“Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Don’t you dare stop.” I wound my arms around his shoulders, holding on, trusting him, while I rode his hand shamelessly. It was too much. All of my senses were full of him, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed him. I reached down, pushing at his unfastened pants that hung low around his hips, but he shook his head.

“Not yet. This is for you. All for you.” His teeth sank gently into my earlobe, tugging, then his tongue soothed the bite. “I’ve imagined how you’d look, how you’d feel . . . let me see this. Let me see you. Let me feel you. Please.”

The combination of his words, his voice, his touch, it was too much. Too much to take, and soon I was clutching his shoulders, fingernails digging in, as I gasped and my body shook in his arms. His mouth covered mine, taking my cries into himself, swallowing them. It took somewhere between a few moments and forever for me to come back to myself, and I sagged against him, my head dropping to his shoulder.

“Now?” I asked. My voice was a plaintive whine, but I was too satisfied to care. “Now will you take your pants off?”

His laugh was an explosion of breath in my ear. “Oh, gladly.”

I expected him to stand up, or to push me back down onto the couch again. Instead he moved backward, sitting, then lying flat on the area rug beneath him, pulling me with him. I spilled down beside him in a tangle of limbs.

“Are you kidding me?” I pushed up on my elbows and watched lasciviously as he stood and finally, finally, finished the job I’d started on his pants roughly a million years ago. My breath escaped my body in a long whoosh as his pants hit the floor, and it was all I could do to keep teasing him. “You really have something against my bed, don’t you?”

“What?” He tossed his wallet down near my head before kneeling down next to me again. “This rug is great. I’ve always wanted to make love on a pink fake fur rug with sparkles on it.”

“Hey, I love this rug. I take a lot of Instagram photos on this rug.” Though maybe not anytime in the near future, after what was apparently about to happen on this rug. I’d probably need to clean it first.

“Anyway, your bed is ridiculous, and I’m just fine here.” He crawled up my body, caging me in his arms to claim a kiss. So much heat. So much bare skin, soft and hard and hot against mine. “As long as I’m with you, I’m fine anywhere.” His arms tightened around me and he rolled us, stretching his long, long legs under me and pulling me firmly on top of him. “Come here,” he said. “I’ll be your bed.”

“Mmm. Best bed ever.” How could one person’s skin feel so right against mine? I wound my legs around his and relished the feel of his body under mine. He was long, lean, and hard where I was short and soft, but somehow we fit. Everything about him fit everything about me.

Well, almost everything. There was one thing we hadn’t tried the fit of yet. And I couldn’t wait any longer. I reached down between us, taking him back into my hand again, and the breath rushed out of his lungs. He was harder, hotter than he’d been before, throbbing in my hand as I stroked him, and I stole a glance up toward the bathroom, and the box of condoms that I knew was in my medicine cabinet. So far away. I hadn’t trained Benedick how to bring me things, and that was super inconvenient right now. Where was a Harry Potter spell when you needed it? Accio prophylactic!

“Wait.” He reached above his head for his wallet, fumbling with it. “Here, wait. I’ve got . . .” A ridiculous number of business cards spilled to the floor before he finally produced a condom and pressed it into my hand.

“Ohthankgod.” The words exploded out of me in a sigh, and I wasted no time in sheathing him up. I watched his eyes as I sank down onto him—they were dark now, deep, dark green and so very hot—and my own eyes fluttered in reaction to the stretch of him inside me. I caught my breath and he caught my hands, balancing me, as I took him in a little at a time. I could feel him everywhere, but it still wasn’t enough. I wanted more.

Beneath me, Daniel let out a strangled moan. His eyes slid closed as his head dropped back, the cords of his neck taut. I needed to taste that throat so I did, leaning down, laving his pulse with my tongue while his hands urged my hips to move, to ride him. “Please.” The word tore itself from his chest. “Please, you’ve got to . . .”

So I did. Being on top wasn’t my forte—talk about an unflattering angle, right?—but I persevered. I pushed up with my hands on his chest for balance, keeping my movements teasingly slow, and watched him slowly lose his mind underneath me. It was a beautiful sight. Maybe there was something to unflattering angles after all.

Soon Daniel took over, steadying me with firm hands on my hips, his fingertips making divots in my skin. He moved my body the way he wanted it, thrusting up into me, and it was just on the right side of pain. “Please,” he said again. It seemed to be all he could say. I curled a hand on his chest, my nails scratching lightly, and he sucked in a hiss of a breath. His eyes opened and he gazed up at me, the green of his eyes almost eclipsed by dark pupils. I wanted to drown in him, in the way he looked at me.

“Now.” One hand on my hip slid inward, down to where we were joined, hooking, stroking. “Now. Give me . . .”

I couldn’t hear him anymore. I could barely see him. All I knew was the pleasure streaking through me in bright waves. Too bright. Too much. I shuddered above him and he pulled me down, his mouth finding mine, closing over mine, and there was nothing but mouths and tongues, thrusts and moans and shivers and his skin against mine.

Afterward, we lay together on that fake fur rug, and he wrapped his arms around me as though he’d never let me go. Long minutes passed as I nestled my head into the hollow of his shoulder and sighed in pure contentment.

“You should probably stay.” I had just enough energy to turn my head and lay a kiss on his throat. “The storm still sounds really bad out there.” The rain had stopped a while back; my skylight had gone silent and the moon had even come out around the time of my second orgasm.

“Mmmm,” he murmured in agreement. “I don’t think I want to drive in this. You’re right.”

Eventually, we made it to the bed. Daniel didn’t say another word about the bedsprings.

Eighteen

My stomach was warm when I woke up, which wasn’t a surprise. More often than not, Benedick joined me in bed, nestling into my belly as I slept on my side, making himself my little spoon.

But this morning felt different. I was warmer, not just from the fuzzy warmth of the cat. I felt warm all over. As I reached for Benedick, stroking his fur with sleepy, half-awake movements, an arm tightened around my waist. I came fully awake and aware: Daniel was curled around my back, holding me to him in much the same way Benedick was nestled into me. I had both a big and a little spoon, and I was safe and secure in this cocoon of warmth.

Too bad I had to pee.

After extricating myself, to an admonishing chirrup from Benedick and a sleepy protest from Daniel, I came back from the bathroom to find that Benedick had found another spot to sleep: on Daniel’s pillow.

“I think he likes me.” He reached up to rub between Benedick’s ears, and the cat closed his eyes in sleepy pleasure. Daniel watched the cat for a moment, then turned his attention back to me.

“He’s not the only one.” I took his outstretched hand and let him pull me back into bed and tuck the blankets around us both. Morning light streamed in through the skylight in my kitchen, but by unspoken agreement, we refused to believe it was morning.

“Any plans today?”

“Hmmm. Besides this?” I grinned as his arms tightened around me. Could we just spend the day like this? Sure, we’d have to eat at some point, but that’s what takeout was for, right?

“Wait,” Daniel said. “It’s Monday. Don’t you have to go to work?”

I shook my head. “I take Mondays off during Faire.”

“Good thinking. And they don’t mind?” He pushed a lock of my hair off my shoulder, letting his fingertips linger on my skin.

“Nope.” It was hard to concentrate on answering his question when his mouth replaced his fingertips, working his way slowly up to where my neck met my shoulder. “I cover for people other times . . . like Christmas and . . .” Oh, who cared about my vacation schedule when Daniel’s mouth was on my skin? How could I make this last forever?

I was still pondering this question an hour or so later, after he’d borrowed both my shower and a new toothbrush from my medicine cabinet. He looked so good, wearing yesterday’s clothes, his auburn hair wet and combed back, sitting at my dinette table drinking coffee out of one of my pink mugs. He looked like he belonged in my life. I didn’t want to think about Faire ending, and him moving on to the next town.

Daniel peered out my front window, down to where his truck was still parked in the driveway. “Think your mom is up doing laundry yet?”

I snorted. For a grown man, he was really worried about my mother. “Probably not. Are you that worried about the walk of shame you have to do to your truck?”

“Not really.” He went to refill his coffee mug, then moved to the fridge for the milk. He wasn’t lying; he took a ridiculous amount of milk in his coffee. “As walks of shame go, this one seems pretty mild. It’s what, about thirty feet?” But there was concern in his eyes when he turned to me. “Why, do you think I should be worried?”