Lifting onto my knees, I allow the towel to fall from the bed. I bend over and kiss his ribs gently and then his mouth. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He caresses my cheek and says, “I feel the same about you.”

I don’t doubt the love he has for me. I’ve been doubting myself. I refuse to do it anymore.

Stop thinking.

Just feel.

I crawl all the way onto the bed and move close and straddle him. He catches me by the hips before I’m seated on his lap, and says, “I think it might be better if I’m on top this time, considering this rib situation.”

“Oh no.” I lift and slip off him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he says, his voice deliciously dulcet. “I’m bruised, not broken.”

The light from the bathroom trails across the room, catching us in the tail of it. I maneuver off him and lie down on the mattress instead. My body doesn’t tremble despite having my emotions and weaknesses on display.

His eyes are hooded as if he’s dreaming, and then he kisses me. Is that what I am? A kiss and dream? The rough of his fingertips awakens my skin as he grazes over my shoulder and down my arm, encircling what I imagine is where he really wants to be.

Harbor usually asks how I want to be pleasured. Not this time. Just feel. When he hovers over me and we kiss, a fire is unleashed between us. My legs spread, but he parts them even farther, roughly thumbing over my thighs.

His length is hard and ready to plunge, the sight of him in such a desirous stage causing my body to throb in eager anticipation. I pull him down by his shoulders, and our lips come together as our bodies reunite. He withdraws, and the emptiness instantly returns. “Don’t tease, babe.”

He teases his tip against my entrance. Sexy bastard.

And while his body taunts mine, the hunger in his eyes makes me think this might not be gentle. A hard thrust knocks my head into the padded headboard. Scrambling to find purchase, I fist the sheet with one hand and press the other over my head on the headboard.

Every thrust is more fuel for the fire, sending sparks shooting through my veins and my body coming alive. It’s never less, always more—whether we fuck or make love or like now, both at the same time. He knows how to make me forget everything beyond the two of us.

His abs are taut as he moves over me, my whole body being touched, consumed, loved so deep that my insides clench to hinder the oncoming storm just to keep experiencing this sense of freedom I have with him. But it’s too much . . . he’s too much. When he pushes harder and moves faster, losing control on top of me, it’s not ecstasy I see. It’s love staring back at me.

Perfection.

Just as the winds of my release pick up, I grapple to hold his shoulders before the onslaught. It’s too late. Too hard to hold on to that middle ground between the indulgence of the chase to the gratification of the release. I’m not ready to stop, but my body caves in, my back arching as a moan drifts from my lips. “Harbor,” rips from my throat, stolen as I’m kissed.