He hadn’t wanted more that night and I wondered if by some way, he knew.

Cam had taken my sweater off, but he’d left my bra and jeans on. His shirt had joined my discarded clothes, and when he’d kissed me his hands had tangled in my hair. We’d fallen onto his bed and he’d slid his leg between mine. As his kisses had trailed down my throat and centered over my lace-covered breasts, he’d dropped his hands to my hips, urging me to move against him. He’d drawn my hardened nipple into his mouth as I rocked against him, my head kicked back and mouth clamped shut to keep quiet. He’d brought me to an orgasm like that, no hands on me, through my jeans and panties. And when I slid my hands into his loose sweats, palming the hard, heavy length, he thrust against my hand, very much like I imagined he would inside me.

I had stayed for a while, cuddled up against him. We’d talked about everything and nothing, long into the night. I’d left when he started to doze off and he’d been awake enough to try to coax me back into his bed. He’d gotten up though and had walked me to my apartment door. Cam had given me the sweetest kiss goodnight.

There was a good chance that I’d fallen in love.

Okay. I’d probably already had months ago, but now it seemed more real, it was attainable, and—oh, God—I actually knew what love felt like—bubbly warmth. When I was around him or thought about him, I imagined I felt like the bubbles in champagne did, constantly floating to the top. Did I just think that?

A big goofy smile appeared on my lips.

Brit caught my eye and made a face.

Flushing, I decided I should pay attention for the last ten minutes of class. The professor was talking about gas pump lines in the early eighties. Something to do with supply and demand. I was so going to have to read that chapter.

“God, you have it so bad,” Brit said to me after class, as we walked out of Whitehall. “It’s all over your face.”

I grinned. “I do.”

Brit looped her arm through mine as we stepped outside. Flurries floated to the ground and the clouds were thick. “I’m glad you guys worked it out. You two are so damn cute together it’s almost disgusting.”

“He’s…” I shook my head. “I’m lucky.”

“He’s lucky,” she corrected, nudging me as we trudged up the hill. “So what are you getting him for Valentine’s Day?”

“Valentine’s Day?” I stopped suddenly. Several people behinds us grumbled as they walked around Brit and I. “Oh shit, that’s next week.” I turned to her, eyes wide. “I have no idea.”