How bloody long does it take to check in to a fucking Holiday Inn? The only complication was the cancellation of a second room. He'd be happy to just pay for the damn thing rather than wait until the adolescent looking, pimple-faced bloke clacked on his computer to rearrange their reservations. Colin finally signed the form, grabbed the key and took Carrie's hand. No elevator. Two flights of stairs to run but they did it. Frantic at the door, he dropped the key three times and they suddenly burst into laughter.

Colin grinned a kissed her tenderly in the hallway. He leaned back against the still locked door and flipped the keycard several times in his hand. "What say we breathe a tic, love? I don't want this to be a crazy bloody fuck…well, I'd like a crazy fuck," he shrugged, "but darlin', I want this to be brilliant. As perfect as it can be."

Carrie nodded, her blonde waves bobbing around her smiling face. But the hunger was there, in the heated glow of her eyes. Eyes he never really looked into and Colin was enthralled. He pushed a wild wisp of hair from her brow. "Bloody hell, Carrie. You're so fuckin' beautiful…it hurts to look at ya."

A tear escaped her eye and she playfully slapped his good shoulder. "Stop it."

"Can't." He was devouring the sight of her, the gentle energy and shy mannerisms that he'd always taken as childish before, always imagined as an act. But there, at the precipice of a fully desired relationship, he found it amazing to learn so much. In five minutes he'd discovered more about Carrie Dexter than he had in nearly a year. He lifted her hand and set it across his palm. So small, so tiny. Perfect. Placing that hand over his heart he leaned close and kissed her cheek. "Let's do this, love."

"Yes."

This time the door easily opened and they stood across from each other inside the room. Carrie observed the rise and fall of his breath as it inflated his chest; she saw his eyes shimmer in the darkness. It was she who reached across the abyss, taking his fingers in hand and carefully removing the sling. As he lowered his head to assist, he caught her lips in a kiss and Carrie sighed. So long she had wanted him; so long she had loved him. Even as she explored possibilities with L.J., it was always Colin in her heart. Always Colin on her mind. A true, loving relationship with him was her most hopeful dream.

Oh, but there were complications, several of them and they were not lost on her even at that tender moment. She was twenty four, nearly ten years younger than Colin and her parents would not approve. Even with her rather loose sexual activity with L.J., she was not quite as free with her body as another woman, but that promiscuous behavior would forever play in her mind as guilt. Should she have waited for the chance with Colin? There was no way to answer such a question. And in truth, her attraction to L.J. was solely a reaction to her desires for Colin. Then, there was that other obstacle, the fact that he was her employer. Should the relationship fail and the results be unpleasant, it wasn't that she could not find other employment. In fact, she had turned down several opportunities since beginning her job with the Burlington Racing Team.

As his lips slid to her neck, Carrie wondered about the possibilities of seeing it all crash around her ears. Projecting such a negative scenario made her squirm and his face rose.

"You okay?" he whispered, his fingers trailing the line of her dress, sliding closer and closer to her cleavage.

"I'm better than okay." And damn if she wouldn't be. What did all that shit matter? They were together. She had not hidden her real feelings for him and he had stated that he was falling for her too. What if it all worked out? What if her traditional Vermont mom and dad actually adored Colin as much as she did? What if she did as he asked and forgot about L.J. all together? What if nothing bad came from working with her lover? The future suddenly looked different; more honest and real to her.

A smile crept across her face that twinkled her eyes and Colin chuckled. With a single swoop, the silky sheath dress was removed and he fingered the front of her lacy bra. One handed, it was tough going, but he refused assistance. "If I can't do this, love, I am truly fucked," he teased and fought the tiny hooks until they relinquished control.

Jesus, her breasts were perfect. There was no need for the contraption to hold them in place. Bloody hell, they could stand tall and firm all on their own and his starving mouth dove for a pink, solid nipple. He gently kissed, then licked then sucked in deep as she rolled closer to him, arched, her body begging for more.

"Help me Carrie," he gasped, eying the delicious, released nipple and fumbling with his clothes. "Fuck, help me get to you, darlin'."

A scramble, grasping hands, grunts and sighs but finally they were buried in each other's arms, flesh to flesh and soft on the bed. His fingers tugged and tugged at the tiny panties until he could wait no more. Snap! The thong shot across the room with the rippling sound of a sling shot and Carrie giggled so hard she pulled away and ran to the bathroom.

"Hurry, Carrie!" he called between guffaws. "Need ya, need ya bad."

Scurrying her return, Carrie hopped over him and straddled his hips. "What am I going to wear for underwear tomorrow? My luggage is still in the car!"

Colin could give a flying fuck less about luggage or underwear. His eyes had glazed over with the heat of her sex so bloody close to his reaching cock. Slow it down, mate! He thought again and again. Slow it down!

His hands caressed her hips, rose to cup her breasts then pulled her face to his. Rolling her beneath him, he felt a familiar glow of success that came with knowing he was well suited for a partner. He hadn't gone without since Natalie left him. He'd taken advantage of L.J.'s rejects at first, waking often beside a not-so-attractive sheila but always giving her a smile and kind 'thank ya ma'am'. When he began doing the racing and the winning, the girls became more and more attractive…they just never seemed to…fit.

He and Carrie, even in their excitement, moved fluidly together. They had a common desire to please and be pleased, a built-in need to sense the other's preference and…they laughed. Odd. Colin had never really thought of laughter as part of making love, but chuckles bubbled up often…when they suddenly found themselves precariously at the edge of the massive bed…when a hiccup or stomach growl presented itself…even when an errant body part was discovered where it wasn't supposed to be, like at that moment. Carrie's knee was wedged tight into his armpit as he was twisting to reach his tongue to her sex. They laughed until they sighed into the next movement of the dance.

And dance they did, slowly exploring and tasting, admiring and adoring, playing and working each other into a frenzy that was near eruption. And the moment he entered her, he knew he had suddenly, finally come home after a journey of years and lives, of lust and hopes…Colin O'Brien had found home, the place he belonged and her name was Carrie.

Tight together in the afterglow, his lips on her hair and her soft fingertip running circles on his chest, Colin realized the damage he had done in his life thus far, and…for the first time…he understood the damage done to him. With a tender squeeze of his woman against his chest, Colin learned the biggest lesson of his life; he learned to be grateful for all of it. Thankful for the good and the bad, the simple and complex, the easy and the difficult…after all, it had led to the woman in his arms.

Bloody hell, he really was a winner!