Chapter Six

Erin sauntered up the walk and let herself into the house, smirking to herself and turning around only once to wave goodbye. The poor guy looks so disappointed, she thought, chuckling. Seduction had always been a stronger point for her.

As she set down her purse and shed her coat, her thoughts jolted back to the dinner. There was no doubt that something was playing beneath the surface for both of them; Jon had made that much clear in his one-man-show of chocolate consumption. The performance had been unsettling for Erin – in a fiery, dangerous way that left her with an unsatisfied craving, and not just for chocolate.

The truth was – she wanted to be that fork.

Erin flipped on the lights and entered the kitchen, reaching for a glass in the cupboard. The blinds in front of the windows above the kitchen sink were open, and she caught a glimpse of Jon’s car still sitting outside, headlights ablaze. She stopped, wondering if something was wrong.

It didn’t look as if he was outside the car, and she figured he was probably on his phone or adjusting something before he drove off. But when the headlights went off a second later, Erin’s stomach jumped.

She set the glass down on the counter and hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to go open the front door or pretend she hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t gone. She decided on the former, but before she could move the doorbell rang.

She couldn’t help but smile as she moved to the oak-paneled door: she had tortured the poor guy after all; it was just funny to see how desperate he was for more.

Erin opened the door and raised an eyebrow at him, asking silently what she could help him with.

Jon wore an expression that clearly said he was acting against his best judgment, but that he could care less. “At the risk of sounding intrusive,” he began, an unmistakable smile playing on his lips. “Can I come in?”

Erin hesitated for a nanosecond before opening the door wider without a word, hiding her own smirk.

“Would you like something to drink?” she offered, heading back to the kitchen. “I was just about to get a glass of water, but wine suddenly sounds more appealing.” Not that you need more alcohol, you idiot, she thought to herself. Nevertheless, she opened another cabinet above the stove and pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay and two wineglasses, then returned the other glass on the counter to its own cabinet.

Jon took off his coat and casually draped it over the back of a chair in the dining room. “Sounds great. Nice place you’ve got here,” he added, looking around him at the spotless furniture and neat, orderly setting.

Erin nodded as she poured two glasses of the pale yellow liquid. “Thank you. It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“It looks like my place,” Jon said thoughtfully. “Unlived in.”

Erin entered the dining room and set down his drink in front of him. “I told you I’m a workaholic.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Jon picked up the glass and nodded. “Here’s to us.”

They each drank deeply without a word, sizing each other up as inconspicuously as they could, but neither openly acknowledging the heavy sexual tension that thickened the air between them.

Finally, Erin spoke. “So, dinner wasn’t enough?” she winked.

Jon met her eyes and held them, his gaze intense and sensual. Erin felt her blood begin to race, and an uncontrollable tremor made its way up her spine. Jon didn’t answer at first, but held her gaze so long she finally had to look away, preoccupying herself with the wine.

“Shall we move into the living room, or do you have a no drink policy in there?” he finally asked, sensuality now mixing with amusement as he watched her squirm.

Erin smiled, trying to still her thumping heart. “No, the living room sounds good. It’s more comfortable.” She got up and left the room quickly.

“Precisely,” Jon whispered, following her a moment later.

Erin chided herself as she sat down on the soft cream-colored sofa in the dimly light living room. You’re playing with fire here, she thought angrily to herself. And you’re losing.

They settled onto the sofa and Erin slung one leg across the other, but Jon sat casually, his legs spread comfortably wide. Erin tried not to let her gaze wander.

A pregnant and very awkward silence ensued as they continued to sip their wine, both trying, and failing, to ignore the blatant beckoning of human nature.

Finally Jon spoke, his voice soft and thick with seduction. “You’re a beautiful woman, Erin,” he said pointedly, swirling the contents of his wineglass around casually, not looking at her.

Erin inhaled deeply. Her desire had become dizzying, her longing primal.

“Thank you,” she said, stupidly. Three points Jon, one point Erin.

Without another word, Jon gently placed his hand on her thigh and slowly slid it upward, sending delightful tingles through her skin. She enjoyed it intensely, but when she tried again to muster up the playful seduction she had so coyly played earlier, she found nothing but blinding indulgence and a timid, uncharacteristic reaction.

Fuck, she thought. The effect this man has on a woman…

Jon’s hand slid further, up her thigh and hip, up the side of her body to her breast, where he stopped and gently covered it, squeezing gently. “Mmm, that’s nice.”

Finally, Erin could control her emotions no longer, and as heavy waves of lust and fuzzy freeness from the wine overtook her body, she succumbed to them gratefully. She grabbed Jon’s hand and shoved it away, then commenced her own torture as she slid her hand forcefully down between his legs. Jon jumped and sucked in a breath, watching her hand as she began to massage him through his jeans.

She worked him expertly, her hand skillfully clenching and releasing, rubbing and stroking at all the right times and places. An instant and powerful rush of emotion flooded Jon’s body: her hesitations had been sexy, but this was a downright turn-on.

He groaned softly, but quickly grew annoyed with the rough denim separating him from her silky skin, and was ecstatically surprised when she reached for his zipper and began to slide it down, her other hand reaching over to undo the button.

Jon leaned over and took her wineglass, then set both of them on the coffee table as Erin slid her hand down his pants and commenced torture, massaging him until he was hard as a rock.

As she worked him, Erin grew dizzy with the lust that had taken her judgment hostage. She tried to contrast the thoughts of what she wanted to do to the man sitting next to her with what she shouldn’t be doing…and why.

But it didn’t work. Her movements grew quicker, and Jon finally took her hand and stilled it, looking up at her with intensely desirous eyes that begged the moment. He took her waist in both hands, sliding them up underneath her sweater and across her breasts, eliciting a small groan from her. Her skin was soft, invitingly supple, and Jon had to readjust himself to soothe the throbbing ache between his legs. He withdrew his hands and slid off the sofa, kneeling in front of her and gently prying apart her legs.

Erin watched him wide-eyed, wondering if he was going to do what she thought he was going to do…and unsure if she wanted him to.

“I’ve wanted you since the day we met, Erin,” Jon murmured as he undid her jeans. “You’ve been parading that ass of yours around in these tight things and expecting me to be a good boy…and I don’t like being a good boy.”

He ripped the pants off her body, exposing her hot, bare skin, and immediately smoothed his hands over her legs and thighs. Erin threw back her head and relished in the feel of his unbelievably soft hands, his fingers lightly trailing along the inside of her thighs toward where they met.

“And don’t pretend you’re a good girl,” he smirked, pressing gently against her center with two warm fingers. She jumped slightly and managed a smile.

“Well you’re no saint, Jon Bon Jovi.”

Jon raised an eyebrow and lifted a corner of his mouth as he slid a finger beneath the thin lace of her thong and tugged downward, keeping his eyes on hers. Erin felt her heart crashing against her ribcage, and a thousand thoughts swirled around in her head, frenzied and anxious, as if she was responsible for stopping their charade…but knew it was too late.

She didn’t want to, anyway.

Jon eyed her wickedly, his eyes gleaming with mischief before he gripped her tightly and lowered his head. Erin gasped, taken by surprise as his tongue dove between her flesh, causing her entire body to jolt as he stroked her tenderly, rhythmically. His tongue was soft and warm, causing her breaths to come in tiny fits while she moaned appreciatively. His pace quickened and she grabbed a fistful of his thick blonde hair, fighting between wanting to force him deeper and pull him away.

Finally, she relaxed her unsettled mind and soaked it in, getting lost in the moment and forgetting everything else as he indulged her fantasies. He flicked his tongue in and out of her, hitting all the sensitive parts and lapping her up with such delicate diligence that she cried out softly, her muscles contracting for a few seconds.

Jon looked up at her from between her legs and cocked his head to one side. “That’s it?” he asked. “That’s all I gotta do for you to go over?”

Erin tried to catch her breath. “No, that wasn’t really it,” she ran a hand through her hair. “I think that was just a small reaction to being surprised.”

Jon smiled wickedly again. “Good, because I’m not nearly finished with you yet.” He dove downward again, thrusting within her walls more forcefully this time, fucking her with his tongue.

Erin threw back her head and shut her eyes, surprised not only at what was happening, but the fact that what was happening was so…incredible. She couldn’t remember feeling this much pleasure from oral sex in a long time…lately, with Max, it had become so…routine.

Max.

Fuck, she thought, a rock sinking to the pit of her stomach. She had succeeded in forgetting about him, but now the thought of him hovered over her like a cloud. She shook her head, trying to forget him again as she concentrated on the sensations between her legs, but he simply moved to a corner of her mind and stayed put.

She didn’t want to think about him. Not tonight. Even though he was her boyfriend. Even though he’d probably haul out a rifle and hunt Jon down if he knew what they were doing right now. Even though she was technically cheating on him.

And Jon knew nothing about him.

She wondered again why she had lied to him on the plane that night. Perhaps, she now realized, it had been because deep down, she really didn’t love Max. And in all honesty, she wasn’t sure why she was with him in the first place.

Suddenly Erin sat up and tugged on Jon’s hair, making him pull away. “What’s the matter?” he asked, his expression asking if she felt guilty.

Erin just shook her head and gestured to the sofa. Curiously, Jon moved to the spot next to her and Erin immediately reversed their positions, kneeling in front of him and tugging down on his jeans. She peeled them off his legs, taking in his bareness and the vulnerability that he was displaying inadvertently. She fought to keep her face passive as she took in his size, and suddenly she was overcome by another animalistic impulse. She settled herself on her knees and leaned forward, taking him fully into her mouth in one swift movement.

Forget Max. She had a debt to pay.

Tuesday, November 11, 2008