She was as desperate as he was, reaching to help open the wrapper. Neither of them cared what color the condom was—they just wanted it on.

He sank into her, closing his eyes tightly to let the pleasure roll over him. But Zoey wasn’t waiting. She moved her hips, nearly undoing his control. His eyes snapped open. No way was she taking over. Maybe later, but not now. Not when he was finally where he’d dreamed of being. He rocked against her, kissing her mouth hard as they melded together.

It didn’t last as long as he wanted, but good Lord, it was so good. Their speed increased until they were panting in each other’s ear, faster and faster. They cried out in unison and exploded. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders so hard he hissed at the pain. His grip on her buttocks was probably going to leave bruises. Neither of them cared. They just held on as wave after wave of sensation washed over them. For a moment he wondered if it would ever end, but he finally collapsed on her as her arms fell to her side. Neither of them spoke right away, lost in their own thoughts.

He’d just made love to Zoey Hartford.

It wasn’t a dream.

It was better.

He kissed the soft skin below her ear. “That was...incredible.” No mere word could possibly capture what he felt.

She reached up and patted his shoulder absently, eyes still closed.

“Agreed.” She was almost whispering. “Wow. I guess chemistry doesn’t lie.”

He huffed out a laugh of agreement before moving off her to dispose of the blue condom, then returned to pull her into his arms. She snuggled against his chest, and a brand-new sensation ran through him. It was an odd mix of possessiveness and tenderness and something else he couldn’t—wouldn’t—explore right now. Instead, he planted a kiss on the top of her head and gave her a squeeze.

“Funny, but I was never a fan of chemistry in high school. Now, though...”

Zoey’s laughter reminded him who she was. His friend. She raised her head to rest her chin on his chest, staring at him.

“Remember when we flooded Mr. Green’s lab our junior year?”

He grinned at the memory. “Flooding it was better than burning it down, which is what would have happened if the sprinklers hadn’t come on. I can’t help it if my lab partner didn’t tell me the Bunsen burner was on.”

“Excuse me? The whole point of the experiment was to use the burner. How did I know my partner was going to spill methylated spirits on the table? And then try to put out the fire with his jacket, which promptly burst into flames?”