Early Arrival and the Harmless Hug

The doorbell rang while Derek was still pretending to sort through the stack of mail on the counter.

He looked up. The kids were upstairs with Megan, who was frantically trying to find the baby monitor charger while their five-year-old daughter demanded a different hairstyle. He'd been left in charge of greeting the sitter, a task that usually involved a quick hello and a reminder about the Wi-Fi password.

He pulled open the front door and found Jennifer Bales standing on his porch, early and smiling like she'd just won something.

"Hey there, Mr. Carlin."

Her voice was bright, almost musical, and it carried a warmth that felt too familiar for someone he'd only spoken to on the phone. She was wearing a cropped sweater that showed a strip of her stomach and high-waisted jeans that hugged her hips. Her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail that swung when she tilted her head.

"Jennifer, right?" He stepped back to let her in. "You're early. That's nice. Megan's still getting the kids ready."

"I don't mind waiting." She walked past him, near enough that he caught a whiff of something sweet and floral. "I wanted to get here a bit early, get a feel for the house, you know? Make sure I know where everything is."

Derek closed the door and turned to find her already scanning the living room with an appraising look. She ran her fingers along the back of the couch as she walked, her movements casual but deliberate.

"Can I get you something to drink?" he asked. "Water, coffee? We've got some soda in the fridge."

"Water would be great." She turned and smiled at him again, and there was something in the way her eyes held his that made him feel like he was being evaluated. "I'll come with you. Get the lay of the land."

He led her through the dining room and into the kitchen, hyperaware of her footsteps behind him. The kitchen was a mess of homework papers and half-eaten snacks from the kids' after-school routine. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it from the fridge dispenser.

"Here you go."

She took the glass from him, her fingers brushing against his. "Thanks, Mr. Carlin."

"Derek," he said automatically. "Mr. Carlin makes me feel old."

"You're not old." She took a sip of water, her eyes studying him over the rim of the glass. "You've got that whole distinguished dad thing going on. It works for you."

He felt heat creep up his neck. "I'm not sure about that."

"I am." She set the glass down on the counter and leaned against it, crossing her arms in a way that pushed her chest up slightly. "So what do you do, Derek? When you're not being a dad?"

"I'm a project manager for a construction firm. Commercial buildings mostly."

"That sounds important." She tilted her head. "Do you like it?"

"It pays the bills." He shrugged, feeling awkward under her attention. "It's steady. Good benefits. Keeps me busy."

"Sounds like you're a provider." Her voice dropped slightly, taking on a lower, more intimate tone. "That's sexy."

Derek laughed, a nervous sound that came out too quickly. "I don't know about that. It's just a job."

"I think it says a lot about a man when he takes care of his family." She pushed off from the counter and took a step closer to him. "You've got that whole reliable thing going on. Solid. Trustworthy."

"Jennifer, I..."

"Megan talks about you, you know. When I'm here watching the kids. She says you're a good dad. A good husband." Another step closer. Now she was near enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her blue eyes. "I think that's really sweet."

"Jennifer, I should probably go check on..."

"She's still getting ready." Jennifer's hand came up and rested on his chest, right over his heart. "Relax, Derek. I'm just being friendly."

Her hand was warm through his shirt, and he could feel the pressure of her palm against his chest. His heart was beating faster now, a fact she could probably feel given where her hand was.

"I should show you the rest of the house," he said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

"Okay." She didn't move her hand. "Show me."

He stepped back, and her hand fell away. The loss of contact felt strangely empty. He turned and walked toward the living room, gesturing vaguely at the spaces they passed.

"Living room, dining room, kitchen. You already saw those. Bathroom's down the hall there. Kids' rooms are upstairs, and the master bedroom is at the end of the hall."

Jennifer followed him, but instead of staying a respectful distance behind, she moved up until she was walking beside him, her shoulder brushing against his arm.

"Show me the backyard," she said. "I like to know where the kids play."

He led her to the sliding glass door that opened onto the patio. The backyard was modest but well-maintained, with a swing set in the corner and a small garden that Megan tended to.

"It's nice," Jennifer said, standing close enough that he could feel the heat of her body. "Cozy. I can see why you like it here."

"We've been here six years. It's a good neighborhood. Good schools."

"You're a family man." She turned to face him, and now they were standing in the doorway, the evening light casting long shadows across the floor. "I like that. A man who knows what he wants and takes care of what's his."

Derek swallowed. "Jennifer, I don't think..."

"Derek!" Megan's voice floated down from upstairs. "Can you come here for a second? I can't find the monitor charger!"

Relief and something that felt almost like disappointment washed through him. "Coming!" he called back.

He turned to Jennifer, who was watching him with an amused expression. "I'll be right back. Make yourself at home."

"I will." Her smile was knowing, almost predatory. "Take your time."

He practically fled up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest. Megan was in the master bedroom, digging through the closet while their daughter sat on the bed, her hair in a messy ponytail.

"Hey," Megan said without looking up. "Did Jennifer get here?"

"Yeah, she's early. By a lot."

"Oh, that's fine. She can hang out until we're ready." Megan emerged from the closet, triumphantly holding the charger. "Found it. Okay, Sophie, let's get your shoes on."

Derek stood in the doorway, trying to calm his racing heart. The image of Jennifer's hand on his chest, the way she'd looked at him, the way her body had brushed against his. It was nothing. She was just a friendly, overly familiar college student. That was all.

"You okay?" Megan asked, finally looking at him. "You look a little flushed."

"I'm fine. Just hot in here." He wiped a hand across his forehead. "I'm going to go back down and keep Jennifer company."

"Okay. We'll be down in a few minutes."

He walked back down the stairs, his feet heavy on the steps. Jennifer was standing in the living room, looking at the family photos on the mantle. She turned when she heard him.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just a missing charger. They'll be down soon."

"Good." She turned back to the photos. "You have a beautiful family, Derek. You should be proud."

"I am." He came to stand beside her, looking at the photo she was examining. It was from two years ago, a vacation at the beach. Megan was laughing, the kids were covered in sand, and he was holding the camera, his arm stretched out to capture them all.

"This is my favorite," Jennifer said, pointing to a smaller photo. It was just him and Megan, taken at a wedding a few years back. They were dressed up, his arm around her waist, her head resting on his shoulder.

"That was a good night," he said.

"She's lucky." Jennifer's voice was soft. "She's got a man who looks at her like that."

Derek didn't know what to say to that. He stood there, feeling the weight of her words, the weight of her presence beside him.

And then she moved.

It happened so fast he didn't have time to react. She turned and stepped into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a hug. Her body pressed against his, soft and warm, and he felt the full length of her against him.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear, "for being so welcoming."

His hands hovered in the air, uncertain where to go. They landed on her waist, light and tentative, but she pulled him tighter, and his hands pressed flat against her back.

She was so close. He could feel her breath on his neck, the curve of her hips against his, the way her breasts pressed into his chest. And then she shifted, a small movement that brought her pelvis against his, and he felt the pressure, the heat, the unmistakable grind of her body against his.

His body responded before his mind could catch up. He felt himself harden against his will, felt the rush of blood and heat that he couldn't control. She must have felt it too, because she let out a soft sound, almost a sigh, and pressed closer.

"Jennifer..." His voice was strained.

"Shh." Her lips brushed against his ear. "It's okay. Just a hug."

But it wasn't just a hug. She was grinding against him now, slow and deliberate, her body moving against his in a rhythm that was unmistakably sexual. His hands were still on her back, and he could feel the smooth skin where her sweater ended, the curve of her spine beneath his fingertips.

He should push her away. He knew he should push her away. Megan was upstairs. His kids were upstairs. This was wrong. This was so wrong.

But his hands didn't move. His body didn't move. He stood there, frozen, as this beautiful young woman pressed herself against him, her body telling him things that words couldn't.

"You feel that?" she whispered. Her hips rolled against him again, and he felt himself grow harder, the length of him pressing against her thigh through the denim. "That's what you do to me. Just by being you."

Her fingers threaded into the hair at the back of his neck, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp. A shiver ran down his spine, and his hands instinctively tightened on her back, pulling her closer. He could feel the warmth of her skin where her sweater rode up, the soft swell of her hips beneath his palms.

"Jennifer, we can't..."

"I know," she breathed. But she didn't stop. Her body pressed tighter against his, and he could feel every curve, every soft inch of her molded against him. Her thigh was between his legs now, and she shifted her weight, applying pressure exactly where he was most sensitive.

A groan escaped his throat before he could stop it. His hips moved of their own accord, pressing into her, seeking more of that friction. He was fully hard now, straining against his jeans, and he knew she could feel it. He knew she could feel exactly what she was doing to him.

"That's it," she whispered. "Just let go. Nobody has to know."

Her mouth was on his neck now, her lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below his ear. Not kissing, not quite, just touching, just enough to drive him crazy. Her breath was hot and damp against his throat, and he could feel his pulse hammering in his temples.

His hands slid down her back, almost against his will, until they rested on the curve of her ass. She was firm beneath his hands, the denim of her jeans tight across her skin. He squeezed gently, and she let out a soft moan against his neck, the vibration of it sending another jolt of desire through him.

"Derek," she breathed, and his name sounded different in her mouth. It sounded like a promise. "You feel so good."

He was losing control. He could feel it slipping away, the rational part of his mind drowning under the flood of sensation. Her body against his, her breath on his neck, her hands in his hair. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to pull her closer. He wanted to stop this. He wanted to never stop this.

She rolled her hips again, and this time he felt her heat through the layers of clothing, felt the way her body responded to his. She was aroused too. He could feel it in the way she moved, the way she pressed against him, the way her breathing had gone shallow and quick.

"Tell me to stop," she whispered. "Tell me to stop and I will."

He opened his mouth. He tried to say the words. But nothing came out. His hands were still on her ass, his fingers digging into the firm flesh, and he couldn't make himself let go. He couldn't make himself say the words that would end this.

"That's what I thought," she murmured. She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes dark and heavy-lidded, her lips parted. She was beautiful. She was young and beautiful and she wanted him, and he was a terrible person for wanting her back.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth. He could see the intention in her eyes, could see her leaning in, and he knew that if she kissed him, there would be no going back. This would cross a line that couldn't be uncrossed.

"Derek!" Megan's voice came from the stairs. "We're coming down!"

Jennifer pulled back instantly, smooth and natural, as if nothing had happened. She smiled at him, her eyes bright, her cheeks slightly flushed. But her chest was heaving, and he could see the hard points of her nipples pressing through her sweater.

"Thanks for the tour," she said, her voice perfectly normal. "I think I know my way around now."

Derek stood there, his body still humming with arousal, his mind reeling. He felt the weight of his erection pressing against his jeans, thick and insistent, felt the heat in his face, felt the guilt already settling into his chest like a stone. His hands still tingled with the memory of her body, and he shoved them in his pockets to hide the way they were shaking.

Megan came down the stairs, Sophie in one hand, the baby on her hip. "Sorry about that. Got everything sorted."

"No problem," Jennifer said, her voice bright and cheerful. "Derek was just showing me around. I feel right at home already."

Megan smiled, oblivious. "Great. Okay, so the kids have already eaten, but there's leftovers in the fridge if you get hungry. Bedtime is at eight, but they can stay up a little later if you're okay with it."

"I've got it covered." Jennifer took the baby from Megan's arms with practiced ease. "You two go have fun. Don't worry about a thing."

Derek stood there, watching Jennifer hold his daughter, watching her smile at his wife, and felt the world tilt slightly on its axis. The hug had crossed a line. He knew it had. But standing here, watching her blend seamlessly into his family, he couldn't help but wonder what else she might cross.

"Ready, babe?" Megan asked, grabbing her purse.

"Yeah." His voice came out rough. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, let's go."

Jennifer caught his eye as he turned to leave. She gave him a small smile, a private smile, that said more than words ever could.

He walked out the door with his wife, his hand in hers, but his mind was still in that living room, still feeling the press of Jennifer's body against his, the heat of her breath on his neck, the way she'd felt in his hands. He was still hard beneath his jeans, and he knew that tonight, when Megan touched him, he'd be thinking of someone else. Still wondering what the hell he'd just gotten himself into.