22:Dry

“C’mon,” he said quietly while taking a step back and sliding from Charlie’s womb.  “There’s some towels in the trailer.”

She nodded silently, then fished for the waterlogged denim shorts with her toes.  Reaching below the pool’s surface, she grabbed them and stretched out an arm to snag the bra and decimated panties that floated next to her.  He went under for his own shorts as she climbed the pool steps and scooped up the sodden pile of shirts, bundling it all together against her naked front.

Assuming that he would be behind her, she was momentarily surprised when she arrived at the Airstream’s door and he wasn’t there.  Looking back toward the end of the pool, she saw why he was lagging behind – one set of fingers held his dripping shorts and the other held that damn non-disclosure agreement. 

It wasn’t even that she could blame him for wanting her to sign one.  What pissed her off was the presentation.  Who invites a woman over for sex and then whips out something like that? 

A crude motherfucker.

Her shiver was merely a result of being drenched while standing in the evening air.  That was her story and she was sticking to it. 

“It’s open,” he said when joining her, the handle turning easily under his touch. 

“It’s also dark and unfamiliar.   You go.”

Extending an arm up and around the now-open doorway, he flicked a switch that shed a modest amount of light over the interior.  After draping his shorts over one of the chairs, Jon easily took the single, high step and reached a hand down to her.  “C’mon.”

Putting the rest of the wet clothes in the same chair, she accepted his hand and had to force herself not to snatch it back.  She’d just had a screaming orgasm with the man.  The warmth of his fingers closing around hers should not still cause sparks, and Charlie let go as soon as she had both feet firmly inside the trailer. 

“Shut the door,” he instructed, dropping the non-disclosure to a leather cushioned bench before turning and taking three short steps to a tall cabinet.

Doing as requested, Charlie closed it behind her to leave the two of them intimately sealed in a small and unforgiving space. 

About six inches from her right leg, there was a leather cushioned bench with drawers under it that took up the entire width of the trailer.   Directly in front of her was a small empty space, to possibly allow the bench to fold out into a bed.  Then there was the bench where the mocking sheet of paper lay and, across the narrow walkway, was a full-size refrigerator and sink.  Beyond those were two floor-to-ceiling cabinets that Jon currently stood between, while the furthest end of the trailer housed a microscopic shower.  She assumed there was a toilet, too, but it wasn’t visible from this angle.    

The whole thing wasn’t much more than fifteen feet long, and maybe six feet wide.  Depending on how you looked at it, that made it either entirely too small to contain this crazy attraction or several times larger than necessary for two entwined bodies. 

“Here.” 

He passed her a colorful beach towel from one of the cabinets before rubbing a similar one briskly over his head for a full minute.  Mindless of hair that was now standing on end, the terrycloth was swiped over the tops of his shoulders and his furry chest, up each muscled arm, across his flat stomach, and down each hairy thigh.  When he brought the towel between his legs and rubbed vigorously, Charlie became uncomfortably aware that she was staring.

Spinning around to give him her back, she began scrubbing at her own head and a soft chuckle followed her. 

“I was about to tell you peep shows cost at least a quarter.”

Having worked as much water as possible out of her long mop of hair, Charlie wound the beach towel around her and tucked the end between her breasts.  Coincidentally enough, she was turning to face him at the same time he turned to the second cabinet, giving her a full view of his back.  It was covered with long, angry welts that ran from his shoulders downward, and they completely spoiled the perfect musculature of his back and flawless ass. 

She did that. 

Charlie wasn’t a biter or a scratcher – or at least she never had been before – but his touch roused that kind of mindless passion in her.  Standing there and unable to look away, she was torn between embarrassment and arousal – and embarrassment at the arousal.

“Sorry about that,” she murmured.

“What?”  Glancing at her over his shoulder, he followed the direction of her gaze and strained to peer at his own back.  “Eh.  Wrestle with a hellcat and you’re gonna get scratched.  Here.”

He tossed her a wadded article of clothing that turned out to be a t-shirt style swimsuit cover, and then delved back into the cabinet to withdraw a pair of trunks for himself.

“Thanks.”

“It’s nothing fancy, but at least you won’t have to drive home in the buff or wearing wet clothes.”

Was that her dismissal?  Was he expecting that she would make herself presentable and go on her merry way?  That’s what happened last time, but the circumstances were a little different this go around.  There wasn’t a flock of family awaiting the outcome of this encounter like they had the last.

He isn’t in control, Charlie.  You dictate what happens next.

“Here’s the deal,” he said, completely negating that thought.  “I’d planned to do the rough and tumble thing with you a while longer but, since you so rudely shoved me in the goddamn pool, that’s not gonna happen.  Wet and cold is not a good combination for me and, since I have to sing this weekend, I cannot get sick.  I need a hot shower.”

Hell’s bells.  He is dismissing me.

“There’s a shower behind you.”

“Yeah.  Fuck that,” was his snorted refusal as the waistband of the trunks settled around his waist.  “My youngest barely fits in that thing, so I’ll be retreating to my multi-head shower in the house.”

It was injured pride at being blown off so completely that had her biting out, “Prima donna.”

Looping the towel over his shoulders, expressionless blue eyes locked into hers.  “I really don’t give a damn what you think about me, so hell if I know why I’m going to justify myself, but here it is.  I’m at the mercy of my body to make a living.  That makes me high maintenance on occasion, and this is one of those occasions.  Period.  Now, since you’re giving me shit about leaving, I will assume you wanna screw around again?”

Charlie was dying to spit in his face and say she’d screw him again when hell froze over.  To tell him that she didn’t care if she was ever within a fifty-foot radius of him again.  To tell him that her vibrator was more appealing that he could ever possibly be. 

If only he hadn’t given her that miniscule shred of proof that he was only human instead of a larger-than-life, egomaniacal, arrogant, control-freak rock star.   Then she might have gone through with all that.  But he had and the simple proclamation that he couldn’t afford to get sick acted as a tranquilizer to the bitch that lived at her core. 

That left her with nothing but a truth that was as simple as his proclamation. 

“Yes.”

“That looked painful,” he remarked with the lift of an eyebrow.  “I can’t even imagine the string of insults and obscenities that just got hung in your throat.”

And that’s what she got for tranquilizing the bitch. 

“Don’t you have a fucking shower to take?”

“Yeah.”  His bare feet were silent as he came close enough to feel his breath on her face.  “This quickie shit is wearin’ thin, and I’m too old to be fucking against walls all the time.  You’re gonna spend tomorrow night with me.  All night.  In a bed.”

Why was it again that she thought him something other than an arrogant, egomaniacal rock star?

“You obviously aren’t a good Catholic boy or you’d know that arrogance is one of the seven deadly sins.” 

“So are lust, greed and wrath,” he countered with a smirk.  “Sounds like you’re in more trouble than I am.”

When she reared back and lifted her hand, Charlie had no idea what she’d planned to do with it, but it was irrelevant because didn’t give her the chance.  Hard fingers once again clamped around her wrist like an iron shackle, and Jon moved even further into her personal space with a deadly quiet, “Ah, ah, ah.”

Refusing to cower or show embarrassment, she tilted her chin defiantly.  “Afraid I’ll hurt you?”

“No.”  The decibel level didn’t rise, but his eyes narrowed into menacing slits.  “Listen very carefully, Counselor.  This is where we draw the non-negotiable line.  I may be a crude motherfucker, but there’s never pain in my pleasure.  I don’t hit you.  You don’t hit me.  Capisce?”

They engaged in a silent stand-off as he waited for her acquiescence.  Charlie, however, was too busy suppressing the violent shiver that his words set off to answer him. 

Her brothers had spent a lifetime bullying her.  Hell, her mother bullied her.   Izzie had even taken to it as of late.   They all got the same reaction – no reaction at all.  She looked them in the eye and told them to back off because she was going to do exactly as she pleased.

Why didn’t Jon evoke that same response?  Why did she have the strongest desire to not tell him off, but to be that good little submissive girl he requested earlier? 

There was only one man who had come even come close to having that kind of effect, and she would never dare mention their names in the same breath.  Besides that, it was so many years ago that her memories might be more impressive than their actual time together.

This.  With Jon.  It was vividly real, and it scared the hell out of her.

Jerking her wrist free, she snapped off a sharp, “Fine.  But both of our houses are full of family.  I hope you’re not proposing we spend the night here.”

He pressed a quick, hard kiss against her mouth.  “Don’t worry about it.  Just plan on leaving about five and tell Luke not to expect you ‘til morning.”

Oh God.  Luke.  Her family.  She couldn’t blatantly go spend the night in a man’s bed.  Not with two teenage sons to set an example for. 

“I don’t know what the fuck just went through your mind, nor do I care.  Let it go.  I’m in complete control this time around, Chiara.  Just be ready at five.”

“Yeah, well that sounds find and dandy,” she flared, knowing that her fate was as safe in his hands as a T-bone was in a tiger cage.  “But I can’t trust you to take care of things.  You fucking hate me.  This would be a prime opportunity to destroy my dignity in front of my family.  It was bad enough doing the walk of shame for yours; I refuse to do it for mine.”

Visibly infuriated at her personal attack on his character, his sculpted cheekbones adopted a high color while his nostrils flared dangerously.  He pushed past her with a flat, “I’m done.  No pussy is worth this.”

Shit!  Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!  Way to go Charlie.  A man offers you’re a sex-filled night and you insult him?  Ever hear of diplomacy?  You just cut off your nose to spite your face, so wave bye-bye to the orgasm train.  It’s leaving on a one-way trip without you.

“Wait!” 

Her hand flung out to grab at his elbow and, at first, he didn’t even deign to acknowledge it.  Jon continued on, not stopping until his fingers were on the door handle.  Only then did he swivel his head to regard her with impassive eyes. 

“If you embarrass me, so help me God, I will take every negative thing I’ve ever heard Dorothea say about you and use it to make your life miserable.”

Laughing without humor, he unlatched the door and pushed it open.  “You already did.  Lock up when you leave.”