Jasmine. Satin sheets. A warm body. The soft glow of daylight seeping into the bedroom.

Eric woke up to these greeting his senses, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. But the jasmine reminded him, comforted him; it was a scent he would forever associate with the beautiful blonde asleep next to him.

Stretching out slightly, his bare legs brushed against hers, her skin soft and smooth against his masculine, weathered legs. He curled his arm around her further, pulling her back against his chest once again. The skin-to-skin sensation sent a certain warmth throughout his body and he smiled in his still half-asleep state.

Finally, his eyes fluttered open, taking in the perfect sight of pale, creamy skin not quite completely covered by red satin sheets. He was just behind her and he had the perfect view, his head nestled in the back crook of her neck. Her beautiful milky skin disappeared beneath strategically draped sheets, his eyes only privy to the beginning swell of her breasts because of his vantage point. He lowered his lips to her shoulder, pressing a gentle kiss there, completely mesmerized by the look and feel of her in his arms.

He had yet to find something that Calleigh didn't appear graceful doing. As she slept, her golden hair flowed all around her. Her arms were tucked under her red satin-encased pillows, her mouth closed but her lips pursed just slightly. Lifting his head, he took in the way her back sloped perfectly, curves emphasized. He knew there was no way he could disrupt her, but he was tempted to trail a finger delicately down her side and let his palm press into her hip, to feel her warm milky skin beneath his hand. God, he loved her skin. He had told her that about a hundred times last night as his hands and lips had explored every inch of her perfect body for the very first time. She was light and he was dark, and he'd quickly become obsessed with the way the opposing natures combined when their bodies pressed together.

She had only just begun their "traditional American dinner" and poured two glasses of red wine, but he already couldn't take his eyes off her. He had spent a lot of time in her home lately, nursing her back to health as her lungs healed, but tonight was different. They had taken things very slowly, sharing several kisses, but he refused to push it until her breathing returned to normal. Now, though, she was back to running, back to work…

He watched her press the wine glass to her lips absent mindedly as she stirred a marinade for chicken that smelled absolutely amazing. Feeling the heat of his gaze, she looked over at him and froze in place, lips resting open against the glass. Her brow rose at the smirk on his lips, a light hint of pink she'd never own up to coloring her cheeks at the way he was watching her.

"So…" he began, turning to lean his back against the counter. "Feeling okay?"

"Yeah, all back to normal."

"The doctor cleared you for cardio and everything?" he asked, the grin on his lips confirming that she did indeed know where this was going.

"Mmhmm…"

"And running's been going well?" His hand slid across the slick counter as he crept closer to her. He placed a hand on her lower back then slid it around to her hip, his touch leaving her skin burning in its wake.

"Uh huh," she let out, laughing softly. "I feel very…energized."

"That's good," he uttered, his voice a whisper now as his fingers found the edge of her black sweater. He peeled it back, down over her shoulder, revealing beautiful, creamy, perfect skin. "You need your energy," he teased, his voice low and breathy and right at her ear. His fingertips skimmed the skin at the top of her chest, tracing the outside edge of her black tank top. "I love your skin…" Slowly, he drew his fingers up to her shoulder and then down her back, close to her arm.

"Eric…" she warned, her senses heightened. If he kept this up, dinner would never be ready.

His hand moved just slightly and his fingers curved around her upper arm, holding her gently as he swept her hair away from her shoulder. He trailed his hand down her side to cup her hip, palm then coasting across her belly and resting low on her abdomen. As his lips graced her shoulder, ghosting her skin but somehow firm, a shiver erupted throughout her body.

She knew he felt it by the way his hand pressed into her body more, the way his kisses on her skin became a little more insistent.

"Eric," she murmured again, this time completely gone. She released the spoon, giving up on food, and lay her hand over his low on her stomach. Her fingers spread, filling the spaces between his.

His lips jumped the fabric of her tank and skirted up her neck. Soon he was up by her ear and his tongue warmed her skin at that spot behind her lobe. The one he didn't know about yet. Another shiver.

This time Eric chuckled lightly and his warm breath tickled her ear.

"Not funny," she whispered, her voice impressively breathy for only the lightest of touches.

"No," he agreed, collecting her hair in his hand and draping it over her opposite shoulder. "Amusing though," he mumbled as his fingers traipsed over the base of her neck. He lowered his lips there next, trailing another round of kisses across her neck, back up to behind her ear. He paused at the same spot, applying a bit more pressure this time, and enjoyed the deeper shiver that coursed through her body this time.

"I have lots of guns," Calleigh told him, and it would've been a threat had her voice not been breathy, her eyes not been closed.

"I know you do." He sounded smug, too smug, as he peeled her sweater off her other shoulder and removed it from her body. He returned his hand to its previous spot low on her stomach, this time dipping it beneath the fabric of her top to feel her skin.

"You don't know where they all are," she replied with a smugness of her own, her lips curving into a coy smile as she turned toward him.

"Hmm, that's a good point." He nodded once, his hands leaving her skin. "Maybe I should get out of here while I still can…" He turned, playfully beginning to walk out of the kitchen, but her hand on his wrist stopped him. She pulled him back to her with a force that surprised him.

"Don't you dare," she ordered as her lips crashed into his. Hands immediately finding her hips, he drew her closer and his thumbs smoothed across her abdomen.

And that was all it took. The slow, teasing nature of the night was over. The fuse was lit with a few simple touches, kisses, and words. Who knew a few caresses and kisses could rile Calleigh Duquesne?

But it was more than that. It was the culmination of the inevitable. Eight long years of pent-up sexual tension exploded in her kitchen. They barely made it to the bedroom before his hands were on her bare body, all joking forgotten as his lips and fingers heated up her skin. Their bodies had collided, tangling together as they pitched one another over the edge and then lay, trembling and spent, foreheads together, hearts pounding.

They hadn't really taken their time, he recalled with a smile. He'd planned on it, especially after his patient, careful teasing had revealed a weak spot. He'd wanted to go slow, using his hands on her and then his lips, but everything had gotten so intense so soon. There were too many years of tension between them, years of intimate flirting, teasing banter and stolen glances.

And now, after all of that, waking up to her was like dreaming.

Unable to resist any longer, he positioned his fingertips at the top of her side, just under her arm, and drew an invisible line down her side. He was barely touching her, his fingertips ghosting down her skin. Moving closer, he watched her face for the faintest trace of her being awake. He increased the pressure just slightly as he trailed his fingertips back up her side from her hip and her eyelashes fluttered.

Calleigh made some indiscernible sound and then muttered, "That tickles." She smiled and it was contagious, a wide grin spreading across his lips.

"You weren't ticklish last night," he murmured, lips now against her skin as he placed a sweet kiss on her shoulder. She only laughed, a pink blush rushing to her cheeks. "Sorry I woke you…"

"Don't be," she insisted softly, turning in his arms so that their eyes met for the first time that morning. She was gorgeous, her skin fair and creamy, her blonde hair tousled only slightly, and her eyes almost blue in the glow of morning light. She settled back into the pillows, on her back now while he remained on his side, and whispered, "I like waking up to you."

She had never found him more attractive. He looked almost boyish for a moment, fresh from sleep, tangled in blankets, eyes alight with excitement at the prospect of her being awake. Lifting a hand, she traced the muscles in his forearm, working her way up to his shoulder. Her eyes followed her hand, taking in his light caramel skin and then meeting his eyes again. His brown eyes were deep, imploring, and he had the perfect amount of rough stubble littering his chin and jawline. She brushed her knuckles down the side of his face and he turned against her hand, kissing her fingers lightly.

"Last night was…" She trailed off and never picked up, unable to find a word that encompassed everything she'd felt the night before.

"It was like a dream," he finished for her, stealing her words from the hospital.

Calleigh smiled softly, remembering his response. How could she forget? "It was real," she echoed.

His smile matched hers, their eyes still locked and revealing feelings that couldn't yet be voiced. He threaded his fingers through her hair and lowered his lips to hers, their mouths engaging in a lazy, early morning press, glide, and release. But soon her hands had wandered to his toned chest and one of his was currently coasting across her bare abdomen.

He released her lips and skated his hand up over her belly button, over her ribs, and between her breasts. Tracing her collarbone softly, he whispered, "I want to go slow this time."

"We went slow last night," she uttered devilishly, fingers trailing to his hip for emphasis. "…For a minute."

Eric chuckled lightly, removing her hand from his hip and kissing her palm. "Not what I meant." Gently holding her wrist, he moved their arms above her head, resting them on the pillow. "I want to take my time with you," he whispered, fingers weaving with hers as their palms kissed. "I want to make you feel good."

She smiled appreciatively and soon his lips were on hers, both of them much more awake this time. By the time they were both running low on oxygen he'd moved his kisses to her jaw and finally to her neck. She was already lost in the sensation of his lips on her skin and as he reached just below her ear she arched her back, her hand pressing into his lower back to bring his hips closer to hers.

Discreetly, he moved her other hand from his body, stretching it up over her head, and before she knew it both her wrists were being held gently captive in one grasp. He grinned against her lips and she let out a tiny whimper in protest. With one hand free to roam, he skirted his fingers down her side as his lips went just slightly southward.

"Eric," she let out, and it was supposed to be a firm yet playful warning, but her breath caught in her throat. "I have a .22 in that drawer," she told him, nodding towards the bedside table on the right.

"That's…hot," he replied, and she tossed her head back as he brushed his knuckles low on her abdomen. "My kind of girl." He continued on with what could only be described as the most pleasurable torture she'd ever experienced. Slow, delicate torture.

She moved her hands, wanting, needing to feel his skin beneath her fingertips, to drive him over the edge, too. He pressed down slightly harder, keeping her pinned, and she murmured, "And a 9 mil in that one." She nodded to the left now, and he chuckled against the skin of her stomach.

"That's even hotter," he whispered against her skin, peppering kisses just over her belly button.

"Eric?" He lifted his eyes to hers. "You can take your time," she told him, the trust implicit. Her eyes held the same understanding they'd had when she read his file, and that day in the hospital. "I want to touch you though," she admitted shyly, and he released her hands. Her palm and fingertips glided over his shoulder, to the back of his head, and relished in the rough yet soft feel of his buzzed hair against her fingers. He kissed her forehead lovingly.

"It still feels like a dream," she whispered as he brought his lips back to hers.

"I know," he mumbled against her lips, then resting his forehead against hers.

"I don't want to wake up." Her fingertips grazed the base of his neck as light green met chocolate brown, their eyes speaking volumes.

"You don't have to… It's real," he reminded her, brushing his lips against hers once more. He kissed a path down to her neck, resuming his teasing exploration of her body.

Pleasurable torture, for sure. Slow, delicate torture.