“Still.” I throw back the sheet, about to get up and do something about this, but she pushes me back on the bed, straddling my hips. My cock’s eager and hard, jutting up between us. I cover it with a hand, pinning it against my stomach. “Ignore that.”

“Impossible,” she whispers, reaching over me toward the nightstand.

“W-what are you doing?” Her breasts brush my face. I kiss them because I have to.

“Getting lube of course,” she says. Her voice is smokier in the mornings, and it’s doing things to me, tightening my balls, making need pound through my cock.

With the lube, she strokes me, then rubs herself. And then she glides, soft and wet, over my length in slow, maddening rolls of her hips. I grip her helplessly, sinking my hands into the sweet roundness of her backside.

Bea presses a kiss to my bare chest and breathes in deeply.

“Are you inhaling me, Beatrice?”

“James.” She sinks her teeth playfully into my skin, then chases her love bite with a kiss. “You smell so fucking good. What is it? I need it bottled. I’ll spray it in the air to make me happy every time a customer comes in and wants to return something they clearly used.”

“People actually do that? With stationery?”

“You’d be surprised. Seriously, Jamie, what makes you smell so good?”

I groan, throwing back my head. She honestly expects me to be able to talk right now. “My God-given natural essence.”

“I’ll get it out of you one day. Is it just your body wash? Do you wear cologne? I’ll steal it from your place if I have to.”

“It’s just the body wash. Oh God—” She’s rubbing herself right over the tip of my cock, making it throb and drip and ache so badly for her. “Stop depriving me.”

Bea smiles a little wickedly. “I want to make you fall apart.”

“You most definitely did that, numerous times, last night.”

“I got close.” Peering down at me, she touches my pecs, teases my nipples. “But you were still in control.”

“I like being that way with you.”

“I know.” Bea slips a hand through my hair, twirling a lock around her finger. “And I like it, too. But sometimes it’s a relief to set that aside for a while. And I want to give you that . . . if you don’t mind.”

“I’m not sure,” I tell her honestly.

She stills her hips. “Want to try? If you don’t like it, we’ll stop.”

I stare up at her, my hands drifting over her ribs, cupping her breasts. “All right.”

Bea’s smile is bright, one of those wide, beaming smiles that make my heart tumble in my chest. She scooches a little farther away and sits on my thighs before taking me in hand.