap suds into her face.

"Ugh, you are a living nightmare!" she declared with mock ferocity. "I think I kind of hate you, Cajun!"

"That's okay, Anna," he answered helplessly, and with a little too much sincerity, as he hooked an arm around her shoulders and planted a chaste yet vigorous kiss on the top of her head. "I think I kinda love you too."

-oOo-