Unsure feet took me across the room and I stood at his back, pressed my chin into his shoulder. “I don’t know why you put up with me,” I said.

Breathing in deeply, I wanted to memorize the smell of him. Because what if I’d really done it—what if he’d had enough of silly Ziggy and her idiotic questions and fumbling sexual encounters and jumping to conclusions? I would have kicked me to the curb ages ago.

But he surprised me by putting down his knife, and turning to face me. He looked miserable, and guilt twisted my stomach.

“You might have had the details wrong about Liv,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean there weren’t others. Some I don’t even remember.” His voice was earnest, apologetic, even. “I’ve done some things I’m not proud of. It’s all sort of catching up with me.”

“I think that’s why the idea of you wanting more terrified me,” I said. “That there have been so many women in your past and I can tell you have no idea how many hearts you’ve broken. Maybe no idea how to not break them. I like to think I’m too smart to join those ranks.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’m sure that’s part of your charm. You’re not here to change me. You’re just here to be my friend. You make me think more about the decisions I’ve made than I ever have before, and that’s a good thing.” He hesitated. “And I’ll admit I got a little wrapped up in our post-coital moment . . . I just got carried away.”

“It’s okay.” I stretched to kiss his jaw.

“Just friends is good for me,” he said. “Friends who have sex is even better.” He pulled me back to meet my eyes. “But I think that’s a good place to stay for now, okay?”

I tried to read his expression, understand why he seemed to be so carefully considering every word he spoke.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” I told him. “I panicked and said something hurtful. I feel like an idiot.”

He reached out, hooked a finger into my belt loop, and pulled me to him. I went willingly, feeling the press of his chest against mine.

“We’re both idiots,” he said, and his eyes dropped to my mouth. “And just so you know, I’m about to kiss you.”

I nodded, pushing up onto my toes to bring my mouth to his. It wasn’t really a kiss, but I wasn’t sure what else to call it. His lips brushed against mine, each time with just a bit more pressure than the time before. His tongue licked out softly, barely touching before he pulled me closer, deeper. I felt him tuck his fingers beneath the fabric of my shirt and stay there, resting on my waist.

My mind was suddenly spinning with ideas of what I wanted to do to him, how much closer I needed to be. I wanted to taste him, all of him. I wanted to memorize every line and muscle.

“I want to go down on you,” I said, and he pulled back, just enough to gauge my expression. “For real this time. Like, making you orgasm and everything.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded, brushing my fingertips over the line of his jaw. “Show me how to be awesome at it?”

Laughing, he said, “Christ, Hanna,” quietly into another kiss.

I could feel him already hard against my hip and I slid my hand down his body to palm him. “Okay?” I asked.

Eyes wide and trusting, he took my hand, leading me to the couch. He hesitated for a moment before sitting. “I might pass out if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Isn’t that the point?” I didn’t wait for an invitation and kneeled on the floor between his legs. “Tell me how you want me to do it.”

His eyes grew heavy, staring down at me. He helped me with his belt, helped push his pants down his hips, and watched as I bent and kissed the tip.

He paused for a moment when I sat back up, and gauged my expression. And then he gripped his c**k at the base. “Lick from base to tip. Start slow. Tease me a little.”

I bent, drawing my tongue up the underside of his length, along the thick vein, and slowly over the tightness of the crown. He leaked a little at the top and it surprised me with its sweetness. I kissed the tip, sucking for more.

He groaned. “Again. Start at the bottom. And suck it a little at the top again.”

I kissed his cock, whispering, “So specific,” with a smile.

But he seemed unable to smile back; his blue eyes turned stormy with intensity. “You asked,” he growled. “I’m telling you step by step what I’ve imagined a hundred times.”

I started again, loving it, loving to see him like this. He looked a little dangerous, and at his side, his free hand had formed a fist. I wanted him to unleash himself, digging hands into my hair, and start pushing hard into my mouth.