My eyes go wide at the unexpected sweetness of his words. I search his face, but he doesn’t meet my eyes, instead going to nuzzle my neck.

“Do I need a condom?” he asks gruffly, circling his hips again so that the velvety tip of him nudges my soft folds.

“I’m on the pill. And I just had a doctor’s appointment before I left.”

He lifts his head, elbows on either side of my head as he stares down at me with glowing blue eyes. “Same.”

“You’re on the pill too?”

Reece laughs and I laugh back, loving the sound of it, but I love even more the way he captures my laugh with his mouth at the precise moment he thrusts inside me, catching me by wonderful surprise.

“Oh.”

Reece’s breath is ragged as he holds my gaze. Neither of us moves as we both register the feeling of him all the way inside me.

“Not like before,” I whisper.

He slowly shakes his head. “Not like before.”

“Better.”

“Better,” he agrees as he pulls back, before pushing forward once again.

It’s perfect. It’s not fair how perfect it is. As far as losing virginity goes, my experience with Reece was as good as it got, but this is unspeakably better. It’s like my body knows his, even after all this time, even after one time. I fit him perfectly, and he fits me.

“Damn you, Lucy,” he whispers, his tone more aggravated than it is angry.

In response I lift my hips and tighten around him, my nails digging into his back as I arch into him. “More. Harder.”

He complies, quickening the pace, each thrust all but lifting me off the bed until we’re nothing but a writhing tangle of limbs, lost in the other as we search for release.

And then we find it, almost simultaneously, my own cry coming just seconds before his shout as we both stiffen and shudder, each holding on to the other like a life raft.

Which is ironic, really, considering that I’m pretty sure we’re more likely to be each other’s deaths than saviors.

He’s heavy when he collapses, and I wrap around him. Reece rolls us to our sides. My breath is hot against his chest, his warm against my temple, as we try to remember how to breathe.

Neither of us says a word, and we sure as hell don’t look at each other.

Reece’s hand slowly slides up to the back of my head, his fingers fisting in my hair just a little bit roughly, and I know. I know that he’s in the same torturous, strange place that I am: torn between past and present and wondering what the hell it means for the future.

Chapter 30

Reece

When I open my eyes, the first thing I see are Lucy Hawkins’s green eyes staring down at me, wide and impatient.

Never at my best in the morning, I put a palm over her face and push it away. “Quit it, weirdo.”

She tries to bite my hand, and though her face is ferocious and maybe a little scary, my body’s still on hyper awareness after last night and I feel my morning wood twitch to life.

Then the last of my sleep fog fades, and I register that

a) she’s no longer naked, a silky tank top covering up her perfect tits

b) I’m most definitely naked, still in her bed

c) she’s got that expression on her face that all men know and fear: We need to talk.

I roll over onto my side, intending to go back to sleep. Maybe next time I wake up my dirty dreams will be a reality and I’ll be deep inside her, and she’ll be making those desperate moaning noises that seem to reach right to my soul just as sure as they do my cock.

This time her teeth dig into my shoulder, sharp enough to get my attention.

Giving up on sleep, I roll back toward her. “What is wrong with you? Who bites people?”

“Women who’ve been waiting the better part of a half hour for a lazy-ass to wake up.”

“Oh no, not a whole half hour,” I mutter, pulling myself into a sitting position against the headboard, tugging the sheet up around my waist before dragging my hands over my face.

The room’s even grosser in the morning.

She gives a satisfied smile at having gotten her way, and apparently decides I deserve a reward. Not a sexy one, unfortunately, but she hops out of bed and, wearing only the tank top and panties, walks across the tiny room to one of those cheap-ass coffeemakers.

Lucy impatiently shifts from side to side, putting one bare foot on top of the other, and then switching as she waits for the little coffeepot to spit out a full cup. The sight of her tight little ass cheeks does wonders for my mood, even as I’m tensing for The Talk.

Not that I’m all that surprised. Over the years, I’ve gotten damn good at keeping sex carefree and uncomplicated, but with Lucy? There was never any chance.

Damn, but it was good though. Every bit as sweet as I remember, but even hotter without the pressure of her virginity absorbing my every thought.

Last night had just been about me and Lucy and need.

She hands me the coffee and climbs onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and watching me take my first sip.

I pause with the flimsy paper cup halfway to my mouth. “Would you spit it out already? All your staring is creeping me out.”

She folds her hands and rests them on the mattress in front of her. “I was waiting for you to get caffeinated, before…”

I lift my eyebrows when she trails off, and she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly dreading what she needs to say.

“I’m confused,” she blurts out, just as I’m braced for her to say the words I’m expecting: It was a mistake.