Stripped

A/N: Alright, so as has been the case with this story a lot, this chapter seemed to have a mind of it's own. It was not at all what I had planned, but who am I to argue with Olivia? Would you wanna piss her off? Anyway - one more chapter, Kids. I don't own shit - Enjoy!

As John listened to the sound of the shower, he slowly stretched his body under the thick covers of the bed they had shared and then rolled to inhale Olivia's scent on the pillow beside him. His mind drifted to the previous night, and to the way she had teased and taunted him for nearly an hour.

The sway of her hips, the fluidity of her body, the hunger in her eyes – everything about her had driven him to the edge of his sanity. Urges ranging from hours of gentle love-making, to out-right primal fucking coursed through him as she performed for his eyes only. And though he was certain he had never wanted any woman as much as he wanted her, John had quietly watched, keeping his hands to himself.

That dance hadn't been for him at all . She was no longer the person he had gently uncovered in a hotel room in Spain. There were no traces of that defeated girl, the one who needed him to be her champion when she was too weak to fight on her own. She was strong enough to fight her own battles now.

His offer, her dance, the way she had ridden him to her own multiple orgasms before falling, exhausted, against his chest had all been about her the night before. It was her unspoken way of accepting his generosity while saying good-bye to her past, and showing him that she would still be okay on her own.

As Olivia stepped out of the bathroom, John realized something. Nothing about the night before felt like good-bye. It was supposed to be their big send off, but he couldn't seem to believe that she was going to be on a plane back to Atlanta by sunset. Nothing about the atmosphere in that room gave him reason to think she was going to load up her car, put her house up for sale, get Brandon from his dad's house, and start a new life for herself.

"Morning, Sweetie," she smiled, leaning over the bed to drop a light kiss on his cheek.

John groaned and stretched again, returning her grin as he attempted to pull her into his embrace. "Morning," he whispered.

She settled against him, and for a long moment, the pair shared several smiles, touches, and gentle kisses. And then Olivia stood. "Come on. Get up," she motioned with her arms for him to stand. "We're goin' to lunch with the Three Stooges."

John shook his head and stared at the ceiling, making no attempt to move. "I don't wanna," he whined. "It's your last day here, Baby," he explained. "I don't wanna share."

Olivia rolled her eyes and began to pack her suitcase. "I'm going to be reunited with whiney, eleven-year-old temper tantrums soon enough, John," she turned and pointed a brush at him. "Don't start."

With a pout, he rolled out of bed. "Fine," he sighed, parading around to her side of the bed and pulling her flush against his naked body. "But when Randy's ogling your breasts and Trish is begging you to explain how you swing around on that pole for the ten thousandth time," he kissed her head and smiled, "You just remember that you could have had an entire day in bed with me."

Olivia was laughing when she heard John start the shower. It wasn't going to be easy, leaving him. But there was something in her gut that said distance wouldn't kill them. She had never felt about another man the way she felt about him, and a little time apart wasn't going to change that. For some reason, the confidence she felt in their relationship kept her from destroying the hotel room and collapsing in a simpering heap of tears on the floor.

A knock on her door drew her attention away from her suitcase. But the man behind the door was the last she had expected to see. "Vince," she sighed, stepping back and holding the door open for him.

It didn't feel at all unlike that first night at Pandora's, when the chairman had first offered her a job with his company. "I thought you'd be long gone by now," Vince smiled, walking into the room and turning.

Olivia stood by the door, watching him. His visit could mean a million things, and she couldn't think of any that were good. "You knew I wasn't leaving until tonight," she countered, knowing full well that John had called his agent at 7:00 that morning to get the ball rolling on her contract buy-out.

He nodded in concession and then shrugged his shoulder. "I'm here to offer an eleventh hour stay of execution," he stated.

It was all she could do to cross her arms and not laugh at him. "Offer?" With a raised eyebrow, she angled her head toward him. "If anyone needs to enter a plea, Vince, it's you," she pointed out.

"Fair enough." Seemingly done arguing with her, he gave another grin. "I'm here to offer you a job, Olivia," he said.

I've heard that before. With a heavy sigh, she shook her head. "I don't know what was unclear the last time, Vince. But I have no interest in parading around in my underwear for ratings."

He interrupted her with an upraised hand. "It may surprise you to find out, Ms. Stewart, that the only thing I find more attractive than a nice set of tits and a tight ass, is actually a woman with a strong mind and spirit," he waited for her to smirk. She didn't disappoint. "The fact that you have the body and the brain? Well, that's a package I simply cannot allow to walk out the door."

Stepping past him, Olivia motioned toward one of the chairs across from the bed before lowering herself to the mattress. "I'm listening, Vince."