Stripped

A/N: Alright, so a quick note about this chapter. Since I decided to write this story, this is the chapter I have been waiting to write. There is something so seductive about the concept of dancing in the rain, and I couldn't wait to put it down on paper. Hopefully, you'll all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you. As an overly-sensitive disclaimer,I realize that rain is probably not the most welcomed topic of conversation in the United States right now.I don't think there's anything offensive here, but I wanted you to know that there is a lot of water imagery and stuff, just in case it's not something you can handle at the moment.

Also, I just wanted to let you know that I've updated my profile page with my AIM screen name, as well as adding a few wrestlers and divas to my list of favorite things - so check it out if you feel like.As always, I don't ownJohn, nobody owns Olivia, and I hope you Enjoy!

Once, when Olivia was in ninth grade, her class had gone on a field trip to Windsor, Ontario, Canada. It was the first, and only, time that the twenty-seven-year-old had ever been out of the United States. Until she became a WWE diva.

In less than two weeks, she had seen Germany, Austria, Finland, Holland, the UK, and Ireland. And now, from the picture window in John's hotel room, she let her eyes drift Madrid, Spain. It was better than any dream she could have imagined, and yet her heart wasn't fully in the experience.

She still had a month left before she had to make a decision about her career, but tomorrow, she would fly to Jacksonville and see Brandon for the first time in nearly two months. He had called three days ago and asked if she could come to his first BMX tournament, and she wasn't about to let wild horses keep her from showing up. Seeing Jack would be uncomfortable, but when she had heard her son's hesitant voice whisper "I kinda miss you, Mom" over the static-filled cell connection, she didn't care about anything else.

John shut the door behind his friends as they finished their good-byes and piled out of his room for the night. Turning, he watched Olivia hug her arms over her stomach and stare hypnotically at the star-filled Spanish night. Speaking would only break the artistic image she created, framed by the moonlight in his room. Instead, he walked to her side, brushing her shoulder lightly with his own.

"When Brandon was little, he was so afraid of the rain." He couldn't be certain, but he almost thought she was addressing the rain that had started falling, smacking against the balcony just beyond the window, more than him. "Every time we'd get a good down pour, he would just totally freak out." She reached her slender fingers to the window, resting them against the cool glass, as if to feel the water herself. "I told him that rain was what we got when God cried, that he must be sad about something, and that we had to make him feel better."

John smiled to himself. His own mother had told him the same thing, that the drops from heaven were tears from God. It wasn't the first time Olivia had reminded him of his own mom. Not in a twisted or perverse way, but in a calming manner that made him feel like he was home again.

"I used to tell him to put his bathing suit on, and we would go outside, no matter what time it was, and we would dance in the rain. Just twirling in circles together, until he started laughing." She turned her head to the side, smiling at the memory. "He always ended up laughing. Just before the rain stopped. And I used to tell him that his laugh was so great that it made God stop crying. It made him smile."

Olivia stopped as another round of emotions swept over her. Little things, like funny faces and silly dances, used to make Brandon smile all the time. She used to be able to bring that laugh out of him by kissing his forehead or saying something stupid. But things had changed. When she stopped long enough to let her thoughts linger on him, she felt like he would never laugh again, and that the rain would never stop.

Leaving her side, John walked to the bedside table and turned on the clock radio. Some sexual hip hop song filled the air, causing Olivia to jump and look his way. With a slight blush, John apologetically turned the station until a sultry R&B ballad drifted over the room. Moving slowly back to her side, he slid the picture window open and stepped onto the balcony, shivering slightly as the rain poured over his head and shoulders.

When he offered her his hand, Olivia wanted to melt. She was still wearing the flimsy sundress that she had sported at their "Farewell to Europe" dinner, and it was doing little to keep the cold at bay. But inside, she felt like she was on fire.

"I don't really dance," John admitted, his breath warming her ear as she stepped into his embrace.

Taking both of his hands in hers, Olivia guided his hands to her hips and then wrapped her arms around his neck. "Just hold me, then," she whispered.

As the water cascaded over her head, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, gently shaking her rain-soaked curls and allowing the salty drops to wash her tears away. She was in Spain, on a balcony in the rain, wrapped in the arms of a man who adored her. There was no reason to cry. Meeting his gaze, she stepped closer, brushing her body against his.

It was as if swaying her hips did something to her, something primal and sensual. He dragged his fingers along her back, feeling the heat of her skin just beyond the chill of her wet dress. She raked her fingernails along the nape of his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, her breath hot against the cool moisture on his throat. If she didn't realize how much he wanted her after this, there was nothing he else he could do to show her.

The feeling of his wet jeans against her thigh, along with his increasingly insistent erection, set Olivia on fire. The desire that was rumbling throughout her body was almost a foreign concept. It had been so long since she had wanted anyone like she wanted him. But as he bent his head, breathing softly against her ear, she felt the once-familiar tingly sensation gathering low in her belly. And as he trailed his fingertips up her spine, she welcomed the wetness, not one caused by the cool rain, but by the heat building in her core.

Dragging his hands away from her body before he did something they would both regret, he tried to step away. But her hands under his tee shirt, the rise and fall of her chest, and the look in her eyes begged him not to stop. Running his fingers through her hair, he carefully tucked it behind her ears and pulled her face to his. There were sounds all around them – a busy city getting ready for bed, wind whipping through the trees near the hotel, and rain smacking the balcony around them – but neither could hear anything more than the heavy breathing of the other.

John sucked Olivia's bottom lip between his, and ran his tongue over the plump skin. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, surrendering to the kiss, as she hugged him desperately. She had been kissed before, sometimes by men who claimed to love her. But none of them had ever made her skin vibrate or her toes curl.

When John pulled back, and Olivia finally opened her eyes, a small smile of resignation tugged at the corners of his lips. "Want me to walk you back to your room?"

For more than two weeks, this had been the practice: Flirt, kiss, talk, kiss some more, and then Olivia would pull away and tell him she was sorry for teasing him, but she just wasn't ready for the complications that sex would add to their relationship. It was frustrating, to be sure. Stacy had been ready whenever he was, sometimes two or three times over the course of the day. But Olivia wasn't Stacy, and he didn't want their relationship to be anything like that one had been.

Swallowing the butterflies that were body-slamming each other in her stomach, Olivia clasped both of his hands in hers. "Let me stay with you." He turned, his eyebrow raised in slight surprise. But Olivia's eyes were serious, and they were pleading. "Be with me tonight."