39 - Picture This

Sheridan awoke under the now-familiar weight of a masculine forearm around her waist and instinctively wiggled her shoulders back into the warmth of Jon’s bare chest.  When his only response was a sleepy hum and the cinching of his arm, she smiled. 

For someone who doesn’t cuddle, this is becoming awfully easy to get used to. 

Careful not to wake him, she turned herself over with a minimum amount of fuss so she could study his sleeping form.  Disheveled dirty blonde locks were pointing every which way, and without the deliberate style, she could see silver peeking through the blonde.

Idly, she wondered what he would look like if he let the gray have its way.

“You’re staring at me,” he mumbled, barely cracking open one lazy eye.  “I can’t sleep with you staring at me.”

“Then wake up,” was her reasonable solution as she feathered back the hair at his temples.  A soothing thumb automatically shifted to his forehead when it wrinkled grumpily.

“Gimme a better reason to wake up.”

Laughing softly, she eased her face closer, pursing her lips to deliver a soft kiss on the end of his nose.  “Like what?  Coffee?  Hot shower?”

“Nuh-uh.  Those are consolation prizes for havin’ to wake up.  I want enticement.”

Rolling over to his back, he scrubbed an invigorating palm up and down his face, and then opened his mouth to gather enough oxygen for a jaw-popping yawn.  Shaking his head against the pillow like a wet dog as the last of the yawn worked its way out, Jon slid an arm under her and dragged her into his side.  Expectant blue eyes peered down his nose, much too sharp and alert for a man who had just opened his eyes for the first time that morning.

“You were already awake.” 

“Yes, but I was trying not to be.  You ruined that by starin’.”

Sheridan was in serious trouble when she thought he was cute while being an unreasonable ass first thing in the morning.   She let out a little gasp of surprise he pulled on her again, hauling her on top of him.  The hem of her borrowed t-shirt bunched up above her thighs when she straddled his naked hips.  Satin panties were the only barrier between his sex and hers when he cradled his laced fingers in the small of her back. 

“So…  entice me, Kitten.”

The cocky little smirk dressed in morning beard stubble was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.  His rumpled hair, sleep-puffed eyes and pillow creased cheek didn’t belong to a rock star.  They belonged to a thief.  They belonged to the persistent, sexy, unabashedly honest and affectionate man who had stolen her heart.

I love him.

Her heart raced too fast when she was side-swiped by the realization.  It slammed her in the chest like one of the debilitating asthma attacks she’d had as a young child.  Her lungs seized as though flash-frozen, refusing to allow air to escape and Sheridan held very still, still trying to fathom the readily-admitted awareness.  Logically, she’d known that thought was tucked in the very back of her mind, but she didn’t expect it to come tearing out now.

You can’t love him.  Like him.  Be enamored with him.  Let him make you horny.  Hell, crave him, but it’s too soon to be talking love.  Way too soon.  You barely know the guy.

That may be true, but she everything she did know was pretty compelling. 

She knew that he loved his kids.  At least twice a day he’d called to check in with one or the other of them, if for no other reason than to ask how their day was going.

She knew that he was fiercely loyal.  Seeing him with Richie this weekend had made that crystal clear.

Most of all she knew that, so far, Jon had accepted her for exactly who she was.  He’d gotten more mismatched pieces of her than anyone else ever had – including her husband.  They didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but there was nothing she hadn’t been comfortable telling him, or doing with him. 

Sheridan had been around the block enough to know that was… special.  He was special.

“Hey..”  His forehead furrowed again, this time with concern instead of annoyance.  He touched a finger against the wildly beating pulse in her neck, asking apprehensively, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”  A warm smile found its way out to reassure him.  “Of course.  It’s December and I’m waking up next to the beach and a really hot guy.  What’s not to be okay?”

A slow, inviting grin slid over the perfectly wide mouth at the same time callused fingertips curled over her hip bones.  Holding Sheridan immobile, he tipped his pelvis so that the length of his arousal was cradled by her silk-clad labia. 

“Let me make it okay-er,” he purred, with the most deliciously carnal glint in his eye.  “Take your panties off so I can fuck you.”

With a slow shake of her head, she tut-tutted sadly.  “It’s time to turn in your Rock God membership card, Stud.  If you can’t work your way around a pair of panties, you’re an embarrassment to…. OH!”

The suddenness of his thrust pushed the air from her lungs with a squeaking gasp. 

“Baby, nothing has ever kept my dick from doing what it wants to do.  If you don’t wanna play civilized, all ya hadda do was say so.”

OOoooh yeah….  That was something else she knew.  The man turned her on like no other, and he knew how to make good on it.  The things that he did to stoke her fires…  Well, frankly, he knew more about what her secret buttons were than she did.

“I’m saying so.”   She flattened her chest against his and contracted her inner muscles.  “And for the record, I never want you civilized in bed.  Now fuck me.”

About the time he growled and slammed deep enough to bounce against her cervix, Jon’s phone vibrated on the night stand.

“Ignore it,” he ordered before nipping her collarbone and driving deep again. 

She had no problem with that.

Losing herself in his grip, the way he filled her, the way he made her feel…  Sheridan didn’t give the phone a second thought again until after her thighs had ceased to quiver and Jon sweetly touched his sated lips to hers.

“Baby…  Lemme see if it was one of the kids.”

She immediately slipped back to her side of the bed with a lingering touch on his cheek.  When he rolled over with a groan to scoop up the phone, she dropped her feet to the floor.  It was her intention to get a shower while he took care of whatever he needed to.

“Dottie.  What’s up?”

She heard the greeting to his ex-wife and was about to close the bathroom door when her own phone pealed out on the opposite side of the bed.  From the sound of it, Riley was calling, and it brought a frown to her face. 

That’s unexpected.

She swept around the bed, hurriedly snatching up the device and swiping a finger over the screen.  “Hey, Riley.  What’s up?”

Jon fell back into the pillows with a grunt of annoyance, flicking a glance toward Sheridan.  Her face was drawn with anxiety when answering the call, then her eyes flew wide and she whirled to look at him.  He nodded and pointed to his phone.  Apparently her sister was calling about the same thing Dorothea was.

“Nice pictures of you and the blonde with the big boobs sharing cotton candy on the pier, Jon.  When you said something came up to keep you in California another day, I didn’t realize it was your dick,” the woman he’d spent the better part of his life married to, drawled snidely.  “I’m sorry that your children put a cramp in your social life.”

“I.  Am not.  Doing this now,” he bit out, infuriated that a woman who had always been so even-keeled and reasonable had lowered herself to being a stereotypical ex-wife.    “We can talk tomorrow when I pick up the kids.”

She was silent for a moment, before churlishly demanding, “What time will you be here?”

“I don’t know.  About two, I guess.”

“Romeo has an appointment with Dr. Rennicke at four.”

He swallowed a sigh, knowing that she was daring him to make a big deal out of it.  He was not going to let anything ruin this last hideaway day, where things were pretty well perfect.  God knew once they got home, perfection would be hard to come by.  “I’ll take him.  That’s not a problem.”

An abrupt, “Fine,” and Dorothea had hung up on him.  Capturing the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, he squeezed away the dull ache that had begun to dance there and flicked into the web browser on his phone while he listened to Sheridan’s conversation.

“I… haven’t been seeing him long…..  My God, Riley, no!!  I am not going to get you an autographed picture of his ass…..”

He smirked.   There were certain constants you could count on in the universe.  Jon Bon Jovi fans with ass fetishes topped Jon’s personal list.  It gave him an oddly comforted feeling as the tabloid pictures loaded.

“Hell, no you’re not going to meet him!”  Sheridan ranted lightly, falling back onto the bed and scooting so that her head rested on his stomach.  “You can’t be trusted not to embarrass me or yourself!  God, not to mention Mitch and the kids.  No.  Absolutely not.”

When her head began bobbing spasmodically because of the laughter shaking his belly, Sheridan turned her head to scowl at him.  “This is not funny,” she hissed as he flicked through the photographs with his thumb.

They were most likely from a fan’s cell phone.  Squinting, he saw that the shots were taken in front of the trapeze school.  Sheridan was shaking her cone of cotton candy at him and laughing up into his face.  Jon looked amused and turned on.  Typical when he was with her.

Would anyone else be able to read that particular combination of thoughts on his face?

Dottie did.  That’s why she was so pissed.

“Riley….  Riley!  I am not having this conversation right now.  Probably ever, for that matter.  Oh my God.  Like I would tell you if we were in bed together now.”

Jon couldn’t pass it up.  He tried – for about half a second.  Or less.  Projecting his voice enough to reach the phone’s mic, he announced, “We are in bed together, Riley, but don’t worry… we finished the important stuff before you called.”

Sheridan shot up into a seated position and prodded a punishing finger into his side.  “You’re not helping!”

He shrank away to minimize the hit, grinning at her annoyance.  The little bit of pain didn’t stop him from snickering as he appreciated the flush of anger highlighting her cheekbones. 

“What are you, thirteen?  You can’t possibly neeeed  to talk to him.”  The sentence was no more out of her mouth than Jon was waggling his fingers, demanding the phone. 

“No,” she refused, slapping his hand away.  “Nothing good can come of this.”

“Lemme talk to your sister,” he coaxed quietly, pleased with the brainstorm that was forming on the horizon.  “And I’ll let you talk to one of my brothers.”

“Why would I want to talk to one of your brothers?”

Jon shrugged carelessly.  “Hell if I know, but it seemed like a fair trade.  I can go with sexual favors instead.”

He laughed outrageously when an incongruously calm feminine voice bellowed from Sheridan’s hand, “Take the sexual favors and give him the damn phone!”

“Gimme….”  He wiggled his fingers again before twisting his body close enough to wrap his fingers over hers.  She clutched at the phone, refusing to relinquish her hold on it.  Instead, she chose to give him a look he hadn’t seen since Catholic school and a very cranky nun.

“Jon, I’d really rather not.”

Still holding her hand inside of his, he leaned around her back to whisper in her free ear, “Let go of the phone like a good girl, and go get in the shower so I can speak to your sister.”

“Don’t talk to me like a child.”

Her outrageous petulance had him chuckling again as he kissed the shell of her ear.   “Then stop acting like one.”

She went still against his chest for an instant, and then huffed indignantly.

“Riley, don’t embarrass me.”  That was the only thing she said before surrendering control, all but shoving the phone at him.  In a move that his seven-year-old would be proud of, she stuck her tongue out as she scooted off the bed.  Jon was surprised she didn’t go all-out and blow a raspberry.  “I want to talk to both brothers,” she proclaimed haughtily on her leisurely stroll to the bathroom.  When she reached the doorway, she paused, turning to regard him with a proudly arched eyebrow.  “And I want the sexual favors.”