Kennedy was embarrassed by how quickly she'd agreed to spend more time with Charlie. He was a virtual stranger and a potential fraud. It was entirely possible that he made his living by lying to gullible, vulnerable people, offering them false hope in exchange for cold, hard cash.

Though the facts didn't point in Charlie's favor, there was something about him that was incredibly appealing to Kennedy. Whether she was being sucked in by his carefully cultivated charisma, or her long-ignored baser drives, she enjoyed Charlie's company, and had been reluctant to say goodbye to him.

After accepting Charlie's invitation -- and hoping that there would be solid food to accompany the tea -- Kennedy followed Charlie to the back of the store. He'd flipped the store's 'Open' sign to 'Closed', brushing off Kennedy's concerns that he was closing because of her and assured her that it wasn't long until the posted closing sign anyways. Kennedy had assumed that Charlie was leading her back to the table and chairs they'd sat at earlier, but instead stopped in front of a narrow, unmarked door.

Charlie pulled a key from the pocket of his jeans and opened the door. Kennedy had been expecting a closet, perhaps one that contained a kettle, but instead saw a narrow flight of stairs.

"This way to the kitchen," he said.

Kennedy let Charlie go first, to save having to navigate the narrow stairway and figure out where to go when she reached the top, as well as to save herself the awkwardness of waggling her bottom in Charlie's face if she climbed the stairs ahead of him. Half-way up, she realized that another advantage of going second was that she got to watch Charlie's toned ass sway back and forth in front of her face.

Unfortunately, the old wooden stairs had been worn smooth by decades of foot traffic, and Kennedy found herself needing to watch her footing more and Charlie less, holding the thin metal handrail as she went.

The stairs opened to a bright and airy kitchen-slash-entryway, the stairs safely tucked behind a half-height wall. The room was a cheerful mishmash of colors and styles. It was almost overwhelming to Kennedy's more sedate tastes, and she was mildly concerned by the feminine touches of the gauzy curtains covering the window over the sink, and the floral pottery displayed on a set of shelves high over the table.

"Is this your apartment?" she asked.

"Sure is. Have a seat. Make yourself at home."

Kennedy dropped her backpack beside a jumble of shoes -- all men's shoes, she noticed happily -- and sank into a red-painted wooden chair beside a table that was currently painted robin's egg blue, but the wear at the corners revealed that it had once been lemon yellow, and before that, bubblegum pink.

"Is it just you here?" Kennedy hated to pry, but hated surprises even more. The lack of female footwear didn't preclude the possibility of a roommate.

"Yep. I've been here on my own for a couple years, now."

"Someone shared it with you before that?" Kennedy asked, thinking of the fluttery curtains.

"Yes, I lived here with my mother for a few years when we first came to town. The shop was hers originally. She left two years ago to open a new shop in a new town. Itchy feet, all her life."

Kennedy didn't know what to make of that. She'd imagined Charlie to be about her age, or maybe a year or two younger. That still put him firmly in his middle twenties; an age when living with one's mother was a sign that all wasn't right.

"How about you?" Charlie asked over the shoosh of water filling the kettle from the tap. "You live on your own?"

"I have a roommate," Kennedy replied. She wouldn't consider Roommate to be a dear friend and kindred spirit, but they had a functional relationship and Roommate didn't have any horrible habits. And, through long-ingrained habit, Kennedy felt better telling a strange man that someone would notice if she went missing. "We've been sharing an apartment for two years now. She's in the last year of her degree program, just like I am."

The kettle made a low rumble as Charlie set it on the stove element, which he'd heated up while he filled the kettle. Charlie pulled out a green chair painted with white flowers and sat down across from Kennedy. He rested his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand and regarded Kennedy with contented thoughtfulness, as though she were a particularly pleasing tarot card. Taking this as permission, Kennedy let her eyes rest on Charlie's face.

She was immediately drawn to his eyes. They were the color of dark chocolate, and intense, like he'd lived a thousand lifetimes, and gained wisdom from and enjoyed every one. His eyebrows were more straight than arched, but the shape only enhanced the intensity of his eyes. He had a strong jaw and surprisingly smooth skin. With his dark hair, she would have expected him to have a five-o'clock shadow by now.

His lips. She could spend a long time studying those perfect lips. The bottom lip was fuller than the top. almost fuller than Kennedy's own, and flush with youth and vigor. And his mouth seemed most comfortable when he was nearly smiling, like its default position was one of contentment; a low-level warm happiness at all times. A simmering heat that could quickly become hotter, hot enough to steam, to scald, to scream...

No, wait, that was the kettle.

Charlie winked at Kennedy, then popped out of his seat to attend to the ear-piercing kettle, leaving Kennedy unexpectedly breathless.

"You like citrus and spices?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, sounds great."

Charlie turned back to her a moment later, carrying two mugs in one large hand by putting his fingers through the handles of both mugs. In the other hand he held, to Kennedy's great relief, a box of cookies.

"Should we go to the living room?" Charlie asked.

Kennedy nodded and let Charlie pass by her and pass through the doorway into the living room, following closely behind him. She clapped a hand over her stomach when it growled again at the promise of spicy tea and sweet cookies, willing it to behave itself a little longer.

The living room would have seemed eclectic and colorful in most homes, but compared to the kitchen, it was all serenity and comfort. The room was dominated by a large, overstuffed brown couch and matching chair, both of which were hardly visible under piles of textured pillows and throw blankets. The carpet had a Persian feel, and the walls were painted in stripes of shades of blue. A small television sat on top of an ornate dresser trimmed in gold. Kennedy's favorite feature of the room was, hands-down, the large wall of shelves, stuffed to overflowing with books.

Charlie set the mugs and cookies down on a coffee table that seemed to be made of a painted plank, held up by milk crates, and mostly covered by a paisley tablecloth. He settled onto the couch and Kennedy followed the food and sat beside him. He opened the box of cookies and held it out to her. She pulled one from the box and took a large bite. With her second bite, she chewed slowly, trying to make out the flavor of the cookie. It was both familiar and unfamiliar; unusual but not unpleasant.

"These are good. What kind are they?"

"Lavender. A local bakery brought them by yesterday to see if I'd stock them in my shop. What do you think of them?" Charlie held the box out to her again.

She took another cookie and broke off a small bite, rolling the flavors over her tongue. "I've never had anything like them. They're wonderful!"

Charlie leaned back and lay his arm along the back of the couch, looking pleased. "I'll order a flat of them tomorrow."

"I'll come back and buy a box."

Charlie ran the tip of his thumb across his perfect lower lip. "I look forward to it."

The way he looked at her had Kennedy certain it wasn't the sale he was anticipating. Her cheeks flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the steaming drink the ducked her head towards. She wondered if Charlie had invited her back to his place for more than just tea in mind. It had been far too long since she'd been with a man. He'd be a perfect one-night stand: handsome, charismatic, brimming with lazy sensuality, and someone she had no chance of running into socially or professionally. If he was a low-level con artist with mommy issues, she could ignore that for a few hours.

Kennedy decided that if he was up for it, she was too. She put her mug down on the coffee table, and used the movement to work her way closer to Charlie. She spotted a chunky silver ring on his index finder, reached out, and grazed her fingertip across the body-warm metal. The half-inch wide band was completely covered in intricate filigree patterns. Only the size kept it from crossing the line from artsy to feminine.

"This is beautiful. Is there a story behind it?"

Charlie used his ringed finger to turn Kennedy's hand palm-up, then dropped his hand into hers. "Not really. I spent a couple weeks in India one summer. Bad time to go for a Northerner, by the way. I bought a whole pile of rings from a market there to put in the shop, but I liked this one, so I kept it for myself."

"That's a great story. I've never been anywhere half so exotic. What did you think of it?"

He laughed. "Honestly, I don't remember much of it. Between the heat during the day and the partying at night, I was... well. I'm sure you get the picture." He gave her a roguish grin.

Kennedy didn't, exactly. She'd never stayed out in the heat long enough to get sunstroke, and while she drank from time to time, she'd never had a night she flat-out couldn't remember. She didn't get invited to those sorts of parties, really.

Still resting his hand in Kennedy's, he took the end of her ponytail, which lay on the front of her shoulder, and wrapped a strand of hair around his finger. He caught her gaze, wordlessly asking her permission to touch her. She let her expression tell him that yes, it was more than alright with her.

His eyes dropped to her lips, and his own lips parted. But instead of kissing her, he ran a single finger from the shoulder beneath the ponytail up to the collar of her shirt, and lightly along the collar, half on the fabric, half on her skin. He paused at the hollow of her throat, drawing tiny circles in the small space, then moved inch by tantalizing inch to the back of Kennedy's neck.

He pulled her gently but firmly towards him. With his mouth relaxed, he brushed his lower lip against hers in a touch that was more caress than kiss. Kennedy's pulse was rapid with anticipation and she let her eyes flutter closed. It couldn't have been more than a minute or two of teasing, drawing out the moment, but it felt like hours.

She felt Charlie shift his body closer to hers and wrap an arm around her waist. Only then did he finally press his lips to hers. Kennedy gave a small sigh of pleasure at the feeling of his warm mouth against hers. He kissed her slowly, sensually, taking his time getting to know the contours of her mouth, the taste of her tongue. He was such a good kisser, Kennedy found herself wrapping her arms around his back, pulling him to her, hungry for more.

She slid her fingers under the hem of his shirt, caressing the soft skin of his lower back. He followed her lead and ran a hand up the front of her shirt, cupping a breast small enough that his hand covered it completely. He ran his thumb back and forth over her bra-covered nipple until it stood hard against the thin fabric. Every place he touched her was better than the last.

Kennedy shifted forward and swung a leg over Charlie's so she could sit in his lap, straddling him. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer until her most sensitive parts were directly over the hard bulge in his jeans, then rocked her against it. Kennedy's panties quickly became so wet, she wondered if he'd have a damp spot on the front of his pants.

Charlie moved his hands up Kennedy's hips to her waist, then higher, pulling her shirt up with him. She sat back from him and held her hands in the air, and he pulled her shirt off, tossing it onto the coffee table, narrowly missing the abandoned mugs still half-full of tea.

"God, look at you," Charlie said, his voice thick with desire. "You're so beautiful. I've been thinking about what you'd look like without your clothes on since the second you walked through my door."

"And?" she asked, teasing.

"Better than anything I could have imagined."

Kennedy giggled. "Good answer."

Charlie grew suddenly serious. "Is this okay? We did just meet today. Did you want to stop here? See each other again another day?"

"I'll stop if you really want to, but I'd rather keep going. I don't want to wait for another day. I want you now." Kennedy surprised herself with her blunt speech, but she meant every word.

Charlie smiled that ridiculously sexy slow smile again, his eyes half-lidded as he scanned her exposed body. "Then let's go to my bedroom. I want more space for what I've got planned for you."

Kennedy's womb twitched in anticipation as various possibilities about what Charlie had planned flashed through her mind. It took her a moment to center herself enough to stand up. When she did, Charlie took her hand and led her through a door just off the living room. Kennedy got a quick impression of an oak bed, denim patchwork quilt and bright colored dresser before everything was obliterated by another mind-numbing kiss. As good as it was, she was grateful when Charlie pulled her down onto his bed. He wasn't terribly tall, probably just under six feet, but she had to go on her tiptoes to kiss him while they were standing.

The combination of Charlie's kisses and his talented hands kept Kennedy distracted enough that she hardly noticed when their clothes came off. Suddenly they were both naked and Charlie was doing unbelievable things between her legs with his hand. He had two fingers deep inside her, stroking her slowly but firmly. When he paused and pressed the tip of his pinky to her ass and his thumb to her clit, she was lost. She arched her back, pressing him deep within herself, and came hard. Charlie worked some sort of magic with his hand to push her orgasm higher and longer than any she'd ever experienced before. He brought her down slowly, then kissed her belly and went to his nightstand, returning with a condom in place.

He paused for a moment before climbing back into bed, his eyes roaming up and down Kennedy's nakedness.

"God, you're sexy," he said. He flung himself down on top of her, catching himself with his elbows just in time to keep from squashing her, making Kennedy squeal and giggle. "Listening to you come? That was the sexiest thing I've ever heard. Ever. I nearly came all over your hip."

Kennedy blinked at him. Her, sexy? Maybe it had been a long time for him, too.

"If things go how I hope they will, you'll get to hear me again," Kennedy promised.

Charlie groaned. "Oh, woman, I'll do whatever I have to."

He started by teasing the tip of his erection against her swollen flesh, entering her slowly. Kennedy was surprised to feel her arousal growing again already, and pressed her hips into his, encouraging him to move more deeply within her. He obliged for a while, then held her tight as he rolled over, pulling her on top of him.

"Sit up?" he asked.

When she did, a whole new sensation flooded her body. Charlie reached up and flicked first one nipple, then the other, as she moved against him, searching for a rhythm. When she found the one she liked best, he reached for the point of their joining, stimulating her clit with quick, light strokes. Kennedy fast approached her second climax, even bigger than the first. Before she'd stopped quaking, Charlie started slammed himself into her body, which only prolonged her delicious aftershocks. He held her hips tightly and shuddered with his own release.

Without releasing him, Kennedy lay down on top of Charlie, resting her head on his shoulder. He turned her head to him and kissed her, the kind of slow, sensual kiss that can only come after all sexual tension has been released.

Eventually, Kennedy rolled to Charlie's side, and stretched languorously, completely sated.

"I can't begin to tell you how much I needed that," she said.

Beside her, Charlie, too, looked like a cat with a belly full of cream. At the thought of cream, her traitorous belly rumbled again.

"Sorry. Talk about a mood killer," she said.

Charlie twisted away from her, glancing towards his bedroom window. "It's getting late."

"Yeah." Kennedy should get dressed and head home.

"Would you like some dinner? We could order in, or I could cook up something."

"You cook?"

" 'Cook' may be a bit of a stretch. 'Microwave' might me more accurate."

Kennedy couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I'd love a bite."

Charlie's eyes twinkled, then he buried his head against her neck and playfully bit the soft skin just under her jaw. She squeaked at the sensation, a gentle burn mixed with a tickle and something oh-so good. It wasn't the kind of 'bite' she'd had in mind, but it was even more satisfying.