Chapter Eight

Erin woke slowly the next morning, her body easing gently from sleep in the way only experienced after a deep, long rest. She felt deliciously free and comfortable snuggled beneath the thick covers, and as she woke more fully, she noticed an extra warmth seemed to radiate from them. Half-conscious of it, she turned her head lazily and saw the source: the beautiful, sexy, naked man lying next to her, spread out comfortably on his back, an arm flung over his face covering his eyes.

Erin’s eyes snapped open as she suddenly remembered the night before, images and scenes playing out in rapid fast-forward motion, drawing an instant flush to her cheeks.

Oh my God, she thought, closing her eyes and suddenly becoming aware of the slight hangover that resided in her head; her body was loose and sore from other activity.

Chocolate cake…oral fixations…an orgasm on the floor…strawberries and cream…and Erin vaguely recalled pretending she was a cowgirl sometime after midnight when they had come upstairs…

She groaned. She knew she had consumed several glasses of wine last night – and while they certainly weren’t enough to make her drunk, she definitely remembered a liberating buzz…and the tiny throbs in her head now reminded her of it. She had been coherent enough last night to follow through with their actions and to justify her part in them, but now, after she had slept off the wine and her mind had cleared a bit, she wondered where the hell it had all come from.

She glanced over again at the sleeping man beside her. Despite her conflicted thoughts, she couldn’t help but smile. Damn, was he ever sexy. And Lord, was he a good lover…

Erin blushed again as she remembered their rendezvous. Somehow, despite the slight guilt, she felt more satisfied this morning than she had in, quite literally, years. In fact, she had never remembered being brought to the brink of orgasm so quickly, and actually reaching that orgasm four times, in one night before. It had been raw, pure passion at its finest. Jon had indulged her desires, given life to her fantasies, and awakened the sleeping animal inside of her: she couldn’t ever remember being so open with her sexuality as she was with him last night.

And she had just met the guy a week before! That was what unsettled her above all else. Not the mind-blowing sex, but with whom it had been.

Jon Bon Jovi. Holy shit.

As if reading her mind yet again, Jon stirred slightly and turned his head, his eyes opening slowly to reveal their deep blue facets.

Erin smiled. “Good morning.”

Jon smiled back at her, making her heart jump again. “Good morning yourself,” he said groggily. “Sleep well?”

“I’ll say,” Erin rubbed her face. “What time is it?”

Jon turned to read the digital clock standing on the nightstand next to the side of the bed where Erin usually slept. “Noon,” he laughed. “Not surprising.”

Erin laughed softly. “No, not really. How’d you sleep?”

Jon stretched his arms above his head and yawned, nodding as he did so in such a casual, comfortable way that Erin had to remind herself they weren’t a couple. Or at least, not a conventional one.

“Pretty damn well,” he grinned, looking back at her. He looked so sexy in that moment – hair tousled, lips flushed, eyes slightly narrowed from sleep, a light pink mark on his forehead from his arm – that Erin couldn’t help but reach out and run her fingers through his hair. “Good,” she murmured. “Because you needed it after dealing with me.”

Jon tilted his head further back into the pillow and laughed. “After dealing with you? Baby, I do believe it was my name that echoed through these walls when you screamed it – several times, if I remember correctly.”

Erin flushed again. “Well you did your fair share of screaming too, you know,” she smirked.

“Yes,” Jon nodded. “Yes I did. I don’t deny it.”

He met her gaze with dancing eyes and Erin had to resist the urge to have another go at him right then and there. Instead, she heard her stomach take advantage of the silence to let her know it was empty.

“Hungry?” she asked, hiding a smile as she turned away from him and slid out from beneath the covers.

Jon laughed. “This time, yes I am. So I won’t scold you for bringing up food again.”

Erin padded through the plush carpet toward the bathroom, her back to him. “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. “Because I’m going to eat whether you join me or not.”

“Are strawberries on the menu this morning?”

Erin turned and saw Jon stretched out further on the bed, his arms folded behind his head and the blankets receded along his body as far as his waist. Her eyes traveled downward and her mind wandered for a minute before she answered.

“No,” she said coyly. “But if you get out of bed right now I’ll throw some whipped cream on your pancakes.”

Jon arched an eyebrow. “Mmm, I like when you talk dirty.”

Erin laughed and rolled her eyes. “All right, Slick, out of bed. You can shower in the guest room while I get ready in here, and then we’ll go downstairs for sustenance.” She grabbed her robe off the back of the bathroom door and slipped an arm into it. “There’s soap and shampoo in there, but you’ll need a towel.”

She padded into the hallway and opened the linen closet, retrieving a soft white towel from the top shelf. As she returned to the bedroom she saw Jon had gotten out of bed, and the sight of him standing there completely bare and exposed stirred something in her core.

She inhaled deeply and handed him the towel. “Wash,” she instructed. “Before I change my mind.”

Jon smirked. “Is that a threat?”

Erin forced herself to turn away from him and enter the bathroom. “Maybe,” she said slyly. “But it’s an empty one for now, because I am going to take a shower now – and this door will be closed. And locked,” she added, smiling.

Jon sighed good-naturedly. “All right, have fun,” he winked as he moved toward the doorway. “But not too much, or I’ll have to force my way in there.”

Erin smiled and closed the door. She stood there for a moment, knowing full well he’d try to sneak in. After a small pause, she clicked the snap lock into place…and heard a small laugh from just outside the door. She stifled a laugh of her own and heard soft footsteps as he left the room.

Shaking her head and smiling to herself, Erin turned on the hot water and shed her robe before stepping into the shower.



Twenty minutes later, freshly washed, dressed, and smelling faintly of roses, Erin descended the stairs to find Jon sitting at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. He was dressed in yesterday’s slightly rumpled clothes and unshaven, the light stubble casting a shadowed look on his features that made him look relaxed and calm. His hair wasn’t fully dry yet, and though the top of it was fluffed, if not untamed, the wet ends clung to the nape of his neck. He smelled like soap and Herbal Essences, and Erin thought he was sexier than ever.

As she approached him, he looked up and pulled a face. “You could have warned me that all you had was shampoo that smells like oranges.”

Erin laughed. “Would it have made a difference?”

“No, but now I smell like a fruit basket.”

Erin walked up and buried her nose in his hair. “It suits you,” she proclaimed, breathing deeply.

Jon was ever so slightly taken aback as she hovered over him. It was such a simple thing to do – so casual and nonchalant – and yet he found it desirably sensual.

“Oh yeah?” he tilted his head up and looked into her captivating forest green eyes. They still intrigued him as if each time he looked into them was the first time, and he easily considered them her best feature. Her brilliant smile, easy laugh, smooth voice, and wild body were all close seconds, though.

She smiled and kissed his lips softly. “Yeah.”

She turned and retreated into the kitchen, bouncing away and leaving him grinning. “So how many pancakes, Slick?”

“Two or three,” he shrugged. “However many you’re having.”

Erin opened the cupboard and reached up to retrieve the pancake mix box, her angora sweater rising slightly to leave a strip of her bare stomach exposed. Jon eyed it, feeling the stirrings of desire begin again.

“Think you can handle four?”

Jon smiled. A woman with a man’s appetite. She was becoming more perfect in his eyes by the second.

“Bring it on.”

Jon watched her as she turned toward the stove, shaking his head inwardly at what had transpired in the last twenty-four hours. You’re a crazy bastard, he chided himself. He certainly wasn’t a stranger to the one-night stand scene, but this felt different somehow. Erin was no ordinary woman. Hell, she was anything but ordinary, he smiled to himself, remembering how wild she had become after she lowered her guard the night before. He felt connected to her – emotionally, spiritually – like he’d known her for years.

There was a certain vulnerability about her though, he couldn’t help but notice. At several times during the night, she had seemed hesitant, unsure, as if she were acting against her better judgment.

Well hell, he had been too, but once they had started feeling each other up, it was too late for second thoughts for him. They were at a point of no return as far as he was concerned.

She, however, continued to seem distant a few times – like her thoughts were on something else. Something that was making her feel guilty.

Or someone that was making her feel that way.

For such a strong, confident, and openly sexy woman, it just didn’t seem to fit. Jon mused over it for a bit longer while Erin moved about the kitchen, the enticing smells of pancakes cooking making his stomach rumble.

“You’re quiet,” she announced, setting a cup of coffee in front of him. “Everything all right?”

Jon nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired…and hungry,” he winked.

“Hey, I’m cookin’ these babies as fast as I can. Gimme a few more minutes.”

Jon waved his hand. “No rush, no rush. Mind if I have a look around the place? I kind of missed the tour last night.”

Erin smiled. “Sure, go ahead. I’ll call you when these are ready.”

Jon got up and meandered out of the dining area, entering the living room. A stirring between his legs triggered at the memory of what had transpired on the floor there, and he crossed through the room to the large brick fireplace that sat along the adjacent wall.

A long shelf acted as a mantle above the hearth, and several picture frames lined it. The people in the pictures looked like family – there was an older couple with graying blonde hair and a younger woman who looked a lot like Erin in all three of them, and Jon smiled as his eyes fell on a photo of the Coronado Bay Bridge in San Diego.

Aside from those photos, there was nothing on the mantle but a small vase at the end filled with tiny white daises, which, upon closer look, were fake and made of velvet. A couple of black and white professional nature photographs gave some character to the otherwise bare walls in the room, and the cream-colored sofa was accompanied by a matching armchair and a narrow glass coffee table, on top of which still sat their half-empty wine glasses. The rest of the room was bare and virtually void of personality, with nothing but the furniture and a wide screen television to fill it.

Jon wandered into an adjoining room which appeared to be Erin’s office; a wraparound desk filled the room and was adorned with stacks of papers, file trays, a large Apple computer, a printer, scanner, telephone, and other various office supplies which all looked top-of-the-line and expensive.

At that moment, Jon heard Erin calling for breakfast and he left the office, grabbing the wineglasses from the living room as he made his way back to the kitchen.

Erin was setting two plates on the table as he entered the dining room, stacked with large buttermilk pancakes that smelled delicious.

“Mmm, looks wonderful,” Jon said as he held up the wineglasses.

“Oh thanks, I forgot about those,” Erin took them and set them in the sink before returning to the table. “Okay, I have margarine and syrup, so use whatever you want. And is coffee still okay or do you want orange juice?”

“Coffee is fine, baby. Sit and eat.” Jon smiled as he saw that she had kept her promise and spooned a generous topping of whipped cream onto his breakfast.

They started in on their food quickly, both ravenous. Within ten minutes the last crumbs from the cakes had disappeared from their plates and both Jon and Erin leaned back in their chairs, happily and contentedly full.

“I am stuffed,” Erin announced with a laugh.

Jon nodded. “You’re a good cook.”

He helped her bring the dishes into the kitchen and rinse them, and as they finished they both stood awkwardly, unsure what to say.

“Well, I should probably get going,” Jon finally said, looking at her with apologetic eyes.

As much as Erin wanted to protest, she knew he was right. Her body told her to haul him back upstairs to bed, but her mind knew they had to get on with their lives for the time being. She nodded.

Jon turned and started gathering his belongings – his shoes were sitting by the front door and he pulled them on slowly, taking his time. He retrieved his keys and wallet from the counter and reached for his coat, which was still draped over the back of one of the dining chairs, and slipped it on, in no hurry to button it up.

“So when will I see you again?” Erin asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

Jon shrugged. “Whenever you want, baby. I know where you live, so if you need me, just call.” He winked.

Erin smirked. “My own sex slave service?”

Jon raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Call it whatever you want, I’ll be here.”

Erin smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Thanks for…everything,” Jon cocked his head to one side. “You know, for giving me a place to sleep and feeding me, that is.” His eyes danced.

Erin smirked. “My pleasure,” she winked.

Jon turned toward the door and pulled it open, shivering as the November chill hit him. “Friday night?” he suddenly asked.

“Huh?”

“Second date. I think it’s appropriate, don’t you?” The question was playful and sly, but Jon’s eyes gave him away. And suddenly Erin knew she couldn’t refuse.

“Absolutely,” she smiled.

Jon grinned and closed the door behind him, and Erin moved toward the window to watch him get into his car. Several minutes later, he pulled away and Erin was left wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008