That was five hours.

That wouldn’t be enough time for him to come even close to getting enough of her. But it would be a very good start.

He reached for his wallet, pulling the condom from between the bills. He kept kissing her as he ripped it open and rolled it on. Then he pulled her butt forward on the counter.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he said.

“This feels like the first time,” she told him softly, running her hand over the side of his face and into his hair.

She was right. It did.

“I’m in love with you, Whit.”

Okay maybe immediately after having her mouth on his cock hadn’t been the right time but this felt good.

He hoped.

Her eyes widened for a moment. But then she smiled and breathed out. “I’m in love with you too.”

Neither of them said again.

Because this was different than before. This was new.

But when he pulled her forward and she wrapped herself around him and he slid into her hot, tight body, it felt like they’d been doing it forever.

“Oh yes Cam,” she half whispered, half moaned.

“Whit. Damn. Yes,” he answered. Sort-of. It was more of a grunt-groan honestly.

He pulled out and thrust again. And again. She clung to him, her body—from her arms to her pussy—tight around him, not letting him go far. But he had to move. The friction, the push and pull, the heat and wetness everything he needed.

He gripped her ass, felt her hot breath on his neck, her silky hair against his chest.

“Please,” she whimpered.

“Anything.”

“Just… more. Harder.”

Well, that he could do. “Lean back.”

She shifted, looking up at him.

He kissed her and then pressed her back until she was leaning on her elbows.

“Gorgeous.” He ran a hand up one thigh to her stomach then up to one breast, playing with a nipple and feeling the resultant tightening around his cock.

The angle was gorgeous too. He could see everything where they were joined.

“You’re incredible,” he told her, pulling out and sliding back in, watching her body take him then lifting his eyes to her face.

She was breathing hard, her eyes on him, her cheeks pink.

“Ditto,” she told him breathlessly.

He pulled back then thrust forward again, sinking into her welcoming sweet, wet heat. “I will never get over this,” he told her sincerely.

“Good. I’m already addicted.” She ended that on a gasp as he hit a particularly good spot.

“Oh, like that?” he asked.

“Yes. Please. Again.”

He complied.

And again.

“Harder.” She tightened around him. “Faster.”

He did. Both. He watched her breasts bounce. Watched her head fall back, her hair trailing over the countertop. He watched the flush climb up her chest.

“Yes! Cam,” she gasped.

He gripped her thighs where he held her and picked up the pace even more. He was pumping into her hard and deep and he felt his climax building. He moved a hand, pressing his thumb against her clit, then rubbing.

“Oh! Yes!”

He circled the spot, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm, watching her mouth fall open as she panted and the way she gripped the edge of the counter.

“Cam!”

He circled and thrust faster and then she clamped down on him, one hand gripping his wrist as her pussy milked him and she cried out.

He let himself go, thrusting three times, and coming hard, calling her name.

“Whitney! Yes! Yes!”

She immediately pulled herself up and wrapped her arms and legs around him. He held her tightly, feeling the goosebumps pebbling her skin. Then he yanked his pants up, scooped her up with his hands under her ass, and turned toward the hallway, heading for the stairs.

“Our clothes. And the cookie dough,” she protested weakly, her face against his neck.

“I’ll take care of it all later,” he promised.

She reached out and flipped off the light as they passed it, leaving only the soft glow of the light over the sink.

He loved that she just let him take care of things. He hadn’t realized how important that was to him until he’d moved in here. His mom had always taken care of things in their home. His grandmother had single-mindedly taken care of their family business. He absolutely contributed to Fluke, Inc. and now Hot Cakes, but… he was an attorney. He was easily the most replaceable of any of the guys. He knew they never would replace him, but what he contributed was much more in the category of friendship than it was anything legal that another lawyer couldn’t handle.

But here with Didi and Whitney it was different. He was doing something here that he truly felt no one else could do as well. It was very domestic and very full of fat and sugar at times but it was important.

He turned to climb the stairs, loving the feel of her in his arms.

“You can’t carry me all the way up,” she said.

“Watch me.”

He started up the steps.

“This is so hot,” she murmured.

“You like being carried?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone.”

“No one would believe me anyway,” he said against her head with a smile.

It made him feel stupidly manly. And he would never tell anyone that either. Probably not even her. She wasn’t some “little lady” who needed a big strong man to take care of her.

But she liked when he did. And so did he. So, yeah… no one else needed to know.

He turned down the hall heading for her room. He could take her to his, of course, but his room was a guest room. He wanted to be with her in her room, in a permanent place. And, yes, a place where she’d think of him every time she lay down.

He hoped to be in there with her every time she lay down from now on but… they still had some talking to do. They were absolutely on their way to permanently lying down together though.

He got it. That’s what she’d said earlier. He knew what she wanted and needed. She was falling for him because he understood her needs with her career.

Cam frowned as he put her down on the bed.

“Come here.” She pulled him down with her.

He went willingly. Of course.

She turned her back and snuggled her body right into his, spooning like they’d done it every night forever.

And it felt right.

But he was still frowning.

No. She wasn’t falling for him just because he was supportive of her career and made it one-thousand times easier on her to pursue it. But he’d helped her see that she could have it all. Him and Hot Cakes.

And… she could. It had stung a little to realize that part of what she needed was for him to not need her. Not need her there for regular family dinners or even every night by a certain time. To not need her to remember appointments or to meal plan or dust.

But she did need him for orgasms, dammit.

And cookies.

She sighed and snuggled closer and pulled Cam’s arm around her body and he sighed too.

Orgasms and cookies. Yeah, he could work with that.

20

Something woke them up at 4 a.m.

But it wasn’t an alarm. Or the theme song to Magnum, P.I.—on TV or on Cam’s phone.