I already know my voice will fail me, so I simply nod. He unsnaps my jeans, slides the zipper down, his fingers deft, eager. There’s no fumbling or searching. He skates under the lacy rim of my panties, finding my clit unerringly quickly and passing the pad of one finger over the cluster of heat and nerves.

“Jesus,” I gasp. “Lord.”

“Open your legs.”

I widen for him, and he rewards my obedience with the most delicious intrusion of one huge finger plunging inside. He adds another, stretching me, plundering me. His hands, lips, tongue, conspire to drive me over the edge. He sucks my breast, rubs my clit, and fingers me with relentless tenderness and pounding urgency.

“Shit, shit, shit.” My back arches and my head tips back and my body surrenders every molecule, splintering into a million writhing particles. I dig my heels into the trampoline as the orgasm washes over, tears through me. A jaw-rattling scream scrambles up my throat, but I bite my bottom lip, trapping the sound inside. I grind down onto his hand, shameless, careless of my obvious greedy need. I’m chasing this to the very end. I allow myself a few tiny whimpers as the last of it coats my whole body, twisting through my limbs and tingling my toes.

Ezra’s hands slow. His kisses gentle, but he doesn’t stop until I’m completely still, ragged breaths my only outward motion. I’m moving inside, though.

I’m a filthy feather floating back down to earth.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ezra

I steal a look at Kimba’s face, dimly lit by the moon and shadowed by the netting of the trampoline. We’re lying down, facing each other, our bodies like confidants, huddled close. My hand rests just inside her panties, the unzipped waistband of her jeans gaping open. Her top is pulled down, the fabric scrunched at her waist. Her breasts are bare, the coppery skin glimmering, her nipples wet and plump from my kisses.

I didn’t think we’d get this far tonight, but I’m damn happy about it.

“Oh my God,” she says, her voice stripped, husky. “Are you kidding me?”

Her throaty laughter is a chime filling my backyard like music.

“What?” I ask warily. This could go many ways. Sideways.

“That was incredible.” Splayed out beside me on the trampoline, she looks spent. Her facial muscles slacken except for the tiniest satisfied curve to her lips. “You’re really good at that, Dr. Stern.”

I chuckle and tip my head to the side until it touches hers. “If I hadn’t moved to Italy, that probably would have happened in the back seat of some car or under bleachers when we were in the tenth grade.”

“I doubt very seriously you would have been able to do that in the tenth grade.” She sighs, sounding both content and impressed. “From my experience, teenage boys aren’t quite that considerate.”