I’m naked underneath Ethan Price, and nothing has ever felt so right or so perfect.

It’s not until he’s removing his boxers that practicality sneaks through my sexual haze. “Wait!”

He exhales sharply through his nose, but he moves himself off me entirely, his gaze concerned.

“Protection,” I say, mortified that I didn’t think of it before, though I’ve never needed to.

There’s a little flash of relief in his eyes, and he brushes a kiss over my shoulder. “Lucky for you, I happen to be a dude past the age of puberty. We like to be prepared at all times in case we get lucky with a sexy film student.”

I smile a little, rubbing my hands over his chest, noting the way he sucks in a breath when I touch his flat ni**les. “You think I’m sexy.”

His eyes roam my face, and his gaze grows soft. “You’re definitely sexy.”

He’s not kidding about having protection handy, as it takes him a half second of digging through a nightstand drawer before he’s rolling the condom on.

It occurs to me that I should be terrified, but I’ve never been so turned on or so certain of anything in my life.

“Last chance,” he whispers in my ear, settling above me.

I pull his lips down to mine in response, and he moves a palm between my thighs, parting them before positioning himself.

There’s a pinch at first. Not pain, just tight, and I automatically tense against the pressure.

“Relax as much as you can,” he says, his lips on my neck.

I do, trusting him, and he slides into me slowly, each of us groaning. I know when he’s all the way in, because I feel full and satisfied.

So this is it.

That wasn’t it.

Because then he braces his hands on either side of my head and begins to move, his eyes never leaving my face. There’s still a remnant of that tightness, but not enough to stop my hips from lifting to meet his slow thrusts.

For some reason I always assumed that it would be over in a couple of minutes, but it’s deliciously prolonged until we’re both moving faster and faster, and I’m so close but don’t know how to reach for it.

Ethan’s hand slides down my body, and his fingers do something wonderful, touching me in just the right spot, and in a matter of seconds I have to slap my hand over my face to keep from crying out as everything explodes.

Ethan gives a muffled curse, and for the first and only time that evening he forgets to be gentle, his body slamming into mine before he jerks once, twice, and I know everything’s exploded for him too. And I love it.

After, he slowly rolls me onto my side, pulling my back against his chest as he wraps an arm around my waist.

“I should get back to my room,” I say finally, partially because it’s true, and partially because I don’t know what else to say in the awkward aftermath of something so amazing.

“Had I known what you had in mind, I could have come to you,” he says against my hair. “Saved you the walk of shame.”

“Is it bad that I almost hope to run into your mother? Just to see her face?”

His hand moves slightly and he pinches my butt. “Don’t even think about it. It’ll be funny for about a half second, but I guarantee the memory won’t be so humorous the next time you see her at Sunday dinner.”

It takes my brain a second to register what he’s said, and my heart gives a little jump of happiness, even if I wonder if he’s just speaking hypothetically.

“Is there going to be another Sunday dinner?” I ask, keeping my voice as light as I can for such an important a question.

Ethan moves, lifting slightly so he can rest his head on his hand while the other moves from my waist to the curve of my cheek.

“Stephanie—”

I turn slightly so I can see his face, my heart melting a little when I do. He’s nervous.

“The timing of this is all wrong,” he says, “because we just—you know—but I swear to God I was going to talk to you about this tomorrow, even before I knew we’d—”

“Consummate?” I say with a cheeky grin.

But he doesn’t grin back, his face serious. Hopeful. “I know we agreed that this would only last until school started again, and I know you’re planning to move into the dorms and all that, but …”

“But?” I whisper.

His eyes are on my lips. “But we make pretty good roommates. And even better lovers. And I was thinking … I was wondering … if you want to … I was hoping that you might, you know … stay.”

I feel something warm and comforting uncurling in my stomach, moving slowly up my chest, and it’s been so long since I’ve felt it that it takes me a second to name what I’m feeling.

I’m happy. Ethan makes me happy.

It’s crazy. And it’s fast. Jordan will flip. My dad will have a heart attack. His parents will probably call the freaking police.

But we’re adults, and it’s just a month of playing house, not a wedding ring. And there’s no way I’ll say no to him. I can’t.

Instead, I pull his lips down to mine. “I could probably stick around … roommate.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ethan

I get Stephanie back to her room sometime around four in the morning before creeping back to my own bedroom and catch a few hours of sleep before we need to get up for my parents’ farewell brunch and the trek back to the city.

When I wake up at nine, it takes me five groggy seconds to realize why I’m in such a good mood. Then I remember the moment when Stephanie slid between my sheets, and everything that followed.