He whispered soothing words while he continued to stroke me, then he ran his mouth from my breasts to my throat and up to linger in the sweet spot just behind my ear. I felt as if I were on fire. I couldn’t remember my name or the date or even what country I lived in. I was just a frenzied ball of need. Unable to take much more, I reached between us and unzipped his pants, pushing the opening apart until he was fully accessible.

I reached into my nightstand for protection, and slid the sheath over him, feeling him arch as he became even thicker in my hand.

“Now, Nick, now,” I pleaded. I sensed he was trying to resist me to make it last, so I leaned in close and whispered in his ear. “I want you inside me now.”

A grunt was his only response as he lifted me up and then entered me on one spectacular thrust. Perfection.

This. This was like nothing I had ever known with anyone else. We fit perfectly, we moved together instinctively, and when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in tight while still rocking his hips up against me, I tightened into a knot of sensation that with just the flick of his thumb, he unraveled in a thousand directions all at once. It was a pleasure so intense, it was almost painful, and when he joined me, the sensation doubled and left me gasping as I rode out each shock wave until the end.

In the aftermath, I rested with my head on his shoulder with his arm around the small of my back. His fingers traced patterns on my hip, and I thought I might purr as loudly as Sir if Nick kept it up.

“So who was your dinner date?” he asked.

“Greg DeVane,” I said.

“Ex-husband number two?” he asked.

I was surprised he remembered his name and tried to gauge how he was feeling by his tone, but his voice was even, betraying no emotion other than mild curiosity.

“His father has retired out here, and he was in town to visit him,” I explained.

“Ah.” He pressed a kiss against my hair. It was a comforting gesture, and I wondered if he thought I was upset about seeing my ex again.

“It was good to see him,” I said. “We didn’t part on the best of terms before.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m also sorry that I showed up in the doorway, looking like a jealous lunatic.”

I smiled, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my cheek. “It’s okay. I would have felt the same if the situation was reversed. And I’m sorry about Friday night. I didn’t mean any harm.”