I was rocked to the core, filled with an intensity of emotion I had never felt before. I was in love with the man who was inside me, something I’d never experienced before, and tears ran down my face for the second time that night. Overcome, I shook as I felt him filling up everything that was hollow.

 “You’re divine, Vivian,” he whispered, kissing my tears and resting his forehead against mine. “You’re simply divine.”

Old-fashioned words? Perhaps, but I’d nabbed me an old-fashioned guy. And how brilliant was that?

And my old-fashioned guy began to move, thrusting deeper into me, the weight of our combined bodies making the old wood creak. Sweet friction sizzled between us, spinning out of control as his pace increased and my hips moved in time with his.

“So good, Clark—it’s so good.” His mouth as he panted, his groans as he thrust into me again and again—I marveled at the beauty of this man, and at what this was becoming. It was beautiful. He rolled and circled his hips, pressing in exactly the right spot every time, and soon I was ready to slingshot around the moon once more.

“Christ, Vivian, I can feel you coming all around me,” he murmured, and with those words, I was gone. And with a few more thrusts, he was gone too. He groaned into my neck as I held him close, and I felt him take a ragged breath.

Then he lifted his face to mine and tenderly kissed me. Touching the tip of my nose, he said, “I’ve loved you almost from the moment I saw you standing on the porch, threatening to tear it down. I’ve loved you since you put your leg up on the railing and teased me with your bare leg. I’ve loved you since you picked a fight with me about the very thing you’re sitting on, and I loved you even when you punched me in the nose—mostly because you took off your shirt to stop the blood flow. Which was very quick thinking, I might add.”

Which made me giggle. I loved Daytime Clark too.

“I love you,” he whispered, and brushed his lips sweetly across mine.

“Vivian,” I whispered back. “Say it with my name.”

He smiled. “I love you, Vivian.”

I smiled back. “I love you too, Clark. But can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” he said, nuzzling at my neck.

“Did you lick my leg when you were under the porch?”

He froze, then burst out laughing. “I one hundred percent licked your leg when I was under the porch.”

“I knew it!” I yelled, bringing his face back up to mine so I could kiss him again.

And then the balustrade finally gave way beneath us, and we fell to the floor of the landing in a tangle of naked limbs. I started laughing so hard I was bouncing. Which made his eyes focus on one area in particular, as he asked, “What the hell is so funny?”

“I told you I’d get a new baluhwhozit.”

He laughed too.

Delighted, I pushed him down, my legs straddling his hips, and slid onto his still-hard Substantial Town. Putting his hands on my br**sts, I commanded, “Hold on here, Clark,” and began to ride.

“Impossible woman,” he said, but did indeed hold on.

For dear life.

I woke with a start, reaching automatically for Clark, but my bed was empty. Slipping into his white button-down, like all good heroines do the morning after, I padded downstairs. My nose pinpointed his whereabouts, the scent of coffee calling to me like a beacon. I peeked around the corner and saw him dropping French toast into a frying pan, whistling a tune that sounded a lot like “Chances Are.”

Chances are no one ever looked as hot as my librarian did on this bright and shiny morning. Bare feet, unbuttoned chinos, and a smile. A smile that grew bigger when he saw me. “Get that sweet ass in here,” he said, waving me over with his spatula. Aw yeah.

I crossed to him in three steps. Catching me in a fast embrace, he dipped me just like in the old movies, planting kisses all over my neck and collarbone, making me giggle and squeal. “Hungry?” he asked.

“Starved,” I admitted, and he swung me back up onto my feet.

“Breakfast will be ready in five minutes; there’s coffee already on the table,” he instructed.

I grabbed two mugs and watched Clark flip his toast, whistling his tune merrily as he shook the pan, making the bread sizzle.

He made things sizzle all right, and I was so caught up in watching his fantastic butt that I overpoured and spilled the coffee. Hissing at the hot liquid on my hand, I set the pot down and went for the paper towels. Damn, we were out.

We.

Stifling a grin at the thought, I slipped into his loafers and made for the door. “Need to grab some paper towels from the backseat of the car; I forgot to bring those in yesterday,” I told him, stepping out into the sunny yard. No traces of last night’s storm were evident. I bore the traces of the Clark Storm, however, in the form of stubble burn on my neck. And between my br**sts. And between my thighs. Shivering at the memory, I started across the driveway to the Bel Air.

Clark pushed open the back door. “You don’t have to grab those, Vivian, I’ll get them.” He crossed to me, taking the keys from my hand and opening the trunk.

“Hey there, Viv, need some help with— Whoa!” I heard from across the yard, as Hank appeared in the barn doorway. He looked at me, then looked at Clark. Then back at me again.

Clark calmly picked up the bag of paper towels and closed the trunk. “Morning, Hank,” he said, tucking me into his side and grabbing my ass below his shirt. “I’ve got this.” And he walked us back into the house, holding the door open for me, and grinning broadly.

Hank stayed in the barn, looking confused.

And I laughed as I straddled Clark moments later on the kitchen floor. Why ride a cowboy when you can ride a librarian?

Oh, the French toast? It was great . . . reheated an hour later.

Epilogue

Six months later

The sun shone clear and strong through the new windows that had been installed. Heat curled around my bare toes as I stood in the middle of the attic, brush in hand, staring at my canvas. I chewed at my thumbnail, thinking about what direction to take.

“Vivian?” I heard from below, and my body immediately knew which direction to take. “You up here, Sweets?”

He called me Sweets. Smiling, I called down to where I knew he was waiting by the steps. “Come on up.” He always waited until I gave him the okay; he didn’t like to bother me while I was working.

I’d created a studio that was filled with light and color. We’d added heating and cooling so I could work up here year-round, and I’d purchased oodles of supplies. I’d kept some of the dressed mannequins; the colors they wore had become an inspiration for me and helped me get back into this world.