“This… Oh, God, do I remember this.” I grip his shoulders as he fills me completely and pauses. His eyes close, and his chest shakes like he’s as overwhelmed as I am.

When he starts to move, it’s slow. An unhurried pace that contradicts the strain on his face telling me he’s holding back until I’m close.

Draping my arms around his neck, I kiss him with everything in me. Emotions and promises and desires. My feelings for this man run the gamut. I like him.

I really like him.

I like how he wanted me that first night. I like that he wanted my number the next day despite my throwing him out of my dorm. I like that he’s never made me feel unwelcome.

His climax comes on the cusp of mine, and we hold on as our bodies shudder.

I let my back fall against the mirror as Nathan gets rid of the condom and cleans me with a washcloth.

Both our heads snap up at the jingle of keys, and we run from the bathroom to my bedroom. He shuts the door just as Camila calls out, “Anyone home?”

“Welcome back,” I yell and collapse onto the bed in a fit of laughter. My dress is bunched up around my waist and my bikini bottoms are missing.

Nathan’s deep chuckle echoes mine, and he walks from the door to the bed. His shorts are untied and he’s sporting some serious just-sexed hair but other than that, he looks as good as before he fucked me in the bathroom.

He plops down beside me and rolls on his side so he’s facing me. “You almost got me caught.”

“Me? That was all you. You and that hot as sin mouth.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you remembered?”

“It’s foggy. I remember parts of it. I don’t remember finishing or passing out after.”

“We drank a lot that night.” He grimaces. “Sorry about that. I should have looked out for you more. I’d had a shitty day and then there you were standing by yourself in red looking like you were trying to decide between fighting the world or hiding from it.”

I sit up so I can adjust my dress to cover my bare vag and boobs.

“Let me help.” He pulls from the hem and lifts it over my head, taking my bikini top with it so I’m completely naked. “Much better.”

“Not fair.” I pull at his shirt, and he raises his arms so I can get it over his head. I toss it to the floor and nod to his shorts. He smirks as he strips naked and throws his trunks toward his shirt.

He’s comfortable in his skin. And he should be. His body is a work of art. Most athletes have bodies built for their sport, but Nathan’s body is chiseled beyond anything necessary for basketball.