He laughed. “If you say so.” He played with her hair, amazed that he was allowed to. That he’d been inside her just minutes before. Yesterday after work seemed a million years ago. He’d never have imagined, upon striding into Fellow’s last night, that he would be here now, Mary wrapped around him. A thought occurred to him and this thing was still so new that his stomach flipped when he asked her, “You still want to get together tonight?”

“Definitely,” she answered immediately, making him smile.

“I’d say we should go to your house for the air-conditioning—” his hand absently scooped and tumbled her hair “—but I don’t usually like to leave Ruth alone at night, and I already did last night.”

At his words, her entire body tightened against his, her face buried just above his armpit, her legs clamped around him, her fingers digging into his hips.

“Are you okay?” He looked down at her in alarm, having no idea what the heck had just happened.

She nodded against him, and when she looked up, her eyes were wide and her lip was between her teeth. “I’m okay,” she answered, sounding strained. “Ask me later. I can’t talk about it now.”

But that look on her face was just about all the answer he needed. He was pretty sure, almost positive, that talking about not wanting to leave Ruth alone had just kicked her over the edge and into love with him. He searched her gaze and saw that she was overwhelmed, giddy, terrified. He leaned forward and gently kissed her, hoping to soothe her. He knew the feeling.

“Ask me later too, okay?” he said softly, and this time it was her eyes searching his, trying to figure out if he was saying what she thought he was.

She blushed and buried her face, and John gave her one last cuddle before he sat up on the edge of the bed. He cleared his throat. “I think we should take a freezing-cold shower together so that we don’t get heatstroke before we even go outside,” he suggested over his shoulder.

She gasped and then her hands were gentle on his back. “Oh, my God. John. I scratched you to hell back here.” Her fingers gently traced the lines that her nails had apparently scored into him. He flexed his back, feeling around.

“I like it,” he told her honestly. “It feels good. It’ll make me think of you all day.”

She hooked her chin over his shoulder and straddled him from behind, her legs along his legs, her wetness smashed against him. “That’s how I feel about you between my legs. I’ll feel it all day.”

He groaned and looked at the clock. “Shit. Work. You can’t say stuff like that to me when we’re gonna be late for work.”