“No, it’s real Jack. And real Jack has very real, like crazy, crazy, real feelings for you that might actually scare the shit outta him a little.”

I knew the feeling. “Why are they so scary?” I whispered.

The last colors had faded from the sky, allowing the candles to cast their warm glow and leaving Jack’s eyes in shadow.

“Partly because I don’t know that you want real Jack and his crazy life and everything that goes along with it.” He returned. “And I’m not sure, going forward, how to keep that separate. It could still hurt you.”

It was my biggest fear, too. A hurdle to tackle tomorrow when we headed back to reality.

At least we had tonight.

Jack and I talked for hours as stars pierced the sky above the now dark water, and continued talking as the full moon rose. At one point, I made to leave his lap, thinking he was probably uncomfortable, but his hands tightened on me. “Don’t,” was all he said.

So I didn’t.

We talked more about his timeline for the movie, and he asked me all about the long process of getting into SCAD. I told him about my successes over the last few months and how it was hard to believe people actually wanted to see my stuff, let alone buy it. There were times when I felt like everyone was humoring me, maybe doing a favor to Faith who had been so supportive of me by putting me in her boutique and setting me up with my first gallery exhibit.

“Never lose your humility,” Jack told me. “But you need to own your gift.”

“I know. I’m not used to being so unsure of myself.” I ran my fingers through his soft hair, feeling the languorous effect of the champagne. “There’s only two things that have ever made me feel that way. My art and you.”

“Your work is beautiful. And you don’t need to be unsure of me,” Jack whispered. His hands came to cup my cheeks and draw me down, pausing with his face inches from mine. His eyes, heavy lidded, were on my lips.

It occurred to me that the moment in space and time before lips touch, the small exquisite sting of wanting, a beat of thirst, of yearning, was the most underrated part of kissing. There should be sonnets and epic poems written about the space before a kiss, and the thrilling rush that comes with the moment of contact.

My mouth moved greedily, sliding, and grazing his captured bottom lip with my teeth, soothing it with my tongue.

A low sound rumbled through Jack, and his hands were no longer so gentle as they gripped me, seeking and kneading, finding my back, my thighs, pressing me closer and fumbling with the knot belting my robe.

Our breathing picked up pace, but not rhythm, as it labored between now deep kisses and heart-pounding want.

Jack’s mouth slid down my neck, sucking at my skin, igniting my nerve endings in a flare that raced down to my toes. “I need to get you in a bed.” His hand slid inside my robe, across the skin of my belly and around to my back, his movement baring me to him. One shoulder of the robe fell back. He drew away, his nostrils flaring, raking his hooded gaze over my breasts and down to the juncture of my thighs as I sat astride him.

I reached down and undid the button of his cargo shorts then pulled the zipper down, revealing the strained fabric of his boxers.

His mouth parted slightly, and I heard the sound of his dry swallow. “Like, now,” he rasped.

“Are you going to do your caveman thing again?” I asked and giggled, because he was already moving to stand with me in his arms.

Wrapping my legs tight around his waist, I hung on as we dipped sideways through the door and nudged it closed behind us. I closed the curtains, one handed.

He backed up to the bed and sat down heavily. His mouth was instantly on mine again, and I lifted up and tucked my knees under me so I could take his t-shirt off and press closer. I wanted my skin against his.

The hard ridge of his arousal tortured me. I rocked forward, and he immediately responded, his hips bucking and pressing hard against my wet heat.

“God,” he breathed out roughly, pulling his mouth from mine.

Shimmying back, my breath choppy and shallow, I dropped to my knees on the floor.

“What are you doing,” he whispered, and the telltale flush across his cheekbones told me all I needed to know. His carved abdomen tensed.

“Getting you naked.” I grinned and helped him take his shorts and underwear down. Then moved between his knees.

“This,” he croaked and clutched the edge of the mattress, “may be the hottest thing ever. You realize I’m going to picture you sitting here like this whenever we’re not together?”

“Just sitting here?” I raised an eyebrow, and then reached out and grasped him. “Not doing this?”

“Shit,” he hissed, his skin flushing further.

I leaned forward. “Or this?” Out of the corner of my eye, I briefly saw his knuckles turn white as I took him in my mouth. I think he literally growled, and one of those white knuckled hands fisted in my hair as he surged up and moved with me. His reaction shot a bolt of reciprocal lust straight down to the pit of my belly.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “I don’t think I can do this.” He pulled me up. “I won’t last.”

He fumbled in his discarded shorts pocket for protection then pulled me back astride his lap, kissing me deeply.

I throbbed with anticipation.

“Take your hair down,” he whispered. His hand ran up my spine then skimmed around to my breasts, grazing over the sensitive peaks.

I gasped, arching forward, needing more, and getting it as his hands palmed and his mouth followed. He sucked me into his hot wet heat.

Shakily, I let my hair out of my bun, letting it fall damp and heavy down my back.

Jack pulled away and watched me. His fingers flowed over and around my belly. They skimmed my inner thighs, reaching between us, sliding over my slick and sensitive flesh, easing inside me and triggering whimpers from my throat.

“You’re so Goddamn beautiful, Keri Ann,” he murmured. Then he lifted me, one hand pressed to the small of my back, and guided me over him.

Oh God.

I was so ready, so wanting, but I’d also only ever done this once with him.

“This okay?” he whispered brokenly, his eyes searching mine. Rigidly still, his shoulders under my fingers were quivering.

I got the feeling he was physically struggling not to surge up into me. I nodded because I couldn’t talk over the emotion clogging my throat.

His hand skated up my spine into my hair, and he wound it up in his hand and kissed me.

As my tongue found his and slid deeply into his mouth, he pulled me down, easing me onto him. Taking me.

It was just too good, and we’d waited so long. The feel of him inside me filled my entire being with sharp and exquisite needles of ecstasy. My skin was on fire, every nerve-ending I possessed experiencing it firsthand. I pulled my mouth from Jack’s just so I could focus. So I could try and hold onto the cry that seemed about to be torn from my throat.

“Shit,” Jack hissed and then groaned. “You feel so good.”

He rocked his hips, and I opened my eyes, my teeth clenched, as the sensations barreled through me with his movement.

“How could you possibly feel this damn good?” His eyes implored me desperately, like I could answer him. As if I’d woven some spell over him.

I didn’t know. I’d certainly never known anything like this. Even the unbelievable first night we’d shared paled when compared to the depth of emotion that was attached to the feel of Jack beneath me. Jack inside me. Jack holding me and sliding in and out of me as I moved on him. And God, I was moving. I couldn’t help it. I was propelled by a need so strong, I couldn’t catch my breath over it. “God, Jack ...” I sobbed out, no longer able to hold anything back.