*62:Welcome to the Other Side

Charlie’s blue jeans hit the floor along with her underthings and that's where she found the elastic band from her decimated ponytail.  With her mind a little numb and her body in a state of hyper-awareness, she pulled her hair through the band one and a half times to create a messy bun on top of her head. 

He was going to shower with her.  He was going to tantalize her.  He was going to own her in a whole new way – like they both wanted him to.

Holy Jesus.

Just replaying that soundtrack in her head was enough to make her nipples pucker as she slowly moved toward the sound of running water in the suite’s bathroom.  Whether or not that meant what she thought it did, she sure as hell liked the way it sounded. 

“Don’t keep me waiting, Counselor.” called the man who could dominate her as easily as he’d indulged her today. 

“I’m here.”

As naked as she was, he turned to peer at her over his shoulder with one hand stuck under the water to check the temperature. 

“So you are.”  Blue irises steamed as readily as the shower enclosure when he evaluated Charlie’s assets and apparently found everything to his liking.  Taking a step back from the open glass door he tipped his head toward the stream of water and ordered shortly, “In.”

“For somebody who didn’t seem interested in an argument, you’re being awfully bossy.” 

It wasn’t an accusation.  It was merely an observation made as she extended one hand to find the water as perfect as if she’d set the dials herself.  She stepped inside and the gentle flow had no more begun to bead on her skin when the shower stall shrank by half, courtesy of the man materializing at her back in the humid glass cocoon.

“It took my crew several years to find out everything goes much better when I’m in charge.”  His chest hair grazed her shoulder blades as Jon reached around for a bottle of hotel-provided shower gel.  “You’ll pick it up quicker than that.”

“You ever live life on the wild side and let somebody else take over?"

“Not usually, but I might consider it for you.  If you ask real nice.”

With droplets pelting chest, Charlie swiveled to watch over her shoulder as he squeezed soap into his palm and then set the bottle aside.  One broad hand flattened against the other to work up a delicately scented lather whose relaxing scent tickled her nostrils.  It was enough to temporarily relieve the tension she'd been harboring for most of the day – until sudsy palms cupped her shoulders.

The wet, soapy glide of his hands instantly stirred a much more pleasurable tension.  Over her shoulders and down slick arms, the touch couldn't be called cleansing but it was the perfect amount of pressure to tease her senses. 

“You’re going to wash me?”

The realization spurred the evening from unexpected to outright surreal.  As those same hands skidded into the dip of Charlie’s waist, she found herself in the starring role of a scene so exquisitely erotic that it could have been a dream.

His touch glided along the indentation of her waist until the fingertips of both hands met on top her belly button and one middle finger dipped lazily into the indentation.  The agonizingly slow swirl of his thumb continued circling the typically untouched flesh until her clit began to throb from the sweet friction. 

She couldn't resist inclining her head to watch, and the enticing visual coupled with blatant pulsing of blood between her legs stirred erotic memories for Charlie.  The same fingertips that were skating through the suds on her stomach had swirled deep inside her with the same intense focus, and that connection brought an arousal so overwhelming that she heard herself suck a deep breath.

“Washing wasn’t the primary objective.  Just happens to work out that way.” 

So near was he that the answer to her nearly forgotten question tickled Charlie's neck.  The crisp hair of his torso did the same to her back when Jon swayed from side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.  He was standing near enough that when she inhaled deeply, her shoulder blades touched his chest.  Other than that, there was no contact.

Jon was hovering like a sensual spectre, giving her moments when she wondered if subtle brushes she was experiencing were a result of his touch or her imaginative libido.  The sensation of two hands pushing up the plane of her stomach was very real, however, and she knew that each torturous millimeter of friction came from his manipulative scraping of flesh. 

His graze against the undersides of breasts  heavy with desire had her nipples peaking into painfully tight tips.  They ached for their own dose of manipulation, but he didn’t provide it.  That graze merely extended outward to consume each individual rib on its route back to her waist. 

Inhaling deeply through her nose, Charlie instinctively squirmed backward with the intention of making the physical connection more absolute, but Jon refused.  He softly scolded and evaded her with a retreating step. to reach again for the shower gel to manufacture a second serving of bubbles.  He kept his body distanced from hers this time, but lathered hands picked up where they left off, landing on her hips.

Instead of up, this particular journey had hands traveling downward, however.  Long middle fingers led the way, pushing along the shallow valleys between her groin and thighs, and her clit now pounded with anticipation.

Instinct had Charlie planting a supportive hand against the shower wall while she slid her left foot out to the side as far as it would go.  Before her mind had a chance to think it, her body was angling toward the hope that there was something more invasive than bathing on the horizon. 

“Spread ‘em all you want.”  This time the tickle of lips came against the other side of her neck.  “But you’ll have ‘em spread a long time before I put anything in there.”

She mewled out a stunned whimper when he followed that promise with a dancing series of butterfly touches along the outermost edge of her labia.  These light caresses weren’t his normal mode of operation.   He was the guy who slammed her against the wall so he could fuck her senseless and, while she appreciated the variety, she also would appreciate something more along those original lines. 

“Why?”

“I told you.”  His fingers did their butterfly waltz along her seam until she felt the tips dusting the bottom curve of her rump before he reversed course.  “You’re going to ache.”

“I do already,” she protested, pulling that left foot back in to squeeze her thighs together for some sort of satisfaction as she pivoted to face him.  Dripping arms slithered up until she could lock her wrists at the back of Jon’s neck.  “Don’t make me wait.”

Ghostly appendages haunted the line of her back, leaving Charlie as the one pressing forward to claim a definitive connection of skin by plastering her chest to his.  The contact offered her nipples some relief, and she arched closer for more even as he continued his minimalistic approach, removing his hands from her body to firmly stick them against the shower wall. 

Tucking his chin to his chest, Jon arched one chastising eyebrow and smirked down into her face. 

“Tell me why I shouldn’t.”

Even with half-wet hair and water dripping from the end of his nose, the man was sex on a stick, and that softly cocky demand didn’t do a damn thing to diminish it.  If someone offered her buckets of diamonds, a fleet of fancy cards and a million dollars right now, Charlie would refuse them.  This man, owning her in whatever way he chose to, was more of a thrill than all those things combined. 

Unblinkingly peering up into eyes that had darkened to indigo, Charlie gave him his reason, which happened to be a greater truth than he’d ever gotten from her during sex.  “Because it doesn’t matter how you take me, you’re still going to own me.”

“Motherfucker.”  Indigo eyes went pitch black when Jon’s pupils flared to completely devour his irises. 

There was a solid thunk that stopped the flow of water, and he smacked one palm against the shower door to shove it open.  Reaching for a towel, he tossed it at her then grabbed one for himself, his patience allowing for one swipe of each arm and leg before he threw it aside to claim her mouth with the finesse of a prehistoric caveman. 

Surprise had her grunting at the impact of the kiss and Charlie clung to his shoulders for balance, letting her own towel slither to the floor unnoticed as he mauled her in the way she’d come to expect.  Brutish hands were everywhere – tearing her messy bun free, cradling her head, scouring her flesh, tugging at her nipples and squeezing her buttocks with savagery. 

His mouth ate at hers with the ferocity of a starving mountain lion while he breathed her name, forcing the heated “Chiara” down her throat like scalding coffee.

“Goddamn you make me crazy,” he swore, putting his foot between hers and shoving so that her legs were spread.  When his fingers jammed through tender swollen lips to fill her, Charlie cried out with sheer ecstasy.   “You won’t even let me try and be nice.”

“Nice… is overrated.  Fuck me… Please…” 

She scarcely recognized the raspy voice as her own, but her mental faculties were currently taking a back seat to the body he manipulated with such expertise.  He knew her.  He knew how much she liked the finger fucking foreplay that primed her, and he crooked them in such a way that inspired desperate fingernails to dig at his shoulders. 

“Bed.” 

How she managed to walk with him still between her legs and swallowing her face whole, she had no idea.  Nor did she have any idea how she came to be in the center of a king-size mattress with her hands pinned over her head.

“Look at me,” he demanded hoarsely from above.  Possessive didn’t begin to describe the gleam in his eye as his cock wedged into her slit, as promised, and Charlie’s uterus contracted against the solid muscle that impaled her.  “Lock your legs around my waist.”

She didn’t hesitate to comply, but with hands pinned and legs locked, it left her practically immobile.  All she could do was lurch her hips to meet his thrusts and cry out with the pleasure.

“Jesus, why are you so good at this?  Everything…  Everything you do makes me want to come.”

“That’s it, baby,” he crooned, repeatedly withdrawing from her sucking flesh and slapping into her again.  “Talk to me.  It gets me off.”

“Oouunnhhhh!”  Charlie’s insides writhed with decadent pleasure.  “It’s gonna get me off, too, the way you watch me.”

“Yeah?”  Her clit beat like a timpani drum when it bumped against his pubic bone.  “I like watching you come.  You lose control.”

“Oh… oh… oh…”  Losing control was definitely on the agenda.  Soon.  “I wanna come.  Close.  So close.  Let me touch you.” 

“No.”  He ground against her with the next invasion before extracting himself and doing it over again.  “You can come… like this.  I could make you come… without touching you.  That’s how good we are.”

The arrogant proclamation was enough to shatter Charlie’s world, wrenching strangled screams from deep within.  “Nnnggg!!  Oh fuck!  Oh fuckkk!”

Aftershocks continued after she’d plummeted to the bottom of the ethereal abyss, and her limbs trembled.  She quivered uncontrollably as he raged forward, swearing at her with a gruff tenderness that triggered another jolt of pleasure.

They were that good.  He was that good, and when Jon bellowed low in his throat to scorch her insides, Charlie knew she’d never have anything better. 

There may be more perfect men in the world but, seeing as she was nowhere near perfect, that didn’t interest her.  She wanted the impeccably flawed man who kissed her lips and whispered, “Welcome to the other side, Counselor.  I’ve been waiting.”

61:Crossing Over

[6:32 PM]CHIARA: He’s ok.  More later.

[6:34 PM]JON: Excellent

[7:21 PM]CHIARA: They’re keeping him tonight. 

[7:22 PM]JON: You staying?

[7:25 PM]CHIARA: Not sure.  Waiting to see how he’s going to do.

[9:13 PM]JON: Still ok?

[9:15 PM]CHIARA: Yes. 

[9:16 PM]JON: K. Call if you need something.

Jon slid the phone onto the hotel coffee table as a news channels droned in the background.  Idle time wasn’t something he enjoyed, and he’d been sitting in this room for the last three hours with nothing but a loaner guitar, a bottle of wine and the television for company. 

Unless he counted the call from Lilah just after he arrived at the hotel, but that wasn’t what one would call company so much as aggravation.  God, what had possessed him admitting knowledge of Caleb’s situation and indirectly confirming that he’d been in touch with Chiara since the Hamptons?  He might’ve nailed his own coffin shut with that slip of the tongue.

The only thing he could do was trust that his sister-in-law would keep her word to cease and desist with the meddling in his personal life.  The more likely scenario involved her ramping up the meddling, but there was nothing to be done about it now.  As long as she didn’t find out about the counselor’s husband, he was going to forget about it and move on. 

Then again, maybe Lilah knowing about Owen wouldn’t be such a bad thing.  One more person on the counselor’s ass might motivate her to push ahead with that divorce.  It was worthy of consideration if this thing between him and the counselor continued its current course, anyway, and he was actually contemplating Lilah’s suggestion about bringing Chiara to Matt’s party.

You’re getting in too deep with a woman who hasn’t been honest with you. 

That wasn’t exactly a startling revelation, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.  He liked her spunk, her love for those boys, the way she played with his nieces, her surprising soft spot for a homeless woman, her fucking dog and even the sparks that flew when they argued.  Oh yeah, and the sex.  He couldn’t forget the sex that made him hotter than his first subscription to Playboy Magazine.

If only he knew what the hell she was thinking. 

Or if she was going to screw him over again, in a much more personal way this time.

The knock on the door coincided with his decision to order another bottle of room service.  As he went to answer it wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, Jon fleetingly wondered if he was catching Lilah’s psychic shit.  

A quick check of the peep hole told him that he was most certainly not psychic.

“Do I have to call if I need something?  Can I just show up?” Fatigue etched deep lines around the counselor’s mouth and emphasized faint crow’s feet, but it didn’t stop her from smiling with a genuineness that twinkled from within. 

“I guess.”  The blasé assent was softened by a wink, and Jon stood back to allow her entry so that she could deposit the overnight bag and purse on a chair.  Tired or not, she looked more comfortable in jeans and a t-shirt than in the dress and heels she was wearing when he last saw her. 

“I told you once how fatigue makes me either quiet or blunt.”

There was a good six feet between them as he stood by the door with the crooks of both hands hooked on his hips, and she remained next to her bags.  He had the strangest urge to gap the distance for reasons that had nothing to do with sex.

“Yeah.”

“I’m going with blunt this time,” she informed him flatly, crossing her arms in a pose that he’d come to recognize could indicate self-protection as easily as defiance.  “It’s not ‘something’ I need, it’s someone.  You.  Hug me or fuck me.  I don’t care which as long as I can hold onto you.”

So much for wondering what she was thinking. 

As his bare feet ate up the carpet that separated them, Jon wasn’t really concerned with what anybody thought.  Her son was in the hospital, and if at the end of a grueling day, Chiara thought it was him she needed, then that’s what she’d get. 

He was little more than a breath away when his arms opened and she stepped inside them without hesitation.  Her nose buried in the crook of his neck as arms of delicate steel enclosed his rib cage to cling with equal parts determination and desperation.  It made Jon ache for the woman that he folded protectively against his bare chest. 

His lips touched the crown of her head as he murmured, “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.  God, no.”  Though muffled against his skin, the answer was easily understood.  “Caleb is going to be fine, but other than that…  No.”

This was a very fine line that he walked.  Although not quite as treacherous as the one between love and hate, it would be just as life-altering to cross over from a purely physical relationship to something more. 

You crossed to something more when you flew her out here. 

That was different.  That was something he would do for any friend, just like taking her dog out had been.  Those were acts of human kindness, not emotional tenderness. 

If he held her close and called her “baby” in an effort to make it all better, the emotions he'd purposely held at bay earlier in the day were hereby invited into this thing.  If he operated under the assumption that she craved the hot, hard release he could provide as a distraction from reality, they were left with the status quo.

What did she want?  Hell, for that matter, what did he want?

Inching away from her, Jon tucked a gentle knuckle under the counselor’s chin, angling it so that her face was illuminated by the lamplight.  Confronted with his analytical gaze, he found that she wasn’t fighting nor hiding.  Instead, she revealed exactly what he needed to see.

Dunked in the smooth chocolate or her irises was a mirror image of his indecision, and with it came the intuitive answer he’d been looking for within himself.

Her. 

He wanted her, no matter how little fucking sense it made.  He wanted to let her - his - emotions to flow in whatever way came naturally.  He wanted to be the one who made this hard woman soft.

Neck bending slowly, he swept her lips in a kiss that wasn't meant to be seductive but comforting.  The gentle sweep of his tongue against that full bottom lip was geared toward coaxing her out of the hellish day and into a night that would make her forget it.  The protective arms that cinched her into his chest held everything else at bay but them.  But this.

“If you’re gonna start a fight,” he whispered while methodically destroying the ponytail that prevented her tresses from seductively licking his skin.  “Do it now.”

“And if I don’t?”  Haziness cloaked her indecisive irises now, hiding her thoughts, but it wasn’t necessary that he know them.  His mind was made up to trust the instincts that had never let him down before.

“If you don’t…”  Jon’s nose pushed into the freefall of waves as gentle hands enclosed the column of her neck to glide up and cradle her skull.  “I’m gonna seduce you.  Gentle touches and tender kisses for hours until you can't think anymore.  Until you beg me to do whatever it takes to make the ache go away.  Then, when my cock finally wedges into your sweet slit, I’ll own you in a brand new way.  Just like you want me to.”

The indecision multiplied as wide eyes appeared that much wider with fully dilated pupils.  “How do you know what I want?”

“Happens to be the same thing I want,” he murmured absently, taking great care to keep his touch feather-light as he grazed the tips of his fingers forward over her nape, beneath her ears and finally along the underside of her jaw. 

An argument would be okay, if that’s the route she chose.  In the end, she’d still know he possessed more of her than before, but Jon was warming to the idea of torqueing her into an erotic frenzy.

Light and easy contact.  Indirect foreplay.  Suggestively sexual.  Overtly emotional.

“I can’t go through that and be the same when I come out the other side.  It will change things.” 

Was she trying to warn him or herself, he wondered, tracing the edge of her bottom lip with one thumb.  Because he didn’t need warned.  A woman who inspired this level of protectiveness in him rated more than a bang against the wall, and she deserved know it.

“That's the idea.”

Comprehension was welling from the founts of chocolate to wash away her indecision.  She was finally getting enough dots to see the picture he was drawing, and it was producing a combination of fear and excitement.

His instincts weren’t wrong.  They were both ready.

No matter what the calendar, her marital status, his family or any-fucking-body else said, it was time for this.  They’d sort everything else later.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”  It was a whisper, but there was no tentativeness in the words that were clearly intended to be a warning.  

His lip-tracing thumb lip skated down her chin, then under, to the hollow of her throat while he deliberately disregarded the warning.  “Eventually… I’m getting into you.  That's all that matters tonight.”

The rise and fall of her chest under the cover of the plain white cotton tee had tantalizing breasts silently begging to be released, and who was he to deny them?  Easing both hands beneath the shirt, he was careful to touch as little skin as possible when working it over her head and throwing it aside.

Standing before him in only a bra and jeans with her hair mussed, lips invitingly parted and desire shining in her eyes…  She was fucking beautiful.  It was going to require a Herculean effort of willpower to keep from stripping the counselor naked, bending her over the back of the couch and driving like a madman until they were both spent and satisfied.

Good thing he fully understood the benefits of delayed gratification.  

“I’d like a shower first.”

“Okay.”  His agreement was accompanied by ghostly palms shadowing the swell of her breast to barely scuff nipples that strained against lace.  “We’ll take a shower.”

“We?” she repeated, trying her best to arch into his touch.  He'd known the counselor would openly seek to run this show at some point, and she wasn’t disappointing him.  Soon, though...  Soon she would learn to appreciate what a fine showman he was, if left to his own devices.  

“We.”  After a touch of lips that could qualify as an air kiss, he took one step back and began popping the buttons on his fly.  “I’ll go start the water.”

60:Handcuffs?

It took Charlie precisely three minutes to find out the situation with Caleb.  That’s how easy it was, and yet Owen couldn’t manage to find out a single damn thing in ninety minutes.  He was completely, totally, utterly freaking useless and his presence in her stressful day might be a challenge beyond Charlie’s capabilities. 

He’s just lucky I had amazing sex today, or I’d stab him in the throat with a ballpoint pen and tell everybody it was an emergency tracheotomy.

After finding out what she wanted to know, she strode purposefully over to Noah and Owen, who were seated together in adjoining chairs of the surgical waiting room.  She planted her sneakered feet on the carpet, appreciative of Jon’s Godfather-esque ability to make things happen. 

After providing her sizes, he asked an assistant to have the essentials waiting on the ground for both of them – jeans, a couple of t-shirts, underclothes, sneakers, socks and the most basic of toiletries.  Either he or his assistant had even thought to make sure she had a phone charger, meaning the only thing she lacked was makeup.  That was something she could easily live without.

“Caleb’s waking up,” Charlie told her husband and son.  “Just not as coherent as they’d like yet.  They’re going to keep him in post-op a little while longer before taking him up to a room.  It was a fairly straightforward procedure since the appendix didn’t actually rupture and, if it wasn’t so late, he’d be discharged today.  They’re keeping him for the night.  Unless something crazy happens, he should be released tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s good news,” Owen uttered with bland relief.  Standing, he laid a hand on her upper arm which was likely mean to be comforting but only set her on edge.  “When can we see him?”

“Probably half an hour or so.” 

With any luck, the shape of her mouth resembled a perfectly normal smile instead of a grimace as she eased away to take his vacated seat beside her older son. 

The knowledge that Caleb was going to be okay brought with it a great relief, and since he wasn’t here for her to dote on, Charlie needed one of her kids close.  She pulled Noah into an embrace and relished the solidity of his healthy, athletic body as he allowed himself to be hugged. 

“You were amazing today and I’m so proud of you.  Thank you for stepping up and being here for your brother when Dad and I couldn’t be.  I love you, Noodles.”

While he grimaced at the childhood nickname borne from the time when noodles were all he would eat at the family dinners, he readily tolerated her affection and returned the hug.  “Love you, too, but I just did what needed to be done.  No big deal.”

It was a big deal.  A huge deal, in fact, considering that he’d spent almost his entire life watching Owen shirk responsibility.  Charlie had been agonizing for years that her sons might follow in their father’s victimized footsteps by allowing life to happen to them, rather than assuming accountability.   This was a good sign that she may have dodged that bullet with Noah.

“It’s a very big deal to me – and Caleb,” she contradicted and bussed a quick kiss over his cheek.  The death grip on him was released, but she wasn’t quite ready to relinquish all contact with the one child she could get her hands on.  Charlie left her palm resting lightly in the center of his back. 

“And to me,” added the man whose presence she was trying to will away through telepathy.  “You’re becoming a real man, son.” 

Not looking at the husband who was clapping a hearty pat on their son’s back, she nodded instead at Noah and shifted her own hand to pat a cheek that wasn’t smooth like that of a little boy.  Her son had five o’clock shadow and, for once, Owen was right.  Noah was becoming a man.

Right now, I still need him to be my little boy.    

“You can go back to the dorms if you want to.  He’s fine and will probably be more asleep than awake until morning.”

“Yeah?”  Eyes the same brown hue as Charlie’s flicked back and forth between both parents before landing squarely on her.  “You sure?”

“Positive.”  Slipping a hand into the purse she’d dropped on the seat, she pulled out some money.  “Grab a cab and a pizza, or whatever.”

He grinned at her as he stood, and the money disappeared into the pocket of his jeans.  “It’s less than a mile to the dorm, so I can walk, but I’ll take the money anyway.  Thanks.  I guess I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

“Yes.”  Charlie didn’t know what Owen’s plans were, but she wasn’t going anywhere until Caleb was released and relatively well.  “I’ll text you.”

“Cool.”  With that and a hug for each parent, he sauntered off to resume a college life that the adult world had so rudely intruded upon.

“I love that kid,” Owen remarked, sinking down beside her.  “It’s good to see you, Charlie.  How are you?”

“I just flew by the seat of my pants cross-country because my son was rushed into emergency surgery,” she snapped irritably.  “I’m just fucking swell, Owen.  How are you?”

“Don’t be a bitch.”

“Then don’t be a dumbass.”

Sighing heavily, he leaned forward on his elbows, remarking, “I’ve left you alone for four months.  I would think you’d be in a better mood by now.”

Christ Almighty, did he really just say that?  As though this thing was a “mood”?

“I’ll be in a better mood when you get off your lazy ass, handle your business and leave me a lone permanently.”

A real man would’ve fired back at her in self-defense, but that wasn’t Owen’s style.  Besides that, he had no defense, leaving him to chuckle quietly, “Why would I want to do that?  I like being married to you.  In fact, I think I’m ready to come home.”

Charlie’s stomach knotted with anxiety.  He couldn’t come back yet.  The deal when he left was to be gone for at least a year.  She didn’t want him in her house that wasn’t even finished yet.

“You like being married to my bank account.”

With a benign smile, he concurred, “The money does make it easier to endure your attitude, but you’ve been taking good care of yourself, too.  You look better than a lot of women your age.”

“And you look worse than most men yours.”  At forty-eight and too uninspired to do anything beyond drink and sit on his ass, she could think of at least six men in his approximate age bracket that put him to shame – her brothers and the Bongiovis. 

“I’m still your husband,” came the disgustingly quiet murmur as he lifted a hand to chase the little chunk of hair that escaped her ponytail.  When he tucked it behind her ear, it was everything she could do to not jerk away from the touch and elbow him in the ribs.  “I haven’t taken advantage of the privilege in some time, but seeing you tempts me to.”

Charlie was going to throw up.  Fifteen years had passed since she threw him out of her bedroom and told him to stay out.  Since then, he’d never once had he hinted at being stupid enough to try and come back.  What the hell was going on with him?

“I find it fucking adorable that you think that’s an option.”  These were the times where her gift for upholding a neutral expression as she spit venom – thank you again, law school – came in handy.  This whole damn thing was about nothing more than appearances, after all, and maintaining the illusion was the only thing that kept her life from crumbling.  “The name Lorena Bobbitt mean anything to you?”

The unpleasant sneer on his doughy face revealed slightly crooked teeth that were a dozen shades dingier than Jon’s.  It was hard to remember that there was a time when Owen was good looking, but she’d been quite taken with him at one point in her life.  His current sparse light hair and watery blue eyes were merely shadows of their former glory.

She'd been desperate for a change, and he’d been so different from all the dark men she'd known and cavorted with her whole life.  It had appealed to her. Too bad she didn’t realize how different he was in the ways that really mattered, before it was too late.

“Ah, Charlie. Always pretending to be queen of the castle, when we both know I’m the one that rules the kingdom.  You obviously need to be reminded of that.”

Hatred seethed from her very pores as she trained her eyes on the opposite wall, where there was tranquil photo of the San Francisco Bay mounted.  She hoped it was effective enough to tranquilize her into keeping her composure.

“Back off, Owen.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.  Not this time.”  The disgusting pig had the nerve to drape an eerily soft hand over her knee and give it a squeeze.  That time, she couldn’t keep from flinching.  “I don’t like you hanging around with Jon Bon Jovi.”

What he hated was Charlie might compare him to Jon.  More specifically, that she might compare his success to Jon’s, and that was a riot.  There was no world in which Owen Foster compared to Jon Bon Jovi on any level.  Even if she hadn't been sleeping with the uber-sucessful Mr. Bon Jovi, any idiot could see how heavily the scales tipped in his favor. 

Just like Luke had been telling her since the beginning – even like the woman in the ladies’ room at the Can Do dinner had told her – Jon was a good, decent, hard-working guy from Jersey that would’ve been successful no matter what his chosen vocation.  The fact that he made his living with music was only a footnote.

She snorted and stood to slide out from under her husband’s touch, hitting him with a quick glare of contempt before returning her focus to the Golden Gate Bridge.  Was it wrong that she could envision pushing Owen off it? 

“Ask me if I care what you like.”

“You’d better care.”  His suggestion was geared to sound friendly to the casual listener, but it was actually a lightly veiled threat that was reinforced when he rose to drape a heavy arm around her shoulders and squeeze.  “I’ve let you get used to pushing me around because you pushed me in the direction I wanted to go.  Push me on this, though, and see where it gets you.”

Frankly, with him breathing down her neck, she didn’t give a shit where it got her.  For the first time, she seriously considered that maybe it was time to face the music and take the lumps she had coming.  It couldn’t be worse than this.

Could it?

“Owen,” she warned with all the cordiality she could muster.  “It’s been a very long and trying day.  I would advise you to back off and leave me the fuck alone, because I don’t currently give a damn about the stranglehold you’ve got on my life.  You won’t come out on top today, even if it means I leave this hospital in handcuffs.”

She felt a surge of triumph when his arm dropped away from her shoulders, and cruelly noted that there was no trace of his former handsomeness now.  There was nothing beyond sheer ugliness in both his face and the words that followed. 

“You’ve always been a cunt.”

For whatever reason, the universe wanted her husband to live another day.  What other possible explanation could there be for the surgery nurse to enter the waiting room that very moment and call, “The family of Caleb Foster?”

Because the reminder of her son was the only thing that saved Charlie from those handcuffs.

59:Hot Diggity Damn

By a child’s standards, the hour was late in Edison, New Jersey, which meant Micah Jane and Lucas Bongiovi were sleeping the deep and blissful sleep reserved for the very young.  It was the kind of sleep that parents were grateful for, because it allowed them to practice making babies without fear of interruption.

There would be no more babies in her household, but Lilah was still awash in the kind of afterglow had her wishing this kind of happiness for everyone.  Even her contrary brother-in-law.

“Hey, Jersey,” Lilah crooned, reaching a hand out as Tony passed by her side of the bed on his way to the  shower.  “I love you.”

“Back at you, Bluegrass.  Always.”

That beautiful Bongiovi smile beamed gently down, and she stretched up the tangle fingers into the pelt of chest hair that still held her captivated after all this time.  She melted from the inside out when his eyes shone with that certain light of adoration.  If she wasn’t already determined to do what she was going to do, it might be enough to deter her. 

Pushing first into a seated position and then to her feet, Lilah smoothed reverent fingertips over the dark goatee that was beginning to show the first signs of gray.  “You know how much I hate upsettin’ you, but I’m afraid it’s about to happen just the same.  I’m invitin’ Charlie to Matt’s birthday party on Sunday, since your brother’s purposely bein' stupid.”

“Maybe he is and maybe he’s not,” Tony countered. “But that’s up to him to fix, not us.  Not you.”

“Hogwash.  I know y’all have been keepin’ secrets about him and Charlie. They slept together while she was up in East Hampton, didn’t they?”

With a big sigh, he slowly enunciated, “Whatever happened in East Hampton, stays there.”

“That’s what you think.” 

Lilah saw Charlie just a few days ago and, at the time, sensed the undercurrent of tension between her and Matt.  She also took special note of Charlie’s initial discomfort when Dorothea first joined them. Then saw was witness to the very telling glow of Charlie’s eyes as she found inspiration in the family photos.  Anyone who bothered to look – and Lilah did – could tell that Jon’s mural wasn’t a just another art project; it was a work of heart that she was taking great pains to get just right.

There was also the story of how the mural came to be in the first place, and that didn’t quite ring true in Lilah’s ears.  She hadn’t been part of the Bongiovi family for all that long, but she’d spent a lot of years observing Jon from a fan’s point of view, trying to ascertain just how his mind worked and what kind of person he really was.

Between the two vastly different experiences, she knew – absolutely knew beyond the shadow of a doubt – that he wasn’t going to give someone free reign over the walls of his studio on the basis of a single photograph.  It didn’t matter how nice the photo.  As particular as he was, Jon would demand the artist’s portfolio and have a lengthy, in-depth discussion of his vision and expectations along with all kinds of legal mumbo jumbo and paperwork. 

And if the artist was someone he disliked as intensely as he supposedly disliked Charlie?  She wouldn’t make it to the first step.  Not in a million, jillion years. 

Charlie and Jon were lovers.  Lilah would swear it on a stack of bibles that reached all the way to the ceiling.  If not currently, then at least a couple times while they were in the Hamptons.

“That’s what I think?” Tony asked hooking her elbow and halting her trip to the dresser for a nightshirt.  “Are you getting premonitions again?”

Shaking her head, she smiled up at the man who was her whole world.  His brothers thought her nuts and she’d heard him agree with them just to keep the peace, but Lilah knew he believed in her uncanny awareness of things.  The poor man didn’t have much choice considering that, without it, they never would have met in the first place - much less found themselves happily married with two beautiful babies.

“Not this time.  This time I’m just puttin’ together the puzzle pieces I’ve been given.  Charlie and Jon belong together.  They just need a little more help figurin’ it out, so I’m invitin’ Charlie to Matt’s birthday party on Sunday. “

“Lilah Jane…”  As sweet as her smile was to him, his glower was equally bitter.  “You know you’re gonna piss him off by doing that.”

“I don’t give a flyin’ Fig Newton.”

“Do you give a ‘flying Fig Newton’, that I’m the one who’s gonna catch hell for not stopping you?”

“Oh, baby.”  With that challengingly arched eyebrow, he was so cute that she almost couldn’t stand it.  Lilah’s heart was full of love when she twined her arms around his neck to softly assure, “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect that you have a chance in Hades of stoppin’ me once my mind is made up.”

Heavy hands settled possessively atop her hips, and the man who she thanked God and Fate for every day drolly observed, “And that makes me a pussy who can’t handle his woman.”

“Okay, first of all, you are the least pussified man I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Pussified?” Being miffed with her didn’t stop him from tipping his head back with a delighted chortle and subsequently remarking, “Even when you’re stirring up trouble, you can make me laugh.”

Amusing him pleased her now as much as it had the very first time, but rather than repeating something he’d heard a dozen times, she continued with her point.  “Second of all, how many times you think he changed Dot’s mind once it was made up?  Hmm?”

“You might be right about that.”

“You know damn well I am.  Just remind him of it, if he starts fussin’.”

Without bothering to respond, her husband shook his head and headed in the direction of the shower.  Lilah fetched her nightshirt and, once it was settled comfortably over her head, she hopped on the bed and pulled her cell phone into her lap. 

“Hello?”

The tone of Charlie’s voice had the fine hairs at the base of Lilah’s neck standing straight on end, but she tried to pass it off as inconsequential and lightly responded, “Hi, honey.  It’s Lilah.  Do you have a minute?”

A voice crackled over an intercom in the background before her new friend tightly apologized, “I’m sorry, but now’s not a good time.  Caleb’s in the hospital and they’re just now letting us back to see him.  I have to go.”

“Of course.  We’ll be prayin’ for both of you.  Call when you can.”

Popping to her feet, Lilah marched through the bathroom door that was never closed while Tony showered.  “Jersey!  Caleb’s in the hospital.”

“Yeah?  What happened?” he asked, sticking his head out from behind the rubber ducky shower curtain that Lilah adored. 

“I don’t know.  Charlie was just getting to see him so she didn’t have time to talk.  Do you think I should call Jon?”

“You wouldn't mention it if you hadn't already decided to.  Don’t drag me into it, but let me know what you find out about Caleb.”  He retreated back into the steaming shower and the flock of yellow ducks flew toward the wall when the curtain was swept closed.  

“Every husband should know his wife as well as you know me,” she called over her shoulder as she simultaneously returned to the bedroom and scrolled through to Jon’s number. 

“What’s up, Kentucky?”

His salutation was typical of what he usually gave her, but there was an oddness to it.  At least it didn’t make her hair stand up, though.  He might just be distracted by work or composing or whatever he did when nobody else was around, but she’d just see how he responded to some idle chitchat.  That would give her a better idea whether or not she was projecting the tension from Charlie’s call onto him.

“Hey, sweetie.  How are ya?”

“Busy.  What ‘cha need?  Everybody okay?”

“Well, now,” she drawled, reclining against the bright, patchwork headboard and crossing one arm over her waist as she talked.  “It’s funny you should ask that because, no.  Everybody’s not okay.”

“Cut the movie of the week drama and tell me.”

Lilah still had no idea as to what was going on with him, but it was her own fault for seguing into main reason for the call before gathering enough information.

“Charlie’s son, Caleb, is in the hospital.”

One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand…

“Did you talk to her?”

Three seconds’ hesitation and his first question wasn’t about Caleb or what caused his hospitalization, but whether or not Lilah had talked to Charlie.  It was very telling, in her opinion.

“Briefly.  She was just getting to see him, so I’m not sure what happened.”

“Okay.”

She made it all the way to five three thousand before huffing, “Is that all you have to say?”

“What the fuck did you expect me to say?  I’m sorry to hear the kid is in the hospital, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Men could be so damn irritating and just plain dumb sometimes.  Infuriatingly enough, her brother-in-law was the lead dummy more and more lately. 

“You could call and see how she’s doing, dumbass.  Or send a text.  Or freaking well send the kid a pizza.  You spent the better part of week before last with them.  Throw around some of that compassion you have for everybody else in the world except Charlie Del Vecchio.”

“Stop and think about it, Lilah,” he snapped.  “The kid just got out of surgery.  His mother hasn’t even seen him.  She probably doesn’t know how she’s doing, and she sure as fuck doesn’t need to be fielding calls asking her to figure it out.”

Well, now.  If that isn’t the most interestin’ thing I’ve heard all night.  

“I didn’t say anything about surgery.”

“You must have.  I didn’t pull that out of thin air.”

“No, you didn’t,” she quietly agreed as the lightbulb came on to brilliantly illuminate the situation.  “You already knew about Caleb, didn’t you?”

“Goddammit-“

“Jon!”  As hard-headed as the Bongiovi men were, sometimes the only way she could get through to these guys was to yell louder than they did.  “I’m not gonna give you a hard time or make any comments whatsoever.  Just tell me.  Did you already know?”

This was a different playing field for them.  Sincere honesty wasn’t something they did.  The truth usually had to be pulled out like a festering tooth before either of them would let go of it, but maybe this time would be different.  She could hope, anyway. 

“Yes.”

Hot diggity damn.

“Alright then,” Lilah concluded very matter-of-factly, even though her grin was wide enough to swallow half her face.  “When you talk to Charlie, tell her we’re thinkin’ of them, and don’t forget Matt’s party on Sunday.  I’m sure everybody would love to see her again, if you wanna bring her.”

“Lilah, don’t turn this into something-“

“Honey.”  Her voice was deliberately quiet when she interrupted the man on the verge of reading her the riot act.  “I’m not turnin’ it into anything.  All I ever wanted was for y’all to get to know each other.  Whatever happens beyond that is up to you.  I’m out of it.”

As soon as he told her what was wrong with Caleb.  And unless he screwed it up and needed someone to point that out.  Then she might be back in – but just a little.

  

58:En Route

The soft rumble of airplane engines was soothing, and Charlie’s body was reaping the benefit on top of the orgasm-induced muscle relaxation.  This moment would be perfect if her mind would just follow suit, but there were too many anxious thoughts stirring inside for that to happen.

Between worry over her sons and disorientation over what was happening between her and the man lying behind her, Charlie was mentally flustered and unsure of which direction to turn. 

The boys were going to have to go in the compartment next to Joey for now, if she was to retain any type of grip on her sanity.  There was nothing she could do while a gazillion feet in the air and half that many miles away - other than have faith that everything would be okay until she got there.

This deal with Jon was something that was figuratively in her face and literally at her back, and it had so many legs and arms that it defied compartmentalization. 

The accuracy with which he’d pegged her was bothersome.  Considering the short duration of their relationship, he shouldn’t know so much, specifically her delight at his strength and indomitability.  Honestly, the fact that he did scared the hell out of her. 

More terrifying than that was the attraction she had to him.  What had begun as simple, physical chemistry had naturally developed into a crush as they spent more time together.  Now, though, the more he split her open and didn’t cringe at what he found inside, her feelings had transcended beyond that.  She was falling for the man who had shown her astonishing tenderness in unconventional ways, despite the drama she’d brought to his life. 

The sixty-four thousand dollar question was what to do about it?  He still hadn’t said he was interested in a labeled relationship and, if he did, they still had to sift through the mess that was her marriage.  It was possible that he wouldn’t want to stay after that.

As her thoughts grew more disturbed, pliable muscles were growing tense and Charlie longed to hide from it all for a while.  If she continued to lie here quietly on her side, facing away from him, there was a good chance that he would think her asleep.  She felt she was doing a pretty good job of faking it when he rolled close to drape an arm over her waist.

“You’re not asleep.  I can hear you thinking.”

Another example of him knowing things that he honestly shouldn’t. 

“I didn’t realize it was so loud.”

He kissed the ball of her shoulder with a soft laugh.  “Not loud, but you weren’t relaxed anymore.  You thinking about the boys?”

“Not really.  I have to put that out of my mind until I’m in a position to do something about it.”

“Smart,” he approved, retracting his arm to take that hand and skim it from Charlie’s ribs down to her thigh.  “What’s making you tense, then?”

If he was being an ass, she could shoot him down all day long without revealing a single thought.  During sex or when he was being himself, she didn’t have a frigging chance.  “I don’t know what to say to you.”

Sighing, he tucked his chin into the crook of her shoulder and quietly reminded, “We’ve been through this already.  Nobody gets held accountable for sex talk.”

She remembered.  He wouldn’t hold her sex-induced honesty against her, but what about his honesty?  The remarks that were made hadn’t been about him, but she found herself aspiring to talk about them – and why he scared her.

Twisting her neck to an uncomfortable angle, she strained to find his eyes over her shoulder.  “What if I want to be held accountable?”

“Then you’re going to have to pick another time to do it,” he told her gently.  “Right now, no matter how much you think you’ve put the boys out of your mind, you’re emotional.  That’s going to affect everything else, so talking about sex-induced revelations isn’t a good idea.  I also don’t recommend watching Steel Magnolias or Beaches in the near future.”

The laughter that bubbled up was a surprise considering that he was making light of what she considered a serious topic, but the laughter felt unexpectedly good.  Charlie squirmed around, flipping over in his embrace to lie on her other hip, and when she was faced with pools of blue that were unusually clear and bottomless, she lifted a hand to stroke his cheek. 

“You’re a good guy, Jon.  The only thing I don’t understand is why you’re being so good to me, with everything that’s happened.  Tell me what I can do for you.”

Fingers that were starting to feel familiar in her hair sifted through the disheveled mess as he worked a leg in between hers and hooked their ankles around one another. 

“I haven’t done anything that extraordinary.  Besides, you already opened your bed to me that night I was being a pussy and feeling lonely.  I don’t seek out the company of many people.”

“That wasn’t exactly a hardship, either.”  His presence that night had benefited her as much as it had him, and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating that it was her company he sought.  “All this reminds me that there’s something I need to ask you, by the way, and you’re  welcome to say no.”

It would’ve been perfectly natural for him to put distance between them and exhibit suspicion over what she could possibly want now, but Jon didn’t stop playing with her hair.  Nor did he tense, and he didn’t sound the least bit apprehensive when urging her to continue.  “Go ahead.”

“I wouldn't ask if it was for me.  My oldest brother, Dominick, rarely makes a request of me.  Since he actually wanted my help with something, I feel obligated to pose the question.”

“Counselor,” he interrupted with a chuckle.  “Just fucking ask.”

“Okay.  I assume you remember my sister-in-law Vivi?” she sighed, and when he nodded, Charlie forged ahead.  “Her fiftieth birthday is next weekend.  Dom wanted to do something special and asked me if you would come and play a song.”

He didn’t recoil in horror or laugh in her face, but Jon also didn’t jump on the opportunity with both feet.  “Well… before I answer that, lemme ask you a question.  How do you feel about me being in the middle of your family, knowing that most of them have no idea that we sleep together?”

His intuition was verging on eerie, because that’s the exact thought she’d had when Dom asked her to do this. 

“I’m not all that excited about it, but I can keep from screwing you against the wall if that’s the question.”

Smirking, his fingers slipped free of her hair to slide down and cup Charlie’s backside.  “If you fuck me beforehand, I probably can, too.  What I can’t – won’t – do is call you Charlie like they all do.  That a problem?”

“No.”  Thoughtful fingertips brushed the hair back off his forehead.  “They all know Luke introduced us, and he used my given name when he did it.  That’s explanation enough, if anyone asks.”

“Alright.  Text me the date and time.  I’ll check my schedule and let you know.”

“Seriously?” Charlie slid astonished eyes up to him.  “You’d do that?”

“It’s not a big deal.  Besides, it means you’d owe me a favor.  Right?”

She was starting to lose track of how many favors she owed him.  How in the world would she ever be able to frigging repay them all? 

“At least one,” Charlie agreed. 

“Good,” he approved with a grin, lightly smacking her butt before rolling to the other side of the bed and speaking over his shoulder.  “Remember that.  It’ll come back to haunt you some day.  Now get dressed and eat something.  I know you won’t take the time when you get there.”

“Hey.”  His perfect backside disappeared under the cover of denim and he began buttoning his jeans while offering up a questioning glance.  “I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

While snagging his shirt, he shot her a frown that brimmed with annoyance.  “No shit, but you’re not thinking of yourself.  Stop being so fucking difficult for once.”

His crabby reply should have spurred her into telling him to go screw himself.  It would happen to anyone else who took that high-handed tone with her, and a week ago she would’ve ripped into him like a bag of Hershey Kisses during PMS.  Now, looking inside herself to find only a wry smile and nod of silent agreement for him, Charlie acknowledged that she was the one screwed. 

By the time they landed, Charlie had eaten, knew that Jon was going to LA in the morning for meetings about a potential clothing line, and had an overnight bag with new clothes and basic toiletries in the car that was waiting to take her to the hospital.

“You have a room waiting at the The Clement Hotel, which is supposed to be close to the hospital,” Jon informed her as he held the car door.  “That way, you’ll have someplace to bring him if he gets released tonight.  If he doesn’t and you decide not to stay at the hospital, I’ve got a room there, too.  I’ll text you what you need to know.  You text me as soon as you find out something.  Got it?”

She wanted to kiss him, but out in the open this way, she didn’t dare.  All Charlie felt comfortable in doing was reaching out to give his hand a hard squeeze.  “Thank you.”

“Take care of your kid, Counselor,” he instructed with a wink before closing her into the back of the dark sedan alone with her thoughts – and the cell phone that blew up when she powered it on. 

There were text messages and voicemails from half of her family, but since she had nothing to tell them yet, Noah took precedence.  His was the first number she dialed.

“Mom.  Where are you?”

“I’m about thirty minutes away.  What’s going on?  How’s your brother?”

Her oldest son sounded far wearier than a young man his age should, and his sigh grieved Charlie’s soul.  “He’s okay, I guess.  He just came out of surgery a little while ago, but they haven’t let us see him yet.”

“Who’s there with you?”

“Dad.”

She’d been prepared to hear that a friend was there keeping Noah company, but Owen’s presence had never crossed her mind.  Charlie mentally worked her way through every swear word she knew before creating a few new ones for good measure.  The plan had been to call him once she had a better feel for what was going on.  She hadn’t considered that Noah would call him, too, and she sure as hell hadn’t believed that he would fly down so quickly. 

That was her own fault, though.  While Charlie might spend most days fantasizing about ripping off his head and spitting down his neck, he’d always been good to their boys.  In all fairness, he hadn’t been bad to her, aside from that whole blackmail thing.

“Let me talk to him.”

“Charlie?  Are you on your way?”

It was the first time she’d heard his voice in months.  Most wives would probably take this moment to realize how much they missed their spouse, but all it did was piss her off.  “Yes.  I’ll be there soon.  When did you arrive?”

“About an hour ago.”

“Have you found out anything they wouldn’t tell Noah?”

“I don’t believe so,” he mumbled uncertainly.  “I’ve overheard that he’s stable and they’re having some trouble waking him up.  Beyond that, I really haven’t a clue.”

“Why can’t they wake him up?” The demand was sharp partially due to the way his wishy-washy ways scraped her nerves raw, but more so as a result of the anxiety that had returned full force along with reality.  “Is that normal?  Was the appendix ruptured?  Is there infection?”

“I didn’t ask.”

Of course he didn’t.  That lazy ass didn’t do anything that required him to exert an effort.  He knew that if he waited long enough, Charlie would do it for him. 

Unlike Jon.  If Jon was there, she was convinced he’d know exactly what was happening within five minutes of walking into the hospital.  He would be in the nursing staff’s face until they told him every last damn detail about his child. 

This wasn’t Jon’s child, though, and Charlie was the one who would have to take charge today just as she did every other day.  Normally, that didn’t bother her.  It was only after spending six hours with a man who knew how to get anything done that she was ruthlessly perturbed with the husband who possessed the balls of a dead jellyfish – except when it came to threatening her life.

Then the son of a bitch could give King Kong a run for his money.

57:Fear

[1:45 PM]JON: Meridian hangar.  Plane will be waiting.  Take one of your brothers with you.

[1:46 PM]CHIARA: No family.  They’ll make me crazy.  Thx. 

That one text and the thought of her dealing with a hospitalized kid alone were all it took for Jon to decide on an impromptu trip to California.  His investment people had been hounding him for a couple of months to go out there and talk about a new business venture, so now was as good a time as any to indulge them. 

“Hey, man.” He stood and apologized to his long-time friend and keyboardist, “I’m sorry to cut this short, but something literally just came up and I have to head to the left coast as soon as I can get my ass to the airport.”

The regret was genuine because Jon was interested in his friend’s new idea for a production.  In fact, he was making giving serious consideration to offer financial support, but a final decision would have to wait for a couple more days. 

The fortunate part was that this meeting had him in the Theater District, which was at least fifteen minutes closer to the airport than his apartment.  He’d take a stroke of good luck wherever he could get one.

Cocking a curious eyebrow from his seat in the Shubert Theatre, David Bryan casually remarked, “First time I’ve ever seen you in a hurry to go that direction.”

“I hate it like the plague, but I’ve gotta bite the unexpected bullet.  We’ll talk again when I get back to town.  Seriously.”

“Whatever you say, dude,” agreed his laid back friend.  “Have fun.”

Too bad it wasn’t fun that was on the agenda.

Traffic was mild for a Thursday afternoon and Jon arrived at the hangar in record time.  He was a bit relieved to find Chiara not there yet when he stepped on board the plane, because it gave him time to make a couple of essential calls. 

The first, to his assistant, was fairly in-depth.  There were several necessary arrangements needed for the other end of this flight and it took time for him to outline everything to his specifications.  Once it was all repeated back to him with the assurance that it would be taken care of, he moved on to his second call.

His younger boys were scheduled to stay the weekend with him, partly to spend time with his parents at Matt’s birthday party Sunday.  They hadn’t seen much of their grandparents this summer and he hoped like hell things went smoothly in California so they didn’t miss the opportunity.  Just in case, though, he had a quick talk with Dorothea to alert her of the unexpected trip. 

She was so used to his jetting off on the spur of the moment, that she didn’t even ask where he was going or why.  Maybe she had decided that the divorce granted her the privilege of not caring?  Her only comment was to give her at least a couple hours’ notice if he did show up for the boys.

“What are you doing here?”

Jon had just closed the cover on his phone when the defensive question was hurled at him, and his head popped up to find that the counselor had arrived.  She gave the appearance of being completely put together with a low ponytail, subdued makeup and sleeveless dress the color of red wine.  With that look and the determined set of her jaw, it would be easy to convince just about anyone that she had her shit together. 

The difference was, Jon had seen her with her shit very together – multiple times, when she was going toe-to-toe with him.  Today, there was the faintest hint of anxiety simmering around the edges of those milk chocolate eyes.

“Hitching a ride to California,” he offered neutrally, not quite certain how to tread here.   Anxiety could easily transcend to argumentative for a woman whose son was hospitalized.  Now was not a good time to fight with her, so he did the safe thing by holding his seat and making light of his presence.  “I’ve been putting off business out there, so I’m taking your flight as a tax write-off.”

“Oh.  Okay.” 

Pleased that he’d chosen the correct approach, he brought his ankle onto the opposite knee and leaned back into the cushioned headrest.  Now all that remained was to see if she chose to sit across from him at the table or in one of the single seats on the other side of the aisle.  Once that choice was made, he would have a better feel for how that anxiety was going to play out over the course of the flight.

What he didn’t was her taking the guesswork out of it for him.

Sliding past him to sink down into the window seat on his left, Chiara fastened her seatbelt while saying, “I’m upset and worried.  That’s going to make me lousy company so, in case I’m a bitch later, I’d like you to know I really do appreciate this.  From the very bottom of my heart.  Your kindness and generosity is overwhelming considering…  Well, just considering.”

While he was grateful that she wasn’t attacking him, her gratitude made him a little uncomfortable.  They’d become real people in the last week instead of impersonal adversaries and Jon wanted her to get to her son.  He also knew and liked Caleb, and the kid should have his mother during something like this. 

He was simply being a decent human being, but that wasn’t what she wanted to hear right now. 

How he knew it, Jon wasn’t sure, but sincerity and kindness would make her situation seem worse.  Her son was in a precarious medical situation and, if the counselor wanted to keep a firm grip on hard-ass attitude so that she could cope, he was going to cater to it.

“No big deal,” he deflected easily.  “I needed a kick in the ass to go, so it helps me as much as it does you.”

Nodding, she turned to look out the window and silently watched the entire take-off process.    

Normally, he wasn’t the kind of guy who needed conversation.  Silence was a comfortable friend for him, but her silence was bothering him.  God only knew what was going on inside that head of hers.

“Did you find out anything else about Caleb?” was the brilliant tactic he used to sidetrack her from whatever those thoughts were. 

“Not much,” she relayed without turning away from the ground.  “I know which hospital, but they didn’t have anything to tell me when I called.   Noah’s there, but he’s not used to this kind of thing, so it might be doing more harm than good.”

Her voice was tight with worry and, in that moment, Jon felt inexplicably compelled to ease that worry in whatever way possible.

“Counselor.”

When she swiveled her head around in response to the quiet beckon, Jon could see that the grip she wanted to have on the situation wasn’t the same as the one she did have.  It wasn’t just one son struggling, it was both of them and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it for another six hours. 

Six hours was a long time to worry and wait.

“Need a distraction?”

Tucking her bottom lip in between her teeth, she nodded her agreement, which prompted him to immediately reach down and unfasten first his seatbelt and then hers.  When they were both free, he folded her hand inside his and rose, bringing her to stand face to face with him. 

“You already in the mile high club?” he asked, smiling when she gave a negative shake of her head.  “I don’t have a set of wings to give ya, but guarantee I can make you fly.”

Rather than making her laugh, that promise had her anxiety-riddled eyes going soft with confusion.  “What’s happening with us?”

Whatever it was, he had a feeling it was deeper than either of them was ready for, and it would be far too easy for her to take emotions that were already running high and apply them to the here and now.  He was taking it upon himself to make sure they didn’t end up on the other side of regret before they hit California.

“What’s happening is that we’re about to have some of that fighting sex you like so much.”

“Fighting?” she echoed with bewilderment as he dragged her along to the bedroom at the back of the plane. 

“Yep.”  Pushing her into the little room in front of him, Jon ordered, “Strip.”

Chiara’s head cocked to the side as her brow crumped in disbelief.  “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”  He leaned against the closed door and folded his arms with all the arrogance he could muster, knowing it would set her off sooner or later.  “Strip.”

“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but-“

“Since you’re evidently having some trouble connecting those dots you love so much, lemme toss a few more out there.”  Jon’s voice remained neutrally modulated, but he threaded it with steel to let her know defiance wasn’t an option today.  She needed this escape from reality and she would get it if he had to force-feed it to her.  “Those are the only clothes you have.  If I take them off, the damn things won’t be fit to wear again.  Get the picture now?  You have five seconds before the decision is no longer yours.  One…”

“You cocky son of a bitch.” 

It wasn’t so long ago that he despised seeing Charlie the bitch counselor, but today he was issuing a hand-engraved invitation for her to hang around a while.  The heat of her flaring temper was a damn sight better to him than the withdrawn and struggling woman seated beside him during take-off. 

“Pretend you hate it if that’s what your ego needs,” he invited cordially.  “But you and I both know your panties are already wet.  Two…”

“If you think you’re going to stand around and bark orders at me, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

Her belligerent stance, boiling cocoa eyes and stubbornly jutted chin had his cock stirring behind the button fly.  Okay.  So he might be a little twisted, because Jon enjoyed sparring with her more than he should. 

“If you think you don’t get off on it, you’ve lost your damn mind.  Three…”

God, he could practically see the steam hissing from her ears in billows.  He would even swear that he felt the heat of it as she got in his face to proclaim, “I don’t need this.  I don’t need you, and I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to let you roll over me like a testosterone tank.”

She was so fucking feisty when she slipped her attitude on like a suit of armor.  It used to make him mad, but fighting his way through Charlie’s crusty shell of self-defense didn’t seem so daunting anymore.  Not when he knew Chiara was waiting beneath it.

“You need this as much as you need your next breath.”  The whisper was as gentle as the thumb he skimmed along her cheek.  “And you know I won’t stop until you take it.  Four…”

Their bodies were so close that he felt that next breath hitch against his chest before she retreated with a growl.  “Damn you,” she swore with a glare before working the dress up and over her head.  “I don’t know why the hell I put up with this.”

The dress became a splash of wine over the back of the room’s lone chair and she turned back to him, simultaneously shedding her heels and her bra.  The only thing that remained was a pair of black panties so skimpy that he didn’t see the point in wearing them to begin with.

“Don’t you?” he inquired quietly as the panties joined the rest of her clothes.  Licking his eyes up and down her naked form did nothing to relieve the pressure in his jeans, and Jon began popping the buttons at his waist. 

“No, I honestly don’t.”

His jeans hit the floor as he kicked off his shoes, and both were shoved to the side with one foot.  The black tee stripped over his head joined them and Jon extended an arm to draw her naked flesh against his.  After almost four days, her softness against his strength felt exceptionally good and he couldn’t stop his hands from meandering over that exposed skin.

“You put up with it because you finally found somebody as strong as you are.  It excites you to know I won’t be intimidated.”

The two fingers that slid easily into heat already slick with desire only confirmed it, and he reveled in the deep breath that flared her nostrils. 

“Remember… mmm… when I said you scare me?” The question came as she widened her stance, and he didn’t hesitate to take advantage by working in another finger and lightly thumbing her clit.  “Ohhh, that feels so good.”

“I remember.”

The head that had fallen backward at the touch of his thumb now righted itself.  Soft hands caressed his chest as doe-eyes that hid nothing met his.  “Now I’m fucking terrified.”

Jon’s heart seized at the soul-baring admission that signaled Charlie’s retreat, leaving Chiara in her place.  It was Chiara’s melted chocolate eyes he looked into.  It was her touch against his skin, and Jon had to have her.   

Easing them both onto the bed with arms tightly wrapped around her torso, he used his knees to wedge himself between her thighs.  A wriggling of hips brought him in contact with his target and, when the swollen head of his cock slipped inside her warm and inviting sheath, Jon touched his lips to the shell of her ear.

“Everything you want is on the other side of that fear.”