<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/31/ae/48/31ae487e56f8310794472edef4d62b27.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Erica Everett (Richards)<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Guest, Stockholder<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong>August 1 | 11:30 a.m.<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Room 2<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong><--- Green dress, heels,<del>sunglasses, wide brimmed sun hat  </del><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Aaron<strong>Mentioned:</strong>None<br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>None<hr/><br/>It was that smug look on his face that did her in.  She might have backpedaled have offered a legitimate explaination, but she couldn't let that self-satisfied look stand.  "How many people I've got with on this island.." she quoted him directly, those words were almost purred as she took a few steps forward toward him one hand spreading against his chest so that she could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her palm.<br/><br/>".. not nearly as many as I intend to have been with by the end of this week darling Aaron." They hadn't really had this conversation either.  The question of exclusivity.  It wasn't something that either of them expected from the other, at least she didn't think it was.  He was young, had his own life and interests outside her.  Their time together was special and incredibly hot, but she didn't expect anything from him outside that.  She'd assumed he felt the same way.  This was most definitely not how it should be brought up, a taunting challenge after mentioning former lovers, but she couldn't help herself.<br/><br/>"You're welcome to join me of course. Or not, if you'd rather stay angry.  I'm sure there's an extra room somewhere.  We can have my things moved.  You can sulk and lose yourself in the consoling arms of one of those pretty blondes down the hall, or perhaps you'd prefer one of the exotic gentlemen with whom you can berate the fickleness of the female gender at large? Or you can accept the fact that I came here with<em>YOU </em>, that I want to be with<em>YOU</em>.  Does throwing that in my exhusband's face please me on a visceral level?  Absolutely.  But that's only the smallest fraction of why I'm here..."<br/><br/>She was having a hard time keeping her voice even, the mocking tone was long gone.  Even her breathing was slightly faster than normal, a flush tinting her normally pale and composed features. Not all passion was good, a stirring argument could be just as moving and intimate as sex it seemed.