Jon felt himself...<em>intensifying</em>at her reaction to the not-so-playful pressure on her lip. Hardening in his jeans, to be sure, but more than that. It was a whole-body and -mind focusing, sharpening, everything extraneous falling away from a core of focused desire. It must be how a shark felt when it tasted blood in the water. Still, the back of his mind cautioned him that messing around with the talent, while tempting, was a risky proposition. If scandal bubbled to the surface, it wouldn't be the actress who was quietly but pointedly dismissed.<br/><br/>Still.<em>Carpe diem</em>and all that.<br/><br/>“I'd say, 'don't worry, I won't bite'... but we both know that'd be a lie,” he chuckled, stretching back from his seat to the side table where Hannah had left her clutch bag. With a cavalier disregard for propriety he flicked it open and took out her smart phone. He swiped his thumb across the screen to unlock it, much like he had with her sweet spot down below but arguably even more intimate, and tapped his name into the phonebook, signing it with the initial<em>J</em>. “Yeah, I bet you will,” he smirked, flashing her the screen before placing it back in the clutch. He could have swiped her number while he was at it, but experience and basic psychology taught him that to come on too strong could trigger a defensive reaction, make her averse. Leave the ball in her court.<br/><br/>“Now, where were we? One broken arm, coming right up.” Jon swivelled back to the woman, casually reaching across and down to yank open the buckles that held her down, returning his attention to her arm. He reached for the cream that would provide a protective barrier against the alkaline and dehydrating effects of the plaster, and began to slather it on and massage it into her skin. Only the merest knowing gleam in his eye hinted at the fact he'd just had her bound at his mercy... and fully intended to see where that would lead.