He nibbles at my neck, scraping his teeth along my collarbone before tasting me there. “All night, all weekend, the rest of our lives, maybe.” One calloused hand slips under my bra and cups my breast, his thumb flicking over my sensitive peak, and I gasp, already feeling the edges of my vision darkening.

Not yet. I gently push him away. “Cam. Maybe you could show me that bed you kept going on about earlier.”

He grins, his eyes flashing in the dim light from the streetlamps outside his windows. “You mean earlier when you told me you love me?”

Gah. He’s cute.

I reach for his whiskery chin, tugging his mouth to mine and kissing him softly. “I do love you.”

“Me, too.”

“Can we please have sex now?”

He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him, tempted to nix the bedroom when I feel his muscular thighs underneath mine. Merciful saints.

Next time.

In seconds, we’re in his bedroom. He lays me on his bed, running one hand down the side of my face, my neck, passing between my breasts and stroking me once, his clever fingers dancing ever so lightly against my center, causing my breath to catch in a gasp. “Be right back,” he whispers hotly against my skin, and I whimper when he moves off.

I’m just lying there in a daze when I recover and remember myself. I toe off my sandals and pull my dress over my head, tossing it to the floor. Next, I unhook my bra, flinging it toward the dress. I’m reaching for my underwear when Cameron returns, his arms full of something. I hear a clatter near his dresser, then the flare of a match. He spins around, holding the match between his fingers and his mouth falls open at the sight of me, nearly naked and on his bed.

“Christ. I love you,” he breathes followed by a strangled, “Shit!” He waves his fingers as the match burns out and I choke on a giggle. He ignites another, and this time concentrates on lighting the candles he’s collected on the dresser. He tosses the matchbook on a shelf before ripping off his shirt, kicking his boots away, and diving onto the bed next to me. I pick up his injured finger and suck it into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip, before saying, “Very smooth, Cam.”

He growls and reclaims his hand, before sinking down between my legs and pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to my bare stomach. “I was trying to be romantic,” he grumbles.

“Well,” I say as he creeps lower, his tongue making little circles along the edge of my underwear. I squirm. “It’s no starry field.”