And with that, she ushers us out the door.

We stop at Lainey’s apartment so she can change into dinner-appropriate attire, since she didn’t have anything formal to wear at my place. While I wait, she offers me a glass of white wine, the only alcohol she has, apologizing for the lack of options since breastfeeding and booze don’t really go well together.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m just happy to have time with you—I don’t care about your wine selection.”

She disappears down the hall into her bedroom. I’d like to follow. The time with her parents has been good, but I’ve felt a lot like I’m back in high school being monitored. Beyond that, there really haven’t been any opportunities for actual privacy, and by the time everyone is in bed, we’re both exhausted.

So when Lainey appears in the hallway in a slinky black dress, asking me if I can help her zip it up, all the blood in my head rushes to the one south of my navel. The prospect of having to sit through dinner with a raging, potentially embarrassing erection is rather unappealing. And peeling her out of that dress and worshiping every inch of her becomes the only thought I can entertain.

“Rook?” Lainey snaps her fingers a couple of times.

“Huh?” She never uses my given name, so I must have missed something.

“Never mind. I’ll change into something else.”

“Wait. What? No. I don’t want you to change. You look stunning.”

She scoffs and self-consciously runs her hands over her stomach. “My body is different.”

“The only difference I see is up here.” I pat my pecs. “And I’m sure as hell not going to complain about that.”

“You might when I’m not breastfeeding anymore and they resemble sad mud flaps.”

I push out of the glider—they’re ridiculously comfy and soothing to sit in—and cross over to where she’s standing. “Enough with the self-deprecation. You’re gorgeous. End of story. My body doesn’t lie.” I motion to where my pants are snug at the crotch.

Lainey’s eyes dart down, and that blush I’ve missed so much colors her cheeks. She ducks her head. “You haven’t seen me naked in a while. Nothing is the same under here.”

“Is that an invitation, a challenge, or a statement of fact?”

She settles her palms on my chest, and for a moment I think she’s keeping me at bay, until she says, “Can it be all three?”

“I’ll accept the invitation and the challenge, but I don’t think it’s a statement of fact. Maybe you see yourself differently than I do.” I brush her hair over her shoulders, appreciating the slight tremor and her sharp inhalation as I move into her personal space.

“You’re blinded by the boobs.”

“They’re pretty incredible.” I ease a hand up her side. “But then, so is the rest of you.”

She steps into me and tips her head up. I don’t need more encouragement than that. I’ve kissed her on the cheek countless times in the past few weeks, but this isn’t the same. This is the first time I get to kiss her—really kiss her—since we said goodbye in Alaska.

I caress the edge of her jaw and sweep my thumb along the contour of her bottom lip, enjoying the anticipation before I drop my head and touch my lips to hers. A million memories come flooding back at her soft whimper and the bite of her nails against the back of my neck. And just like every single other kiss that’s had the intention of becoming more—and even the ones that didn’t—it starts out sweet. She tastes the same, feels the same—but better. She feels like mine and home and love.

I’m acutely aware that Kody isn’t here to act as an adorable cockblocker—that we’re very, very much alone—and all the tension that’s been driving me crazy seems to funnel right down into my pants.

Lainey pushes her hips into mine and moans softly. Her fingers slide into my hair and latch on, and her tongue sweeps out to tangle with mine. Two or three velvety swirls quickly devolve into no-holds-barred making out. Like we’re teenagers who dropped Ecstasy and can’t get enough of each other.

Lainey pulls at my shirt, freeing it from my dress pants, and her hands slide up and under, roaming over my back. Then she tugs at my belt buckle, freeing the clasp.

I break the kiss, and she freezes, fingers dipping into the waistband of my pants, close to my insanely hard erection. We stare at each other for a few seconds, panting.

“Bedroom?” I ask.

“Floor, couch, kitchen counter. I don’t really care.”

I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist, and we resume kissing. I’d like to say there’s some finesse once we get to the bedroom, but that would be a lie. I drop her on the edge of the mattress and follow behind her as she scoots back.

Lainey’s skirt bunches up, exposing the satin-and-lace panties underneath. Ones I’d like to take off with my teeth. Which then becomes part of my master plan, if I can get us to slow down from Mach 4 million to somewhere along the lines of Mach 2 or 3.

Lainey fumbles with the button on my pants while I loosen my tie and yank it gracelessly over my head. I unfasten the first few buttons on my shirt, and she drags the zipper down, the metallic vibrations making my cock twitch.

There’s zero teasing involved as Lainey reaches into my boxer briefs, wraps her gorgeous, soft hand around the shaft, and sets me free. She’s not even finished the first stroke before she leans in and wraps her lips around the head, sucking gently.

I groan several filthy expletives, which makes her both blush and smile around my cock. And then she takes me deeper, stroking with her hand and her mouth. She pops off for a second—likely to pull the freaking move that always makes my balls feel like they’re going to explode. The one I haven’t experienced in more than a year but remember so vividly it’s often the image-sensation combo I pull up when I’m in self-gratification mode—so I take the opportunity to pull her dress over her head.

And then she’s back to sucking me off.

I fumble with the clasp of her bra, highly distracted but very intent on getting her as naked as I am. It slides down her arms and drops to the bed between us. “God, I missed everything about you.”

She pops off long enough to say, “Same,” and then she’s right back at it.

Once her boobs are free, my stamina takes a terrible nosedive—and I issue a warning that I’m about to come. And as soon as I do, it’s like I’ve finally jumped off the sex speed train, able to focus again.

“Thank you. That was amazing.” I lay her out on the bed, taking my time now that 90 percent of my blood flow is no longer pooled below my waist. I cup her boobs, so full and lush, and pepper them with kisses.

“Just don’t squeeze too hard unless you want a shot in the face,” Lainey says, somewhat breathlessly.

I laugh into her cleavage. “Can I kiss and lick?”

“Yes—everything is supersensitive, though, so just be careful.”

I devote attention to her breasts, 100 percent enthralled with them and the fact that most of the time I’m not really allowed anywhere near them. Lainey writhes under me, legs wrapped around my waist, fingers in my hair.

Eventually I go lower, kissing my way over her stomach. And just like I planned, I tug her panties down with my teeth and kiss her until she comes.