We stare at each other, mouths close and open. We moan together. We move together. My pleasure doesn’t feel like it’s just my own anymore. It’s ours.

One body. One heartbeat. One irresistible desire.

CJ squeezes my breast and sucks on my nipple. He whispers against my slippery flesh, “Fuck, baby” and “I want to feel you come.”

I make a choking sound low in my throat as that sweet heat burns between my hips and up my spine. CJ is fucking my ass with his finger now and thrusting his hips. I can’t move. I hold onto his neck, arch my back, and yes, yes, yes.

“CJ,” I moan, shaking violently. My pussy growing tighter and tighter and . . . “Oh, God . . . Oh, my God.”

He grunts, fucking me harder until he’s pumping into me, cursing and spilling his release. I feel it wet and sticky on my thighs—our pleasure. It’s exquisite.

CJ breathes heavily into my neck. His finger slips out of my ass, and I groan at the loss. He chuckles. “Miss me there already?”

Yes, I don't say. I grab his face and rub it between my breasts. When he growls like a wild animal and takes over, I squeal in delight.

We laugh and stand together under the water.

While I towel off and smear lotion on my body, CJ passes on my suggestion of a bath and finishes up in the shower. Still floating around on my post-sex high, I let it go, moving into the bedroom. I need to get ready.

Bra and panties on and shorts tossed on the bed (next to CJ's boot I set out for him), I pull on my shirt.

Without CJ’s all-consuming stare and him moving inside me, I can think again. My mind immediately going to that big, important thing. Why isn’t he saying it?

“What were you going to tell me the other day?” I ask when he exits the bathroom, white fluffy towel around his waist and chest dripping wet. I swallow and watch a bead of water trail between his pecs as he moves toward me.

Damn. He really should find a job that requires him to be in nothing but a bath towel.

“What was I going to tell you when?” CJ asks, running his hand over his hair. “You gotta give me more than the other day, babe. Narrow it down.” He rummages through the drawers, shifting my clothes to get to his and making me smile. I’ve basically taken over his dresser. He grabs a pair of shorts, boxers, and a t-shirt and moves to the other side of the bed.

“At Ben and Mia’s. After we . . . you know.”

CJ tugs on his boxers and lifts his head. He smirks. “Oh. That.”

“Yes. That. What were you going to say?”

“You’re not ready for that,” he states.

My head tilts. “Um, sorry? What do you mean?”

I’m not ready?

“Just what I said. You’re not ready.”

I glare at CJ as he pulls on a pair of running shorts. What the . . .”You were going to tell me the other day,” I remind him.

“I know I was.”

“Well . . . how come you won't tell me now?”

“`Cause you’re not ready now.”

“But I was ready before . . .”

CJ shrugs. He swipes his shirt off the bed and smiles at me as he pushes his arms through the sleeves. He smiles bigger when my eyes narrow.

“Stop smiling,” I snap, hands flying to my hips and holding there.

“I can't.”

“Yes, you can. You just . . . force your mouth not to do that.”

“Are we having our first fight?” CJ's head pops through his shirt. He’s grinning now, and it’s so damn beautiful I feel my own lip curling up. “We are. Fuck, I'm excited,” he says. “This is a milestone, babe. We did it. Come here.”

A laugh catches in my throat as CJ holds out his hand for me to high five.

God, I love him.

“You’re so weird,” I murmur, reaching across the bed.

He slaps my hand and winks.

My cell phone rings from the dresser. I’m still giggling when I turn around to grab it. My parents’ house number flashes on the screen.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer, knowing it has to be her. My dad still works during the day at Tennyson Construction.

“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”

“Fineeow!” I spring up onto my toes as a sharp pain lashes across my bottom.

“Are you all right?” my mother asks with worry in her voice.

I whip my head around and watch CJ twirl up the towel I had my hair wrapped in. I suck in a breath. “You did not just do that,” I scold.

“You liked it.” He lifts his brow. “Turn around.”

My eyes go wide and my cheeks burn hot. Both sets.

I did not like it.

Okay . . . I liked it. But only a little.

“Riley?”

“Sorry, Mom.” I flip CJ off and he chuckles, tossing the towel and having a seat on the edge of the bed to put on his boot. “That was CJ. He's just super excited about us having our first fight.”

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “This is the boy you’re living with?”

My parents know I'm not still living at Richard's, which was what I had them assuming since I didn't say different. Once Reed found out about my new living arrangement, I didn't feel there was a point in keeping it from anyone.

“Yes. That's him.” I dig my toes into the side of CJ’s thigh.

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Is there something going on with you two? Are you dating?”

“Uh.” I drop my foot to the carpet and turn my head. Crap. Why does she have to ask me this? I can't say yes. My mom will totally mention it to Reed. She knows they know each other. “We're just friends, Mom,” I tell her, wincing. “I'm helping him get better. Remember, I told you about his leg?” Before my mother has a chance to answer, I gaze back at CJ.

He's hunched over still, but he isn't working at strapping on his boot anymore. His head is turned. He's looking directly at me.

No smile. Not even the hint of one. CJ looks . . . pissed. Disappointed or both.

Shit.

My stomach tightens. Mom says something in my ear but I don't pay attention.

I watch CJ subtly shake his head before looking away, like a person would do when they're almost in disbelief of something they’ve seen or heard. Then he fastens the last remaining strap on his boot, stands from the bed and stalks toward the door.