"You going somewhere?"

Olivia watched her reflection intently as she ran the straightener through her hair, ignoring Edison's incredulous tone as he marched into the room. He didn't wait for her reply, continuing through to the walk-in closet. After a few moments, he stuck his head out.

"I would think you'd want to hang around here, seeing as you weren't feeling too well yesterday."

With deliberate accuracy, Olivia curled the end of a piece of hair and gently set the straightener onto the vanity table. She clenched her jaw, loosened it. Edison had been away for nearly twenty-four hours with nary a call or text and now he was giving her grief? The day before she would have whacked him over the head with the sizzling flat iron but after seeing Fitz she was much calmer. That did nothing to abate the amount of attitude she gave as she swung around on the ornamental stool and pursed her lips at him.

"Contrary to popular belief, I don't live solely for taking care of your children. And I'm feeling perfectly fine. So yes, I'm going out with some friends." She was a bit surprised at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue, but much more so at the fact that Edison didn't question her about it.

"Oh, alright then. So you're over whatever that was yesterday? I mean, you're not mad at me anymore?"

Olivia let out a sharp breath through her nose and turned to touch up her make-up in the mirror. "I wouldn't take it that far. I just don't feel like dealing with it tonight. This doesn't mean you're off the hook."

The answer was good enough for Edison, and he disappeared back into the closet, giving Olivia a moment to look at her phone and review the message Fitz had sent her regarding their date. That was what it was going to be, she decided, since he was giving her the reins. They had been texting intermittently throughout the day, when he wasn't in class, and after much deliberating she had told him to just pick the restaurant and he told her to meet him at Oya, an Asian restaurant downtown, at eight. She quickly turned phone over so the screen was facing the table when she heard Edison emerging from the closet, now dressed in his pajamas and carrying a magazine.

Olivia quirked an eyebrow at him in the mirror. "You're staying in? And not working? That's got to be a first."

He shrugged, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch her. "I've been working all day. Even I get breaks."

Surprised at the amount of self-control she possessed, Olivia bit her tongue and rose from the stool, finally satisfied with her appearance. She couldn't remember the last time she had gone all out getting dressed up for something she was looking forward to. Edison had company dinners and clients to impress and she had to get fancy for those, but they were his events, his friends, his colleagues. Olivia usually found herself standing in the corner, nursing glass after glass of wine in an attempt to make the nights semi-bearable, avoiding talking to the other wives. Their idea of stimulating conversation involved the most effective brand of diaper rash cream, the latest sales at Neiman's, and the benefits of Victorian style versus modern décor.

Edison cleared his throat loudly and she halfway turned to look at him, swinging her purse over her shoulder. "That dress is a bit revealing, don't you think Liv?"

Olivia looked down at herself, fingering the hem of the little black dress that skimmed her mid-thigh. "It's not that bad, Edison. Anyway, I better leave now before I'm late. I'll be back later; don't wait up." With that, she turned on the heel of her emerald green pumps and sauntered out of the room, a victorious smile playing at her lips.


If Fitz had any doubts that Olivia was interested in him at that point, they vanished the second he saw her step into the dimly lit restaurant and hand her coat off to the maître d'. The tight black dress she was wearing would have been sexy enough without the see-through lace material that began at the collar and dipped far enough to reveal the tops of her round breasts. Her legs looked miles long and every inch of skin he could see seemed to glow brighter as the hostess led her to the table. When she saw him, her face lit up with a shy smile. Fitz was so busy staring he almost forgot his manners and he rose clumsily, moving around the table to pull her chair out. He noticed that the dress had no back, revealing all of the smooth, creamy skin from her neck to just above where her butt stretched the fabric enticingly.

"Thank you," she said brightly, leaning in to lightly touch her lips to his cheek before taking her seat.

After settling in and ordering their drinks – red wine for her, scotch for him – they faced each other across the candlelit table, goofy smiles highlighting both of their faces.

"You look…wow," Fitz mumbled dumbly, tempting a youthful giggle from her.

"You have such a way with words, Mr. Grant."

"Hey, I don't have to be eloquent. That's your job; you're the writer. I express myself through my art and, from what I've heard, that's pretty hot."

"I guess it's pretty attractive," she admitted playfully. "I bet you look great covered in paint."

Fitz wasn't sure if it was simply wishful thinking, or he was reading too much into it, but he was fairly certain she had just upped the stakes. Her voice dropped to a sultry, purring tone and she gazed up at him through her thick eyelashes. He wanted nothing more than to be cautious and hold himself back but if she continued to watch him so intently, to flutter her hand around her collarbone, to part her lips ever so slightly while she waited for his reply, he was almost positive that any semblance of caution would be thrown out the window before their drinks arrived.

But if she wanted to flirt, then dammit he would too. "Maybe you should come over sometime, see for yourself."

The smile she gave him was unlike anything he had ever seen. Sexy, flirty, a sweet siren song luring him forward. "I just might have to do that. You know, I just realised I've never seen any of your artwork."

"I keep them at home, mostly. In my studio."

"Ooh, how artsy. I bet they're amazing, though. If Professor Been taught you, they have to be."

At that moment, the waiter returned with their drinks and to take their orders for dinner. Fitz, who was familiar with the menu, ordered for both of them after making sure Olivia was alright with that, selecting a large platter of mixed sushi rolls. The waiter nodded curtly, staring at Olivia with a bit too much interest for Fitz's liking, and scurried off to place their order.

"How exactly do you know Cyrus?" he continued once they were alone. "If you were, what, an English major?"

"Double major in Sociology and Comparative Literature, actually," she corrected. "Cyrus went to school with my parents, and my mom is a big art buff. Me, not so much. But I spent a lot of time around the art building because Cyrus was my mentor. Writing is technically an art, and he helped me a lot with the creative aspect." Olivia beamed proudly, sitting up a bit straighter. "I was his star pupil."

"Not so fast now, I distinctly remember Cy calling me his favorite."

"You were his favorite when you were in school. I was there a bit more recently," she quipped.

"Are you calling me old?" he asked, feigning offense.

"Not in so many words," she replied. "I'm simply saying you're older than I am. Because you're so much more mature," she added quickly, blushing slightly as she realised what she had implied.

"Ha! Alright, I'll take it. If you must know, though, I'm turning forty-one this year but I assure you, I'm as agile as I was ten years ago."

With a light laugh, Olivia leaned forward a bit, her hair falling around her shoulder and framing her face. There was that come-hither smile again. "You better be sure of that, Grant, because I'm expecting you to keep up with me."

Fitz was certain his jaw dropped as Olivia settled back into her chair, running her tongue across her bottom lip as she eyed him carefully. He felt the crotch of his pants tighten immediately and clamped his mouth shut to suppress the groan that was dying to be heard. After a moment, when he didn't reply, she began to look uncertain, fidgeting nervously with the silverware.

"I think you should be more worried about keeping up with me, Livi."


You cannot have sex with this man. You will not have sex with this man.

You want to.

"I do."

Fitz's head snapped up from his plate. "Did you say something?"

"N-no. I mean, I was just saying the food is good," Olivia stuttered.

"Glad you like it."

"Mm," was all she could manage, dipping her head down to avoid staring at the sexy way Fitz's broad shoulders filled out his dress shirt. She wasn't sure how a painter managed to stay so fit, but she was eager to see just how fit he really was.

"Livi?"

It was Olivia's turn to sit up quickly, worried she had inadvertently mumbled another thought aloud. Fitz was regarding her curiously, his head tilted to one side. Carefully, he reached a hand out and gently put it on top of hers.

"Relax, Livi. We're just having dinner. I don't bite," he teased in a voice that suggested he meant otherwise. "Talk to me."

"Okay, um, how was the rest of your day?"

"It was nice. All I could think about after you left was how in the world I was going to get through the next few hours knowing I'd be seeing you later. But class went really well. I really love those kids. I know they're practically adults but they're still so naïve; I feel like I'm responsible for them. I try to always be there when they need me."

"That's really sweet. You really love teaching, huh?"

"I do, very much. Although I consider myself more of a mentor. Anyway, how did your day go after you left?"

Olivia chewed her lip nervously. How did she tell this man she could barely function for six hours because she was so looking forward to seeing him, spending time with him, and the idea made her giddy and nervous and elated all at once? She supposed, considering how open he was with her, and how close she wanted to be to him, she could just say it. "It was pretty uneventful. I was kind of nervous about tonight and I could hardly pay attention to anything." Her eyes darted away briefly before settling back on his. "The night is going perfectly, though, so I guess I didn't have anything to worry about."

Their conversation continued to flow nicely following the awkward interlude as they recounted tales of their childhoods and days at college, both listening intently as the other spoke. There was no rush but they were excited to hear everything and anything they could about each other. When they had last been out together, they had asked seemingly meaningless questions, small details they felt they should know. This time around they were going more in-depth while still avoiding the touchier subjects, namely his father and the undeniable inconvenience that was her marriage. Those things were unimportant.

"I was a terror," Olivia admitted good-naturedly. "Or that's what everyone tells me anyway. I would harass my cousins and beat them up but they couldn't hit me because they were all boys and all older than me. Apparently there was one time when I was about six when I got upset and broke a window and put one of their baseballs underneath it so everyone would think it was them."

"You were awful," he gasped, laughing nonetheless. "I bet you were still adorable."

"Oh, definitely. I wouldn't have been able to wreak so much havoc had it not been for my award winning 'it wasn't me' smile, everyone would have hated me," she explained, flashing him a dimpled smile that was all teeth. "It was a lot cuter when I had a few teeth missing."

At that moment the waiter returned with the check Fitz had just paid – after much disquiet from Olivia – and bade them farewell as he gathered their dishes from the table.

"It's late," Olivia pointed out with a glance at her phone. The time was nearing eleven. "We really do lose track of time."

"Yeah. But, I mean, if you're up to it, we can go somewhere else and hang out. Somewhere quieter," he added, indicating the growing crowd at the bar.

"Where would we go?"

"Where do you want to go?"

It was a good question, a simple question. She knew where she wanted to go, but whether it was the right place to go was still being questioned. She had had a few glasses of wine, and one glass of saké –per Fitz's insistence that she just had to try it once – and her judgment, while not completely clouded, was fuzzy. But more than that she simply didn't care.

"I wanna see your paintings."


Fitz's apartment in Capital Hill was nothing like Olivia had expected but it suited him perfectly. There was nothing about it that screamed bachelor pad, which she was extremely grateful for. The room wasn't large but it was spacious enough and had high, vaulted ceilings, and everything fit into it without looking crowded. The kitchen was off to one side, separated by an island, and in the middle was a small living room setup with a leather couch, a coffee table, and a television. To the other side of the room was a partition that shut the 'bedroom' off from everything else. Directly across from the front door was a set of glass French doors with white curtains.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Fitz announced, sweeping his arm through the air with a flourish. "Would you like something to drink?"

She shook her head. "I think I've had enough for the night." She was already swaying on her feet a bit in the heels she was wearing and she would have to sober up enough to drive herself home when Fitz returned her to her car. "Is that your studio," she asked, gesturing towards the majestic doors across the room.

"Yeah. You ready?" He held out his hand and she gladly took it, grateful for the support as they trekked across the room and the contact. She would never tire of touching him. His hand was strong and slightly calloused from holding paintbrushes all day and she squeezed it tightly as he opened one of the large doors, stepping aside to watch her expression as she stepped into the room. Canvases were leaning against the wall, stacked on the floor, a few were resting on the table to the side, surrounded by jars of paint and brushes and sketchbooks. And they were all beautiful. A few were landscapes but most of them were abstract and Olivia felt she understood every one of them as soon as she laid eyes on it. She could tell he had been sad when he made the one with the deep purple stripe running down the middle, or that something had royally pissed him off the day he had splattered orange-red paint across another.

"These are wonderful," she breathed, circling the room to get a closer glimpse of each one. As she neared the back wall, she noticed his easel, which faced away from the door, had something on it. It appeared to be unfinished but there was something about it that drew her closer. Olivia reached a tentative hand out as if to touch it and drew it back quickly. The canvas was painted entirely yellow, not a spot untouched, and he had begun to paint something in a dark grey over top of it, though it was still in its early stages and not detailed enough to discern. She looked up to see him watching her, and he looked almost embarrassed.

"This is amazing, Fitz," she called out, wondering why he was looking so sheepish. "Why haven't you finished it yet?"

He shrugged. "I usually paint when I feel a certain way about a certain situation," he explained. "And this situation hasn't been resolved yet, I guess. I'm waiting to see how it plays out before I can finish. To see if I'll get a happy ending."

The intensity of with which he was watching her made Olivia squirm, though she wasn't sure if it was from being uncomfortable or being aroused. Probably both. More so the latter, if she was being completely honest with herself. He was looking at her like she was a glass of water in the desert.

"Can I use your bathroom?" Olivia asked quickly, rushing past him out of the room before he could answer and locking herself behind the first door she encountered. Luckily, she discovered it was the bathroom once she turned on the light and faced her reflection in the mirror above the sink. She was flushed, and she was certain it wasn't from the short run she had just made though that was probably the explanation behind her tousled hair. She made a futile attempt at putting each strand back in place and finally gave up altogether. Above all she needed to catch her breath because it seemed everything she looked at Fitz it caught in her throat. The night had been flawless as of yet and she didn't want to do anything to ruin it, like take things too far too soon. She told herself it was for his own good, though the excuse was barely cohesive.

After a few head-clearing breaths, Olivia emerged from the bathroom to find Fitz lazing on the couch, his bare feet resting on the coffee table. The lights had been dimmed significantly. When he noticed her there, Fitz turned his head and gave a mischievous smile.

"Come join me."

Without hesitation, Olivia started across the room, taking her shoes off as she went, grateful for the respite from the heels though she already missed the added height. She tossed the heels to the side with a clatter and settled herself into the leather cushion beside him, taking extra care to make sure her dress didn't ride up. She stared straight ahead, though, examining the wall as if it had all the answers.

"Look at me," Fitz whispered. "Livi, look at me." When she still didn't adhere to his gentle command, he put a light finger on her chin and she allowed him to turn her head, meeting his eyes. "There you go."

"Your eyes," she exclaimed, a bit shocked. "They're blue. I could have sworn they were grey but…" And a beautiful blue they were, though barely so. She could still see the steel in them but now, instead of a light grey, they seemed to be more of a cloudy blue.

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, they go back and forth sometimes."

As she watched, the blue in his eyes began to recede, swallowed by the black pupil, until she could barely make out a color at all. His breathing hitched ever so slightly and the finger he had yet to remove from her face became a hand that cupped her entire cheek.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured and before she had a chance to form a coherent thought through the haze he was creating around her brain, Olivia leaned forward and planted her lips onto his. Gently, sweetly, brushing hers across his in a barely there kiss that had them both breathing heavily, two people sharing the same breath once more. Without pulling away from each other, they began to rise from the couch, Fitz's lips detaching from hers to travel across her face and down to her neck without touching her, waiting for permission.

Olivia shuddered at his proximity to one of her more sensitive spots, her eyes drifting closed as his lips hovered below her ear. Every part of her was buzzing with anticipation as she finally felt his skin touch hers and his mouth brushed across her neck. Her arms were hanging limply at her sides, practically shaking at the restraint she was exercising, and though she wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, something was still holding her back; a nagging voice in the back of her head listing pros and cons and consequences. She needed him to speak, to keep her grounded and in the moment with him.

"If you tell me to stop," he whispered, lips resting just below her ear, "I will. If you say it we can leave right now and pretend this never happened. Tell me you don't want this to happen."

When she did not speak he continued in a strangled voice. "Tell me to stop, Livi," he pleaded.

In response, her arms shot out to encircle his neck as she attached her lips to his once more. Caution thrown to the wind, they began to melt into each other, falling into the embrace and relying on the other for support. It was Fitz who flicked his tongue out to drag across her bottom lip, eliciting a small moan that parted her lips ever so slightly, only to have them falling open to allow him further access.

Their kiss was simultaneously urgent and sensual; slow and searing, impatient and unrefined. There was no finesse as their tongues dueled for dominance that neither wanted to surrender. Fitz's hands made a confusing journey from her cheeks to her waist, back up to slide down her torso and around to grip her bottom and Olivia responded in kind, grabbing the curls at the nape of his neck and dragging her hands down his back. She desperately wanted to feel his skin against hers and was struggling to untuck his shirt. Fitz captured her bottom lip in his teeth and pulled back until it could stretch no further, never breaking eye contact as he released it and began to slowly push the black fabric of her dress down her shoulders.

Olivia's eyes, now a small ring of deep brown surrounding the pupil, silently pled with him to continue. Intent on pleasing her, Fitz tipped his head to kiss her neck, her shoulder, her collarbone, the top of one breast and then the other, letting his lips follow the path of her dress as he slid it down her body, finishing with a light kiss to the inside of her calf as she stepped out of the fabric. When he slithered back up her body, she was practically panting with want, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Fitz held her at arm's length, taking in her full form in the dim light – clad in only a tiny pair of sheer blush colored panties that left nothing to the imagination – not wanting to be able to forget a single detail later when she couldn't be around. He splayed his hand across her abdomen, feeling what he could not see – a puckered scar running across her belly. His fingers caressed it gently, gingerly, as if he was afraid it would hurt her though it felt healed.

"I had a C-section," she explained quietly, disconcerted that he had noticed. "Two of them, actually."

He continued to touch it lightly, silently reassuring her that she had nothing to be embarrassed about. His hands roamed away from it, traveling the expanse of her flat tummy, wondering just how she was so fit after two children.

"Fitz," she whimpered impatiently and the sound of his name on her lips when she was so out of breath, when he was the cause, prompted him to engage her in another scorching kiss, this time lifting her into his arms. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling the full effect she had on him press into her core through his pants and the thin material of her underwear. Desperate for some relief, Olivia ground her hips into him, emitting another moan for him to swallow as he growled quietly into her mouth.

As suddenly as she had been lifted into his strong arms she felt herself being deposited onto the middle of a large bed, the cool sheets contrasting the heat radiating between them. Fitz settled over her supine form, holding his body up as she fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. When she reached the last one before his waistband, she tore at it roughly, causing a few buttons to fly haphazardly as she pushed the shirt open and down his shoulders, reveling in the chance to finally run her hands down his broad chest. She ran her fingers through the coarse hair she found there, exploring the rugged plane of his abs.

Breaking away from the kiss, Fitz began kissing down her body once more, stopping to take one of her hardened nipples into his mouth as his hand began to play around the band of her underwear. Olivia's breathing became more shallow as she struggled to focus on everything he was doing to her, his mouth licking and, every so often, nipping at her décolletage while his fingers began to tease her lower lips. After what felt like hours of torture, he finally slid the rest of the way down her body, now as impatient as she was as he nearly ripped her underwear off and hooked her legs over his shoulders, planting a firm kiss on her mons.

Teasing aside, he gave one long, slow lick up the center of her folds and dove in, tasting her with the necessity of someone who hadn't eaten in days. He held fast to her hips as she grabbed onto his hair once more, threading her fingers through his soft curls. She was fairly certain she was going to have bruises on her hipbones before morning and she couldn't care less; she wanted the mark, the reminder of to whom she truly belonged. Her bottom lip was being bitten raw as she struggled to keep her cries in before she remembered they were alone and when he graced her clit with the slightest of bites, she let her scream echo from the high ceilings. The build was exalting and she was sure nothing would feel superior when he blew gently against her sex and she exploded loudly, back arched almost painfully as she watched fireworks go off behind her eyelids.

As she came back down, slowly letting her body fall back to the bed, Fitz was kissing his way back up her body, wrapping his arm around her to lift up her torso and kiss her again. He tasted so familiarly like him and her and it was a combination she had never expected to love so much as she hungrily kissed him back. He pulled back and smiled down at her.

"Sweet baby," he breathed, and it was more of a question as he positioned his hips between hers. She could feel him, so closely, and at that point she could deny him nothing. She could not deny herself him. She needed him.

Her hands, fingers cramped from holding him so tightly – and she was sure they would be only more so soon enough – came up to frame his face as he stared down at her, waiting for permission he already had, would always have. He didn't need to ask but that he did was endearing.

"Yes."

Before the word was even fully out of her mouth he pushed in, and it became two syllables, Ye-es, the second a loud cry. He was large, and even though she was practically dripping with want, the fit was snug. He watched her carefully as he continued to slide in slowly, though she winced a few times. The pride that swelled in him was enough to move a few mountains, and he wanted to take her roughly, to claim her as his own. But he would be gentle, and he would take his time because she needed that and, truth be told, he wanted to stay sheathed inside of her for as long as possible.

He began to rock his hips, holding her at the waist as she lay beneath him, letting her feel him from all sides. Her hands found purchase on his shoulders, sinking her blunt nails into the skin there. The pain he hissed through only encouraged him and he began to pick up speed, foregoing the rocking motion for tempered thrusts. Fitz was surprised at all of the control he was exercising but it wouldn't last long, not with her clawing at his back every time he hit just the right spot inside her, not with the pleasing way her face was contorted; eyes rolling back as she struggled to keep them open to watch him, her tiny nose scrunched cutely, mouth gaping in a silent cry as he pounded each moan from her throat.

With a gentleness he dug from deep down, he took her hands in his own, stretching them above her head as he extended his body over her own. Fitz tilted his head down to run his nose along her own, a tender gesture that juxtaposed the erratic movement of his hips which were picking up in tempo, becoming less rhythmic and accelerated. Olivia brought her legs up to wrap tightly around his waist, making a close fit even more compact and creating a delicious friction on the swollen bundle of nerves. They were close, and they could see it in each other, could pinpoint the minute differences in the other's behavior as they neared the precipice together. Olivia had never felt such an unyielding connection to another person and it was overwhelming on top of thing things he was doing to her body. Mentally, spiritually, and now physically they were joined and it hurt so good.

The scream she voiced when she came was cut off abruptly as Fitz claimed her lips once more, and, unable to hold on any longer while she pulsed around him, erupted inside of her with a satisfied groan. Neither moved, save for the synchronous heaving of their chests, glistening with sweat. Olivia pried her eyes open with a bit of effort, immediately locking eyes with him. Nothing was said as Fitz kissed her again, softly this time, a bittersweet goodbye. She would probably want to leave, he assumed, go home before it got suspiciously late though it was already nearing one. He began to draw back, pausing as she reluctantly withdrew her legs from around him, and carefully moved so he was kneeling in front of her but out of her way. Something flashed in her eyes; confusion, hurt, then understanding. She understood what he was doing and she cracked a small smile because he was being so dense.

Instead of leaving, as he expected, she crawled to the head of the bed and drew back the blanket, shuffling underneath before silently holding a hand out to him. He followed her lead, climbing under the sheets and turning on his side to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her tightly to him. If she was going to stay, she was going to be close. Olivia placed her small hand over the one he had resting on her abdomen and settled deeply into the mattress, feeling Fitz snuggle closer yet again, and bury his head in her hair, which was so far beyond tousled now. She wondered, briefly, what she looked like in the afterglow; if she was as radiant as she felt. Then her eyes drifted closed as she realized she didn't really give a damn.

Once her breathing had evened out, Fitz tried to peek around her and confirm she was sleeping without disturbing her. "Livi?" He kissed her shoulder gently when she did not respond, and when there was still nothing, stopped moving altogether, content to just have her in his arms for the next few hours.

Nestled once more in the downy expanse of her disheveled hair, his mouth uttered one more phrase before he, too, slipped into oblivion. "I love you, Livi."


A/N: There were so many ways this chapter could have gone and, in the end, I settled on the lesser of two evils. It took me a bit longer than expected to decide which way it was going to go, so I hope it was worth the wait. I even made this chapter a bit longer for you guys, to make up for the last one. Things are definitely picking up between these two, and this was all wonderfully romantic, so of course I've got to bring the hammer down soon because we're only at chapter 7 and I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I just wrapped things up this nicely.

Also, please be gentle in your reviews because sex scenes aren't really my thing and I was initially going to hit you with a 'fade away' before the action began but these two are so steamy, it practically writes itself. Plus it wouldn't have really worked out, coming back in for an I love you (!). Enough of my talk though. Let me get back to writing. xo