He combed his fingers through her soft, raven tangles of hair. Her wicked case of bedhead fell across her shoulders, tickling his bare chest.

He was in deep. And love wasn’t so bad. He’d never been interested in a relationship before, but typical of his style, if he was going to do it, he was going to do it right.

“We should talk.” He rolled onto his side and kept her pressed to his body. Cupping her chin, he forced her gaze to his.

Her pupils dilated. And a tight, little wrinkle above the bridge of her nose told him she was of the opinion that he should shut up. No can do, sweetheart.

“Nope. Not right now.” A sassy little smile played on her swollen lips. Their rosier color turned him on all over again, and he could taste their sweetness.

He’d kissed the hell out of this woman, only stopping because they’d both been exhausted to the point of limp legs and arms, lungs that ached for a breath, and minds that needed to settle before another round of muscle-shaking, mind-bending climaxes.

She shook her head in an exhausted move that was barely discernible, and she languidly pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Whatever you’re going to say will ruin my moment. I’m basking, so keep it to yourself, J-dawg.”

As he shifted in the sheets, the scratches on his back burned from where her fingernails had clawed. “I know I’m not Romeo and all, but I’m not going to ruin any damn moment.”

“Romeo?” She scoffed, giggling. “Romeo died, stud. Not a good ending. All your I-love-ya stuff earlier was good enough for me. Leave it be.”

He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her flushed cheek. Her eyelashes fluttered. That was the kind of reaction he wanted, so he did it again. “Sugar, you don’t want more?”

The fluttering eyelashes slammed shut, then opened wide. Sugar blinked once, twice, and then avoided his face, bouncing her gaze from the ceiling to the headboard to the pillow behind his head.

“Sugar?” He knew what he wanted and believed to his very core that he knew what she wanted. But was she done running?

With a sharp slice, her piercing eyes landed back on him. They were searching, trying to trust. He could feel her conjuring confidence in their relationship. A tingle ran from his scalp down his spine, radiating into every neuron, firing every synapse.

“Do you want more?” she whispered, and her uncharacteristic softness killed him, making his chin snap up and his chest thrust out.

Both were shocking reactions for a man who lived and died by his ability to control his body under any stress or circumstance. Determination flooded his senses. What had gone wrong before they’d met that would still cloud her judgment, after everything they’d shared and everything he’d said? Where had all the mistrust come from? She loved him, for God’s sake.