Kisses me.

Kisses and kisses and kisses me, erection digging into my thigh.

It’s distracting, my brain focused on three things: impending pain, trying to relax so I’m not tense (too late), and praying this won’t be a complete disaster.

God, I hope it’s not terrible.

God, I hope I don’t disappoint him.

God, I hope it doesn’t hurt like a mother.

“Babe, are you okay? You look a little pale—we don’t have to do this.” Sterling’s voice is a welcome interruption to an imagination taking a downward spiral.

“I’m overthinking it.”

“We can stop. Just tell me when, and I’ll stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” I demand, sounding bossier and less tense than I feel.

“I’d be happy sucking your pretty boobs all night.” He nips at one, drawing a nipple into his mouth, flicking the tip with his tongue. “If I died doing this, I’d die happy.”

“No. This is what I want.”

Rowdy

I stare down at her longer than I probably should, arms braced on either side of her head, kissing the corner of her mouth.

She cuffs my biceps with her palms, squeezing. “This is what I want. Don’t you dare stop.”

“I won’t.” Even if it’s going to kill me to hurt her.

“I think you should get on with it. I’m way too tense to drag this out—just rip off the bandage.”

“Are you sure?”

I’m not as eager as I thought I would be to slide the condom on, nervous energy replacing the anticipation of screwing Scarlett, anxious to do it right the first time.

I rise up on my haunches and unroll the condom down my dick, crack the tube of KY lube, squeezing out a small amount on my thumb and forefinger, rubbing them together. Reach down and rub them over her clit in tiny circles, watching as her lips part and eyelids lower.

Beautiful.

Run my hand over my cock, the lubricant getting me slick.

I lower myself, face inches from hers.

Reach between us and guide myself in. Push until the entire tip is inside, and motherfucker is she hot. I slide in easy, cock lubed and hard as I’ve ever been.

Christ, I’m sweating, beads of perspiration breaking out on my forehead as I inch forward, centimeters at a time—and damn if my arms aren’t shaking…

My head dips.

Scarlett kisses the crown of my head, my hair. Fingers roaming to my backside, tenderly splayed over my ass.

Deeper still…

Her nostrils flare and eyes widen with shock when I push through her hymen, her hips rearing away—fight or flight. I cover my mouth with hers, muffling the squeak of protest tearing from her throat. Kiss away the pain, motionless, listening to her breathe.

I love you, Scarlett.

I’m sorry if it hurts.

Pull out.

Push in.

Out. In.

Slower than I’ve ever gone in my entire fucking life.

Rise to my knees again, locking eyes, breathing hard. Pressing my thumb against her clit and starting slow little circles.

My lips part, too.

I love you.

Out.

In.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” She pants, watching me as my hips thrust forward. Pull back. Thrust forward.

I peer between our bodies, hand on her pelvis, dragging us tight together, round and round my callused thumb goes over her pussy.

“You feel so good, baby.” I barely have any breath in my lungs.

I feel my face contort, and I imagine it looks like I’m terrified—she’s so fucking tight. So tight.

A dream.

Round and round.

“Does that feel good?”

She nods, biting her lip.

“You like that?”

Another nod and her head thrashes on the pillow—a fantastic sign. She is going to come if it kills us both.

I want to pound into her so hard my ass cheeks are flexing, self-control the only thing holding me back.

Quiet sex has never been my style—I like it loud and dirty and messy—but there’s something to be said about what she and I have now, here, in this moment.

It’s more than a physical connection because I love her.

Then, something incredible happens.

Scarlett’s eyes widen, this time not from pain, but from pleasure. Cheeks flush, boobs bounce as I thrust just a little harder, thumb still working the hot button between her legs.

“Oh…” she moans.

Moans again, head tipping back, hands grasping the pillow.

Yes…yes.

Fuck. Yes.

My hips swivel. Pelvis rocks.

“Sterling…”

The look on her face matches mine—panicked.

Frantic.

And it’s magical when she comes. I will never forget the look on her face, or the sounds she makes, the gasping noises and tortured near sobs.

Gorgeous.

I love you, Scarlett.

MONDAY

Scarlett

It’s much too dark in our cabin, curtains pulled closed, and I can barely make out the shape of Rowdy as he yanks on his gym shorts in the corner of the room, trying not to wake me but failing when he bumps into the compact-sized coffee table.

Black mesh shorts with red stripes running up the sides. Formfitting tank top. White socks. Black trainers.

He’s going to drive all the women in the workout room crazy.

Even in the dark he looks hot.

I roll toward him, resting my chin in the crook of my arm. “What time is it?”

He sits down on the edge of the mattress, stroking my back. Leans down to kiss my bare shoulder. “Shh, babe, go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Next, his lips kiss my temple, hand sliding beneath the sheet and skimming over my waist. He’s so big and warm, and I want to cuddle, missing him already.

“Don’t go.” I stretch, reaching for him.

“Go back to sleep.” Another kiss to my exposed skin. “I won’t be gone long, maybe two hours.”

Two hours!

“I’ll take a shower in the gym then wake you up with post-workout morning sex.”

“But I’m already awake.” I yawn, rolling to my back.

“Think of it this way,” he croons in the dark. “I’ll get a better workout knowing my reward is a slow bang when I get back. Do me a favor and be naked when I get back.”

I’m already naked under these blankets, neither of us bothering to get dressed after having sex last night; our pajamas never even made it to the party.

“Unless.” He trails a finger down my stomach, circling my belly button. “You want me to get you off before I go?”

I moan, sore but greedy.

His hand strays back up, gently kneading a breast. “Shit, I shouldn’t have started touching you.” He leans over me, kissing my cheek where my dimple is. “Maybe I should get naked and stay.”

“No, you should go. You’ll regret it all day if you don’t.”

We regard each other in the near dark, only a thin sliver of light peeking through the shades. He knows I’m right; he would regret it if he didn’t go.

“Promise you’ll be in this spot in two hours when I get back?”

“It’s five o’clock.” I stretch like a cat. “I’m not about to hop out of bed.”

“Okay, I’ll hurry.” He rises, standing over me. “Don’t go anywhere.”

I yawn. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Instead, I dream of him.

Dream of the night we met—only this time when he leads me out of the party, he’s holding me by the hand. This time when I follow him out to the porch, there are lavender roses on the swing, their fragrance drifting up to my nose. It rocks back and forth in the wind, the flowers falling to the floor, one at a time, petals scattering in the wind.

When I reach for Rowdy’s hand, he’s gone, replaced by a tall, looming—

I jerk awake, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling.

It’s light outside now, sun furiously pushing through the shades, hot white light. That one sliver of light is blinding, so I shift, turning toward the door.

Rise up slowly, feet thrown over the mattress.

The space between my thighs is sore, tender. I test out my legs before standing.