“Because you’re beautiful. And I want to.”

Turning in my arms, she settles on my lap, then wraps her legs around my waist before she rests her hand over my heart. “Good.”

“I want to do more than watch you,” I tell her, as she runs her fingers through my hair.

“I want you to do more than watch me, too.” Leaning close, she kisses me softly. “Though, watching could be fun sometime.”

A groan rolls out of me. The thought of watching Bea touch herself makes me harden so quickly, I have no time to tamp down my response before she feels it.

She shifts on my lap, rubbing herself over my sweats as I drink her in. Her gaze roams my face, then my body. Her expression grows serious, her touch drifting beneath my shirt and sweatshirt. “I’m nervous.”

Clasping her face, I kiss her cheek, the tip of her nose, the freckle below her eye. “Tell me what you’re nervous about.”

Her fingers sink into my shirt as she sets her forehead against mine. “I want it to be good for you, for us, and I’m worried I’ll mess it up.”

“You won’t, Bea. You could never.” After a beat, I tell her, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too.”

She frowns in confusion. “About what?”

“I’m nervous the moment you touch me, I’m going to go off like a rocket.”

Laughter bursts out of Bea as she wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, deep and slow. “Even if you do, there’s always the next time. And the next time and the next time, until the sun’s coming up and I’ve had my wily way with you so many times. You did promise me a dozen little deaths, after all.”

“So I did.” I kiss her deeply and draw her close, pulling her hips against mine.

“And if I happen to throw a rogue elbow,” she says, “or make a really intense sound when I orgasm—”

“It’ll be perfect,” I tell her between kisses. “Because it’s us. Nothing could be more right.”

A happy hum leaves her throat. “See? Your theory was disproved after all,” she whispers.

“What theory was that?”

“What you said the day we agreed to our revenge. Two wrongs don’t make a right.” She smiles. “I’d say we’ve proved they do.”

I laugh as our fingers tangle, as I kiss her triumphant smile. “I have never been so glad to be wrong.”

—

I tidy up my bedroom, dim the fire, then brush my teeth over the kitchen sink while Bea uses the restroom. I’m seated on the edge of my bed when she returns, and I watch her cross the room.

“Hi,” she says.