Chapter 84

Greetings ~~

"Love For Sale" is nearing completion.  If all goes as planned there will be two more chapters after this post.  Not sure of the posting schedule but our intention is to post the final two as soon as editing is completed, in the next few days.  

We hope you enjoy!!

xoxo~

Audra & Em

Rachel found the drive back to his house to be as relaxed as the rest of their day together.  After she’d gotten past the initial shock over his unexpected appearance, everything had become gratifyingly “normal” between them. 

While sexual attraction still plainly simmered just below the surface, she was now reassured that they could keep that attraction at bay and focus on the less physical aspect of their relationship.  It simply reaffirmed her decision to break up when they did.  If things had degraded any further, they wouldn’t be able to enjoy one another this way and, in Rachel’s opinion, that would be a heartbreaking loss because she genuinely liked Jon.

After a quick stop in the studio to retrieve his laptop, they strolled across the darkened grounds to the Pub in comfortable silence.  Stepping inside, Rachel found the lights burning dimly, reminding her of the many nights she’d spent in this room.  The couch cushions sank under her backside as Jon stepped behind the bar and the sensation, along with the combined scent of pool chalk, wood and leather brought to mind the many times they’d made love on this same couch.

They’re memories, Rachel.  They aren’t meant to be relived.

“It may not be your favorite tequila, but I think you’ll enjoy this,” he announced jovially, interrupting her reminiscence with the ‘pop’ of a wine cork.  “It’s one we bought from that private little vineyard in Napa when we were there with your sister and her husband.  You know... the one with the castle.” 

“You’re such a wine snob,” she snorted as she crossed her legs, grateful for the distraction.

Jon emerged from the business side of the bar and handed Rachel one of the two empty glasses in his left hand.  He made sure that hers was filled before tending to his own and setting the bottle on the table behind the sofa.

“ME????”  She loved his mock outrage as he laughed, dropping onto the cushion beside hers.  “You’re the ungrateful one who bitched about the fine bottle I chose for our oceanfront pizza experience.” 

“That’s why I stick to tequila – it never disappoints,” she chuckled before taking a sip.  The fruity flavor exploded on her tongue much more favorably than the Quickie Mart vintage and she couldn’t stop herself from humming with approval.  “Ooh…. that IS much improved!  Good call to come here.” 

“Oh sure, now you APPRECIATE this wine snob don’t ‘cha?”

“I do!  That’s one of the many thing I learned from you – how to be a proper wine snob,” she chortled, angling herself toward where he sat as she tucked her hair behind her ear.  The cooling glass was cradled between the fingers of her right hand as she lifted one corner of her mouth in caustic amusement.  “Among all the other crap you’ve left at my house, I found at least three contraptions touted to be the best wine opener on the market.”

He shrugged, completely unapologetic.  “Wine and coffee – they’re both worthy of snobbish equipment.  You love your coffee machine.  I know it, but you’ll never admit it to me.”

“Mm hmm... maybe,” she evaded, tipping her glass up for another sip before realizing...  “Geez!  I should’ve given you all your stuff when you came by today.  I never even thought of it.  There must be a thousand dollars’ worth of sunglasses you left scattered around, and God only knows how much in watches.”  She shook her head, grinning.  “The money tied up in those things explains why you don’t have a single shirt at my house that is without holes.”  

“Yeah?  Well there’s every bit as much money tied up in face creams and hair products that you left all over my place so don’t go getting all high and mighty, missy.”  He shook his finger playfully in her face.  “I can get my stuff when I take you home tonight.” 

“Except for the skull wine opener and the Ray-Ban sunglasses. I use those,” she grinned back. 

Eventually, Rachel had to stop over-indulging in nostalgia and remind him why they were there in the first place.  Prodding at him until he was forced to fire up the laptop and share the songs he’d poured his heart and soul into, she listened with intent curiosity to each and every one of them while he silently took in her reaction. 

After noting the curious quirk of her head, he confessed that ‘Superman Tonight’ had been started when he was in California – after their first night together – and she recalled hearing him play parts of it on the piano in her living room.  

‘Broken Promiseland’, he said, had been the result of a series of conversations with her, early in their relationship.

He didn’t need to explain ‘When We Were Beautiful’.  Rachel had lived through that one and still thought it was one of the saddest songs she’d ever heard.  

‘Fast Cars’, it turned out, had nothing to do with cars at all.  It had also been written during their early days together when she had seemed to be stuck in the past and unable to really move forward with him. 

“I predict this one will be a big hit,” she declared after the second chorus of ‘Thorn In My Side’.  “Everybody loves a good ‘we broke up but I can’t get you off my mind’ song.”

“Think so?” His lips twisted in a slight grimace, without concern as to whether anyone liked it or not.  “Ya know… THAT’S the problem with falling for your neighbor.  When the thing falls apart you’re reminded of her every single time you look out a window and see her house.”

She toasted him with her near-empty glass.  “Yeah.  It’s no better watching the string of women come and go from your ex-lover’s place in the morning.” 

“That’s bullshit.  You’ve not seen any women leaving my house in the morning.”

“Hmm… Is that because there haven’t been any or because you get rid of them before daylight?” 

The question was posed in a teasing tone, but Jon wasn’t about to go down that road and redirected the conversation back to the music.  His hope was that she would be distracted enough to forget the whole topic, because he certainly didn’t want his shameless bachelor ways brought into focus just when he finally had Rachel in his house again.

“So…  ‘Thorn In My Side’… is that the one you like best?” he asked while draining the last of his wine.

“Nice segue to another subject, Mr. Bongiovi, but I’ll play along.   No, actually I’m partial to ‘Broken Promiseland’.  Something about the combination of the music and the lyrics speaks to me.  It feels very… personal.”  Rachel sipped from her glass, peeking through her lashes at him over its rim before continuing quietly, “I guess I really sucked the life out of you, didn’t I?”

A heavy scowl etched into his face as he met her eyes and he very nearly growled, “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because the music tells the tale…”

She, like the rest of the world, saw what she wanted to see in the lyrics and music of a song.  He should be used to it, and he was – from everybody else.  Not her, and he didn’t want her thinking what she was thinking. 

“Nah, not really,” he mused aloofly, breaking eye contact and reaching for the dark green glass bottle that still held but a fraction of its original contents.  “There were other songs, these were just better suited to this record.”  He emptied the last of the wine into her glass and rose to retrieve a fresh supply from the wine refrigerator under the bar.  “Don’t feel like you were a downer, because you weren’t.”  

“Alright, but don’t open that bottle on my account.  I’ve already had two glasses.”

“You’re not driving.”  He ignored her, topping off her glass and refilling his own.  “I’ve known you to have A LOT more than two glasses.” 

“That’s when I wasn’t worried about doing something I’d regret in the morning.”

There was something about her tone that made his hand stutter as he put the wine on the table and he cut her a searching look.  Thunking the bottle safely to the wooden surface, he found eyes that betrayed the purely platonic mood she had carried like a shield all day.  In that moment, she wasn’t feeling even a little bit platonic.  Her gaze was full of the same intensity her words had instilled in him.

Now we’re getting someplace, baby.

“You’ve never done anything with me that you regretted in the morning,” he said softly, wanting to hear her admit it.

But as soon as he spoke, the serious moment was gone.  Rather than moving forward, she retreated back into her platonic cocoon and made light of it.  “Well, there was that crazy night in my hot tub in California.”

And the shield is up again.

He swallowed a sigh of disappointment, but, for once in his life he was patient and didn’t push, biding his time to cash in on that intensity.  It hadn’t disappeared; she was just hiding from it.

Besides, he couldn’t help but laugh at the memory she was referring to.  It had been one of their most sexually adventurous nights together and she’d been slightly embarrassed the next morning.  That is, until he’d convinced her to immediately repeat most of those ‘embarrassing’ acts. 

“Oh yeah… after we had dinner with your family at that vineyard near your house.  I DO remember that night, and in the end I don’t think you regretted one thing about it.”

“Maybe not,” she tittered, twirling the delicate glass wine stem between her fingertips.  The brittle, awkward sound was one that he readily identified as her nervous laugh.  She was trying to cover up what she was really feeling.  He knew it in his bones.  “But I don’t want to be tempted to repeat it.”

And, on cue, there was the intensity again. 

That one little word ‘tempted’ was very revealing, he thought.  Or was it just the wine creating the idea of a revelation?  He couldn’t be sure and, to be honest, he didn’t really care.  It felt like that little word – now uttered twice – had opened a door and, by God, he had to walk through it. 

“Would it really be so bad, Rach?” he asked quietly, fisting his hand into his thigh to keep from reaching for her.  “To repeat that night?  Or any other?  We had great nights.”

Rachel’s eyes had always been the proverbial door to her soul and tonight was no exception.  The difference was that where he’d once seen the fringed edges of desire, or even love, he now saw sadness. 

That sadness was reflected in her tone when she slowly replied, “We did have great nights.  Amazing nights, in fact.  But yeah, it would be bad for me to go there again... and have to walk away.  Again.”

Before Jon even had the conscious thought to touch her, his fingertip was out of his lap and grazing her cheek.  Just as automatically, his hand slid around to cup her chin and tilt her face to his. 

She didn’t have to walk away, but he didn’t have the words to explain it in a way that the stubborn little minx would accept.  So Jon chose to bypass verbal communication in favor of the physical intuitiveness that they’d always shared.  When it came to Rachel, his mouth was much more effective at kissing than reasoning.

His lips scarcely touched hers, but it was enough to send fireworks off in his head, making him forget everything but them and he could see the same fireworks working their way through her.  The flush to her chest and cheeks was always a dead giveaway with Rachel – he’d seen it the very first time they kissed.  She wanted him every bit as much as he did her and he was damn well tired of being patient. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t want to walk away this time,” he breathed over her lips before taking her face in his hands and kissing her the way he’d wanted to all day. 

She might have been timid at first, but it was only the briefest of seconds before her hand tunneled into his hair and she was returning his kiss with the familiar passion that she’d always shown him.  There was nothing passive or unsure in the way her tongue tangled with his, the way her body melted against his.   These two bodies were intimately familiar and seemed to have a will all of their own as they clung to each other with the desperation from the months they’d been apart. 

Fuck.  I didn’t imagine it.  She really does feel like home. 

One of Rachel’s hands slipped beneath the collar of his shirt to grab the handful of hair she always favored.  The other crept under the hem of his shirt and around his side, hungry for bare skin.  Her touch was like none other and his body responded to her with the same fervor as the first time she put her hands on him. 

Just as he scooped her bottom onto his lap, leaning back into the sofa cushions and pulling her down on top of him, Rachel withdrew.  She used a fingertip to wipe the moisture from beneath her bottom lip, huskily whispering, “This is such a bad idea.”

Ignoring her protest, Jon twisted her off to the side, pinning her between him and the back of the couch.   His thumb slid under the bottom of her sundress, bunching it up along her leg and moving across her thigh.  The calloused tip had just barely slipped under the elastic of Rachel’s panties when she rolled into it and simultaneously gasped at the invasion.

With that one sharp intake of her breath, the woman who had stolen Jon’s heart a year ago was squirming and pushing him away.  “No.  I’m sorry... but I can’t get sucked into this again, Jon.  I have to go.”

His hand could still feel her heat as she struggled to climb over him and stood beside the sofa straightening her clothes and giving him nothing but her back as his heart pounded in his chest.  There wasn’t a shred of doubt that she wanted him – needed him – just like he did her, but for some reason she was determined not to have him.   

Jon was frustrated beyond belief, but had enough sense to know the moment was gone and that her shield was firmly back up.  If he pushed her, there would be nothing gained but another argument and with his dick at half-mast he wasn’t interested in arguing.   

“Okay…” he sighed, swinging his feet to the floor and rubbing a restless hand over his nape.  “If that’s what you want, I’ll take you home.”

She was fingering her hair back in place when her clothes were back to rights and she turned to look at him. “It’s a beautiful night.  I’m fine walking home alone.” 

That wasn’t happening.  Even if they weren’t ending the night in his bed, he wasn’t ready to let her vanish.  God knew when he’d see her again and, maybe, in those few minutes’ time he could come up with a way to change her mind about this being a bad idea.

“I said I’ll take you home, Rach.  I need to get my stuff, anyway.”

Traveling side-by-side, yet not touching, they stepped into the starry night and onto the path that led to Rachel’s house.  The sound of their footsteps was the only noise that stirred the night air, except for the faint chirping of crickets in the distance, and Jon commandeered all of his Rachel knowledge to assimilate a way around that shield of hers.

They were halfway between his house and hers when she spoke, shattering the blanket of quiet. “I’m sorry.  I wasn’t being a cock tease back there.”

The crude words startled Jon out of his seducing thoughts and he snapped his head around to look at her.  It was so out of character for Rachel to use such raunchy talk outside of bed that he actually snorted in laughter. 

Sometimes seduction is nothing more than enjoying each other.  And there was no one he enjoyed like Rachel – in or out of bed. 

He couldn’t resist throwing his arm around her shoulders as they walked and crooked his elbow at her neck.  “Aww, honey…. Even after all we’ve been through, you still entertain the hell out of me.”

It took a hesitant moment, but she eventually chuckled and let her arm curl loosely around his waist, almost leaning into him as they matched their gaits.  

Comfortable silence reigned as they walked that way until they got to the front porch of Rachel’s home.  She was comfortable and relaxed again.  It was time to go for the hard sell.

When she tried to pull her arm away from his waist to retrieve the front door key, Jon held it firm and traced his hand down from her elbow to palm.  Snaking his fingers through hers, he twirled her around and pulled her flush against him. 

Feeling her familiar touch as they had strolled the short distance...Well, when she moved away from him to open the door, it had made him crave her all the more.  She wasn’t going to walk through that door alone without him having one more taste – without getting one more taste of what they were.  Of what they could be.

It was supposed to be just a taste when he bent to brush his lips against hers, but somehow it lingered...  and deepened – into a torrid, scorching make out session that any teenager would’ve been envious of.  Hands were tangled in hair and clothes, lips were throbbing from the ferocity of the passion and relief gave Jon a hard-on that wouldn’t quit. 

This was his Rachel. 

A guttural, feminine moan that was sweeter than honey found his ears a split second before he realized she had broken the kiss.

Blood was rushing loudly through his veins, screaming in denial as he stared down at her through a gaze of lust.  Her left hand, which had dipped into the waist of his jeans, came up to his chest to meet the right hand that had been burrowed under the opening of his shirt.  Her touch was soft, but when he tried to lean close again, she put pressure against his sternum to keep him at bay.

Dammit!

Her breathing was as shallow as his and her eyes were dilated under the incandescent glow of the porch light.  A blind child could see that she wanted him, but it didn’t stop her from saying,  “It’s probably not a good idea for you to come in and get your stuff tonight.  This is gonna get out of hand and we’ll regret it in the morning.”

“I won’t.”  He was confident of his earlier assessment that she had never regretted anything they did.  This would be no different once she let herself go.  She just had to let herself go.

C’mon, Rachel. 

“Maybe you won’t regret it, but I will.  There’s nothing to be gained from this but more heartache, and I just can’t.”

Like a shadow in the night, she slipped inside the door with nothing more than a murmured goodnight.  The quiet click of a deadbolt left him alone on her front porch, torn between anger, disappointment and resignation.  It was all he could do not to kick the door with frustration, but his pride wouldn’t allow it.

Don’t be a pussy, Bongiovi.  Walk away knowing that your dignity is still intact. If she doesn’t want to be in your bed, you know plenty of women who do.