She tasted as sweet as she looked—champagne and honey—and I groaned in agonized delight as I devoured her. When her sounds grew more frantic and her body writhed and bucked beneath my mouth, I slipped my fingers inside her, my jealous cock aching to ease into that soft, slick heat.

Beside her legs, her hands clawed at the sheets, and I could feel the muscles in her body go tense as she contracted around my fingers. I moved my tongue a little faster and harder, pushed my fingers a little deeper, and suddenly she was crying out in relief, her orgasm pulsing from her body into mine, like ripples on the water.

As soon as I felt her body relax slightly, I jumped to my feet, and ditched the rest of my clothes, pausing only to pull my wallet from my pants pocket. She lifted herself up onto her elbows and watched as I took out the condom and tore the wrapper open.

“Am I dreaming?” she asked breathlessly, scooting up toward the headboard.

“Want me to pinch you?” I rolled the condom on and stretched out above her.

“Yes, please.” She opened her legs for me and put her hands on my chest. “I want you to do everything to me.”

I braced myself over her and eased into her body slowly, even though my heart raced ahead and my instinct was to chase it. Below me, I watched Cheyenne’s face change, her eyes closing as she took me in, heard her breathing become more labored as she struggled to relax and get used to my size.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes opening again. She moved her hands over my shoulders and down my back. “I want to savor every single moment, even if it hurts.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I said, my voice raw with need, my body tense with bound energy, a lion caged. “I want to make you feel good.”

“Cole.” She lifted her head and kissed my throat, my collarbone, my jaw. Her hands slid down over my ass and pulled me in deeper. “Give me everything. I’ve waited so long.”

At her invitation, I began to move, slowly at first, deep, long strokes that made her arch and gasp and dig her fingernails into my skin. I wanted to be patient for her—I wanted to be gentle and tender and sweet—she’d waited for this, dreamed about this, and I wanted to be the man in her dreams who catered to her every whim, anticipated her every need, gave her everything she wanted. But instead I found myself struggling to hold onto control—she was so beautiful, so wet and warm and soft, and it felt so fucking good to be inside her, to give in to the temptation I’d fought for so damn long.

And she didn’t help—she urged me on with her moans and sighs, with her hands that gripped and pulled, with her kisses that teased and tantalized, with her honey-and-champagne flavor still on my tongue. She met every thrust of mine with her own, our bodies moving rhythmically together as if they’d been made for each other, as if we’d been doing this all our lives.

“God, Cheyenne,” I rasped, pausing with my cock buried deep inside her. “This feels too good. I’m too fucking close.”

“Me too,” she whispered, tilting her hips. “Don’t stop.”

Groaning, I began to move again, fucking her hard and deep. I remembered all the nights I’d fantasized about her, all the times I’d imagined being inside her this way—my hand had been a poor fucking substitute. This was a full-body experience, and every nerve ending was alive and on fire. Every sense was intensified—I could smell her, taste her, hear her crying out for me, for God, for release. Stars appeared behind my closed eyes as I reached the peak and clung to the edge, desperate to bring her with me, rocking into her again and again, until I felt the tension within her give way and her frustrated, pleading cries were eclipsed by one long sigh as her body clenched around me. I let go, and my body took over, exploding inside her, turning inside out, throbbing in hot, desperate, rippling waves of relief.

We lay there for a moment, tangled and clutching, our skin slick with sweat I hadn’t even noticed before, our breath slowing down, our muscles gradually relaxing.

I buried my face in her hair and inhaled, my entire body humming with pleasure. She stroked my back, pressed her lips to my shoulder, wrapped her legs around me. For a few minutes, we said nothing and just held each other, the only two souls in the world. In the universe. In existence.

Eventually, I lifted my chest off her and looked down at her face, my heart beating hard. Those brown eyes threatened to undo me. “Hey.”

She smiled. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

The smile widened, and she nodded, eyes drifting shut. “Yes.”

“Am I crushing you?”

“Yes. Never stop.”

I laughed, shifting onto my side so that she wasn’t bearing any of my weight, but taking her with me so we were face to face. “I just got here. Suffocating you is not part of my plan.”

“I didn’t know there was a plan.”

“Actually, there isn’t. Not beyond this anyway. My plan was to get you to listen to me, tell you how I felt, and then see if you’d let me take all your clothes off.”

She giggled, her fingertips brushing against my chest. “It worked. Well done.”

“But now I need a new plan.”

“I’m good with more of the same,” she said. “I liked every single part of the old one, even if you did cover my mouth to get me to shut up.”

“I had to—you would not stop talking.”

“I thought I was protecting myself.”

“I know.” I brushed her hair back from her face. “And you were right to stop things last night. It’s not that I didn’t feel this way then—because I did—but hearing you admit your feelings made it impossible to ignore mine any longer.”

“Tell me again how you feel,” she said shyly, her eyes on my chest.

I gathered her in close, tucking her head beneath my chin. For once, the words flowed easily. “I feel a lot of things. I feel like I want to hold you all night. I feel like all the oxygen goes out of the room when you enter it. I feel like I’m the only guy in the world when you look at me. I feel like there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you smile.”

She snuggled closer, putting an arm and leg over me. “If this turns out to be a dream, I’m going to be so fucking mad.”

I kissed the top of her head. “It’s not.”

“I wish I could go back in time and tell twelve-year-old me not to give up hope, that there’s a reason she has all those feelings for you that won’t ease up.”

I chuckled. “Did you really have a crush on me all the way back then?”

“Yes,” she said, laughing. “And it never ended.”

“Get out, you’ve had plenty of boyfriends over the years. And I secretly hated every one of them.”

“Did you?” She sounded surprised.

“Yes. I would tell myself it was just me being protective, but there was probably more to it. Especially that asshole you brought around at Christmas a few years ago. What was his name . . . Jake?”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me. I only dated him because he was the total opposite of you. I was trying to distract myself.”

“He pinched your ass at the tree lighting, and I wanted to fucking punch him in the face.”