He waited in the shower for the water to run hot.  It was cool, too cool and he shivered and felt awkward in the porcelain cell.  But still, he was glad for it.  The shivers forced him to wake up, and the gradual change from frigid cold to enveloping warmth was a pleasurable feeling.  The cold was forcing him out of his fog, but once the water was warm, he felt like he was back in that fog, hazy and lightheaded, satisfied and lanky.  He just stood still under the steam of water, only occasionally rolling his head and moaning softly as he remembered the night before…

It was good to see his brother again, to be around family.  He had missed that, and even though he was aware of his actions and that he had been hiding from everything on purpose, it was good to have a little familiarity back.  He had hidden out in Virginia Beach. He didn’t want to deal with people asking him how he was, offering to "talk", asking about her.  It was just too much.  He needed a break from everything.  So when he got the invite to come out and work on some tracks with Pharrel and Chad, he didn't pass up the opportunity to hide and escape.

He knew that music was his way out, but so was a damn good party.

And last night was a damn good party. The house Trace and him and a couple of his guards had rented was full to the brim with people, alcohol, girls in tiny outfits, thumping music, laughter, dancing.  It was wild, things were broken by people making out sloppily, there were ridiculous shouts and spilled drinks over games of cards.  He knew it was all there, the laughter, the yelling, the sexual activity in every corner—but he didn’t care.  He had his own drinks and his own smokes, and most importantly he had someone to talk to.  Right by him all night was someone he could laugh with, someone he danced with, someone drank with, and someone he looked and smiled at as she rambled and talked and talked in that perfect little drawl that felt like summertime in the south.

She was looking good, too.  A tan was on her long legs and her hair was sloppy.  She was out of place from everyone else there, yet she fit.  He could tell his friends liked her, he could tell that they thought more of her in the few hours they had known her than the same old sluts that had been hanging out for weeks.

It was just supposed to be fun, be a party; he just wanted to catch up with her.  But deep down he knew something more would happened.  It always just supposed to be fun for them and always turned into something much more.  The more the alcohol mixed with his high, he knew that things were getting closer and closer.  She was looking so good, sounding so good.  But he could see behind her lazy, drunken eyes that she was sad and that being with him, talking with him about old times, leaning against the wall together and making fun of Trace trying to make moves on a girl way out of his league—those little moments were making that sadness numb for a while.

She felt good, and he did, too.

Somehow he convinced her to dance near the wall, and the wall became a corner by his bedroom.  The dancing turned into slow, purposeful movements, hands skimming, whispering things they knew they shouldn’t.

About that damned ski trip.

It was shy at first, drunk and whispered and cautious, a simple question and she had started it, or maybe he had.  She kept giggling as she kept sliding on the hard wood floor below her feet and he had to pull her up against the wall. "Remember you slipping around when we went skiing that time."

She stopped, gasped and her eyes widened in surprise.  It took him no time to know what she was saying.  "I mean on the slope," he corrected.

She said in the smallest voice. "Not when we had sex."

He groaned in the shower and grabbed the slimy bar of soap in his hand to lather himself up, knowing he needed a distraction.  The rest of the evening after that point was a slow, hazy blur with splashes of vividness.  He couldn't keep up with the images that were bombarding him. 

He closed his eyes and let the water cover his face.  He could remember her eyes, wide, slowly closing; he could still feel her breath against his mouth as they seemed to get closer.

It only took a brief touch, her lips brushed against him, and they were gone, separated, but closer.  She tugged at him, the door slammed, the sounds from the party went muffled.  And in his darkened, rumpled room, with her hands against his shirt and her breath panting with his, their hearts beat wildly together.

He pulled his hands up and touched her face, kissing her roughly, strong, moaning aloud when she relaxed against him completely. The party faded and it was just them, against the wall, his hands on her never wanting to leave, she was soft and small and warm and her skin felt smooth, always so smooth. 

He realized how badly he wanted it.  Like having some childhood treat that you loved, that you had forgotten about, but not, it had always been in the back of your mind, that small craving, and he had it again.  Sprees he thought of.  The damned purple ones....

He pulled back from her only to smirk for a moment.  She tasted too good to be away from for long, but when he went back in she wasn't there waiting, she was pulling away. 

"Kate..."

Her eyes were searching wild, her mouth still a breath from his as she frustratingly tried to unbutton his shirt.

He covered her hands with his for a moment and kissed her again and before he knew it, his hand was against her thigh, holding it up over his hip and her fists were in his shirt, forcing his back was against the wall beside his door.  It was dark, the bass was thumping and vibrating the wall.  And she was kissing him crazily like a mad woman.  She pulled away and whispered, "Get naked and lay on the bed."

“What?"  He couldn’t even think of anything more to say.

And she just grinned as she sucked his bottom lip and when she pulled away she said in the sexiest voice he had ever heard, “You just had a really rough, harsh break up...and you need some comfort."  She stepped back and took off her t-shirt revealing a lacey white bra underneath, see through and perfect. “And I plan on giving it."

 
He put a hand in between them, "Kate this isn’t why I asked-"

She had shook her head and the look in her eyes, the sadness, the desire, the need, the craving of comfort when she stepped forward and tucked her hands under his tee shirt and touched his skin made him realize that it was ok.  They were single, they were adults, and dammit he wanted her.  It was different now.

So different. 

"It’s why I came though…because I want you, maybe I didn't realize at first, but I’ve been wanting you since the fucking ski trip. I didn’t realize I felt this way when I was with Charlie but now that he’s gone, I-I just..."

He cut her off by kissing her.  It was rampant, wild.  Clothing was pulled, ripped, they never stopped kissing, only to occasionally whisper how good it felt, to smile or laugh. 

The shower water suddenly went ice cold and he furiously turned the knob to stop the water.  He had been standing there remembering last night, stuck in time just dripping wet.  He let the water trickle over him as he stood, hearing the last bit of water drain completely away.  

He sucked in a breath and opened his eyes, but when he did all he could see was her naked body, riding him, sinking down over and over and up and over again.  He could still feel her hands on his chest, pressing as she moved up and then down around again.  He could still flee her slick, sticky body as she leaned down so he could feel her press into him, kissing him just barely, as it was so breathless. 

He slung the shower curtain open, but instead of the sound of the metal rings against the metal bar, all her could hear was her sighing, "fucking shit" as he felt her cum.  He could still feel her all around him, coming as she rode him.  He repeated her words quietly as he wiped the fog off the mirror.  Finally was able to see his own naked reflection instead of her naked body.  Now, he was only about to stare opened mouth at his reflection.

He shook his head to rid himself of last night.  The memories were too dangerous and he needed to shave.  It was useless, as he lathered his face he thought about her hand, smoothing over his dick.  She had such a purpose, moving over and over against him.  And then...

He paused, took a breath and brought the razor from his face, forcing this thought out of his mind before he continued....

She had moved down against his body, smiling and saying "Lie back."

He had started to sit up instead at where she was positioning herself."But..."

"Lay back Mr. Timberlake."  Her smile had been pure sex and he groaned remembering the feel of her small, wet mouth around him.  It was heaven, pure heaven feeling her tongue and lips.  He didn’t expect it. 

He did not expect that at all.  

He splashed water on his face and pulled off the towel from his waist to blot the water on his face.  

He slowly smiled at himself, realizing that soon, very soon he planned to return the favor.  He was also quite proud of himself for shaving accident free while dangerous thoughts flooded his mind.  Talented, he thought cockily to himself.

He bit his lip and looked down at his erection.  Maybe right now...

He opened the door from the bathroom to the bedroom and saw nothing but a crumbled bed, sheets wrinkled and empty.

It still smelled like her, though and when he looked at the floor he saw her clothes.  

He dressed slowly, purposefully trying to delay the inevitable awkwardness that was about to occur. He didn't know how she would act.  If she would be cool with it and act like it was just one night, or if she would try too hard to act like nothing happened and make it weird between both of them.

He hoped he didn’t act too weird with her.  He just wanted it to be normal, but normal for them was a strange, weird thing.  Being awkward yet comfortable and weird with each other was normal.  He just didn’t want any drama.

He tugged a shirt over his head and pulled it over his torso before he opened the door and cautiously stepped out. He raised his eyes and took a couple more steps, wondering where she had gone off to. 

Trace was nodding on and off on the couch, facing the TV that had sports center on quietly.  He could see his brother through the sliding door at the back of the den.  He was perched on a patio chair with his feet up on the deck railing talking on the phone.

The ringing sound of a "ding" from the kitchen made him swing his head around to see what he had been looking for.  Wearing his boxers and t-shirt with her hair down and messy, she looked cute, perfect.

He walked slowly over to her and stood right beside her, looking down at her, trying to read some expression on her face so he would know how to act.  She pulled two sides of a bagel out of the toaster, dropped them both on two plates in front of her.  He shook her hand and said “ouch” quickly before sucking the side of her thumb.  

Then, she glanced at him.

"Hi." 

"Hey," she said, her voice gravelly.

She started slathering the bagels with creamed cheese.

He was quiet, unsure what to say, unsure about the whole situation.  He tried not to think about everything that happened the night before, tried not to think about how amazing she felt.  He was trying his best not to worry that the rest of her stay with him would be weird and she'd leave and they'd keep on doing this weird thing, this weird awkward friends but not thing.  A headache seemed to throb from the middle of his head and his entire body felt achy from drinking and fucking the night before.

When she handing him a plate and turned and pressed her back into the counter.  He knew everything was going to be ok.  He smiled at her and she smirked back at him and they simultaneously took crunchy bites out of their bagels.

"So..."  He said before swallowing.  "What was up with you last night?" He was all smiles, narrowing his eyes at her. 

She just blushed and turned her head and took another bite.  He could see that her eyes were smiling, though.

He went for it, set down his plate and leaned closer to her. "You were so kinky and out of control but in control and like a fucking dominatrix or something."

She pushed at his chest and whispered; "Stop..." before looking around his body to make sure no one was listening or looking at them.  She smiled and looked up straight into his eyes, "I was horny."  She shrugged and took another bite out of her bagel, eying him.

He laughed loudly and said, "I could tell."

They continued to eat their bagels in silence, standing up in the kitchen.  At one point he went and got them both a glass a juice, but there was something there—contentment and quietness, some weird sort of peace that was new to him.  It had always felt amazing with her before, but the morning after had always left his mind in ruins.  Now, he was at peace with it, happy with hit, not trying to understand it.

He could tell though, when he looked at her, she was still thinking about it, thinking about the night before.  And so was he. He could see her remember how he had breathed out "sweet Jesus" when she had sunk down on him.  And he could see her remembering how he told her he "loved this" when they were in the middle of it all and he could remember her barely able to say out, breathless, "me too."

He swallowed the last bite of his bagel, set down his plate and watched her drink her orange juice for a moment.

He couldn’t help it.  He turned and hugged her and kissed her check and it felt good when she hugged him back. "You gonna come by the studio later?" he asked, still holding her, feeling her nod against his shoulder.

And when they broke apart and she started cleaning up bottles and shit from the night before he knew she was remembering what he had asked her afterwards. What he had said to her naked and tangled and quietly in the dark.

They were falling asleep and he felt drunker than he had ever in his life, his blood felt thick in his body and was pumping slow but hard.  He was now laying on her, they had changed positions and done it again and he was on top of her and her legs were limp around his waist and her hand was tickling up his back.  Their bodies were pressed and damp. 

She kissed him slow and when he pulled back and looked into her lazy eyes he said, "Stay with me all summer" 

Her eyes had opened more and she had just looked at him with this look he had never seen before.  Then he admitted to this feeling he had had in his stomach all this week, the feeling that had made him kick some of his girls out of the house, the feeling that had made him feel jittery and nervous.   "I've been wanting you for so long Kate," he had said.  "I’ve been wanting you so bad and I can't take it."  He breathed hard and held her tight.  "I'm just gonna want more....and more....and more..." And as he said "more" he slowly started to move in her again.  They held each other tight and again went into it, slowly, sloppily, but so damn perfectly.

He could tell that she was thinking about that moment now, thinking about the fact they hadn’t stopped last night, they had kept on until they couldn't move.  And she was thinking about what he had asked her.

He knew though, she wouldn’t answer.  She didn’t the night before and she wouldn’t now. 

She would just simply stay.

He could tell by the way she easily and casually moved around the kitchen, they way she felt at home there, the way she had held him that night.

She needed a break from her life, she needed this.

And he needed her.