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They'd had to separate after Peter's Wimbledon win: he to tie up things at his end, and Lizzie needed to get back to the US to work on her serve and get ready for the upcoming US Open.

Being apart had been miserable. Emails, texts and long distance calls weren't the same, and the next time they saw each other was when he arrived for the US Open Opening Gala night three weeks later.

There was loud music playing, spotlights flashing and people everywhere as he stepped into the building.

"Shame you're not playing," one man exclaimed, throwing out his hand when he entered. "We could have done with another British winner."

"Uh yeah," Peter replied absentmindedly, shaking the hand that was already in his grasp. "If you'll excuse me, I'm looking for someone."

He didn't hear the response, already moving into the throng of people, searching.

He found her not long after, seated at the bar. With a smirk, he made his way over. "Anyone sitting here?"

He saw the delight in her eyes when she turned, before she decided to play along with the game. "I'm actually waiting for someone."

"Oh," he feigned. "Perhaps I can wait with you in the meantime? The name is Peter. Peter Colt."

"Well, hello Peter Peter Colt," she giggled, stretching out a hand. "I'm Lizzie Bradbury."

He took the hand and more when he tugged her upright into his arms and kissed her soundly then and there. Easing back, her arms were firmly around his neck. "God I've missed you."

She stood on her tippy toes to peck him on the lips. "Not as much as I have."

"Leave?" he asked hopefully. She laughed as he tightened her grip on her. "We just got here!"

"So?"

She patted his chest, fixing his shirt collar. "One hour," she promised.

His eyes darkened with desire. "I'm counting."

It was 39 minutes later when, separating for the first time, Peter returned from the toilet to find Lizzie talking with Jake Hammond. He swiftly made his way over.

Sliding his hand over Lizzie's hip, he encircled her waist, splaying his fingers across her abdomen in a blatant show of possession.

She clearly didn't mind, covering his hand with hers and tilting her head to be kissed. It was natural, and so he did just that.

He knew they were both grinning like idiots when they parted and faced Jake again. "Oh for fucks sake," the hot-headed man swore before storming off.

"Someone needs to teach him about manners," admonished Peter, dropping his head to her shoulder to speak softly into her ear.

Lizzie snorted as she raised a hand to cover her mouth as Peter's grip on her tightened and he nuzzled at her neck. She smiled as she tilted her head to be kissed again.

Parting, she bit her bottom lip gleefully. "Let's get out of here."

He was startled. "You sure? You've still got fourteen mi..." He trailed off as she looked at him with an amused expression. "Oh sod it."

Clasping her hand firmly, he dragged her toward the door without much ceremony. "Good night everyone," he bellowed before she laughed and pushed him out the door.

Heading for the carpark, he stilled. "Do you have a car?" he suddenly questioned. "I got here by taxi."

She couldn't stop laughing at the incredulity of the situation. "Right this way."

They made it to the side of the car before, as Lizzie fiddled with the keys, he covered her body with his, pressing them against the door.

Driving anywhere was momentarily forgotten as they partook in a spontaneous make out session.

Eventually parting, both breathing heavily, it was Peter who reached for the keys. "Let's get out of here."

Next chapter: A proposal.