The first day was awkward.

A shrill sound invaded her deep slumber and pulled her back to reality.

Reality was she was not home, but rather tangled in a mess of sheets that were not her own. She stretched out her arm and felt around the floor for her purse, and upon finding it, turning off the damned noise.

The brunette took a deep breath and laid back again, waiting for her head to stop throbbing so mercilessly. She'd had quite a few drinks the previous night. Whether it had been premeditated or an immediate effect of her drinking, she knew she'd regret it later. And later was now.

Looking at her side to make sure he was still asleep, Jo carefully pushed his arm away, hearing his heavy breathing change slightly and then watched him turn to the other side of bed.

She got up, quickly gathered her scattered clothes and left Henry's bedroom.

As she left as quickly as she could manage, her mind wondered back to the events of the previous night – how she had wanted to get him drunk, because somehow the thought of going back with him and into his bed didn't seem so bad, not bad at all. She didn't know when she'd become so indifferent regarding his feelings and her own, but some shots of tequila would make her regrets go away.

Even then, as she hailed a taxi home for a shower and fresh clothes, she still didn't regret it at all.

The second time it happened, you could say he was the one who seduced her.

Maybe seducing is not quite the word, because she was more than willing to let him lead her, but it was him who had whispered something in her ear and ran his fingers tantalizingly over her bare shoulder and down her arm, smiling at the bristling skin underneath. It was him who breathed hot air on her neck and tangled his fingers in her damp hair, pressing her between the wall and his aroused body. It was his name being whispered in the quiet night, when he took her breath away and made the stars feel tangible. It was him who fell spent on her chest, breathing heavily as she caressed his back and kissed his forehead.

It was him who breathed heavily in his slumber as she quietly left his bed.

And it was him who sleepily called her and reached over for her hand before she had the chance to get up, after night number five.

Nights three and four had had less and less alcohol as an excuse, and she'd learned he was a heavy sleeper.

On night five she'd asked to go home to shower and change before they headed to the bar, to which Henry quickly acquiesced but faltered as soon as he saw the dress she'd slipped into, hair still wet dripping over her shoulders and into her cleavage. She eyed him intently, leaning against the door frame.

Leaving hadn't been her plan at all.

In the morning, she sat at the edge of the bed, feeling her little plan had backfired on her. She was in her own home, where could she flee to?

Before she could form an answer, she heard the ruffling of sheets behind her and a warm hand grabbing her wrist.

"Jo," he spoke hoarsely, making her close her eyes instinctively as a chill ran up her body, remembering that same voice in her ears throughout those five distinct nights. "Stay."

"I, um", she quickly spoke, opening her eyes but not daring to look at him. "I gotta get to work soon."

His grip loosened and he boldly took her hand in his, running his thumb over the back of her hand caressingly.

"I know you're scared. I am too. But you don't have to be afraid of me. Stay for a bit longer."

She looked back at him and her eyes met pleading ones. She hadn't regret any of the previous nights, but now it was cutting through her heart. So she stayed.

She leaned back down and watched him intently as he propped himself on his elbow, and when his hand brushed her hair away from her face, and when he looked at her eyes, and her face, and her mouth, and her neck, and everything else that was hidden by the covers.

She swallowed hard, slightly uncomfortable for being under his scrutiny but entirely under his spell.

She let her eyes flutter closed when she moved her body closer to his and felt him shift on the bed to be on top of her. She felt her blush deepen as she knew he could see her clearly now, without the haze of alcohol and the darkness of night. She felt his soft lips on hers and gladly kissed him back, one hand coming up to the back of his head while the other gently pulled his body against hers.

When their lips parted she let out a sigh and looked into his eyes.

"Henry.", she whispered.

She didn't let herself think about what she had seen in those dark eyes. Her own eyes closed when his lips whispered on her neck between kisses – amazing was the word he'd used to describe her.

His touch was soft, almost adoring, and she felt the familiar butterflies in their mad flight as he kissed her body.

Would she ever admit she was in love with this guy?