Mitch’s pace picked up, his body tensing, and he was coming, her name a long groan as he let go.

He held himself up from her for several seconds as they both breathed hard. Then he leaned down and kissed her. This was soft, but still as hot as the hungry ones from before. His lips clung to hers for a moment, then he kissed his way along her jaw and down her neck to her shoulder, before rolling to his side and bringing her nearly boneless body up against his until she was half draped over him.

“Holy. Shit,” he said, breathing out in a very satisfied way.

She smiled against his chest. “Ditto.”

It had been good. So good. Better than the first time they’d been together last summer.

But, of course, she could live without it. That had been a crazy thought. It was just sex. Really good sex, but still. It wasn’t like it was oxygen or water.

But as he shifted and settled more fully into her mattress, his hand possessively splayed over her ass, she had a twinge of I don’t want him to leave that was very concerning.

A huge yawn hit her just then, and she stretched as she pulled in the long, deep breath before settling against him again.

She was definitely going to need to think about all of her crazy thoughts and feelings about this guy and figure out what the hell was wrong with her and how to get over it.

Mitch kissed the top of her head and she smiled and sighed.

She’d figure out how to get over it—him—tomorrow.

Or maybe the day after that.

8

He woke her up twice during the night. Normally that alone would have been enough for her to put a lot of distance between them immediately. Not having anyone dictating or interrupting her routines and schedules was one very big pro of being single.

But Mitch really made the waking up worthwhile.

Until he started talking after the second wake-up call via orgasm.

It had been going so well too. His hot mouth. His hot hands. His hot… everything else. Who cared about sleep when you had a big, hot, dirty-talking, sexy, sweet Cajun in your bed?

No one, that was who.

But big, hot, dirty-talking, sexy, sweet, chatty Cajuns were another thing.

“I was thinkin’,” he said, his drawl more pronounced in the dark, and after his second orgasm.

“Uh-oh,” Paige said. Out loud. Sincerely.

He gave her butt a squeeze. “I’m serious.”

“Exactly why I said uh-oh.” She shifted and propped up on her elbow. The room wasn’t pitch black. Lights from the street outside filtered in through the gauzy curtains, and she still had twinkle lights up around the window.

He definitely looked serious. Hot. Sexy as hell. And serious.

She sighed. “Is there any chance you’ve been thinking about asking how I feel about being tied up in bed or nipple clamps or something?”

He cleared his throat, and she felt his hand tighten on her butt. But he shook his head. Unfortunately.

“I’m pretty sure you’re a solid don’t-you-fucking-dare-tie-me-up girl,” he said.

She nodded. “You wouldn’t be wrong.” She never wanted to give up that much control. To anyone.

But nipple clamps might be something else…

“I want to stay.”

Four words. No preamble. No easing into it. Just I want to stay.

And her heart flipped over. Then plummeted.

“Stay? Like here in bed rather than going to the festival? Or for a couple extra days? Or…”

“For good.”

Dammit. She sighed and shifted farther away. For a second his arm tightened around her as if wanting to hold her in place, but then he relaxed and let her slip out from his arm. She pushed herself up to sitting and leaned over to grab her sweatshirt off the floor. The first garment she touched, however, was his t-shirt. She pulled it on anyway. She just needed to be covered.

Then she faced him.

He had shifted so he was propped up against her headboard. The sheet covered him from the waist down, but not his shoulders, chest, or abs.

Dammit. Willpower. You have to have willpower.

“So,” she started, folding her hands in her lap and resting her elbows on her thighs, “that’s crazy.”

He nodded. “I know it seems that way.”

“It doesn’t just seem that way, Mitch,” she said. “It is crazy. People don’t just spend a couple of days together and then move a thousand miles from home to be together.”

“People in my family do stuff like that all the time,” he said, lifting a shoulder.

“Even more reason to stay far away from you and your family,” she muttered.

“Tori’s doing it.”

Paige shook her head. “She knew Josh longer than we’ve known each other.”

“Not that much.”

“Well, I’m not Tori.” She frowned.

He chuckled. Actually chuckled at that.

But it was true. Tori was fine with falling in love and making a long-term commitment. Paige was… not.

“What?” she asked.

“So you like your life the way it is? Your family drives you crazy being in your business all the time. The town drives you crazy being in your business all the time. You’re judged for everything you do from your work to how you spend your free time to what you eat.”

Paige opened her mouth to reply. But then she snapped it shut. Well… fuck. He was right, of course. How did he know all of that? He’d just figured it all out?

“So the last thing I want,” she said, grabbing on to her argument. “Is another person in my business.”

“I don’t want to tell you what to eat or what job you should do.”

“But you want to change how I live.”

“No… I…” He frowned. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“But it’s what would happen. Any relationship changes my life, brings one more person in that needs to be a part of decisions and choices from what I do in the evening after work to how I spend my birthday. I’ve been considerate of the men who want to date me by saying no to anything more than a casual fling or hookup.”

He scowled at that. “It’s been considerate of you to not spend their birthdays with them, to not want to hang out with them and go to the festival or movies together?”

She threw up her hands. “Yes! If I don’t want to spend every moment with them or have their opinions or advice on how I’m living my life, then it’s nice of me to not lead them on thinking that I do want those things.”

“That’s not—”

“And I’d especially feel obligated to share my life with someone who would have moved his entire life a thousand miles just to be with me. I couldn’t just let you sit at home by yourself here without feeling guilty. You wouldn’t know anyone else here or have anything else to do.”

“I’m not asking…” He shoved his hand through his hair.

She lifted a brow. “Then what are you asking?”

“For you to give this a chance. A real chance. To honestly see if this could be something.”

“Right. To date you. Seriously. Exclusively. To go to movies and spend my birthday with you.”

“Yes,” he finally said, exasperated. “Yes. I want to be with you. A lot. I want to see what this could be if I lived here, or close enough, to see you more often. I want to get to know you. So, yes, Paige, I want to move here and see you every single day and be a part of your life.”