So initially, this chapter was like two shirt, separate chapters, but I thought it just seemed logical to...mesh them together.

And I got this!

After drying myself off, I called my father using the Brewers' phone; he was relieved to hear that I hadn't been brutally murdered, but he agreed - although reluctantly so - with Jack; the rain was simply too heavy to drive in; He would have to come by and pick me up in the morning. Mark had given him the address to their home and after saying goodbye, I hung up.

Jack then led me up another set of stairs, all the way up to the third floor. He was holding my hand as I trailed a bit behind him, distracted by the heat of his large, comforting hand.

I tried to focus on something else, counting each step as the stairs went further and further up.

Ten...Eleven...Twelve...

"You alright back there?" He turned his head to look at me, and I was suddenly lost in that gorgeous smile of his.

Gah! What comes after twelve?

"Uh..yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, is all." I must have sounded convincing, as his expression turned sympathetic, and he said "don't worry. I'll get you settled in for the night."

We emerged into a long hallway, just as fashionable as the rest of the house, and Jack started giving me a little bit of a tour.

"This is basically my floor. My parents' stuff are on the second floor, and I keep all of my shit up here. I think they came up with that so that they wouldn't have to listen to me playing video games all day or playing the drums. They make one hell of a noise.

He played the drums? I made a mental note to ask him more about that later.

"This is one of the bathrooms," he pointed to a door on our right.

"This is the music room, where the guys and I like to jam out when they come over...this used to be my exercise room where I would practise sparring with my dummy and use my weights and whatnot, but last year I had a little hole-through-the-floor incident with one of the heavier weights, so now the dojo's been relocated to the basement and this room became a guest room, which is basically just a room full of video games, a big TV and a mini-fridge in case we get hungry and can't be bothered to go to the kitchen." How could he explain this so nonchalantly? Did he have no idea how huge all of this was? Probably not, he did grow up with this after all.

When we arrived at the end of the hallway, to an oak door adorned with various 'WARNING' and 'DO NOT ENTER' signs, and I couldn't help but notice the way that he bit his lip and rocked back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet, as if he was nervous.

Was Jack Brewer nervous to show me his room?

But, just as soon as the worry appeared, it was replaced by the trademark cocky smirk that I had grown to expect in the single day that I had known him.

It didn't feel like a day, though. With everything that had happened in that short timespan; meeting him, sparring with him, being rescued by him, it felt like I had known him for weeks already. And that was kinda scary.

"And this," he announced, bringing me back to reality, "Is my humble abode."

He swung the door open, and I was immediately assaulted by the rich smell of cinnamon and leather, the scent almost intoxicating. It was just like what he smelled like whenever I was close to him, only amplified. It nearly knocked me off my feet.

I followed his lead and stepped forward into the room, barely registering the 'click' of the door as he closed it behind us. His room was amazing.

The walls were a dark grey colour, littered with posters of skateboarders, martial artists and the Rolling Stones. The hardwood floor was partly covered by a large, black rug that seemed to extend under the leather couch in the middle of the room, placed strategically directly opposite the large, flat-screen television covering a large portion of the right-side wall.

What I wouldn't do to live here.

I also noticed that in one of the corners of the huge room, there were shelves upon shelves stacked to the brim with trophies - most likely from karate - and framed photos of famous martial artists like Bruce Lee, and Bobby Wasabi. I could tell how seriously he took karate, his obvious passion for it making my heart swell. I loved how dedicated he was.

But what really caught my attention was the huge, king-sized bed resting against the back wall. It was ridiculously big, and covered in thick, black sheets and plush-looking pillows.

He must sleep like a bear.

I think he must have noticed me practically eye-fucking his bed because I suddenly felt him right behind me, his hand coming to rest on my lower back and his mouth resting next to my ear.

"Go ahead," he offered. "Have at it. It's even more comfortable than it looks."

I turned around and looked at him, unsure. "Are you sure? I mean, I'm still pretty damp from the rain and I wouldn't want to soak your sheets."

He waved his hand dismissively at my worries. "It's no biggie, trust me. I was going to change the sheets in the morning, anyway. Besides," He shot me a devilish grin. "It's not just there to look pretty. One does not simply buy a huge-ass bed and not belly-flop on it. T'is the way of the juvenile."

I couldn't help but laugh at his horrible Boromir impression, but before I could call him out on it, he was already halfway across the room and, true to his word, he dived onto his bed and landed rather ungracefully on his back, laughing and kicking off his shoes.

He propped himself up on his elbows after a few seconds and beckoned e with a tilt of his head. "Coming?"

Before my rational side had time to protest, I kicked off my own shoes and started running across the plush rug and replicated his jump, barely avoiding crashing into Jack as I landed next to him in a heap of giggles.

This was so fun!

My chest heaved up and down for a while, taking deep breaths of air after having laughed so much.

We lay there for quite some time afterwards, just basking in the cheerful atmosphere, thinking about the events of that night and deciding that Jack Brewer was definitely an enigma, one that I would very much like to solve.

Finally growing tired of the silence, it was I who rolled around on my side to face him, only to find him already looking at me, his eyes a dark, rich brown, boring into my own without an ounce of shame at being caught staring at me. He just gave me the biggest grin in the world, looking completely comfortable and at ease in the situation.

We exchanged no words, but then again there wasn't really a need to, and I mimicked his movements as he slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, and I immediately felt the loss of warmth from the sheets.

I didn't even realise that I had been shivering until Jack looked at me slightly worriedly and placed a comforting arm around me, rubbing up and down my own.

"Sorry. I forgot that you were still in your wet clothes. Why don't you put on something from my wardrobe over there," He pointed to the large, oak closet next to the bed. "And I'll go get an air mattress and some sheets. You can get changed in the en-suite," which I assumed was behind the white door on the other side of the bed.

I nodded my head in agreement and watched his retreating figure as he got up and left the room.

When I could no longer hear his footsteps, I reluctantly pushed myself off of the huge bed and walked over to his wardrobe, opening the large doors and searching for a pair of pyjamas.

When after rummaging around I found none, I concluded that he must sleep in his underwear - or nothing at all, which I have to admit seemed very appealing - and started to search for a T-shirt instead.

I finally settled on the least huge top I could find and a pair of spongebob boxers, gathering them in my arms as I entered his bathroom.

I wasn't surprised when it turned out to be as huge and amazing as the rest of the house; his bathtub was more like a hot tub, probably big enough for two - which I'll admit gave me some pretty naughty thoughts - and his shower, oh god his shower, it was a walk-in that covered the whole side of the left wall, with an array of water jets adorning the wall.

I wonder if I have time to test it out?

No, Kim. This is not the time.

Pushing my desires to the back of my mind, I locked the door and started to strip - and there will be no detailed description of that.

I wasn't sure if I should keep my underwear or not, but I knew that if I didn't want my clothes to stay damp, it would be best to leave them to dry.

I pulled on his adorable boxers which, thanks to the tight-ish elastic around the waist just managed to fit me, and I pulled the red T-shirt over my head.

His clothes practically engulfed me.

I had never been very tall, and I was generally considered quite slender. So when wearing clothes fit for a guy over six feet tall with strong, thick muscles, of course I was going to feel a title like a toddler wearing daddy's clothes.

I wasn't sure what to do with my drenched outfit, so I decided to just throw them into the dirty clothes pile that Jack seemed to have created in the corner under the sink.

Not wanting to seem like too much of a slob, I bent down and slowly folded my clothes, making sure to hide my underwear between my top and my jeans, but something caught my eye.

I knew that it was rude, and probably a little gross to be snooping around in his dirty laundry, but I couldn't help myself from pulling out the black top from the pile.

It was ripped in the lower left corner, and and there was dried blood around the tear, like it had been snagged by something sharp that cut him as well.

I instantly thought back to that day in the garden, with the piece of fabric and the blood...when I hadn't found it in the morning, I had assumed that I had just imagined it all, that the stress of moving to a different state was messing with my head.

But now I wasn't so sure...

Yet again, I highly doubted that Jack had climbed up into my tree and spied on me as I pranced around in my room and listened to music.

Besides, we hadn't even me yet.

I heard footsteps coming from the bedroom, and I knew that Jack must be back with the air mattress.

I pushed all of my silly thoughts away and decided to go help him.

I unlocked the door and left the bathroom, heading over to where Jack was now positioned sat on the floor with the mattress in his hands, getting ready to blow it up.

It was only when he turned towards me and his eyes widened in shock that I realised that I was wearing way less clothes than earlier. Not to mention without a bra on.

I just hoped that he couldn't make out my boobs through the material of his shirt.

Now that would be embarrassing.

But as his gaze bore into me, I realised that I actually didn't mind the attention he was giving me. It's not like he was leering, or anything, just...well, admiring is how I would have described the look he was giving me.

And I kind of liked it.

What was happening to me?

Jack's POV (Surprise, muthafuckas!)

Fuuuuuck...

I tried to look away, I really did, but my eyes seemed to be glued to the blonde goddess standing only a few meters in front of me. All logical thoughts had escaped me, and all I could think about was how fucking amazing she looked wearing my clothes. I mean damn, that girl had some nice legs. And the Spongebob-yellow really brought out her gorgeous tan. I could tell that she had spent a lot of time in the sun to be that brown, as opposed to the girls who spend their time in tanning beds, getting cancer and whatnot.

my gaze seemed to be fixed on those soft-looking thighs, and I thought back to that afternoon, and the way that they had felt when she was straddling me, catching me completely off-guard with her awesome karate skills.

It wasn't every day I got to meet a girl who could challenge me like that. It was exhilarating.

Not to mention those yoga pants she had been wearing. Somehow I doubt that she realised just how good she had looked in that outfit, how much she was affecting all the males in the room, which was ridiculous, seeing as how smoking hot she was.

Although that lovely ensemble at the dojo had nothing on the sight in front of me right then. There was something about the fact that she was wearing my clothes that made the whole imagery even hotter. Maybe it was just the possessive male inside of me that revealed in the idea that she was wearing what I had provided for her, but that was just primitive.

Doesn't mean it's not true, though.

She shifted around nervously, obviously uncomfortable under my appraisal, and I immediately felt bad for making her feel that way, but I honestly just didn't know how I was going to tear my eyes away.

And then she crossed her arms. And I was a goner. She wrapped her arms around her torso, incidentally pushing her boobs up slightly at the same time, giving me the best imagery in the world.

And wait. Oh, god have mercy. Was she not wearing a bra?

I think I died.

Deciding that any more staring would surely make the poor girl press charges, I painfully tore my eyes away from her smoking body and cleared my throat, shifting awkwardly on the floor, making sure that the tent in my trousers was safely hidden.

"So, uh...I found the mattress..."

She gave me a look that said 'way to state the obvious, numb nuts' and I felt my cheeks warm slightly from embarrassment.

"I see that," she said, one eyebrow raised, the corner of her mouth pulled up in a sexy smirk.

"Damn. And here I was, thinking I was invisible." I joked weakly, before clearing my throat and trying desperately to think of another topic of conversation.

"Well," she beat me to it. "Is there a guest bedroom you want me to stay in, or something? Maybe the living room, although I think we might have a hard time getting the mattress down to the first floor once it's inflated," she gave me a nervous smile.

Did she really think that I was going to make her sleep on the fucking air mattress? What kind of host does that?

I raised my eyebrows at her. "What? You think you get to sleep on my air mattress? Sorry Kim, but you're stuck with the bed. This mattress is simply too comfy to let anyone else sleep in it."

I didn't think that she'd actually buy it, but I was hoping that she would at least get the message and not put up a fuss.

I don't know why I ever expected that to work.

"Jack, I'm not going to make you sleep on an air mattress in your own home. I'm already invading your space enough as it is by staying in your house tonight, I don't want you to feel obligated to give up your bed for me. Especially when it's as comfy as it is."

I sighed, my mind already made up. "Kim, I'm sorry to have to do this, but if you don't agree to sleep in my bed then I'll be forced to hold your clothes captive and post pictures of your underwear online."

She gasped in indignation.

"You wouldn't!"

I nodded grimly. "I'm afraid you leave me no choice."

She shot a fleeting glance to the bathroom door, but before she could even think of dashing in and saving her clothes I was by the door, leaning against the wall.

Probably too tired to keep fighting me on this, and knowing that I was joking anyway. she finally sighed in resignation and gave in.

"Fine," she huffed. "I'll sleep in your bed. But just to spite you, I'll make sure that I sleep in the most uncomfortable position, so all of your efforts will have been in vain." she counters stubbornly, topping it off by sticking her tongue out like a child, and giving me far from childish thoughts.

"At least I'll have tried." I shot her a grin and she returned it, climbing into my huge bed as I finished blowing up the air mattress.

She just watched me blow it up for a minute or so, and when I was done, I threw some sheets and a pillow on before climbing in and making myself comfortable.

"All good?" I asked her as she wiggled around, settling in.

"Yep" she replied after a few moments.

"'Kay, g'night." I reached over to my right, turned the lights off and settled back down.

"Hey, Jack?" I heard after a minute or so.

"Yeah?"

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but what does your dad do for a living? I mean, it must be pretty important to earn enough money to buy a house like this." I was surprised by her question. Everybody already knew who my dad was, and the fact that she had no idea was actually quite refreshing. "My dad works as a CEO for one of the largest Candy companies in the world."

"wow, sounds exiting." She giggled.

"what's so funny?" i asked.

"Oh nothing," she laughed again. "I just had a funny thought."

"Well? You can't just leave me hanging like that, now i need to know what's so funny!" I whined.

"Alright, i was just thinking that you remind me of a real-life Charlie Bucket."

"What, like from Charlie and the chocolate factory?"

"Yeah, and your dad's like Willy Wonka." I laughed at that. Dad was surprisingly like Willy Wonka. Well, minus the messed-up childhood.

"You know what that makes you?" I asked her.

"What?"

"An Umpa Lumpa."

"..."

"Kim?"

"..."

"Kimberly?"

"I'm not talking to you."

"Why?" I laughed, thoroughly amused.

"Because," I could almost hear the adorable pout in her voice. "You basically called me fat. And orange."

I burst out laughing at that, befuddled as how she could come to such a conclusion. Surely she must have realised from how I was practically drooling over her earlier that I don't think either of those things to be even remotely true.

"Kim, you are anything but fat. And you're only a little orange," I teased, earning a little "Hmph" from her, making me chuckle.

"We good now?"

No reply.

"Kiiimm?"

"...Goodnight, Jack." I could hear the small smile in her voice, and I was immediately relieved. The last thing I wanted was her mad at me.

"Night, Kim."

"Jack?..Jack?" I woke up to the sound of my name and groaned, burying my head deep into my pillow. I heard my name again.

"Five more minutes, please, just five more minutes..."

A girlish giggle resonated in my ears and knocked me out of my lazy state. I opened my eyes to complete darkness, which meant that it was still nighttime. Yes, more sleep! I blinked a few times to adjust my eyes to the lighting and saw a girl in my bed, curled up in a ball with my covers wrapped tightly around her. Kim, I realised.

"Kim? What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

She hugged the covers even tighter to her body. "No, everything's fine, I'm just freezing my ass off over here. How can you sleep in this cold? It has to be, like, zero degrees in here. Don't you have air con?"

Shit. That's right. Humans can't handle the cold as well as we do. God, I'm so stupid! I gave her a sheepish grin that I wasn't even sure she could see in the dark, and tried to come up with some excuse as to why I wasn't turning into an ice cube in the intense cold.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that, I guess I'm just warm-blooded." Pffft. What a lame-ass excuse.

"well then get your warm-blooded ass over here and warm me up because ten more minutes of this and my feet are gonna drop off. I need my feet!"

My eyes widened. Did she just suggest what I think she did?

"I-I didn't mean it like that!" she protested. "I'm just really cold and you're not and...oh nevermind. Forget I said anything..." She groaned and turned onto her side. I opened my mouth to say something, when she let out a small shiver. It was quiet, she probably didn't even realise that she gad let it slip, but I heard it. And there, in the dark of the night, the moonlight peeking through the windows and lighting up her beautiful face, she looked so fragile, so frail in comparison to the bright, sarcastic girl that had graced me with her presence only a few hours ago. That was when I realised that there was something special about Kimberly Crawford, and I wasn't about to let her out of my sight any time soon.

I crawled out from underneath my covers and tiptoed my way to the bed, climbing in and settling down.

"Jack, what are you-"

"Shhh," I lay down, her back pressed up against my chest, and wound my arm around her waist. God, she was freezing. I felt so bad for making her sleep in the cold.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what?" She asked.

"For not taking care of you properly."

"Don't be silly," she scolded. "It's not your fault that I freeze up like a popsicle every time i walk past the frozen section of the supermarket. I'm just not used to the cold, that's all. But next time, you might want to warn a girl before making them sleep in a fridge. I'm surprised no one's ever mentioned it to you before."

My arms involountarily tightened around her. "Actually, you're the only girl that's ever been in my room, let alone slept in my bed. Congratulations. You're the first." I wasn't sure what kind of reaction I had been hoping to get with that, but after a long pause, she finally replied.

"Well, I'm glad...Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Kim." I whispered softly, my head now spinning, trying to decipher her comment. Did she like me? Did she mean that she was glad that I hadn't been with anyone else? I couldn't be sure. But one way or another, I was going to find out.

When I was pretty sure she was asleep, I leant down and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, and she snuggled even closer to me. I smiled. It was going to be a long night.

"Sweet dreams, Kimmy-bear."

I swear she kicked me.

Don't you just love Jack? I know I do.

Review!

-CCC