Sookie gaped at the empty doorway with a mix of shock and indignation, trying to catch her breath as she sobered up.

How could he—How could I have—Why didn't I—That smug little—Ah, crap.

She sighed and stared up at the ceiling. So now she was obligated to stay with him for three nights.

She grudgingly tried to make peace with her circumstances. It was safer this way, and it wouldn't be so bad to take a little time off work and not have any obligations.

Right. Except of course whatever Eric foists on me, be it business or…

So be it. She could say no at anytime, to any advances. She would have some modicum of dignity. And a door with a lock.

What, like that's going to deter him?

A shift in the cool air of the room chilled her sweat-slicked skin and she rolled off the bed to begin getting dressed. She dug in the drawer for her ratty jeans and pulled an old sweatshirt over her head. A weak statement, but at least it communicated that she wasn't some coquette to be seduced.

Selecting a few other casual tops and stuffing them into a duffel bag, she grabbed long flannel pajamas, socks, underwear (plain, white granny panties) and her toothbrush, and went to face her doom with her head held high.

Her doom was lounging in a wingback chair, right ankle resting on left knee, relaxed and satisfied, when she walked into the living room and put her hands on her hips. She scowled at him.

"Fine. You won fair and square, let's go, I'm not going to argue."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Though by 'won' I clearly mean 'forced.' And this isn't going to be a lovers' getaway, by the way. I'll be polite, but I don't have to be nice to you."

"There it is," he said with a wink, rising and taking her bag from her. This little predicament was exactly what he'd been gunning for all along. He'd set her up and now he was ready to knock her down.

"That wasn't arguing; that was laying ground rules," she insisted, following him out. "And I'll be staying in the guest room, which I can lock if I choose. No breaking it down. And no sneaking up on me in the shower or anything either," she groused as she locked her front door behind them and turned for the Corvette.

He was closing the trunk and eyeing her, enjoying the way she moved when she was fired up. She stomped to the car, avoiding his gaze and fixing her glare on the door handle.

In a second, he was right behind her, reaching over her shoulder and opening the passenger door. He didn't wait for her to get in before walking around to his side at a human pace, twirling, tossing and catching his keys.

Once they were both in the car, he addressed her demands. "Sookie, you're a terrible negotiator. What reason would I have to comply with these rules? I've already secured what I want; you have no leverage."

She sighed. "Eric. Will you please. Allow me to lock the door. If I want to."

They were speeding down Highway 71 and he turned to her, smiling devilishly. "You will be my guest. No unwelcome attention will be forced upon you."

Ugh, not an answer. But at least it's something I can hold him to.

He could feel her apprehension through the bond; she was nervous but not repelled. Curious. And then it hit him. She doesn't trust herself around me anymore…how very delicious.

Sookie had her arms crossed over herself and was staring out the window, fuming. Adorably. He almost told her so but decided to let her anger run its course uninterrupted. After all, he had what he came for.

They finished the drive in silence, Eric biding his time and Sookie lost in her thoughts. She was planning to constantly remind herself what made him so insufferable: the arrogance, the amorality, the selfishness, she could go on.

She didn't hate him. In fact there were times she started to really like him, but he would invariably invalidate any kindness with some obnoxious comment or gesture.

Truly, that was the worst part: forgetting what a jerk he was for a moment, only to be reminded in the next. And that was who Eric was. A magnificent bastard is still a bastard. She couldn't just keep having sex with the good parts.

Since he didn't slow down as he turned onto more residential streets the way most drivers would automatically, she wasn't shaken from her inner pep talk until they were pulling into the driveway.

She'd always been curious about what Eric's house would look like. It was a modest one-story house, grey and white. It was much newer than the surrounding houses, but a little smaller. This looked like an older, historic neighborhood, with big trees in the yards and canopying over the street. She guessed (correctly) that most of his neighbors were probably over fifty. It wouldn't be a neighborhood that got much traffic or activity.

When the car was parked in the immaculate garage, she opened her door and turned for the trunk. She didn't want him carrying her bag for her, the gentleman act was too convincing, and it messed with her judgment. He grabbed her wrist before she could step out of the car and pulled her gently back in.

"This doesn't have to be unpleasant, lover. I know it is not your ideal solution, but what I am doing is in your best interests. You needn't be cold to prove anything; I'm not the enemy."

"I'm here against my will," she said quietly, not pulling her wrist back. She would never have admitted it, but it felt good to have him holding her wrist so tight.

"Do you know how exceptional it is for a vampire to bring a human to his primary resting place?" he mused, unmoved, "It is unheard of." The tone implied he was a little surprised himself.

He pulled her wrist farther across his body, bringing her closer. He was going to kiss her. It registered but she didn't pull away, just braced herself for the inevitable.

And then he didn't. He felt her acquiescence through the bond and that was enough.

He stopped at the crook of her elbow and bowed his head to run his nose over the pulse point, teasing both her and himself. The confined space of the car made the scent of her blood (and desire) especially potent and he licked lightly along her soft skin, finishing with a kiss that sent a stab of want between her legs and she made a very tiny gasping noise.

He lifted his head and leaned toward her so that he barely had to whisper. "You're not even mad at me, Sookie. Not really. You're mad at yourself. But don't be, I'm irresistible," he teased, smiling against her cheek. He kissed the side of her face softly and in a split-second he was out of the car, door closed, getting her bag from the trunk.

She rolled her eyes and got out. He had closed the garage and was holding the door to the house open for her.

She stepped into a small laundry room that led into the kitchen, which opened up into the living room; everything was white and modern and impossibly clean. She knew immediately that he didn't live in this part of the house—it was for show. It had all the right furniture and appliances, but it was too pristine, and there weren't any photos on the walls, just art. It felt sort of like a hotel suite.

"You don't live here."

"No, I don't," he said simply instead of being coy. He took her by the hand and led her farther back into the house, through the living room and toward what looked like a linen closet. "But you're welcome to spend time in this part of the house during the day."

He opened the closet door to a set of descending stairs, which she was by now expecting, and gestured for her to enter first.

This lower level was so completely different from the upper house; like stepping into another world.

This world had dark paneling and soft lighting, and the aesthetic was decidedly more old world. The linen closet stairs led into the main room, which was on the large side with high ceilings, the floors were dark African Walnut and the wraparound couch was deep crimson. One wall had a large television, laid flush, and the other walls held large inlaid bookcases with hundreds of books.

There was some space in front of the stairs but beyond that was a baby grand piano. That was a surprise.

"You play?"

"I do."

"What other instruments do you play?"

But he only laughed.

The back of the living room, behind her, held a long, heavy wood table, though she couldn't see what he'd need one for. It wasn't until she saw all the hallways leading out of the room that she realized this second, underground house stretched out much farther than the one above.

"Does all this go under one of your neighbor's houses too?"

"Both neighbors actually."

He pointed, "That hallway there leads back to the master bedroom," he said with a suggestive smirk, "there are two additional bedrooms that way, and back here," he turned her with a hand on the small of her back, "the laundry, powder room, and my study. You'll also find bathrooms in each of the bedrooms. You'll love the jacuzzi in the master bath..."

"I'll never see it, I'm sure," she tossed back, actually smiling a little. "What's that door?"

"The library," he answered gamely. He was enjoying watching her try to figure him out.

"The whole living room is a library."

He shrugged. "Perhaps so."

"Why the table? You don't eat."

"Sure I do," he said cryptically before setting her duffel on the table and taking her small hand in his. "Come, I want to show you one more thing."

He threaded his fingers in hers and pulled her past the powder and laundry rooms and through the back hallway. Holding his hand was new but felt very good. His long fingers fit well between hers.

They came to a door of opaque glass; there was light behind it. He turned to smile at her before opening it with a flourish.

She gasped and brought her hand to her mouth; she'd never expected this.

It was an indoor pool surrounded by white columns and lit with artificial evening light that glowed softly. She couldn't keep a "wow" from escaping under her breath.

"You like it?"

"This is amazing Eric, I would never have guessed..." He stepped behind her and wrapped both of their hands around her waist, pulling her into him. With his free hand he swept her hair over her shoulder and planted a brief kiss on the crook of her neck.

"My home is open to you during daylight hours. You may swim, read, watch television, 'snoop,' as I've heard it called, you may do as you wish."

"Like leave?"

"You may do whatever you like. You should know I can find you, and if you are not here when I rise, I certainly will. It's heated by the way."

"Thanks for offering, but I didn't bring a swimsuit and I wouldn't snoop in your private stuff," she said, distancing herself in both senses and unwinding their hands.

"A pool does not necessitate clothes," he informed her.

"Eric!"

He sauntered away from her nonchalantly, tucking his hands in his pockets. "What? Afraid I'll walk in on you? During the day?" he called back.

She shot him a wry smile, supposing he did have a point. And in any case it was only three days. From the look of the place it would be like a mini vacation. The thought made her realize just how tired she was from the long day. She blinked her eyes slowly and let them rest for a second.

When she opened them, he was walking toward her, unhurried. Her eyes swept over the room, this time picking up on the waterfall in the corner and the play of the light on the ceiling. This room felt surreal. He stopped beside her and de-pocketed one hand to place on the back of her neck, massaging just slightly.

In a gesture borne of fatigue and the effect it had on her vigilance, she tilted her forehead to lean on his chest and closed her eyes.

Never one to miss an opportunity, he scooped her up slowly and carried her back through the house. When they came to the first of the guest bedrooms, he shifted her in his arms, gracefully opened the door and set her on the bed. The relief of being off her feet washed over her and she stretched back onto the down comforter.

The lights were off in the bedroom and her curiosity about the rest of the house would wait until morning. All she knew was this bed was huge and it was comfortable. He disappeared to collect her bag and she pulled off her shoes from her horizontal position, letting them fall to the floor.

When he returned she was under the covers. He set her things on a chair and moved to sit on the edge of her bed. He reached under the sheets and pulled her sweatshirt up over her head, then unclasped her bra (in under half a second) and pulled it out from under the bedding as well.

She didn't tense up or argue; she was sleepy and it felt nice to be taken care of.

"Thanks..." she murmured and then yawned.

His hands slid back under the covers to sweep over her stomach and up to her breasts. It felt good, and intimate in a new way. She wanted to lie there lazily and let him touch her. She didn't want to move. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice of warning popped up, but she brushed it away.

His hands drifted over her skin and down to her jeans, which were next to disappear. Now that she was almost naked under the sheets, she realized how plush they were; it was like being wrapped in a cloud. A cloud with hands that were stroking up and down her body.

Just as she started to feel her desire build enough to lure her from sleep, he brought his hands up out of the covers to her face and into her hair. Though she couldn't see, she felt his body very close. He kissed her, pulling her bottom lip ever so slightly into his mouth, and then he was gone and the door was closing behind him.

****

Sookie woke up disoriented. She'd been sleeping hard and it was pitch black, so that she had to squint to check her cell phone on the nightstand for the time. It was past one o'clock in the afternoon.

Using the phone's small light, she reached for the door to find that he'd left some dim lamps on for her in the hallway and main room. See shrugged off the momentary self-consciousness of being in her underwear; he was dead for the day and wouldn't be up for hours.

Turning on the lights in the main room, she took a second look around. Still here. Not a dream.

When she got back to the guest room she flicked the lamp on to see that it was a comfortable but sparse room of all dark wood and billowing white bedding. There was a mirrored wardrobe, which she didn't bother looking in, a nightstand and a simple dark wood chair.

She made her bed and dressed in her old jeans and a long-sleeved tight white t-shirt. Her stomach growled and she hoped he had something edible in this house; she wasn't entirely comfortable taking his car.

Why not? He was perfectly comfortable taking you!

She climbed the stairs and stepped out of the linen closet on the first floor, giggling a little to herself. Crawling out of the little secret passageway felt sorta fun, like she was returning from Narnia or something.

This was Eric's only kitchen, so if there was any chance of finding people food, this was it.

Her forage in the cabinets proved surprisingly fruitful. There were eggs, bacon, cheese and cold cuts in the refrigerator, fruit in a bowl on the counter and bread in the pantry along with a few different snacks.

He must have done all this after I fell asleep. Huh.

He'd also stocked a cake plate on the table with pastries and left a note.

_______________

Good Morning Sleeping Beauty,

Make yourself at home. I'll see you after sunset, don't wander too far...

E

_________________

In no rush (this is vacation after all, right?), she made herself a big breakfast and took her time enjoying every bite. After she cleaned up, she looked around the upper house a bit. It had one small bedroom, the rather open living room, standard bathroom, kitchen and breakfast nook, and of course the laundry room. Everything was white, and everything was clean. The one surprise was the back porch, which was wide and whitewashed and had a swing on one end.

Next she explored the real house, which took much longer. Eric was orderly and the place was tidy, but not unlived-in like the upper part. Brushing her hand over the piano keys as she walked by, she tried to picture him playing and couldn't. She looked around and opened drawers (the bathroom cabinets were all stocked, go figure).

The study felt a little more private, more quintessentially Eric. It was the messiest part of the house, with a few stacks of paper shuffled around the desk, which she took care not to read. She did allow herself a quick once-over of the room...Oh, all right, and maybe a quick peek in the top drawer.

Inside, something out-of-place and more than a little familiar caught her eye. The thin cotton panties she'd been wearing in Dallas. Ass. Not that she was surprised. She debated pocketing them, but didn't want to imply that she'd been nosing around where she shouldn't be. It annoyed her that he had them, but she left it alone.

Then she came to the master bedroom. Was he really in there, dead and completely unprotected? For some reason she felt giddy at the prospect of seeing him so vulnerable.

No.

To distract herself, she took to the library, paging through old classics and a few unexpected finds, like anatomy books and an extensive collection of maps. There were several erotica titles, also mostly classics, and more than a few historical biographies.

When she was through, she put everything away and headed for the main room again. Her eye wandered back to his bedroom door as she walked past it. Maybe she could just open it a tiny crack—just to see how he rested. No, no, no.

Instead she directed her attention to the television, folding her legs under herself and settling into the lush couch. She tried clicking through the channels as a diversion. But even though he had literally hundreds and hundreds of options, her mind kept returning to the master bedroom.

When would she ever have the chance to see him like this? Without his badass face on and his guard up? She could really look at him. And she could enjoy his beauty with impunity—without feeding his ego and having his smugness mar it.

Almost possessed, she set the remote down on the couch and crept toward the room. Eric's room. Her mind was buzzing but her movements were smooth as she reached the door and turned the knob. I shouldn't be doing this.

But she was, and as the heavy door swung open silently, there he was before her. Her mouth dropped open and her face froze in awe. He was twisted in his sheets as though in a deep sleep and he looked so…paradoxically...angelic. The black sheets covered most of his body, but she could tell that he was probably naked.

The room was dimly lit by a huge chandelier and looked much like the rest of the house in style. His bed was a four-poster and enormous. Her heart was pounding and her stomach was in knots; it felt like he could wake up any minute, though she knew she had at least an hour or so. She went to check her watch but realized she'd never put one on. Her eyes darted to the nightstand searching for an alarm clock but of course, he didn't have one. What need would he have to set an alarm?

Tentatively, she walked toward his bed, turning her head to check out the room in a slow and indirect path to him.

She noticed a heavy armoire near the door, similar to the one in her room, but bigger, a credenza along the wall closest to the bed (which she was curious about), and two nightstands. She also noticed that the room smelled like him plus clean laundry, and breathed it in deeply.

Emboldened by the fact that he was out cold and she had carte blanche, she sat on the bed next to him and combed her fingers softly through his hair. God, he was so beautiful. A pang ran through her gut. It just wasn't fair that this perfect exterior belied a much darker soul.

She ran a finger along his perfect face, his strong jaw line—which was now stippled with scruff—his neck and sculpted shoulders.

Then, she couldn't help herself; she took the sheet by its edge and slowly drew it down, exposing more of him. He was lying mostly on his back with his hips turned to the side and his arms up, one tucked under his head. Each tug of the sheet uncovered another inch of his creamy, well-defined torso. She dropped the soft fabric at the valley of his hip joints, leaning back to drink him in.

Oh, if she could just bend down and tuck her body up against all that smooth, hard flesh, crook her face into his neck, press her lips against him. She had the overwhelming urge to taste him. It wasn't exactly a betrayal, he certainly wouldn't have minded, and no one need know anyway.

She exhaled steadily. Her hand reached out and traced over his ribs—bump, bump, bump...bump...bump. She let her fingernails scrape lightly over his stomach to his navel and grinned at the goosebumps that rose even now.

It was like opening a secret Christmas present...that didn't belong to her. And the best part was that she could explore him without feeding his fat ego. Without him watching and leering and saying something arrogant. She spread her palms across his chest and then downward, feeling the way he was built under his skin, letting her hands learn the landscape of him. She stroked his face and tucked his hair behind his ear, fondling his earlobe and brushing down his neck. He felt firm of course, but his skin was supple, velvety.

Her eyes fell to the bulge just below the edge of the sheet. She shouldn't. What time was it? She needed to get out of here. She touched it just softly through the sheet. He was definitely not wearing underwear. And he was at least partially erect. Get a hold of yourself. Get the hell out of here!

Her nerves steered her toward safety and she took one last look at him and righted his sheet. Soon he'd be awake and smirking. Her hair fell forward as she leaned down to kiss him softly on the cheek. And that's when she should have gotten up to leave and kept this little escapade a secret. That had been the hastily formulated plan.

But no, she just had to risk one last caress of his growing hardness, squeezing just a little and massaging her hand up his shaft. As soon as she'd released him, she felt his hand snap around her wrist, holding it right above his groin.

"Just couldn't wait, could you, lover?"

Oh. Fuck.

TBC