All of her.

That meant now was not the night for more.

He pulled on his pants, and she cracked up as he reached for the zipper.

He tilted his head to the side, curiosity getting the better of him. “Why are you laughing?”

She pointed to his pelvis. “Because it’s funny.”

“My dick is funny?”

She shook her head, another giggle falling forth. “No, it’s funny the way you have to put them on so you don’t zip yourself up.”

He glanced down at the practiced move. Obviously, he could do this without looking, do it from memory, but yeah, you had to tug the fabric away from the crown jewels to make sure you didn’t catch them in the teeth.

“Ever get it caught?”

He rolled his eyes and suppressed a laugh. “Yes. Yes, I have. Years ago, as a younger man,” he said, launching into a storyteller’s voice, as if sharing a tale. “But, alas, I survived, and there are no scars.” With that, he snapped his pants shut, and gestured proudly. “Voila. Impressed?”

“So impressed,” she said, clapping several times.

“Wait ’til you see me juggle.”

“You juggle?”

“I’ve never shown you my juggling skills?”

“I’ve always known you could juggle women, but didn’t realize it extended to objects.”

“Ha ha. Got any oranges or apples?”

“In the kitchen. There’s a basket on the counter. You can grab them. I’m going to change,” she said, standing up in all her naked glory.

He hated for her to take away the view. “But you look so good naked,” he said. He briefly considered begging for her to stay undressed.

“So do you, and yet you put on pants,” she said, then retreated to her bedroom.

He wandered into the open kitchen of her loft, and found the bowl of fruit on the island counter. Grabbing three oranges and an apple, he headed back to the living room and tossed the first orange in the air, then the next, then the next, finally adding the apple. He found his rhythm quickly and the fruit whirred in a circle before him.

Then she returned, and his jaw dropped, and the apple smacked the floor with a thud.

“Damn, Casey,” he said, quickly grabbing the three oranges mid-flight, before they spilled to the ground too.

“What is it?” she asked, her eyes so wide and innocent.

“You’re just . . .” he said, tripping on his tongue, barely able to form words around her. Because one minute she was the leather-clad woman in stockings, heels and a red bra, and the next she wore pink cotton panties and a white tank top, fresh-faced and all-American blonde, with her wavy hair pulled into a loose knot at her neck. He walked over to her, unable to resist touching her. With his free hand, he trailed his fingertips down her arm, then pressed a soft, simple kiss to her lips. “You’re just so beautiful,” he said, finally able to finish the thought, then he stepped back.