Well, folks, it's happened. Those damn creative juices are officially spilling over. Two chapters in one week? Huzzah!

You guys leave some amazing feedback. I really appreciate it. If not for you guys, I wouldn't be here so enthused about continuing writing. I sincerely mean that. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Now how about some fluff, shall we?

Enjoy!

MU

A brief startle of surprise woke Darien up out of his slumber once he stretched his arm out; the right side of the bed was currently vacant. He opened his eyes to confirm that she was indeed gone, and the sight undeniably confirmed it. He frowned; she had left already?

Rolling on to his back, he used the heels of his palm to lift himself into a sitting position against the headboard.

Why should he care that she left?

Contractual and consensual. The words kept repeating in his mind, but for whatever reason, it wasn't resolving the disappointment he was oddly feeling. Disappointment, he lamented, was something he never faced. He always was in control.

What the hell was going on?

One moment he was intent on closing the door on her, but that apology was one that kicked him in the stomach. It was one that was all too familiar, one that he had bellowed out in years past to his college girlfriend.

She had told him that she loved him. And he had felt the same way, too, except that he didn't respond. Rather, he pushed her away, fearing that love would get in the way of studying to be the best. His goal, his ambition was to get into the tough world of contract negotiations. The thought of something else replacing that drive shut him down, and instead of being compassionate or understanding, he let his mouth get away from him. He delivered words more hurtful than he ever could have imagined, and the look on her face was enough to drive him away from relationships ever again.

So when Serena made that affirmation, it stirred that feeling up again from days past about wanting to find that compatible partner. When she began to walk away, no fighting or spewing declaration of giving her another shot, he could not help but see his 22-year-old self again. Only for him, she had slammed the door in his face.

Serena had looked so defeated, and when he saw her at the elevator, he knew she was sincere in her words. It was evident, too, that she was struggling with the same thing he was: those damn feelings.

He was extremely glad he went after her. The pent up release of being away from her spell was evident in the fact that he couldn't keep his hands off of her. She was bold, forward, and confident. The way she looked in his bed as she quivered underneath him was so god damn arousing he nearly lost himself in her immediately.

Truthfully, he had hoped to enjoy that site again this morning.

Falling asleep holding her against him felt uncomfortably natural. He wasn't usually one for, um, cuddling, but feeling her creamy skin against his, he could certainly get used to it.

But more frustratingly, what on earth was he saying as he fell asleep? He knew he was completely spent after round two, but he could have sworn he gurgled out some nonsense.

Great, I don't even remember what I was trying to say.

A sudden clang of an item against his glass coffee table disrupted his thoughts, resulting in an immediate smile.

Ah, so she hasn't left.

Reaching for a pair of gym shorts, he quickly slipped them over his nude form before reaching for his reading glasses, a habit that while not necessary, he found made his mornings much easier when glancing over the paper or his work first thing in the morning. Making his way out of the room and into his living space, he found himself briefly immobilized, the blood rushing from his body straight down to the only limb that was fully covered.

She was sitting at his coffee table, wearing the shirt he had worn the day before, buttoned only once – at the center – giving him the perfect opportunity to glare at her perfectly proportionate chest. Her hair fell around her shoulders in loose, finger-brushed waves, instantly reminding him of it sprawled on his pillows just hours before. But what really got him was the fact that she was staring at her laptop, so focused and in-thought, as she nibbled on her left thumb while her right hand worked the touchpad.

They lived in two completely separate worlds: she a free spirited journalist, he in economics, investments and contracts. But in seeing her work at her computer, reviewing and typing so intensely, maybe they weren't so different after all.

In an attempt to get the blood flowing again, he cleared his throat, startling her out of her trance. "Oh! Good morning!" she said cheerfully, closing the lid on her computer. "Don't worry, I'm not going to linger. I just needed to get this piece over to my editor before I completely forgot." She lifted herself up off of his couch and walked over to him, placing a kiss on his cheek.

He frowned. Not here to linger?

"I was going to try to make you coffee, but I have no idea how to work that thing in your kitchen. I have an old school ¥1000 coffee pot and brewer, so whatever thingy you have in the other room goes beyond my expertise," she laughed. "But anyway, I'll change and get out of here and leave you to your day."

He blinked a few times. "Do you want me to make you a cup of coffee?" he asked, still dumbfounded by her nonchalant approach about leaving.

"It's okay, I can get something on my way home," she resolved as she was about to walk into his room. Had it been any other woman, he would have let her. Contractual. Consensual. But his heart worked before his head, and he found himself grabbing her hand before she walked away, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop to think.

"You're leaving already?"

"I'm not one of those girls," she shrugged, as if she expected that to resolve the question. "You don't have to worry about me hanging around here."

"Oh, I'm not worried," he responded. He arched a finger into the exposed shirt, rounding his finger against the secured button and pulling her closer to him. "Let me take you out for brunch."

"Brunch?" she said with a hint of laughter. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You want to take me to brunch? Aww, how hipster of you!"

He frowned at her teasing. "Brunch was around long before hipsters were."

"You're so cute!" she exclaimed, running her warm finger against his jaw.

"I don't think I've ever been called cute for wanting to feed someone. Besides, Sunday brunch is perfect. You get two meals for the price of one. On a fiscal standpoint, it's well worth the visit."

"Hmm, but, it's only 7:30, and brunch isn't really a thing until later in the morning," she said coyly. He smiled in return.

"Oh, I am well aware of that, Ms. Thompson," he responded before undoing the button of his shirt. Her eyes darted from his to the now unbuttoned shirt, but quickly snapped back to his with a lopsided smile. With a roll of her shoulders, the shirt slipped down her arms, the fabric descending lower and lower down her illuminating, peach-kissed arms.

God, if only he were a painter.

"You know," she said in a voice that made him want to groan, "those glasses seriously make you look so god damn sexy."

He scooped her up immediately, quickly spun on his heel, and reentered his bedroom, intent on spending the next few hours leading to that brunch in very good company.

#

It was his usual table at Roux, an earthy French kitchen that he often times dined at for lunch. French cuisine was his favorite; it offered a finesse that Japanese cuisine cannot rival. His mouth watered as he looked at his menu, already set on Moules Marinières as his meal. He looked across the table, the blonde seductress looking over the menu with her eyebrows snapped together.

"Need advice?" he inquired.

"Desperately," she replied. "I don't know much about French food, let alone how to read it."

"The Croque Madame is outstanding here if you like ham, gruyere, and béchamel," Darien suggested. "Or a Salade Nicoise. That includes tuna, potato, boiled egg, olive and fennel."

"Hmmmm," Serena said through pursed lips. The corners of his lips twitched; she seemed unimpressed.

"What about a cheese plate?"

"Where on earth do you see that?"

"L'Assiette de Fromages,"he smiled. "Fromage means cheese."

"Ah," she said. "What are you having?"

"Mussels," he replied. Her lips curled into a judgmental frown.

"For breakfast?"

"It's truly a delicacy. They make a cream sauce that is simply divine."

"Ehhh," she hesitated. "What's the one with the ham? It's like a sandwich?"

"Yes, but you use a fork and a knife," he answered.

"But, it's a sandwich."

"Yes, but French etiquette calls for utensils."

"But-"

"It's a sandwich, yes, but it has an over-easy egg and béchamel sauce on it, which can get quite messy I'm sure. Hence, the need for silverware. Plus, it's an open-faced sandwich, so…" he reasoned, slightly caught off-guard. For such a food expert, how did she not know much about French food?

"Okay, I'll try it," she said as she placed the bound menu down in front of them. "I bet I look really foolish right now," she added.

"What do you mean?"

"The foodie in Tokyo doesn't know French cuisine," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Most reviews come from me going to local restaurants that have some sort of specialty in Japanese cuisine, since our magazine is primarily a tourist magazine."

Makes sense. "You don't look foolish."

"I appreciate the lie," Serena replied with a smile. "So, do we drink mimosas or what with this?"

"If you wish to," he replied. "Although, I'd highly recommend the pamplemousse cocktail."

"What's the difference?"

"It's made with grapefruit and gin." She smiled in response.

"Okay, I'll try that, too." He smiled at her willingness.

The waitress came over and jotted down their orders, leaving them among the bustle of the patrons of the restaurant. It was in that lull, just as the drinks arrived, that he realized that they hadn't really small-talked before. Sure, they've bantered, they've commented on food or desserts or work, but they've never actually talked about themselves before.

Hell, when was the last time he talked about himself besides his credentials on his resume?

"So," he began awkwardly, "when did you figure out you wanted to be a food writer?" Good question, Dare. Mental five!

"In college," she replied immediately. "I started off with a blog and it took me to inTokyo."

"Where did you go to college? Around here, I presume?"

"Yup, right at U-Tokyo. I was originally liberal arts, but when I had my revelation of wanting to write about food, I switched to journalism."

"University of Tokyo is a great school," he commented. "I did my graduate work there."

"Really?" she inquired, interested by their common ground.

"In 2008," he commented. She laughed.

"I was still in high school," she added. "Senior year."

"So that makes you, what, 28?"

"27," she corrected. "And from what I've read about you, you're mid 30's, yes?"

He nodded in affirmation. I didn't realize she was that young. "34," he responded.

"Cradle robber," she said with a smile into her drink. He gave her a knowing smile.

"Am I?" he teased as he sipped at his French-pressed coffee.

She hummed into her drink, taking a lengthy sip of the recommended concoction.

"So, what exactly do you do?" she eventually asked. "I've seen your name in the paper for all sorts of different things, but I haven't quite pinpointed your story."

"I work in investments," he responded, trying to figure out how to generalize his work. "I focus primarily on mergers and acquisitions."

"And that means?"

"Corporate transactions. Things like consolidations, acquiring new companies, purchases or transfers of assets."

"Sounds intense."

"It is, but I'm good at it."

"You're mighty cocky," she said with an eyebrow raise. He smiled again at her forwardness.

"Yes, but, I am making Partner this upcoming year-end, so, I think I've reserved the right to be," he said with confidence. The youngest partner in firm history, he mentally added.

"So what does 'Partner' entail, then?" she inquired.

"Honestly? More delegating and reviewing, less writing my own paperwork."

"Do you travel a lot? I remember Ami mentioning that you've been to restaurants all over the world."

"I do," he answered. "Mainly Asia and Europe, but I've been to the States a few times, and Canada as well."

"How luxurious," she sighed.

"Truthfully, I hate it," he admitted. "Layovers, jet-lag, hotels… it gets old really quickly."

"Eh, to someone who's never left Japan, it sounds fascinating."

"You've never left the country?" Darien asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Nope. I've been to Hiroshima, but that's the furthest I've been away."

Their conversation continued organically, and Darien was quite surprised to find himself smiling and laughing more than he thought he would have. He told her about different cities he had been to that he found the most enjoyable, she told him about her bucket list (apparently, traveling to Seoul was number one on her list because of her love of Korean dramas), and even when their food came, the conversation did not fade out. The look on her face when she tasted the croque was satisfying, and he even encouraged her to try his dish, something he never did.

After a brief argument over who would pay for brunch, he settled the bill with a generous tip and led her out of the restaurant. As they walked down the sidewalk and back to his apartment, he couldn't help but watch her. She was the complete opposite of him in every fashion, and yet she added something to his life that he never experienced before. From her golden hair to her floral dress, everything about her poured color into his life.

The revelation was brewing, but it wasn't until she looked back at him and smiled. Such a simple gesture, really, but it knocked him over like a freight train. The way the sun fell on her features, her cheeks illuminating a rosy tint, her lips soft and inviting, and her eyes, so soft, so blue; it captivated him.

The walls of self-preservation started to crumble, leaving breadcrumbs behind him as she reached for his hand. He found himself accepting it, strolling down the sidewalk as lovers so often do, and truly taking interest as she pointed the smallest things out, from the white flowers blooming in the trees to a grocery that sold her favorite chocolate candies.

She was intoxicating, a forbidden fruit he had thoroughly sampled and had fallen addicted to.

And it terrified him.

#

It had been a few hours since she had left, but Darien continued to stare at the page of his document, unable to get her out of his mind.

He had a flight to catch to Brussels at 6am and the documents needed to have his final review of them before he arrived, but he couldn't seem to make it past page 6 of the 15 page document. He looked over at his clock on the wall, it reminding him that if he went to bed now, he could maybe get 4 hours of sleep.

Shit.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his portfolio, resolving the idea to finish his paperwork on the flight. After all, Japan to Brussels was a lengthy air travel, so he could easily work on it then. Shifting over to his desktop, he opened up his internet browser and checked into his flight, but not before upgrading his seats from Business Class to First.

The extra solidarity will do me wonders, he lamented as he accepted the upcharge, not even blinking an eye to the cost. Much to his surprise, his assistant had managed to find him a nonstop flight as well, which reaffirmed the idea to finish his work on the flight.

Only problem was, he wasn't tired. At least, not mentally. His body was physically exhausted, but his mind couldn't stop thinking about her.

They had separated in the early afternoon, as she had to go for a review that evening and needed to change first. It was a strange feeling, not wanting her to leave, but he knew she needed to. He had told her about his upcoming business trip and they had made plans to connect on Friday evening, but he found himself wishing now that he wasn't going away for the next few days.

It's like I have a ridiculous schoolboy crush, he mentally chastised himself.

Turning off the desk lamp, he grabbed his phone and made his way to his room, laying down on the large, vacant mattress. He rolled his face into his pillow, suddenly picking up a fragrance that was recently recognizable. He smiled; apparently, her scent had lingered a little while longer.

Grabbing his phone, he decided to hop on to his Facebook application. He hardly went on social media, but he was curious about this fascinating creature he was currently smitten with. He found himself wanting to know more about her, what she liked, didn't like, her friends and family. And the source of all that information was Facebook.

Ah, what a time to be alive and in the dating game.

After a quick search, her page filled his screen, her profile picture completely accurate in depicting her, yet somehow arousing as well. Her hair up in pigtails, winking at the camera, licking an ice cream cone. He groaned; if he looked at that photo any longer, he'd have to take care of some other business.

Clicking on the information tab, he checked out the details she had to offer: fan of rock and pop music, loves cats, enjoys sappy, romantic movies as well as crime dramas, and that she has a younger brother. He scrolled briefly through her pictures, many of them involving her at local clubs with her friends, out and about the streets of Tokyo, or close-ups of different meals.

He smiled as he backed out of the app. Nothing surprising he learned, but nonetheless, he still gained some more knowledge about her.

Suddenly, his phone dinged, a text message popping up on the main screen.

You going through my Facebook photos there, boy?

Darien snapped his brows together. How did she know?

You liked a photo of me from 2012! LOL!

He could feel the color drain from his face.

Sorry about that.

No worries :D There shouldn't be anything incriminating on there. If there is, please lemmie know, though. Got an image to uphold, after all!

Well, now that you mention it, the one of you in the club with those shorts is way too provocative

Which one ;)

We both know that you're sitting there wishing I was there wearing them.

Oh, how true that was.

And if I said I was?

I'd say it's too bad you have a 6am flight, because I could dig them up and come on by.

Shit. That did sound nice.

Damn it.

Sorry not sorry!

Go to sleep.

I would if I could.

Get off your phone and close your eyes. That's how I do it. :P

Har har

If I give you permission to have an erotic dream about me, would that help your case?

zZzZzZz

Hehe, you're too cute. Have a safe flight :-*

Rolling over, he slipped his phone into the charger, and turned off the lights.

Hell if he wouldn't take her up on that offer for some erotic dreams tonight.

Ahh, fluffiness! It wouldn't be a romance without some fluff, amirite? Haha.

Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts!

And as always, go (Buffalo) Bills! (biiig weekend ahead here. Sorry, had to do it. Need the good juju).