I was trying to figure out why this seemed so different than usual. Normally, I met a woman, and once it seemed there was good physical attraction on both sides, there were a few dates, maybe a night of clubbing followed by a few weeks of great sex. And while I'd thought about sex with Jane more than I should have, there was still something else that made this different. It might just have been Jane. She was smart and funny and resilient, and she made one hell of a roasted chicken. Her feet were planted solidly on the ground, too solidly probably. A nice girl like Jane would have little interest in a man whose reputation with women was less than stellar. I had to remind myself that she was only sitting in my apartment because, thanks to me, she had no place else to go. Once the door was back up, she might very well scurry across the hallway to her place and never look back. I hoped to hell that wasn't the case, but I was prepared for exactly that. So far I'd shown myself to be a giant, impulsive blockhead. Still, I didn't regret pushing that asshole, Brock, up against the wall. The second I saw him grab Jane's arm and then follow that up with an insult, I knew I wanted to flatten him. Maybe that was what was different. I felt this internal need to protect Jane, as if she was mine to keep safe.

I combed back my wet hair and pulled on a clean shirt and jeans. Jane was sitting on the couch with her suntanned legs stretched across to the coffee table and a script on her lap.

"Oops.” She dropped her feet off the coffee table. "I'm acting like I'm at home."

"I put my big feet, shoes and all, on the table all the time. And I'm glad you feel at home." I patted my stomach. "Dinner was delicious. I'm stuffed."

"Are you?" She looked up at me. Her eyes were an almost ethereal green, like some kind of rare jewel. "I was trying to calculate in my head how much a man your size might eat. I wanted to make sure there was enough."

I glanced at the papers on her lap. "Is that the movie script?"

"No, actually this is the script for the Mystery weekend. I play the flirtatious maid. I actually don't get killed until the second night. Which means double pay. Victim of a jealous wife, of course."

I sat down next to her. "A flirtatious maid? I'm intrigued. Is there a costume to go with that role? Something like that extremely hot sequined dress you were wearing the other night?"

"You mean the one with the bullet hole and blood?"

I nodded. "It was a little bit gory, and yet, it is still firmly in my head as extremely hot."

"Is that right?" She scooted around, dragging one leg up on the couch to face me. "I wasn't sure if you noticed or not." Our first meeting had been awkward and the second one even more so, but as we eased into knowing each other, it seemed we were beginning to relax.

"Oh, I noticed. And that's why I'm now equally anxious to see the maid costume."

"Well, I pick it up tomorrow. If you're around you might catch a little fashion show." She put the mystery script up on the table and picked up a much thicker stack of paper. "This is for the movie."

She plopped it on the couch between us. I turned to face her, leaning against the arm of the couch. "I've memorized my lines so you can use the script. You are playing the part of Jacob, a roguish intelligence spy who has fallen hard for Kelly, an international journalist and a rather spoiled, self-centered woman, if I do say so. The part we're reading is when Jacob and Kelly have met up again after they murdered Kelly's abusive, wealthy financier husband. They had been laying low and avoiding each other to throw off any suspicion and now they've met up in a squalid little flat in Moscow. The problem is Kelly's having second thoughts about Jacob. Told you, she's spoiled." She picked up the script. “Every time you see the name Jacob, that's your line."

"I think I can handle that."

She sighed. "Are you sure you're up for this? I could do this alone in my apartment and you could—"

"Do what? Scroll through a billion cable and movie channels and never actually stop on anything for more than a minute? Besides, I might be part of history in the making here. I might be the guy who rehearsed lines with future box office legend Jane Briggs."

"Or you might just be delusional, but thank you for putting up with this." She took a deep breath. "I've got the first line."

"Action."

Jane suddenly hopped up on her knees. "Jacob, how can this end happily?" Without warning she climbed onto my lap and wrapped her arm around my neck, placing her free hand against my chest. She nestled her ass against me just to position herself. I had to work hard to mask my physical reaction. My cock was suddenly wide awake and asking what the fuck was going on.

Jane paused and I realized it was my turn to speak. There were a lot of extra marks and lines on the page, but even with the unexpected introduction of my raging erection added into the mix, I managed to find my line. "Of course it will end happily. The evidence is leading them away from us. It's working out just like we planned." My stilted delivery was comical, but she was kind enough not to laugh.

Jane rested her head against my shoulder. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to touch her or not, but I couldn't stop myself from wrapping my arms around her back. The side of her breast brushed against my hand, adding fuel to the fire below.

"Jacob, I have nightmares," she said sadly. "Constant nightmares."

A long pause followed. Jane cleared her throat to remind me it was my turn to talk. "Sorry, I'm pretty bad at this." I lifted the script higher and cleared my throat. "Nightmares? What nightmares?"

She flew off my lap and walked across the room to the opposite wall, stopped and turned to face me. In her journey across the room, she had managed to work up some very convincing tears. "Michael's face haunts my dreams. Those pale lifeless eyes staring up at me." She covered her face, and for a second I got lost in the realistic drama she was portraying.

"Your part," she muttered from behind her hands.

"Oh right. Jacob follows Kelly."

She giggled right through her realistic tears. "Actually, that's an action. That means you follow me across the room."

"Right." I moved to get up and realized that I was still feeling the effects of having her sit in my lap.

Jane tilted her head in confusion. "Are you all right?"

"Uh yeah, I am. I guess I'm just a great method actor. You mentioned that Jacob and Kelly were lovers that had been apart for awhile?"

"That's right."

"Well, when Kelly climbed into Jacob's lap, it stirred up some good time memories."

Jane’s brows bunched together for a second, then she understood. She laughed. "See, and you thought your acting was going to suck."

I got up and walked across the room to stand in front of her. "It helps to have a convincing leading lady." I lifted the script. "Let's see." My eyes scanned to the place where it said to follow Kelly. "Baby, those bad memories will fade. They'll be replaced by the good memories that we'll create when we spend our life together."

She worked up the tears again, and even though they were fake, I hated to see them. "Nothing feels right anymore, Jacob."

I scanned the script. "Jacob kisses Kelly." I looked up. "Is that a line or an action?"

Jane shyly bit her lip. "I think that's an action."

"Awesome." I tossed the script behind me, wrapped my arms around her and kissed her.

Jane hopped up on her toes to circle her arms around my neck. Her lips parted, encouraging a deeper kiss. My hands swept beneath her t-shirt smoothing over her back as she pressed her body harder against mine. The erection she had started when she climbed into my lap had returned and my mind split in two. As badly as I wanted to carry her into the bedroom and strip her naked, I grappled with the notion that I was taking too much advantage of the situation, a situation I had created when I had broken down her door.

But when her small hands slipped under my shirt and her fingers trailed over my chest and stomach, I pushed any strands of guilt away. It was hard to have a conscience when you had an irresistible woman in your arms. At least that was the justification I was going to use.

I took hold of her hand and walked her to the couch, deciding that dragging her straight off to the bedroom might have been pushing it. Without me asking, she climbed right back into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck.

"I think this was where we were earlier in the script." She nestled her bottom against my hardened cock. "Yes, this was exactly the spot."

I cradled her in my arm and kissed her as my free hand explored her body. I pushed her shirt up above her bra and hooked my finger around the lacy cup. I pulled it down to expose her breast. I lowered my mouth over her and teased her taut nipple with my tongue. She lolled her head back against my arm and pushed her breast harder against my mouth.

I slid my hand down to her fly and unbuttoned it. Then I slipped my hand under her panties. She breathed a sigh of pleasure as my fingers pushed between the folds of her pussy. My cock surged with energy as her moisture coated my fingertips. She spread her thighs wider, inviting me to finger fuck her.

My thumb stayed nestled against her clit as I pushed two fingers into her. "Oh, Aidan," she mewled. Hearing my name roll off her parted lips made me ache with wanting her. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to fuck her.

Cradled in my lap, she rocked against my hand as my fingers dipped deeper. I realized there was nothing more I wanted in the world right then but for her to come hard, sitting there cradled in my arms, writhing against my hand with her perfect ass rubbing seductively against my cock. Even if we didn't make it past this moment on the couch, I would die unhappy if I didn't bring her to a hot, wild climax right then. It might have been a part of that same unexplained possessive, protectiveness I'd felt about her, but I wanted badly to master her body. I needed to know that I could satisfy her, even fully clothed and sitting on the couch. I wanted to make her come.

Her body responded to my touch as I thrummed my thumb over her clit. "Aidan," she moaned and then she brought her thighs together tightening her grip on my hand. She pressed her face against my shoulder, stifling her cry as her pussy clenched around my hand.

I badly wanted to strip her naked and carry her to my room, but I stopped myself. I didn't want to move too fast. She sighed contentedly and relaxed in my arms, curling against my chest with a soft sound that was close to a purr.

A knock on the door startled us both.

She climbed off my lap and quickly buttoned up as if we were teenagers getting caught by parents. "Are you expecting someone?" she asked.

"Not me. Do you think your ex came back?"

"I don't know. I doubt it. He looked pretty scared when he stumbled away."

I went to the door and opened it. Milo, the building supervisor, a guy with a double chin and a massive belly nodded hello. "I thought I might find Jane Briggs here."

Jane came around the door. She had smoothed her hair and straightened her clothes. "Yes, I'm here."

"I've got good news. The door came early. We'll be installing it tomorrow morning." He sneered my direction. "I'll send you the cost for the door and labor."

"That's fine."

The nosy old shit stood there for a second longer, shooting his shifty gaze back and forth between us.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"No, no. That's all."

"Perfect. Good night." I swung the door shut in his face.

Jane stifled a laugh with her hand.

"Why are all building supervisors such goobers?" I asked. "It must be a part of the job description. Non-goobers need not apply."

This time Jane didn't bother to cover her laugh.

"I'm glad I'm getting a door, but I'm kind of bummed too." She stepped into my arms, and it already seemed as if that was exactly where she belonged.

"Well, I could always walk through your door again."