I bolted upright and looked at the light under the bathroom adjoining our darkened bedroom. Climbing out of bed, I moved into the main room of our suite and to the small bathroom adjoining the living area. The light under there was on, and I tiptoed forward, not sure whether I should call out to him or just go back to bed and hope that he was okay.

I blinked, taking a step backward and remembering the only other time I’d seen Bennett sick—the food poisoning incident I’d discussed with Sara earlier.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I’d asked him.

“Because the last thing I needed was you in there, watching me throw up.”

“I could have done something. You don’t have to be such a man.”

“Don’t be such a woman. What could you have done? Food poisoning is pretty lonely business.”

Resolved to leave him alone, I started to turn back to the bedroom . . .

Until I heard a quiet groan.

My heart twisted in sympathy and my pulse picked up speed. I moved to the door, putting my hand against the wood. Just as I was about to call out to him, to ask if he needed a Popsicle or some ginger ale, he moaned and sounds of pleasure escaped in his deep voice: “Oh, f**k. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.”

I pulled my hand back from the door and slapped it over my mouth, stifling a gasp. Was he . . . ? Did he escape to the nonbedroom bathroom so he could. . . ?

On the other side of the door the faucet turned on, and I stared at the wood as if I could develop X-ray vision if I only concentrated hard enough. How often did he do this? Did he masturbate all the time in the middle of the night? The faucet creaked slightly as he shut off the water and I turned, bolting back into the bedroom.

I hurled myself on the mattress and yanked the covers up to my chin so Bennett wouldn’t know I’d moved from where he left me, sleeping. Sleeping while he tugged one out in the other room!

I rolled into my pillow, stifling a giggle. In the other part of the suite, the bathroom door opened, and a slice of light cut across the carpet before everything quickly went black when he flipped off the switch.

I listened intently, trying to slow my breathing as he padded across the carpet and back into the bedroom. Bennett carefully lifted the covers and slid in beside me, curling up along my side and kissing my temple.

“Love you,” he whispered, running his water-cooled hands over my too-hot skin.

I still hadn’t decided if I was going to pretend to be asleep, or bust him for this and give him endless shit, so I sleepily rolled into him, sliding my hand up and over his chest to rest on his heart. His pulse was hammering, racing, positively pounding.

Like he’d just had a sneaky, covert orgasm.

I cuddled into him, stretching close to his ear. “You didn’t even moan my name. I’m insulted.”

Beside me he froze, his hand covering mine on top of his heart. “I thought you were sleeping.”

I snorted. “Obviously.” I nibbled at his jaw. “Did you have a nice self-inflicted bathroom orgasm?”

Finally, he admitted, “Yes.”

“Why did you bother going in there? I have a hand and several orifices at the ready.”

With a laugh, he simply said, “Chloe.”

“Do you do that a lot?” I wondered if he could hear the slight edge of anxiety in my voice.

“I’ve never done it when I’m with you. I just . . .” He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm. “You’re naked. It’s hard to . . .” Laughing, he seemed to reconsider what he was going to say. “It’s just been hard for a few hours. I couldn’t sleep.”

I loved his voice in the middle of the night, all deep and gravelly. I loved it even more after he’d had a middle-of-the-night orgasm . . . even if he’d had it from sneaking into the bathroom and stroking himself. His voice was always deeper after he’d come, his words delivered more slowly. He was impossibly sexier. “What were you thinking about?”

He paused, his thumb smoothing up and down the back of my hand. “Your legs spread over my face and your mouth on my cock. Like the other night, except without your teasing.”

“Who came first?”

With a groan, he said, “I don’t know. I wasn’t . . .”

I smacked his chest lightly. “Oh please. I know how specific your fantasies are.”

Rolling to me in the dark, he said, “You came first. Of course you came first. Okay? Can we go back to sleep?”

I ignored this. “Did you come in my mouth or on my—”

“In your mouth. Sleep, Chloe.”