“Looks like you are in no position to tell me what to do.”

“I’m begging,” she said, trying to blow hair out of her eyes as she twisted around to look at him, but he only pinned her legs down with his and blew the hair back.

“Well, well,” he said. “That’s different. What can you offer me?”

“Umm . . .” She couldn’t stop smiling. Her heart raced madly inside her chest. “I’ll let you be in charge one more time.”

He snorted and smacked her bottom again, this time more playfully—but it made her jump, regardless. “That was going to happen anyway. Every time,” he said, and joy shot through her. Every time. More times. Meaning: this wasn’t an anomaly.

“Try again,” he said, nipping the back of her neck with his teeth. “What can you offer me?”

“I have heard—I mean, I don’t know, but I have it on good authority—that some men might enjoy the feel of . . . well, that is to say, when a woman uses her mouth instead of her hand, you know . . .”

“You don’t say? And where did you hear such a thing? I don’t think it could possibly be true.” She couldn’t see his face through her hair, but he sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

“Are you teasing me?” she asked indignantly.

“Maybe.” He pushed his hips against her backside, where her skin still stung, and she was shocked to feel his erection. “And I accept your offer; though, to be fair, we were going to do that anyway.”

“Hey!” She tried to buck him off of her. “No tickling!”

“But for now, I’ll settle for another trade,” he said, tracing the cleft of her buttocks with one teasing finger that made her gasp. “Because I have it on good authority that some women enjoy the feel of a skilled tongue between their legs, and I know Greta says it’s a sin to brag, but I am most definitely skilled at this task—”

“Stars,” she murmured.

“—and if you’re very, very good, I might lick you a little before I put my cock inside you again.”

TWENTY-THREE

Bo watched the Pacific slowly change from black to blue as morning broke. The cottage’s windows were ablaze with sunlight, and he could see for miles over the calm water. But it only held his attention for a moment, because his attention was focused on the golden girl in his arms.

He lay on his side behind Astrid, spooning her with one arm curled around her waist, his hand cupping her breast.

Her heart beating in his hand.

They shared the bed’s only pillow, and though he’d dozed for a while, his body was aware of the rare gift afforded him—her bare body sleeping next to his—and that had exhilarated him too much to stay asleep for long. He watched her breathing openmouthed on the pillow, limbs entwined with his. He was far too happy.

And far too satisfied for his cock to be thinking about rising again, but there it was. He’d come four times already—the last time, inside her mouth, which was shockingly new to both of them. Neither seemed to have any boundaries, and the realization that her eagerness to explore matched his own was more thrilling than Christmas and New Year and a birthday all rolled up together.

Something in the back of his mind told him to slow down and think of the future. To have a care that they were setting themselves up for heartbreak. But he had listened to that voice for far too long and all it had brought him was misery.

Not today.

He wasn’t thinking about consequences, rules, or impossibilities. He was only thinking of the present. And right now, the present was yawning and stretching in the most adorable, sexy way possible.

When her eyes cracked open, he said, “Good morning, huli jing.”

“Bo,” she said in a sleep-rough whisper as she rolled around to face him. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.” Her voice was small and fragile, and hearing it did something funny to his heart.

“If you’re dreaming, I must be dreaming, too,” he said, pushing back the blanket to look at her.

“Oh good.” She kissed him lightly on the lips and winced, slipping a hand between her legs. “I’m sore. And you . . . are not,” she said, eyes widening as she looked down between them.

“Don’t pay any attention to that. I have to piss like the devil, and until that goes down a little, it’s going to be nearly impossible. I’m sorry you’re sore.”

Her brows lifted. “You don’t sound sorry.”

“Mmm.” He fought down a smile. “Not sorry for what we did, but I don’t like you being in pain.”

“It’s a good pain. I feel like I’ve been fighting in a battle.”

She looked like it, too. Rosy spots were scattered across her neck and breasts, and three small bruises, impressions left by his fingers, darkened the pale skin around her hip bone. Shameful, perhaps, but he bore her brand on him, too: an angry red scratch down his thigh, a bite mark on his forearm, and stinging claw marks on his back. She inspected him, looking rather pleased with herself, and then blinked rapidly and twisted around to peer outside the windows.

“Bo! The sun! It’s not raining.”

Morning sun gilded the surface of the ocean and reflected back a dazzling light so bright, it made him squint. Not a cloud in the sky and no wind battering the trees along the cliffs. How long had it been since the storms began? Three weeks? He hadn’t seen the sun in three weeks.

“Oh, Bo,” she murmured. “It’s like it’s just for us. A sign that everything is right. Let’s go outside. I want to feel it.”