Thank you to Robstenfanpire for being my beta on this story. I am ever grateful for her input and advice and for helping me to get it into a presentable shape.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters in Twilight. I'm just borrowing them to have some fun.

Chapter 4 – Midnight Swimming

I look out over the LA city lights, glittering like a thousand jewels. The view from the master bedroom's balcony is spectacular, but then again, everything about this mysterious stranger's house, and indeed him, is spectacular. I feel his strong arms wrap around me from behind and I feel safe. He makes me feel safe. Which is strange, considering I've only known him for a few short hours. Hell, I still didn't even know his name. But it doesn't matter, he's my CM, my Cocktail Man.

I look down into the courtyard below us, taking in the rich vegetation and the smell of Jasmine as a cooling breeze carries the fragrance up to us. In the middle of the courtyard is a large pool, with a hot tub set into one of the corners. It is shaped like a kidney bean, the edge decorated with a Greek looking mosaic pattern and under the water line the tiles appear to be a mixture of blues and greens. Around it are dotted sun loungers, sporting stripped cushions again in green and blue, and several potted plants. It looks very inviting.

My host notices where my eyes have wandered, "We could take a dip if you wanted," he suggests.

"I don't have a swimsuit." I respond.

"We don't need to wear them. The garden is very secluded and not overlooked at all. No one would see us." CM suggests.

"We'd see us." I close my eyes. The idea of seeing more of his body briefly tempts me, but there is no way I'm letting this perfect specimen of manhood see my flabby untoned figure.

"Ok, a compromise. I'll lend you a t-shirt to wear. I'll strip to my boxers." He offers.

"But don't you have a swim trunks?"

"But where's the fun in that?" His eyes crinkle as he gives me a playful smirk.

I shake my head and let him take me by the hand, leading me back through the house and out to the garden.

The house we wander through is amazing. I'd been completely in awe as we'd approached it earlier that evening. It is within a gated community and the driver had to show his ID to the security guard before being allowed entry. As we approached the façade, I'd taken in its grandeur and size. The front was painted a brilliant white, accented by a black trellis around the eaves and black railings in front the balconies. Across the trellis, I could make out some sort of trailing vine that wove its way across the house and down the front, softening what could have otherwise been a stark exterior.

The path to the ornate front door, which was also covered by the black metal trellis, was slightly overgrown with large bushes of vibrant pink flowers. As he unlocked and opened the door, I took in the impressive entrance hall. It stretched up to the upper floor and matched the black and white color scheme of the front of the house. The floor was tiled and dotted with potted plants that, just like the vines outside, stopped the house from looking sterile and cold.

I'd been given a quick tour of downstairs, taking in a large lounge area, a huge modern kitchen that opened out into a big dining and family area, before being swept past rooms that I was told held a study, music room and TV room. He then pulled me excitedly upstairs, telling me he wanted to show me something.

I'd followed apprehensively. Is this when I find out I've been brought back to be his sex slave? Okay, maybe I'd been reading too much recently!

As he opened a door at the end of the upstairs hallway, I held my breath. But instead of torture implements, I saw a fairly ordinary master bedroom. I say ordinary and it was, in that it held a nicely dressed bed, a chest of draws and a TV on the wall, just like my bedroom back home. But that is where the similarity ended. This room was at least twice the size of my room, as was the TV. The carpet under my feet was thick and plush. The furnishings looked like they came from the ideal home magazine. I noticed three doors along one wall, that I guessed lead to his and her closets and a private bathroom.

So was this what he was so excited to show me? His bedroom? It was nice, but I couldn't see what was so special, unless it was what he planned to do to me here. I found the thought of him throwing me onto the bed and taking me both terrifying and strangely thrilling. But I didn't have time to linger on those thoughts long before I was pulled across the room, to the large glass doors that allowed us access to a long balcony, that stretched the length of the back of the house.

"This is what made me move here," He stated simply, allowing me to step out on to the balcony and take in the view. He was right, it was breath taking and deserved his excitement.

…..

I try to take in more of the house as we make our way back down and out to the pool. But it is hard to take in too much detail, as my host has not yet turned on any of the main lights. Everything is being observed in the dim lighting entering the house from the garden, where soft fairy lights and floor level stud lights gave the space a magical feel.

Despite the late hour, the temperature outside was still pleasant.

"So, are you up for it?" He asks with a quirk of his eyebrows, breaking me out of my contemplations.

I bite my lip and just nod. He gives me a cheeky lopsided smile that, despite my reservations and my knowledge, still excites me, making me feel things a married, or recently widowed woman, should not be feeling. I feel my heart speed up and I swallow hard to push down the inappropriate feelings.

I then watch, with eyes like saucers, as he proceeds to first remove his t-shirt and then his shoes, socks and pants. Leaving him standing in front of me in just his boxer shorts. All the while his eyes do not leave mine and I find myself once again mesmerized, captured by his penetrating stare as I fail miserably to not let my mind leap to the all the things I could do to his body.

As he stands up, I can't resist looking him over. I first take in his well-toned, but not overly muscular chest, with just a slight dusting of curly hair. My eyes wandered down, over his stomach, that shows the faint outline of a six pack in the dim light. He is slender, and well proportioned. My eyes continue down, to rest on the snug boxer briefs he's wearing, where I can just make out the outline of his manhood, and it looks like it wouldn't disappoint. My mouth goes dry, as my mind once again goes to places I know it shouldn't. At the sight of him, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to suppress my inappropriate feelings.

Then I realized I've stood there for several minutes, obviously just checking him out, in particular I've been obviously checking out his package. My eyes quickly shoot up to his face, as a blush spreads rapidly through my cheeks and I let out a small gasp of embarrassment.

"I..I'm sorry." I stutter at him, dying inside of humiliation. He just smirks back at me.

"Your turn." He states simply.

I blink at him, suddenly pulled out of my musings. Did he expect me to get naked now? In front of him. Not going to happen. I know this is double standards, and he's shown me his, so I suppose it would be only fair I show him mine etc. etc. But sorry, no. Beside, his is worth showing off. He has a body most women would drool over at the drop of a hat, or a towel, as I'd probably just demonstrated, whilst I have a body that has certainly seen better days.

I'm not sure what emotions are crossing my face, but he obviously finds them amusing and gives a small chuckle, before handing me the tee shirt he'd been wearing and turning around so his back is to me.

"Don't worry, I'll give you some privacy." His voice sounds playful and I'm relieved he isn't going to make a big deal out of my ogling, or my obvious fear of him seeing me change.

I let out a sigh of relief and quickly strip off my dress and throw on the tee shirt, allowing it to fall around my thighs. As I pull it over my head, I get a lungful of his scent. I'd taken it in earlier, on the beach, as I'd nestled into his side, but now it is all consuming. It is a fresh out-doors smell, like woods with a hint of cinnamon and leather, and it is pure man. It is him. I find myself feeling a little light headed, as I breath him in deeply, finding the smell to be comforting and arousing all at once.

"Ready?" He asks after a moment, as I adjusted the hem of the shirt, wondering if it shows too much of my legs. The shirt is too big for me so it falls loosely over my body, which I am grateful for. But the large size also means it hangs off one of my shoulders no matter how I much I adjust it. I've left my bra and underpants on. After all, I'm not risking the shirt riding up in the pool.

"Yep," I reply, taking a deep breath as he turns round.

"It suits you," he says as he looks me up and down, much like I had him, and as his eyes meet mine there seems to be something in their depths, something that again speaks to my core and pulls me in, making me feel things I should not be feeling.

He lets out a slow breath between his lips, before taking my hand and leading me towards the steps into the pool.

The water is lovely, just the right temperature to relax my tired muscles and I enjoy gently floating and swimming around. Cocktail Man is never far from my side and I enjoy the feel of him taking my hand, or wrapping an arm around me and drawing me close to his side. A couple times, I catch him watching me, with a strange look in his eye that I just can't quite read.

Before long we find ourselves sitting back in the hot tub, relaxing as the bubbles swirl around us. His arm lies along the edge of the pools top, his long elegant fingers gently playing with my hair. The feel was so relaxing, I find my eyes closing.

"Do you wish you had a closer relationship with your family?" We've been silent for a while, just enjoying the feel of the water and his question takes me by surprise.

"Sometimes," I shrug, keeping my eyes closed, as I feel the relaxing bubbles sooth my tired muscles, "but it's always been this way, you just learn to accept that's the way things are. Take my dad, Charlie, we didn't live together much growing up and when we did it was difficult. I suppose I didn't help much. I tended to keep myself, getting lost in books. I still do."

"Even though I'm living near my dad now, I find I'm struggling to get close to him," I finish sadly.

"Why do you think that is?" CM asks.

I ponder for a moment, allowing my head to fall back against his arm. I'm half asleep as I answer.

"I'd like to be closer to him. Perhaps I'm scared he'll be gone again, eventually people always go. I guess I'm not really letting him in. In fact, since I lost Jake, I think I've struggled to let anyone in. Not my family or my friends."

"You seem to be letting me in." He states gently.

I turn to look at him through heavy eyes. "You broke down my defenses with alcohol and sleep deprivation. You didn't play fair."

"You're right, Beautiful." He smiles gently. "But I think it's time to let you get some rest. Come on, let me get you dried and changed."

He once again takes my hand and I reluctantly allow him to lead me from the water, towards a part of the house that juts out from the side of the main building. As we walk, the cool night breeze hits my wet body and I start to shiver. Noticing, he hurries me along and into a warm sunroom, with more loungers looking out through large windows towards the pool. I am soon wrapped in a lovely big fluffy towel, that envelopes me like a cocoon. Barely awake at this point, I allow him to rub the towel over my body to dry me.

"We'll soon get you warmed up, but first we have to get you out of these wet clothes," he say, removing the towel and reaching to lift up my shirt.

Panic hits me and my eyes open wide as I wake up fully and almost scream at him, "No!"

He looks me right in the eyes, curious and concerned.

"What's wrong, Beautiful?"

His hand reaches out and cups my cheek, brushing his thumb under my eye, trying to ease the panic he no doubt sees there.

"It's ok," he reassures, "there is nothing you can show me that will make me run. I'm not leaving. I'm here for you. You're a beautiful person, inside and out, and you don't have to hide from me."

"But...," I start, but I don't know how to continue.

He looks at me questioningly, "Tell me."

How can I put into words my feelings about this god like person seeing my less than perfect body?

"You're so beautiful," I start and it makes him smile, "and so young. You must be at least ten years younger than me. How old are you anyway?"

He chuckles, "I'm twenty-seven, so I very much doubt I'm ten years younger than you. You can't be more than thirty-five."

"I'm thirty-eight and flattery will not get me out of this tee shirt." He laughs again, before narrowing his eyes and fixing me in his gaze.

"I wasn't flattering you. You look younger than your years. Now, what will get you out of that tee shirt then?"

I shake my head at the pure audacity of the man. This is where I draw the line.

"Sorry, but it's not happening, CM."

"CM?" He raises his eyebrow in question.

"Cocktail Man." I explain with a small shrug.

"So that's what you call me?" He says as his face breaks into his now familiar, sexy lopsided grin. A grin that makes me want to rip his boxer shorts off... with my teeth!

"I think I like it. So explain to me why this shirts not coming off?" He adds, refusing to be distracted.

I take a deep breath and try to explain, "I don't have a body like the girls I've seen on the beach here. I'm old, overweight and I've had three children. Have you ever seen the body of a fat middle aged mother?" I ask, allowing a tear to fall. "They don't usually put our bodies in movies or magazines, and we're not quick to show them off on the beach either."

In reply he leans forward and kisses my cheek, right over an escaped tear. It is so gentle and reverent, that I find my eyes closing and I lean into his hand that continues to cup my cheek. He stays close to me, as he plants more small gentle kisses over my cheeks and temples and then he starts to whisper to me.

"So you're not twenty-one anymore, so you aren't a stick thin model, so what. Who said we... who said I, was interested in that? I love that you have feminine curves and the softness in your figure. Of course your body is going to show evidence of the fact you've birth three children; that is not something to be ashamed of. I want you to feel proud of this body. It's part of you and there is nothing wrong with it. As I said, you are beautiful, both inside and out, and I what you to see that. This body is yours and I don't want you to feel embarrassed or ashamed of it, especially not in front of me. It…you… are beautiful."

As he finishes these words he stops his gentle kisses and raises his eyes to mine, I realize he has again taken hold of the hem of my shirt.

"May I?" He asks gently again.

As I look into his eyes, I find once more the only reply I can give is a simple nod. How is this man getting me to do these things? His words, combined with his hypnotic gaze are just cutting though all my defenses, leaving me wide open to him. In that moment, I truly believe that I would do anything for this man.

At my approval, he lifts up the shirt, pulling it over my head, leaving me stood in front of him in just my bra and panties. He is still looking me straight in the eye, and nothing else in the world exists in that moment.

His gaze doesn't falter, as he sits back on a sun lounger and pulls me forward, between his legs. His head is now level with stomach and, still staring up at me, he leans forward and plants a gentle kiss just above my belly button. I draw in a deep breath and close my eyes, as I feel his large hands stretch lightly across my belly. They move across the curves of my stomach and hips, his long fingers trace over the lines of my stretch marks. Then I feel him kiss each one reverently. As he does so, he whispers words about how I should not be ashamed, about my stretch marks being battle scars, evidence of womanhood and my sacrifice for my children. How the roundness of my body, the softness, was to be welcomed. It was a sign; I enjoyed my life and have wonderful curves that show I'm a real woman. My eyes remain closed, as I let his words and the feel of his hands and his mouth on my body envelop me. It's not sexual, but it is very sensual.

Eventually, I feel him rise to his feet, but I leave my eyes closed.

"Beautiful," he whispers.

I feel his hands brush gently up my sides, coming to rest on my shoulders.

"So beautiful," he repeats in a hushed voice and I open my eyes to see his penetrating stare. I can see no hint of a lie in his expression. "Never believe you're not beautiful," and in that moment I believe him.

A/N It was ready and I was impatient so I decide to post on Tuesday again. Thank you to everyone who is reading this story.