“I aim to please,” he said. He pulled his arm out from underneath her, but she reached for him before he could fully separate.

“You’ll see what I mean in about thirty seconds. It’s a lot harder to keep quiet than you think. Pants down, my friend.” She licked her lips in anticipation. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.”

She reached for the buckle of his belt, but he pulled away before she could make contact. Her smile dimmed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What did I say?”

He shook his head, unable at first to give voice to what he was feeling. A large part of his current thought process was taken up with the desire that refused to abate, a hot, insistent pounding that made it difficult for his thoughts to coalesce into coherency. What was left was busy trying to articulate his feelings.

Because feelings were exactly it. He and Ruby had been playing games for a while now, pushing and pulling in what was rapidly becoming his favorite pastime. It would be all too easy to continue that right now, each of them seeing how fast they could make the other come, torturing each other with teeth and tongues and touch.

That sounded nice—it sounded wonderful, actually—but that wasn’t fair to either of them. He liked Ruby. He felt things for her that he’d never felt for anyone. He wanted to shake her and kiss her and get the better of her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and make her laugh. He wanted to talk to her about Caleb again and hear her opinion on what he should do next. Her view of the world was wholly unique—cynical yet optimistic, hard-earned wisdom and a true love of humanity rolled into one.

That kind of feeling wasn’t a quick blow job in someone else’s living room. That kind of feeling deserved more.

“There’s a guest room at the end of the hallway,” he said, holding out a hand to her. “I stay there sometimes when Eva and I have to work late. Will you come with me?”

She took his hand with narrowed eyes. “Why? What’s back there?”

“A bed. Pillows. A door that locks.” He squeezed as her fingers threaded through his. Even though this next part was difficult to say, he forced himself to do it. As his earlier attempt at discussing masturbation had proven, he’d never be like the man in one of Ruby’s erotica novels, swaggering with confidence and spitting out four-letter words for female anatomy.

He could be like the man in one of her romance novels, though.

“If it’s all right with you, I’d rather make love the old-fashioned way,” he said. “I’d really like to be inside you when I come.”