A/N: This is something I've been working on for a while, just bits and pieces here and there. It came from a conversation with a dear friend. I hope this is some semblance of what you had in mind my friend. And please heed the M warning for several reasons. This IS the most graphic sex I've ever written (blush).
A/N2: After Tuesday's announcement I went home from work intent on watching Major Crimes but I found myself watching BSG instead and it was oddly comforting. For me Sharon Raydor will always live on in my mind and in my heart, just like Laura Roslin.
Two, three, five… It was going to be a long, quiet ride up to their suite on the twenty-seventh floor. His dark eyes cut over to where she stood on the opposite side of the elevator, tightly clutching the small woven purse in both hands; Sharon Raydor stared straight ahead, the blank expression on her face unsettling. For once Andy Flynn was too annoyed with himself to be able to read her and that single fact infuriated him even more. His gaze was drawn back to the floors slowly slipping by, but all he could hear in his mind was the sick bastard's voice.
"So, Flynn… I see the rumors about you and Raydor are true." Andy would have recognized that voice anywhere. Regretfully, he turned, his eyes taking in the man standing behind him. Alex Bishop look tired, worn down, but years of hard living would do that to a man.
"Bishop, it's been a longtime, what brings you to South Florida?"
"Yeah, moved down here in oh-eight after the Bitch took my badge…" Andy glanced to his left towards the lady's restroom, hoping that Sharon would take her time. "Been working security here at the hotel for a couple of years now. I wondered if anyone from the LAPD would be attending the conference this week and then lucky me…I see Captain Poppins on the list of guest speakers…"
"It's – Commander Raydor," Andy's even voice was low.
"Whatever," the man chuckled under his breath, "The only question I have… is who'd she finally fuck to get a promotion? I hear the new Chief is younger, maybe that's what turns her on? But then why would she be wasting her time with you…a tired, old, washed-up drunk." Takes one to know one, Andy thought with a grimace. Turning, intent on walking away before things got out of hand, he stopped at the man's next words. "You know, we got one of the best security systems around, crystal clear video. I've been watching her for the last few days. And Flynn, I've got to admit… you are one lucky - bastard. She is… well, you know…absolutely perfect breasts, and those legs that go on for days and days…" a soft groan escaped him, "When did the Ice Queen get so god damn hot?"
Andy turned quickly, his finger inches away from Bishop's face, "Listen Pal, if you go anywhere near her…"
"Andy, Andy," his smile was sickening, "No need to get all worked up. Sharon…wouldn't want you to have another heart attack." The sound of her name on Bishops lips made Andy's stomach flip, he dropped his hand quickly to his side, turning again only to be stopped by a tight grip on his shoulder. "Oh, and Flynn…" Bishop's breath was hot against Andy's neck, "if you're having trouble gettin' it up, I'd be more than happy to bend the Wicked Witch over her desk and show her what a good fucking really feels like."
Rage burned through him, in one split second Andy's elbow connected with the flabby flesh of Bishop's stomach with enough force to knock them both off balance. Stumbling backwards, the former LAPD officer collided with an empty table, sending glassware crashing to the tile floor. "Andy!" her voice sounded over the commotion around them as he caught himself on a nearby chair.
"Andy…" he finally looked up. She stood in the doorway of the elevator, holding it open on the twenty-seventh floor. With a scowl, he brushed past her. She made no effort to keep up with his exasperated gait as he strode down the hallway towards their room. Pulling the key from his wallet, he also made no effort to hold the door open for her, letting it slam effectively in her face. With a small shake of her head and slight roll of her eyes, Sharon dug her key out of the plum colored Bottega Veneta Knot clutched tightly in her hand. Slowly, she pushed the door open, letting it close soundlessly behind her. The sight before her would almost be comical given different circumstances. His seersucker jacket lay crumpled on marble floor a few feet from the door while his loafers were kicked off, landing on opposite sides of the beautifully decorated living room. He stood just behind the sofa in his bare feet, fighting to get his tie unknotted. She waited until he finally pulled the offending fabric free from his collar, "Are you finished?"
"Excuse me?" his tone was clipped.
"Are you finished… throwing this little temper tantrum of yours or…"
"As a matter of fact," he interrupted, "No, I'm not."
"Hmm," her tone was soft, "I see." She stepped across the marble floor, crouching slightly to pick up his jacket. Absentmindedly, she smoothed her hands over the soft fabric before placing it and her Knot in one of the side chairs. Tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, she stared at him even though he refused to look at her. "Are you okay?" her voice was low with concern, "Did he hurt you?"
Andy braced himself against the marble sofa table, his eyes staring out on to the dark balcony. "I'm fine."
She stepped closer, her hand suspended in mid-air, wanting so badly to touch him, "Andy, we knew something like this was bound to happen one day."
"I know," resignation laced his tone.
"We even discussed…"
His fists pounded the table, "god damn-it Sharon! I know!"
Had anyone else used this tone with her, she would have backed away; but not now, not him. She inched forward, her hand coming to rest just above the cross of his suspenders. She couldn't remember the last time she felt this much tension radiating from him. She swallowed the burn of tears in her throat, "Andy…" her other hand glided over the pale pink fabric of his dress shirt to grip the firm muscles of his upper arm as she leaned into him.
The warmth of her body and the lingering scent of her perfume slowly began to calm him. He took a deep, somewhat ragged breath, "You didn't see the look in his eyes…" The anger in his voice was replaced with regret, "You didn't hear the vile things he said…"
She slipped her left arm around him, pulling him even tighter; her chin coming to rest atop his shoulder. Her eyes blinked closed; she did hear part of what Bishop said, but she wasn't ready to share that tidbit of information with Andy. She wasn't sure she ever would. He could feel her slight shrug, "I'm sure it wasn't much different from other things…I've heard in the past." The words bitch, ice queen, wicked witch… floated through her thoughts. She stepped back, her hands gliding along his arms; he longed for her warmth and sweet smell instantly, "Andy?" she tugged lightly on his elbow, "Look at me." Letting out a deep sigh, he ran his fingers through his already mussed hair. "Please…" the pleading tone to her voice sent a ripple of sadness through him, "I need you to look at me."
He slowly turned, but he didn't meet her eyes, he couldn't, "I shouldn't have let the bastard get to me… I know that. But I'm not like you. I can't just lock the hurtful things people say away in little box in the back of my mind. I've tried to but…I just can't." The thought that he let her down, hurt almost as much as the words Bishop used. His eyes moved slowly up her perfect curves, stopping to linger on the rise and fall of her chest against the midnight blue lace of her dress.
Her cold fingertips against his chin begged him to finally look up. He was surprised to find no hurt, no disappointment; not even a hint of sadness in the vibrant greyish-green looking back at him. Love…and desire filled every inch of her beautiful face. Unable to stop himself, Andy captured her soft lips, not giving her even a second to speak. His kiss was slow, easily intoxicating. She sucked his tongue in between her lips savoring the lingering taste of cranberry and lime; her fingers moved to the back of his neck, tugging on the short silver hairs, while his hands settled at the curve of her hips. They parted several long, wonderful minutes later; chests heaving as they each struggled to catch their breaths. He started to speak, but her finger to his lips silenced him. "What happened tonight is not important…it doesn't belong here; not now, not tonight. What is important… is how much I love you and… how much I need you…" again she teased at her bottom lip, her hands slipped slowly down his arms, pulling his suspenders with her. She let the delicate fingers of her right-hand circle his wrist before taking two steps towards the bedroom, intent on pulling him with her.
"Wait," his deep, rumbling voice surprised her. She looked up in question. With a profound groan, he yanked her to him. She crashed into his chest with a soft giggle of his name, teetering on her higher than normal heels. He held fast to her, anchoring her back against his chest. "Do you have any idea how much I want you…how much I need you… right now," he growled. Brushing her hair back from her cheek, he lifted her glasses from her face, placing them safely on the end of the table. He splayed one hand across her stomach while the other moved to her chest. She arched into him, feeling his hard, thick desire growing against her lower back.
"Only as much as I need you," she rocked her hips against him, rubbing her firm bottom against his hard cock. His breath hissed out between clenched teeth. Slowly he turned them, their reflection now shown in the balcony window. He traced his hand along her side, looking for the zipper to the form fitting lace. She held her breath as he inched the zipper down before carefully pulling the dress up and over her head. He had imagined black lace underneath; it was all he could think about during dinner. The red lace he found instead was a more than welcomed surprise. He stepped away from her slightly, running a single finger down the center of her back, chuckling under his breath as she shivered.
Placing his hand on the small of her back, he guided them forward to the stone sofa table. He nuzzled his lips against her ear, gently nipping at the soft flesh there, "Bend over…" If his request surprised her, she hid it well for there was not one ounce of hesitation as she leaned forward. The stone was surprisingly cold against her bare stomach and she shivered again. "Don't move." The sound in the room suddenly seemed as if they were in a vortex; everything amplified in her ears, even the slow tick of his zipper being pulled down.
Stepping out of his pants and boxers, he tossed them to the side before turning his attention back to the beautiful sight before him. He leaned over her, placing a chaste kiss just below her right shoulder blade and then to the left. He kissed his way down her back along the path of well memorized freckles, all the way to the lace band of her panties. Hooking the lace with his thumbs, he drew the mesmerizing red fabric down over her hips and lovely bottom before sliding it down her beautiful, long legs. Getting on his knees behind her, he groaned softly. "You are so…beautiful." Lifting her Jimmy Choo clad feet one at a time, he eased her panties free. He brought the silky lace to his nose, breathing in her heady scent before tossing them on top of his pants and boxer shorts. He ran his hands back up her smooth legs in a painstakingly slow manner. She quivered beneath him as his rough hands kneed the firm flesh of her upper thighs. He slowly teased a finger up through her center, not surprised to find her already wet. With a low moan, she bucked against him. Getting back on his feet took more effort than he hoped and immediately he regretted having to let go of her.
She looked back over her shoulder, licking her lips at the sight of his desire for her. She started to stand up, but his hand on her hip stopped her. Their eyes locked on each other, his dark orbs daring her, "I said don't move." Not breaking eye contact, he ran his hand along his hardened length, slowly stroking himself. She sucked in a long, deep breath once again licking her lips. He slid behind her, leaning his weight lusciously on top of her. "Tell me what you want," he whispered against her ear.
She wiggled her butt, savoring the feel of his hard cock against her bare skin. She smiled when he hissed out her name. He straightened, his hands migrating back to her hips. Using his knee, he pushed her legs farther apart. "Andy…" his name was but a whimper on her lips, "please…" She felt his thick tip teasing her wet folds and thought for a moment that she might very well loose her mind. "Andy… I need…"
"Sharon…" he growled out her name as he rammed into her, sinking balls deep in one swift motion. She screamed, the pain and pleasure washing through her in passionate waves as she stretched around him. He stilled, giving them both a moment to savor the startlingly intense connection. She was so hot and so incredibly wet. Clinching around him, she moaned at the feel of him inside of her. Leveraging her hands on the cold marble table, she pushed back against him, letting him know she was ready. His hips ground into her, his hands hard against the pale flesh of her perfect hips. He pulled out to the tip only to slam forward again. Hard. "Damn-it Sharon…you're so tight…wet." Repeating his movements four more times, he felt a knowing shift in the feel of her body around him.
Her eyes fluttered closed as pleasure rolled through her, she cried out, "Yes…Oh…YES!" Flattening one hand against the small of her back, he slipped the other one under her hip, tilting her… just so. Two more thrusts and she completely shattered around him, sobbing his name as her orgasm washed over her. It took all the strength he had to pull out slowly and not come, but he wasn't ready for their night to end.
She missed the feel of his body against hers the second he was gone, but she was still too raw, too winded to even move. The clink of ice into a glass a few moments later made her smile; she pushed herself up, still not trusting that her legs would hold her, she leaned heavily against the table. Sharon watched as he downed one full glass of water only to fill it again. His hard, glistening cock bobbed between the tail of his shirt. Their eyes met, just as she licked her too dry lips. He stepped slowly across the room, his dark, lust filled eyes locked on hers. Her skin was flushed, her hair wild; yet, she looked absolutely breathtaking to him. The tips of their fingers brushed lightly as he handed her the cool glass. Her eyes slipped closed as she drank, the cold liquid only fueling the fire still burning within her. Taking the glass back from her, he drained the water remaining. Sitting the glass to the side, he leaned into her. Her lips were cool against his. He pulled at her legs, urging her to wrap them around his waist. "I think we need to continue this in the bedroom."
She moved her arms gingerly around his neck, letting him easily lift her, "I think you're right." She pressed her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his dark scent as he walked them slowly to the bedroom.
She sat on the edge of the bed, slipping her shoes and bra off; all the while watching him remove his dress shirt and white undershirt. Pulling in a slow, shaky breath, the sight of his naked body sent another wave of heat burning through her center. He stepped between her knees, pushing her back on the bed. She tugged him down, pulling him on top of her. His lips automatically sought out her left breast, while his hand fully palmed her right one. His teeth teased repeatedly at the hard nipple; arching up, her eyes rolled closed, "shhh…oh…yes." Her leg snaked around his waist, anchoring him to her. He was so hard, so delicious against her. She rocked her hips in a slow circular motion, needing him inside her. He moved up, finding her mouth. His tongue was velvety hot, their breaths quickened as their kiss grew wild. In one swift motion, she rolled them. He moved his hands to her waist expecting her to sink down on him, but instead she rolled off him.
"Where…" but his words died on his lips when she leaned over his rock-hard cock. She brushed her hair off to one shoulder, her dark eyes meeting his as she deliberately took him in her mouth. His eyes rolled closed, "Aww...ffffuck." Her lips flowed over him, sucking gently at first. She fisted him with one hand while her tongue fluttered across the underside of his shaft. Without letting go, she shifted beside him, spreading her own knees wider. His left hand gripped at her ass while the other went into her hair as she continued to drive him crazy. She tugged on his balls, all the while moving up and down him with her warm mouth. "Shit…shit…Sssharon…" his low, rumbling voice sent a shiver through her. He swelled, growing thicker against her lips. She knew she needed to stop but he tasted so good. "Ahhh…" he growled, tugging on her arm, "Stop…shit…stop!" He could feel her smiling against him, both knowing he'd rather come inside her. She sat up, her eyes dark with want. He ran both hands over his face, his voice raspy with desire, "Sweetheart…you gotta give me a minute."
With a soft chuckle she rolled to his right, lying flat on her back she rested one arm above her head while her other hand moved between her breast. If she was honest, a minute sounded rather good to her too. Fully relaxed, her eyes drifted closed while the tips of her fingers drew slow circles around the tender nipple of her left breast. She felt the bed shift beside her; turning her head, her eyes opened to find deep chestnut reflected in mossy green. "Hey," his deep, sexy voice sent a ripple of longing through her.
Holding his gaze, she smiled. "Hey yourself." His eyes darkened, as they moved slowly down her naked body before settling back on her red, swollen lips still wet from sucking his cock. Her core clinched gently, begging at the thought of having him once again buried deep inside her. He rolled gently on top of her, catching her wrists when she reached for him. Pinning her arms up over her head with one hand while using the other to position himself at her slick opening, he silently chanted her name in an attempt to calm himself. "Andy…" her voice was husky with want, "I need you…" Panting, she could feel him slowly pushing against her. With a deep groan he buried his face against her throat, while burying his rigid cock deep inside her. With a gasp of her name, he ground his hips against her going even deeper still. Letting go of her wrists, he pulled at her leg, anchoring her to him. The pace he set was slow at first as they met each other thrust for glorious thrust, her thighs grasping at his pumping hips. "Fuck…me…oh…Andy…yes…hard…yes…harder!"
Digging his knees in, he gave her exactly what she asked for and more. Over and over, he pounded into her; all the while moaning words of love and lust against her ear. She tightened around him, her clit throbbing with every slam of his body against hers. She shattered against him once again, the tingling waves of her orgasm radiating down to even the tips of her toes. "Fuck…yeah!" he growled, his hips circling and lunging a few more times before she pulled him into the oblivion of pleasure with her. Filling her, she trembled beneath him, the gruff sounds of satisfaction rumbled through his chest before he sagged heavily against her. His weight was welcoming, it reminded her just how much she loved and need him. He rolled to her right and she missed him immediately even though he was only mere inches away. She rolled to her side, curving into his body, her hand migrating into to the patch of salt and pepper hair scattering across his chest. She smiled as his hand covered hers. Content, her eyes slid closed, only the sounds of their ragged breathing filled the room around them for the next few minutes. "I love you," her eyes slipped open at the deeply mellow sound of his voice.
The depth of that love was evident in the dark eyes looking back at her. She swallowed at the burn of tears in her throat, allowing only a single tear to slip down her cheek. Sitting up slightly, she leaned in, placing feather light kiss against his lips, "I love you." Her voice was hoarse with emotion and that good kind of exhaustion that comes after the kind of love they made. She slipped from the bed, moving slowly on unsure legs towards the bathroom and he couldn't help but smile; knowing she could never go to bed without removing her make-up first. He was marrying a creature of habit, and that was a fact he didn't mind one bit.
With a soft groan, Andy too rolled from the bed. Picking up his white undershirt he cleaned himself before walking back into the living area. Slipping on his boxers, he downed another glass of water before checking the locks and turning the lights off. He strode slowly back into the bedroom, sitting the half empty glass on the bedside table. Leaving a single lamp on, Andy settled back into bed resting his hands behind his head. His mind drifted back to what had happened earlier, unable to stop the anger and irritation from building all over again. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't realize Sharon had come back to bed until he felt her hand against his chest.
Meeting her questioning gaze, he knew she knew exactly where his mind had gone. "Sorry…" he grumbled, "I just…I think I know why Bishop got to me so easily."
Sitting next to where he was stretched out on the bed, she pulled her knees up to her chest. Even in the soft light of the single lamp, their eyes locked, while his left hand tugged on the hem of his pale pink shirt she was now wearing. He was surprised at the slow nod of her head, "He reminds you of…Jack."
He swallowed hard at the weight of her words, "Yeah…I…never noticed it when he was still with the department…"
"Why would you?" She interrupted, "Jack meant nothing to you then," she shrugged slightly.
Shifting, Andy tugged on her calf, "Come here…" she went willingly into his arm, her head resting just above the smooth beat of his heart. "When I think about everything and everyone you have had to deal with…" Leaning forward, he placed a chaste kiss against her forehead.
With a low hum, she snuggled even closer into the warmth of Andy's body. "Unfortunately, Jack and Bishop share more than just looks. Both have proven time and time again that they can be despicable human beings."
"I'm sorry for bringing Bishop up again." His voice rumbled through his chest, "You were right before, he doesn't belong here…and Jack certainly doesn't belong here."
"No, he doesn't."
Holding to her with one arm, Andy reached to turn the bedside lamp off. In the darkened night, he pulled the covers around her, all the while not fully letting go. "You warm enough?"
She hummed again, settling against the curve of his body. "Thank you…I love you."
He ran his fingertips slowly up and down the curve of her hip, "I love you, Sweetheart. Sleep well." He lay in the dark, listening for the sound of her breathing to even out. Very rarely did she fall asleep first, but tonight Andy just could not get his mind to still. Filled with regret and anger it was well over an hour later before he finally drifted off to sleep.
The muffled cries were out of place in the silence of the darkened hotel room. Andy sat straight-up, immediately aware she was no longer curled next to him. "No…No…" he reached for the lamp, suddenly casting a soft glow across the room. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on her. "No…please…" She lay huddled at the foot of the bed, the nightmare still holding tightly to her. "Don't…no…I…" the fear in her voice sent an ache through his chest.
"Sharon?" his voice was low, but firm. "Sharon, wake up…it's just a dream." He crawled closer…careful not to shake the bed too much.
"No, no…STOP!" She lay on curled on her side, strands of sweaty hair stuck across her cheek and forehead. Her hands balled into tight fist, jerked with each word.
"Sharon, wake up…you're safe…I promise," Andy begged. Kneeling beside her, he drew in a long deep breath, "Sweetheart, wake up!" His voice was louder this time but it still failed to break the dream's hold on her. "Damn-it…" he muttered under his breath.
"Don't touch me…" she whispered harshly. Her pained voice tormented by the visions in her mind. Andy froze, his heart racing with dread. Her whole body writhed before him, her legs kicking out against the bed. "Don't…please…no…" torment and pain twisted her beautiful face.
Touching her to wake her would be a last resort, one Andy knew from experience was not without great cost. He inched closer, "Damn-it Sharon…WAKE UP!"
The force of his voice finally broke through her nightmare; her eyes flew open, she jerked upright, looking frantically around the room.
"Oh… where…" she breathed, her chest heaving. Her face was flushed with sweat and tears fell down her cheeks. She inched slowly away from him and for a moment he was worried she would tumble off the back of the bed.
"Sharon," his voice was incredibly calm, soothing, "Sweetheart, look at me. You're okay. You're safe. It was just a really bad dream. We're in Miami…remember?" Confusion was not uncommon for her after a nightmare of this magnitude. He just needed to get her to calm down and focus.
Her movement stopped and she starred at him, "Miami?" Her hand wiped at the hair clinging to her forehead. "Bishop…" Andy froze, his chest tightening. "Bishop was here?"
"Yeah, we ran into him at dinner."
Her hand moved to her still heaving chest, "Andy…how…how did he know…that we're here?"
Her question confused him for a moment, his eyes were drawn back to her face, the fear still burning bright in her eyes. "Coincidence really," he shrugged, "Bishop works security here at the…" He never had a chance to utter the word hotel. In one swift movement, Sharon rolled from the bed, moving faster than he imagined possible across the bedroom floor. She stumbled just inside the doorway, but caught herself before she could fall. "Where are you going?" He called as he too hurried from the bed intent on finding her. As he entered the living area, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Sharon was dragging a heavy chair across the entry hall towards the hotel room door, "What in the hell are you doing?"
"He can't get in here…If I put this chair in front of the door…he can't get in here," the tone of her voice was one Andy had never heard before and it shook him to his core.
He stepped quickly around her and the chair, blocking her path to the door. "Sharon, he's not coming in here, anyway… the door is locked."
"Andy…" the fear and anger in her voice was chilling, "get out of my way! He has a key! He can do… whatever he wants! Damn-it Andy…You don't understand. You don't know…what I know." That was true he didn't but, he wasn't sure how much of this was real and how much was brought on by her nightmare.
He stepped around the arm of the chair, hesitantly. "You're right… but Sharon, I promise you're safe. I'm here and there's no way I'm letting Bishop anywhere near you."
"But…" she allowed him to pull her heavily into his chest, "You don't know, what I…what he…"
"Shh…" he soothed against her hair, surprised that she gave up so easily. "Let's get you cleaned up and back in bed." He lifted her effortlessly, for she made no struggle to stop him. Both were silent as he stepped back through the bedroom into the bathroom. He sat her carefully on the toilet. "I'm going to go grab a t-shirt, are you going to be okay?" The nod of her head was almost imperceptible, doing little to ease his worry.
Some five minutes later, they settled back into bed. She had been mostly quiet while he changed her shirt and cleaned her face with a cool bath cloth. Now in the darkened bedroom, she curled onto her side with her back facing him. He wanted nothing more than to pull her close, but he was willing to give her the space he thought she needed.
For the second time tonight, he listened to sound of her breathing, surprised at how easily she fell back to sleep. Running his hands over his face and through his hair, he took a deep shuddering breath. He had so many questions, only now was not the time to ask her. At first, he thought maybe this was the same reoccurring nightmare about Stroh that plagued her from time to time. But he wasn't so sure; there was something oddly familiar, yet glaringly different and that worried him. Rolling to his side, he pulled the covers tighter around her, imagining the warmth and weight would give her a sense of security he couldn't. His hands ached with the need to touch her, reaching out he smoothed her soft auburn curls against the pillow, all the while careful not to wake her. As his eyes slipped slowly closed, he begged for sleep to take him in hopes of easing the worry that weighed heavily on his heart.
Andy Flynn woke with a start, surprised to find the room bright with sunlight. The bed was empty beside him as he rolled to look at the clock. Eight fifty-three, he couldn't believe his eyes. Moving from the bed, he headed straight for the bathroom. Some five minute later, clad in one of the hotel robes, he stepped into the living room. The chair from the night before was back in place against the wall, his eyes surveyed the room until he spotted her out on the balcony. Easing the balcony door open with a soft whoosh, the warm morning air was welcoming. She looked up from where she sat curled on the chaise lounge, tea cup in hand, "Good morning sleepy head." Her smile was bright as was the vibrant green of her eyes. She patted the cushion beside her, "come join me." Sitting her tea to the side, she pulled Andy close as he sat down. His lips easily found hers and he smiled at the hint of earl grey. As they parted, she tugged on the sash of his robe, "we match."
Looking down, he smiled, "It looks much better on you. How…are you this morning?" Unable to hide the concern seeping into his voice.
"I'm good…can't remember the last time I slept so well," she beamed as Andy bit his tongue to hide the shock from seeping all over his face. "But I do have a question or two really… How did that side chair get in the middle of the entry hall and wasn't I wearing your pink shirt when we went to bed?"