Outside The Lines:: Third Person Narration by Bella Love

mouth. “I guessed,” he said, then added in gentle command, “Up.”
    She struggled to her feet.   He rose behind her and reached for his jacket, then laid it with surprising care around her shoulders. She slid it a bit further forward, and a bit further down, and used it to shield the front of her body. Surely having to cover herself with the wooly green pea coat of a man she barely knew, while standing naked in a deserted banquet hall, would open the floodgates to guilt. Regret too.
    So far, though, nothing.
    Johnny prowled the room, picking up their discarded clothes.   He scooped up the shredded red remains of the underwear they’d agreed to destroy and shove them into the front pocket of his jeans. She appreciated the chivalric gesture, even though it didn’t help one iota right now.
    Well, maybe one iota.
    He came back and handed over all the items that were hers. They were mostly hers.   Without a word she took them and turned away and got dressed in silence. Was there anything more awkward than this moment?
    And…where was the guilt?
    Her body was still sending out little tremors of pleasure, remnant tremors, like it didn’t want her to forget what had happened. Her skin felt scorched. Her cheeks and inner thighs were scraped and raw from Johnny’s beard.   All in all she felt…really good.  
    Just like he had said it would be.
    Where was the guilt?
    She buttoned and zippered herself back into some semblance of order, then turned to find Johnny with his back gallantly to her, packing up their cups and coffees and all the Billings’ paperwork— oh right, work, she thought dimly—into neat piles.   His and Hers.   His hair was mussed, his face far less hard than it had been a few hours ago.
    How long had they been at it?
    “Did someone really see us?” she asked softly.
    He looked over his shoulder, shook his head.   His green eyes were a lot less cold than she remembered.   “I don’t have any idea. I was pretty focused on you.”
    She took a step forward. “Do you think anyone did?”
    “No.”   He straightened and turned.   “No one did. Your secret is safe with me.”
    A little shiver went though her.   “Which secret?”  
    He reached for her. “That you’re a fire looking for a spark.”
    She let him pull her to his chest, shocked by the hot flow of emotion that went through her as she rested her cheek against his chest. She had no idea what she was feeling, except that it was not, by any stretch of the imagination, guilt.  
    She stood in Johnny’s embrace for another moment, then, being a realist at heart, she took a step back, and another, because that’s where this was inevitably going anyhow.   The stepping back, the confusing compliments that meant nothing. It was over. It should be over. Thank God it was over.
    She blew out an uneven breath. “So, what now?” she said, pleased at how calm and reasonable she sounded, how so very ‘none of this matters to me’ she appeared.
    He considered her a long second. Too long.
    She moved for the table. “So, well, this has been great, Johnny—”
    “Juliette.”
    “—and I had a great time and all—” She grabbed her coffee mug.
    “Juliette.”
      She shoved it into her bag. “But it’s getting late, and I guess we took care of everything,” her face flushed, “so—”
    “Juliette.”
    His voice kept getting lower, so that she had to stop moving if she wanted to hear him, and she very much wanted to hear him.   Also, he’d put a hand on her wrist, and that stopped her short.   He could probably feel her trembling. She stared down at his hand. She felt so out of control. So uncontrollable.  
    He put his fingertips on her chin and made her look up.   Their eyes met.  
    He considered her a second, then grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and handed it to her. “You’re coming with me.”
    She ignored the coat. “What?   Where?”
    When it became apparent she wasn’t going to take the coat, Johnny