I felt nothing but my orgasm and all that was Mickey, his heat, his strength, the power of his body tensed with his own orgasm.

Then mine glided from me and I relaxed against him and lapped at his thumb.

I knew his had left him too when he slid it out of my mouth and ran it along my lower lip.

His mouth came back to my ear. “You on the Pill?”

“Yes,” I breathed against his thumb.

“You fuckin’ anyone but me?”

I grinned at his ridiculous question.

“No.”

“You trust I’m not takin’ anyone but you?”

I felt my body stiffen because that was huge.

But this was Mickey.

So I whispered, “Yes.”

His fingers at my jaw dug in and I knew he knew what I gave him was huge.

But he didn’t dwell on it.

He asked, “Then you good with ungloved?”

“Yes, Mickey.”

“Thank Christ,” he muttered. “Condoms are history.”

I relaxed into him, sliding a hand up his sinewy forearm and wrapping my fingers around his wrist.

He twisted it, caught my hand and pressed both gently to my throat.

He settled in and I felt his breath stir the top of my hair.

We lay connected for glorious moments before he said, “Thanks for stayin’ the night.”

“You need me, I’m here,” I replied.

I heard the lightness in his tone when he went on, “Thanks for takin’ my cock.”

“You need me, I’m here,” I repeated.

I felt his chuckle and squeezed his hand.

“My heiress wanna loaf in bed while I take a shower?”

I didn’t know what my other choices were, other than get up, get dressed and go home before he had to get his kids up.

Or shower with him.

But truly, a waking-up-being-made-love-to-after-getting-about-five-hours-of-sleep orgasm was maybe the only thing that would encourage me to “loaf” in his bed rather than be naked with him in his shower.

“If I’ve got time, I’m gonna loaf.”

“You got it,” he murmured, kissed my shoulder then slid out of me and the bed.

He pulled the covers up before he walked to the bathroom.

I watched him walk to the bathroom, heard the toilet flush then the shower go on.

I’d been in his room once before, the night I spent there when my kids last left me. I didn’t need to peruse it.

I knew it was nice. Manly. Rhiannon, if she’d ever been there in the decorating scheme, was g-o-n-e gone from there in a way it looked like she’d never existed.