“I came so much already.” She figured it was probably his turn.

“Again.”

She faltered in her movements, taking him all the way in and pausing. “I can’t usually...during...never, actually.” She really hadn’t intended on divulging that piece of information, but it seemed to light some fire inside him.

“Try,” he said. “Just try.” He spread his arms out along the headboard and her mouth watered at all that muscle, those long arms, the chest hair on display for her. “I’m not going anywhere. Just try.”

She knew what he was telling her. That he was a grown man who could control himself. That he wasn’t going to go off like a rocket after three strokes. That she could work herself against him and really see what was what. The thought simultaneously thrilled and terrified her. But this was Seb. All handsome and plain and gray-green seagrass eyes. She trusted him. And that’s what it all came down to.

Via lifted herself and slid back down. Feels good but not quite it. She swiveled on him. Closer. She jutted forward, took him all the way to the hilt and circled. Yeah. There it is. She found a rhythm, and judging from the pained/blissed-out expression on his face, it was working just fine for Seb as well.

She gasped and planted her hands on the wall behind him as she rode and rode. At first, he seemed content to just watch, but as she built, his hands came to her hips, up her back, her breasts and neck, her hair.

When she broke, her eyes wide and amazed, her body trembling like he’d hooked her up to a live wire, he let her shake herself out and then bowled her over and onto her back.

“Thank fuck,” he growled, half laughing as he braced his feet against the headboard and pushed forward. “You were killing me.”

He arranged her legs around his waist and braced himself on either side of her head. He was restrained gorgeousness, wild pleasure, an animal, a god. The lamplight lit him from the side as he pumped into her, the bed shaking on its legs and his noises of blurred ecstasy filling the room.

“Everything,” he said into the skin of her neck. “Everything.”

He tightened and pulled back to look in her face. Via had the distinct pleasure of watching Seb spiral out, unravel and come apart at e.v.e.r.y. fucking seam.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“WE’RE NOT GOING to sleep yet, old man.”

Seb cracked an eye at her, blocking out the light with his biceps. “Just a catnap.”

“Nuh-uh.” She sat up, pulling at his arms. “No sleep. It’s only 8:45 at night. I’m feeding you instead.”

That had him pulling his arm away. “What are you making?”

“Come and see.”

She slid all the way down his body to slither out of bed, and it was that more than the promise of food that had him lumbering to his feet. She walked, buck naked, out of his bedroom. He had to follow the woman who’d just destroyed him. Destroyed him and remade him. Seb sat up on the edge of the bed and realized that for the first time in three years, he didn’t feel like an imposter in his own romantic life. He wasn’t acting or faking it. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.