“Mine,” he rasped. Then more insistent: “Mine.”

Georgie’s fevered mind had only just picked up on the change in Travis’s tone when his strong arms banded around her, holding tight. So tight. His hips continued to pound her from behind, but his breathing had turned erratic. Unnaturally so, even in their worked-up state. With his face buried in the crook of Georgie’s neck, she only had to turn her head to search Travis’s face—and she found his eyes squeezed shut, her name on his lips. “Travis,” she croaked, kissing the forearms locked around her. “Look at me.”

Tortured blue eyes found her and alarm flared in Georgie’s chest. She twisted in the circle of his arms, giving him no choice but to slip from her body. He fell on Georgie, wrapping her in a bear hug, their sides pressed up against the seat. “Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” She stroked a hand down the back of his hair. “Talk to me.”

A muscle slid up and down in his throat. “Georgie, I can’t do this.”

Pain singed her lungs. “Are you . . . ending this thing between us now? I know it was only supposed to last through tonight—”

Travis clapped a hand over her mouth, his breathing harsh. “First of all, let’s stop calling it a thing.”

“Okay,” she mumbled slowly into his palm.

“What you’ve done for me, baby girl . . . bringing me out of the dark? It’s a miracle. Not a thing. You’re a miracle.” He closed his eyes, missing the awe that crossed her face. “You make me better, and I wish—I fucking wish I could do the same for you, but all I can offer is me. Other men can offer you the things you want. Family. Kids. I don’t know how to give you those.” His arms tightened around her. “But I don’t think I can let you go, either.”

Georgie felt like she was breathing through a straw. “Are you saying you want to be with me?”

“Want? No.” Travis brushed their mouths together, letting the tips of their tongues touch. “I’m saying I need you. I’m saying no to ending this tonight. I was an idiot to think that was possible.”

Georgie was shaken. Did he really just say those beautiful things? Was she in the middle of a dream? No. No, the warm male body pressed to hers was real, as was the emotion packed into every one of his words. I need you. Did he have any idea how much she needed him back? This man who’d blown her perception of him out of the water and replaced it with someone real and caring and magnetic.

Thank God. Thank God this wouldn’t be over in a matter of hours. It almost eluded Georgie that she’d succeeded in her plan to cure Travis of his relationship phobia, she was so relieved this man wanted more. They both did. Georgie slipped her fingers into his hair, her thighs lifting to circle his waist. Between them, his thick erection continued to pulse, and her body was now weeping for its almost-orgasm. “Where do I even start?” Georgie said quietly, dragging her fingernails along Travis’s scalp and watching his eyes glaze over. “Travis, I . . .”

Not the time, Georgie. They’d just decided to stop calling their relationship a thing. Declarations of love were a long way off. Maybe they’d never even get there. Bottom line, she needed to start small. Even though her chest felt like it might burst wide open from all the overstocked feelings.

A line formed between his brows. “What were you going to say?”

Georgie raked her nails lightly down his nape. “I was going to say I’m twenty-three, Travis. I don’t want kids right now. Or a husband. There’s all the time in the world.” The words sounded hollow to her own ears and Travis was still frowning, but she pushed through, getting to the part that was nothing but the truth. “Right now, I—I just want—”

“A boyfriend?” His chest lifted and fell. “If that’s enough for now, let me be yours.”

For now. Did that make them temporary all over again? Maybe. But the prospect of being with Travis without an imminent expiration date proved too tempting. “Where do I sign?”

Travis still looked troubled about her claim that the future could wait, but after a small hesitation, his mouth settled over hers again. And their lips moving together reignited the heat between them like two pieces of flint. Georgie spread her legs, looking up at the sexiest man alive through her lashes. And Travis took the bait like a dying man. He reached down with shaking hands and guided himself back between her legs, thrusting deep with a moan. “I need to come inside you so bad, baby girl. Deep.” He laid her down on the limousine floor. “I want it to stay there all fucking night.”

She let him lock her wrists above her head, a buzz humming in her blood. So full of love, she wondered if her chest might explode. “Give it to me.”

It was fast and rough, Travis’s forehead pressed to hers, eyes locked on each other as he pummeled her body. He moved at a merciless pace, slapping their hips together, teeth baring every time she squeezed him with her inner walls. They groaned words that made sense only to their ears, called each other’s name, and kissed as if frantic to memorize taste, texture, movement, breathing patterns. Travis freed Georgie’s wrists in favor of pressing her knees open, the pace of his hips turning punishing but, as always, mindful of where she needed to be touched, the engorged base of his shaft hitting its mark and turning Georgie into a clawing, writhing creature, her fingernails buried in her boyfriend’s ass. Urging him to buck, to use, to overpower. And he did. He did until tears leaked down her temples, the back-to-back orgasms blanketing her mind, narrowing her universe down to where their bodies joined.

“Goddamn,” he muttered into her neck, voice sounding pained. “I need to blow so bad, but you’re too beautiful when you come. Knock it off.”

“Who, me?” Georgie said breathlessly, putting mock innocence—her favorite tool—to use, because she couldn’t stand Travis in pain and it happened to be his kryptonite, too. She unsnapped the front of her strapless bra, bowing her back to present her bare breasts to Travis.

“Motherfucker,” he breathed, his hips snapping in a rapid rhythm, jostling her breasts. “No. No, no, no . . . I want to watch you one more time.”

She played with her nipples, pinching and rolling them between her middle finger and thumb. “But it feels so good when you fill me up.”

“Georgie.”

“Do it.” She gasped as Travis closed his teeth around her chin, growling. “You can go harder, can’t you? You don’t have to hold back because I’m so tight.”

He came with a roar that lasted for long moments, hanging in the air, that final pump of his stiffness telling her all about his desperation. And the expression of male rapture on his gorgeous face, the sticky, wet grind of their lower bodies, pushed Georgie into one final climax, a slow, all-encompassing one that made her shake violently. It made Travis’s head come up, his eyes molten as he witnessed it. “Beautiful,” he gritted. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

They collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs, Travis tucking Georgie’s head beneath his chin, his unbreakable hold surrounding her. No place in the world she’d rather be than listening to Travis’s heart wail against his rib cage, throat rattling as it pulled in oxygen.

As they rumbled down the highway, she let the engine and Travis’s heartbeat lull her, refusing to be sad over the three words that remained trapped in her throat.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Travis flipped up his collar against the wind on his walk through the parking lot. The first of fall had begun to roll in, bringing a brisk breeze off the water. Soon the leaves would begin to change, and everyone would break out their sweaters. It wouldn’t be long before he was dodging kids in Halloween costumes as they trick-or-treated on Main Street. For the first time, he was actually looking forward to October for something other than the World Series. He was looking forward to everything right now.

He’d picked up the supplies he needed to put the finishing touches on Georgie’s fireplace and he could already see her laid out in front of it. Last night, after the limousine dropped them back at her house, there had been no question he was staying the night. That’s what boyfriends did, wasn’t it? And it turned out his girlfriend often slept in these tiny flannel shorts that went straight up her ass—he’d found them in the back of her sock drawer while digging for something to keep her feet warm. He’d coaxed her into modeling them and now he was borderline obsessed. When he imagined Georgie in front of the fireplace he was building, she wore nothing but those booty huggers and a smile, her skin lit up from the flames.

You don’t have to hold back because I’m so tight.

“Christ,” he muttered, slowing his gait out of necessity. Wouldn’t be a good idea to walk into Grumpy Tom’s with a boner, especially because he was meeting Stephen for a beer. Unfortunately, that was how he’d spent most of the day. Hard—or about to get hard—thanks to Georgie.

Had he always liked sex? Sure. Every man did. But he’d been having a vague, watered-down version of it his whole life. Being inside Georgie? His body got high. And so did his mind. Their bodies moving together meant being attuned to fifty things at once. Her pulse, the swell of her clit, the peaks of her nipples, the quickening of her pussy, the waning focus in her eyes, her words, her breath, the softness of her skin, the roughness of her nails. The affection she radiated at him. Being aware of all of those incredible things at once, tending to them, while being completely absorbed by a warm, blanketing sense of belonging.