Everything is heightened. The prickliness of the hair on the top of my head. The heaviness of my legs. The weight of my breasts and the throb in the apex of my thighs.

“Will you ride me?” he asks.

Suddenly, despite the events and confidence of the last little while, a nervous energy spreads through me like a warm summer breeze.

He rakes his gaze over me like I’m some kind of dream. It’s confusing and dizzying and altogether lovely.

“Don’t do anything that you don’t want to do,” he says softly. “But I really want to watch you come. I want to see your body and feel your curves. I don’t want any of it hidden from me.”

He unfastens my bra and lets it fall to the floor. His thumbs hook beneath the waistband of my panties, and he draws them down my legs. I kick them to the side.

Cole takes my hand and gently leads me onto the bed. He lies on his back and guides me on top of him.

I straddle his body, blocking out the way I think I look hovered over him, and focus on the happiness in his face.

He grabs his cock and positions it at my opening.

The sun fills the room, dousing us both in bright-yellow light. It’s warm against my skin . . . just like Cole’s mouth against my nipple.

“Oh shit.” I moan the words as I lower myself inch by delicious inch onto his cock.

He tenses, lifting his chin and growling, before falling back to the mattress.

Watching him enjoy me is the most euphoric thing that’s ever happened in my whole entire life.

“This feels so good,” I say, my eyes rolling back into my head.

“You have no idea.”

I try to laugh, but I’m too preoccupied with the fullness of my sex to offer more than a slight chuckle.

“Move,” he commands, flexing his hips. “Come on. Move, baby.”

I rock against him, nearly yelping at the contact with my swollen bud. Cole’s fingers bite into the dip of my hip, urging me on.

We move together, finding our rhythm until we’re in complete sync. It’s a dance, and the steps feel like we’ve done them a hundred times. We fit together like a puzzle as he slides in and out of me with a perfected motion.

I open my eyes and look down to see him watching me. I start to look away.

“Hey,” he says, gripping me tighter.

I return my gaze to his. He smiles and moves one hand to my breast. He rolls my nipple in between two fingers, and it’s all I needed.

It’s too much.

It’s all too much.

The looks, the touches. The sweet words and sexy phrases. The way he makes me feel like I’m both not me and completely me at the same time.