Guys. There's so much fluff in this chapter, I can't handle it. Like, I had to add more angst because that's just who I am. I love fluff and angst—they pair so well together! Ugh. Thank you so much for your support and reviews! Enjoy this chapter. It's heating up. Mmmmm.

He was strong, soft, and warm at the same time. His arms were around her and their legs were intertwined and she had never felt more safe or comfortable. She nuzzled her face a little deeper into the crook of his shoulder and breathed in his scent. Woods, cologne, and paper. She didn't want to wake up from his heavenly pretzel. Her lips grazed his neck, feeling his pulse beneath the thin flesh. The arm draped across her side pulled her closer and he sighed into her hair.

But Erik sat up quickly at the sound of a car pulling away—or was it pulling up? He looked down at Christine who gazed lazily up at him. Then the realization dawned on them both simultaneously. The Girys were back.

"Go!" she said, pushing him off the couch. "Go upstairs!"

He stood quickly but then paused. "Why do I have to go?"

"Would you care to explain to Annette why we were sleeping on the couch together?"

"Good point," he replied and then bolted up the stairs.

Christine looked around the couch, knowing that she couldn't leave it in such disarray without Annette getting suspicious. She heard the front door unlock—no time to straighten up. She pulled the throw blanket over herself and feigned sleep.

"I told you they wouldn't burn the place down," Meg teased her mother as they came inside. Christine kept her eyes closed but could hear luggage rolling and bags rustling. They walked through the foyer and entered the living room to set their things down. Christine rolled over, trying to be convincing. Annette must have noticed her because she let out a quiet but startled gasp.

"Christine?" Meg asked, moving toward the couch.

She acted disoriented and looked up at Meg in confusion.

"What are you doing on the couch?"

"You're back? What time is it?"

"Nine in the morning," Annette said, a little brusquely.

"We got back last night. But we stayed at my place to recuperate."

"Oh." She sat up.

"So what are you doing on the couch?" Meg asked.

"Oh, I must have... fallen asleep reading." Christine's eyes frantically scanned the coffee table. She picked up a book with a familiar-looking matte black cover.

"Twisted… I thought you said you didn't like reading his books?"

"I don't. But they're addicting."

Christine pushed her hair back from her face as she stood up from the couch.

"What's on your neck?" Meg asked, leaning toward her curiously.

Christine touched the side of her neck, just below her jaw in confusion. Then the previous night rushed back… Erik kissing her lips, jaw, and neck. Nibbling at her throat. Dragging his teeth against her skin. Her heart hammered against her chest.

"I burned myself with the curling iron a couple days ago," she said quickly, pulling her hair forward to cover her neck again. "I better get started on my chores."

She ran up the stairs to her room to change. Erik's door cracked open as he heard her come down the hall. Christine briefly looked over the handrail to make sure Annette and Meg didn't notice her go to his room. She rushed to his door and he opened it fully, pulled her inside, and closed it behind her.

"Erik, You gave me a hickey!" she hissed at him playfully.

"A what?"

"A hickey! She pulled her hair back and showed him her neck. "What are we, teenagers?"

"Oh." His lips parted as he looked at the bruise. Then he slowly reached up to touch it. "I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes slightly as his fingers trailed down her neck. He stepped forward, backing her against the door, and pressed his lips to the bruise. Christine sighed. Then he began kissing her lips. God, it already felt so natural to kiss him. She ran her fingers against the two-day scruff on his jaw.

"I need to do my chores," she finally said between kisses. "Annette's already pissed at me for starting late."

Erik sighed, closing his eyes. She grasped the sides of his neck and kissed him one more time, committing the shape of his lips to memory. Memorizing how they felt against hers. Their mouths stilled and they breathed against one another. Erik looked into her eyes and stroked her bottom lip with his thumb.

Christine reached behind her back to grasp the handle and opened the door. She took a reluctant step away from him, "I… I'll see you later." He nodded once as she slipped through his fingers.

She saw his masked eye briefly before he closed the door.

Meg followed him from his office into the library, giving him plenty of space. He appreciated that about her—she had learned to sense his temperaments over the years and respected them. Although they were practically siblings, she treated him as her employer in these situations. No doubt he was giving off odd vibes this morning. He wasn't expecting to work with her on the latest round of edits yet, toss in this secretive affair with Christine and… he felt a little stressed to say the least.

Erik took a breath and opened the double doors to the library. He immediately spotted Christine dusting on the second level. It surprised him how easy it was to locate her; it was like second nature now. She appeared very focused on dusting the shelves; she was even listening to her iPod. Her hair was down—likely to cover the marks he'd left on her neck. His tongue twitched at that thought. They made brief eye contact as she peeked around a shelf, but she noticed Meg enter behind him and busied herself again.

They went to the conference table and spread out the copy for the novel, chapter by chapter. This would normally be done on a computer, but they both appreciated writing notes on hard copies and discussing from there. It was more work, but they decided to take advantage of Meg's presence.

Christine watched them in her peripherals as she dusted, trying not to pry, trying not to look interested, trying to seem busy. But damn it was hard with him in the room. She had thrown herself into her morning chores, hoping to appease Annette for starting late. She also hoped to appear very busy, therefore avoiding questions about what she had done to pass the time the last few days. She even brought her iPod along; having the earbuds in while she cleaned actually helped her focus on the individual tasks instead of thinking about Erik. Now that was shot to hell.

She could hear them murmuring during a break between songs. Turning the volume down, she peeked around another shelf. Meg sat at the conference table with her back to Christine. Her blonde hair was twisted into an elegant bun and she wore a comically professional pantsuit. One hand flipped through papers while the other fiddled with a pen. There was a second pen behind her ear.

"What if we moved this to chapter three?" she asked, marking a section and pushing the papers toward Erik, who stood across from her.

He leaned over the table with this arms extended before him, examining her notes on the page. He wore a navy Oxford shirt and black slacks that fit him too well. Erik stood up straight and pushed his hair back as he continued to read. Christine could tell he hadn't showered or shaved yet. And he seemed on edge, but not too stressed—he hadn't rolled up his sleeves. That was usually an indicator that he was feeling anxious.

He put the papers back on the table and pushed them toward Meg, "Yes, I believe that will suffice." She took them and began writing notes in the margins. Erik's eyes quickly glanced up at Christine on the second level. His sudden acknowledgement of her presence practically startled her. But a pleasant heat spread from the crown of her head downward. She smiled slightly and tucked her hair behind her ear. And she could have sworn that he gave her the tiniest smile before looking back down at his work.

By the time Annette called her for lunch, Christine had managed to catch up on her morning chores. She headed for the kitchen, expecting a quick meal before returning. But Erik and Meg had already served themselves and were sitting at the table talking. Christine felt her back stiffen, but she tried to relax. They had done this before. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Normal. Act normal.

"Well, what do you expect going out alone?" Meg commented.

"Erik, you're lucky you made it back home so easily," Annette said, clearly concerned.

Christine grabbed a plate, took a half of a Caprese sandwich, and sat at the table with the other three.

"I wouldn't call it easy, precisely," he replied. "I can hardly recall half of the trip back, I was so delusional."

"Jesus," Meg muttered.

"I'm fortunate Christine was here to take care of me." He glanced at her across the table. "She practically carried me up the stairs."

Christine felt her face flush as Annette and Meg looked at her in surprise. They waited for her response. "He's heavier than he looks," she said softly. Meg burst out laughing and Erik even smiled slightly. That comment set the tone for the rest of the meal. They laughed more than they ever had together. It felt natural to be experiencing this with them… the easy conversation, the comfortable atmosphere. Even though they had only been gone a few days, she had missed Meg and Annette. With Erik there and sharing in it, too, Christine felt at home.

As he finished telling an embarrassing story about Meg, Christine laughed and almost placed her hand on top of his. Almost. She hesitated about halfway down and she played it off by awkwardly reaching across her plate to pick up her glass. Meg's eyes briefly darted from Erik's hand to hers, but she looked away and continued eating. Annette didn't seem to notice.

"Meg," she said, remembering something that would redirect her attention, "I have something for you!" Christine excused herself from the table and hurried up the stairs to her room.

When she returned to the kitchen with the painting of the doe drinking at the lake, Meg gasped. "Christine, it's beautiful!" She stood up to inspect it more closely. Her fingers followed the brush strokes, hovering a few inches away from the canvas in reverence. "It's amazing. You're amazing. Thank you!"

"Thank you for buying the supplies for me."

Meg turned to the other two "Just look at it…"

Christine suddenly felt self-conscious with the three of them staring at her painting as she stood there holding it. But she had chosen to present it at this particular moment.

"Christine, it's lovely. You have an incredible talent," Annette said, still eyeing the painting.

Meg elbowed Erik's arm and gave him a look, as if he needed to be reminded to compliment her. He studied the painting and then looked into her eyes for a moment before speaking. "I like your impressionistic style. Very reminiscent of Monet or Pissarro."

Christine blinked. It was like he wanted her to jump across the table to make out with him. "Thank you."

Christine cleaned the rooms upstairs, tidied the music room, and started a garden in the back property. It was late afternoon by the time she returned inside, feeling exhausted and dirty from all the house and yard work. She took off her soil-caked shoes at the back doors and came inside to an empty kitchen and living room. It was quiet. She considered taking a nap on the couch but knew Annette wouldn't appreciate it… and she didn't want to get the cushions dirty.

Instead, Christine ambled into the library to pass the time until she decided to take a shower. Her mind wandered as she walked among the shelves. The smell of the books was comforting and nostalgic. Out of habit, she gently dragged her fingers along the spines of the books as she passed. She glanced at the titles, not completely sure what section she was even in.

As she turned the corner to go around another stack, she nearly ran into him. She gasped lightly, but he didn't look surprised in the least to see her. Erik must have been waiting for her. The visible side of his face melted from steely to tender. He took a step toward her, eliminating the space between them. His fingers touched a few of the flyaway curls around her face and then settled at the side of her neck. Christine reached up to brush her fingers against his mask and his unshaven jaw.

Erik guided her chin toward him and kissed her. Gently at first. One small, closed mouth kiss. His eyes were still open and they scanned across her face. A second. Her eyes slid closed. His lips were so soft. The small, short kisses slowly became more drawn out. He stroked a curl between his fingers. Longer warm kisses. She wanted to taste every part of him. He breathed in deeply as her tongue glided between his lips. Christine pulled at his shirt collar with one hand and the back of his neck with the other, trying to bring them closer. Erik held her hips, thumbs teasing at the exposed flesh between her shirt and pants. Her fingers moved to his hair, gripping a handful, squeezing gently, running her hand through it. One of his hands slowly slid up her side and grazed her breast—

They jerked apart at the sound of the library doors closing and clacking heels. Christine looked into Erik's eyes apologetically before escaping to the next aisle over. She leaned her back against the shelf, trying to calm down and catch her breath.

"Erik, there you are. Did you find the book? Mr. Kahn called, he wants to discuss chapter fifteen with you…"

Meg's voice moved away as they headed out of the library. Christine sighed in relief. It was exhilarating to sneak around like this. To kiss Erik hidden among the stacks. To hide when an intruder came. But how long can it last?

They spent the next fourteen days sharing secret kisses in the library, laundry room, garage, music room… Mostly hiding from Annette since Meg had gone back to town after the first day. And they weren't all heated make-out sessions. Occasionally Erik would give her forehead a quick kiss after Annette turned around in the kitchen or Christine would pinch his rear as she passed him in the library. They stayed up late almost every night talking in the wine cellar, privately tucked away into the night. Discussing books and music, delving deeper into their pasts, sharing stories.

Their second weekend alone, they ate dinner together and ended up in his room. It felt natural and comfortable to be there. It wasn't necessarily sexual—although he didn't mind if it ended up that way—Christine wasn't even on the bed for Christ's sake. They just didn't have to hide if they wanted to be together.

Ever since they had broken out his calligraphy pens a couple weeks prior, Erik tried to resurrect the talent he was sure he possessed. Now he was practicing the art of Blackletter, using a book he found in his library on Illuminated Manuscripts for reference. Christine sat next to his bed in the decorative chair, her unofficial "spot" in his room now. She had been journaling, but he was fairly sure she was sketching him in the margins.

It had been a pleasant evening thus far. And then Christine had to ask, "Why don't we tell them?" He knew precisely what she meant. The way she asked was like a suggestion, testing the waters for his reaction.

"No," he replied almost immediately.

"Why not?" She sat up in her chair.

"I'm… I don't know."

"Yes you do, Erik."

"Well, why do you want to tell her?"

"I want to tell Annette and Meg," she said, moving to sit next to him on the bed. "I want to be honest with them. They're like my family now and I want to share this—you and me—with them." She took his hand and pressed her palm to his. "Why don't you want to tell them?" she asked tentatively.

He looked down at their hands to avoid her eyes. She laced her fingers with his. "I don't know." He could feel her watching him. Erik had been quite perceptive of people's stares over the years, but he was particularly sensitive to her gaze.

"Please don't lie to me."

It was much harder to hide when he cared about her. "I'm… embarrassed." Her fingers loosened. Wrong answer. "Not—not of you, Christine. Never of you. I've just never… done this the right way before."

Christine sighed in frustration. "Erik, the only relationship I've ever been in was an abusive one. I haven't exactly done this right the right way, either. Which is why I want to try."

"I understand. And I respect that. But it's… different."

Erik stood from the bed and pushed his hair from his face. Why was this so difficult? He began pacing the length of his room. He dared to glance over at Christine. She looked upset, but her eyes were probing, trying to understand him. Her lips were pursed.

"How? How is it so different?"

He looked away and continued pacing. "Because I— because…"

"Because what, Erik? Because of your face? You can't keep using that as a crutch to hide your—"

"Because I've never been in love with another human being before."

Erik said it with such anger, hurt, and exasperation that his intensity even startled himself. He stared into her eyes for what felt like an eternity before finally turning away. His hands were shaking. He covered his mouth took a steadying breath, rubbing his jaw. Christine watched him pace the room a few more times. After a few moments of silence, Erik slowly returned to the bed and sat next to her.

"Christine, I accepted my fate about a decade ago." Her head silently tilted. "After a few one night stands and a failed attempt at a relationship, I came to the conclusion that I was incapable of romantic love and destined to be alone. I wouldn't—couldn't let another person in that would hurt me. I couldn't be with another person who didn't respect me as a human being. I accepted that I would never find a woman who… I could love." He took a surprisingly difficult breath. "I accepted it. So I did not anticipate sharing something like this to the very few people I care about. It is unexpectedly terrifying."

Christine's eyes scanned between his as she thought. Erik felt his heart begin to race as the silence extended. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

"Are you willing to accept a new fate?" she asked quietly.

He looked into her eyes. "Absolutely."

Erik tried to figure out why he was awake. Groggy. It was still dark. He started at the movement next to him in bed. Then he slowly realized that Christine was getting up.

He mumbled something, still half asleep.

"I should go," she whispered, her own voice thick with sleep.

He sat up and ran his fingers along her forearm. "Stay."

His eyes adjusted to the deep blue of the room. Her dark mane of curls was in stark contrast to the pale skin of her face and neck in the moonlight. Her eyes glistened like a black lake. Erik slowly wrapped his fingers around her arm and guided her toward him. Christine sighed in satisfaction as she settled back into his bed. She buried herself against him and kissed his neck. Now he sighed, stroking her hair. He had never felt so warm, so full as when she was by his side.

He felt her sigh against his chest. He followed suit and breathed deeply, enjoying her scent. Laundry and something fresh and light. Erik finally opened his eyes and looked at the woman in his arms. Christine's hair was a wild, beautiful mess; he was beginning to understand why she wore it in a bun when she slept. The morning sun illuminated the delicate skin of her eyelids, which still covered the warm irises beneath. Her dark lashes fanned out and curled slightly, sleep gathering them together in some places. He slid his finger gently up her cheekbone and then lightly stroked her eyelashes. He trailed his finger down the bridge of her nose and settled on her bottom lip. Her eyes finally opened and she looked up at him. Erik felt himself smiling, almost unwittingly.

In the sunlight, Christine's eyes looked like honey. They scanned his eyes, his mask, his face, his lips. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she shook her head slightly and kissed him. Erik still couldn't quite comprehend how perfect it was to kiss her. He snaked his arm around her lower back and pulled her close. She smiled against his lips.

After a while, Christine rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat up slightly and watched her pull her hair into a bun, exposing her neck. The bruises from two weeks before had faded; they were more careful now. She wore one of his t-shirts—she had somehow managed to take one without him noticing. He didn't mind. She stood up and sauntered toward the master bathroom. He also definitely didn't mind that his shirt wasn't long enough to cover the bit of her pale pink lace panties and part of her exposed cheek. Erik felt himself responding, especially as Christine looked over her shoulder at him knowingly. He had no idea she wasn't wearing pants in bed.

She continued on to the bathroom, but only closed the door part of the way. He heard her run the water for the shower and tilted his head toward the door. Christine's back came into view as she removed his shirt. Her arms crossed in front and she pulled his shirt slowly over her head. Erik took a breath. His eyes crawled up her bare spine, admiring her gentle curves. He glanced at the dimples on her lower back and stared shamelessly at her slinky underwear. She turned slightly and the swell of her breast gradually came into view. Before he could see more, Christine covered her breasts with an arm and slowly pushed the door with her other hand. He caught a glimpse of the wicked glint in her eye before the door closed.

Erik let out a groan. He was thoroughly hard now. She was toying with him and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it. He decided to take care of his need, imagining what Christine was doing on the other side of that wall.

Christine wandered from the library to the kitchen, looking for a snack. It was late evening, a few days later. She filled a bowl with strawberries, grabbed a jar of Nutella, and headed back to the library. Erik was working late this particular evening. Usually they could be in the same room in the evenings—if it was large enough—without rousing suspicion. They had taken to reading in the library or living room while sitting only five feet or so away from each other.

As she walked down the hall, Christine noticed that Erik's office door was slightly ajar. And she could hear voices. Was Annette in there as well? She hadn't seen her for the last hour. Letting curiosity get the better of her, Christine inched her way closer to the door.

"—of course," Annette finished a thought.

"I appreciate it," Erik replied softly.

There was a long pause and Christine wondered if she had missed the entire conversation. And briefly freaked out, hoping they weren't headed out the door. But Annette's voice came again.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I don't want to say."

"Erik."

"I think I'm falling in love with her, Annette."