• So here I am, in my room, slipping off strappy heels and sheer leggings after coming home from the best night of my life. I'm willing to bet that if you looked me directly in the eyes, you'd see a shine that was somewhat equivalent to the way the sun shines on the water in the summer. I've just returned home from the best date of my life, despite the obvious discomfort of wearing a dress to be stunning.

    Yes, I realize that that statement right there was completely conceited, but damn it, I wanna keep his attention. He's just goddamn mysterious and he seems like a dangerous kinda guy. Like any typical girl, I'm drawn to that kind of thing. I don't know why, either. Maybe it's the thrill of being caught in a dangerous situation, and just having one of those moments where there's a kiss that takes your breath away.

    Note to self; stop reading those cheesy romance novels.

    For a moment, I'm just gonna sit here on this bed and let that parting kiss we shared run through my head a dozen more times. God, his lips just taste good. Better than good-- I don't have a word to describe it. But right now, I feel like a giddy little school girl who just had her first kiss. And I kinda find it funny.

    My stomach's full of butterflies and knots, and dammit, I wish he would have come up with me. We could have had one final glass of wine together, and that would have been wonderful. Or, he could have very well stayed the night with me. That I wouldn't have minded at all. In fact, I think I'd really like to share this bed with him.

    That makes me think something else. Sharing this bed with him. I could share so much more with him too. But my brain's thinking too far in advanced. I met him a few years ago during Kenna's case. And I hated him then. The case went the wrong way, but he was doing his job. And then I didn't see him again for a while. Not until I came back to California. I'd run back into him at the coffee shop.

    Please forgive my mind for a moment; it wants to picture what sex with him would be like.

    Oh god, those eyes would be enough for me. I can just about imagine how slow and sweet it would be, and how those piano-player fingers could dance along my skin. Sounds like heaven to me.

    So once again I return to my feet, though they hurt like a b***h and are tired, to rid myself of this slinky blue dress I wore out with Jeff tonight. Carefully, I cast it over the chair by my dresser and take my bathrobe down from off the back of my bedroom door, wrapping it comfortingly around my body.

    I really want to go soak in the bath tub now, and let every image of him from tonight that made me smile or weak in the knees flood my mind. But that's easy. All I have to do is think of him. So as I open my bedroom door and proceed towards the bathroom, I hear a knock on the door. I pause for a moment, and turn around, blinking at the door. And after a moment of just standing there, I move to it and look out the peep hole.

    Much to my surprise, a certain dinner date of mind is back at my door. Carefully, I unbolt the door, unlock the doorknob and open it.

    "This doesn't look like your apartment, Mister Cander..." I say with a chuckle.

    "It's not."

    "So then what are you-"

    I don't even have a chance to answer. Before I know it, his lips are against mine, and my arms are finding their way around his neck, just as his are finding their way to the rope that's holding my robe closed.

    Oh, this night is going to end blissfully.