When he stands, he watches me as he strips out of his clothes and slides on a condom. His eyes are on mine, and he’s . . . smiling.

“What is that look on your face about?” I ask. My cheeks blaze hot.

“I’m just realizing I’m not going to want to let you leave this room tomorrow.” His gaze dips to my sex. “Christ, Shay. I want to make you come over and over again.” He trails his fingers over me and I shudder. “I almost came just listening to your sounds.”

I reach for him. I want to feel the weight of him on me and kiss that smile.

“In a minute.” He guides my legs around his waist, and I wait for him to climb on top of me, but he stands there at the edge of the bed, his big hands curled around my hips as he lifts them off the bed and slowly enters me.

My breath hitches and my body stretches around him. I’m so tender from my orgasm that the pleasure is almost too much, but it’s so damn sexy to watch him look down, his eyes fixed on the place where our bodies are joined.

He moves slowly at first. His thrusts are gentle, tentative, like he plans to do this all night. But I need more, and when I arch my back and reach for him, he finds my clit with his thumb, stroking that spot I thought was too sensitive for more contact. My body clenches and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Damn, Shay. You feel unreal. I can’t even . . .” His hips jerk and his pace increases. I can feel him trying to hold back and love that he’s losing the battle.

It’s my turn to watch him fall apart, and it’s glorious. He tries to keep his gaze locked on mine but surrenders to it, throwing his head back and growling, gripping my hips like he’s afraid I might disappear.

Easton

“Can I tell you a secret?” Shay asks.

We’re tangled together in the dark, and I don’t even know if she realizes it, but she hasn’t stopped running her fingers up and down my torso since I came back to bed. It’s like she can’t stop touching me, and I fucking love it. “What’s your secret?”

“I’m writing a novel.”

I grin even though I know she can’t see it. “Of course you are. You’re Shay.” For as long as I remember, she’s always been reading or talking about a book. She was always coming back from the bookstore or camped out at the library. Books and Shay don’t just go together—I can’t think of one without the other.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“No. I think it’s awesome. I guess I always assumed you’d end up writing something.”

“You don’t think it’s stupid?”