“Absolutely.”

She pulled his hand free and pressed the condom into his palm. “Can you put this on in the dark?”

He chuckled. “With you as motivation, I could probably put it on after I was dead.”

Then he was pressing against her.

She reached between them and guided him inside of her. As he entered her, she contracted around him. He filled her slowly, stretching her, delighting her. Each thrust was enough to send her flying.

Zane shifted so he could hold on to her hips. “I can feel you coming,” he murmured. “You’re killing me. I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Go for it,” she told him.

He took her at her word. Moving faster and faster, he pulled out of her, then slipped back inside. She lost herself in the movement, in what she was feeling. The pleasure was greater than any she’d ever experienced. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe it was something about being outdoors or the placement of the moon. Whatever. At this point, she didn’t much care.

Instead, as she felt Zane tensing for his own release, she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him close. One last shudder rippled through her. She gave herself up to the feel of him, to the sudden weight as he wrapped his arms around her and groaned his surrender.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PHOEBE HAD ALWAYS dreaded the awkward moments of “after.” After making love. Not that she had a lot of experience with that sort of thing. She’d had lovers before, just not tons. And in her world, the after part was fraught with peril.

Usually there was the whole cuddle versus not cuddle. Plus the conversation. Often the conversation went along the lines of “was it good for you?” Because it wasn’t always. Sometimes it wasn’t at all. Generally she walked around the truth, not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings.

For an assortment of reasons, she often wished to avoid the whole postcoital chitchat. So she’d never once in her entire life had to lie there, flushed with an incredibly relaxed feeling while fighting growing humiliation over her body’s inability to stop having orgasms.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Zane shifted off of her. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Done what?”

She heard the caution in his voice.

“I was too...you know.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Too, what?”

“Wanton.”

There wasn’t any sound. Not even a hint of sound. Then he laughed. It wasn’t a chuckle. It was a huge, from-the-belly laugh. The kind that made it impossible for the person laughing to move or breathe or even stop.

“Zane?” She shook his arm.

He continued to laugh. The sound seemed to echo all around them.

“Zane, stop. You’ll wake up everyone.”

That seemed to get his attention. She sensed his attempt to control himself, although a few guffaws escaped.

“This isn’t funny,” she told him in a heated whisper.

He leaned close. She couldn’t see him, but she could feel him.

“Phoebe, you’re the most amazing lover I’ve ever had. You’re sexy, responsive to the point of being a lethal weapon, sweet, funny, caring and if I had a box of condoms, I’d use every single one before sunup. But you’re not wanton.”

His words made her feel a little better, but only a little. “I don’t usually, you know, climax that much. Or at all.”

“You did with me.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to please you.”

She smiled. “I could tell.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want you to think less of me.”

He touched her cheek, then outlined her mouth. “I think the world of you.”

Her concern faded like mist in sunlight. “Really?”

He kissed her. “Absolutely.”

Zane should have known Phoebe wouldn’t be like other women, he thought as he settled next to her and pulled her against him. Not out of bed and certainly not in it.

“Anything else you want to worry about?” he asked, sure there was.

“Well...” She sighed. “I know guys aren’t into the whole all-night thing. I should probably go stay with Maya until morning.”

They were lying naked on his sleeping bag, their legs tangled, his fingers in her hair. He could smell her and their recent lovemaking. After sex most women wanted to talk, and he didn’t doubt that Phoebe was in the mood for a lengthy discussion on emotions—particularly his.

Normally that would send him running for the hills. He liked his relationships easy, with well-defined rules. No caring, no commitments and definitely no spending the night.

Which meant it was crazy for him to say, “You can stay here if you don’t mind the cramped quarters.”

She shifted in his arms. He guessed she was peering at him in the darkness. “Really?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. I’d like that. But we have to get up early so no one knows I spent the night here.”

“Cookie’s going to figure it out when I don’t show up to share the wagon with him in this rain, but don’t worry. He won’t say anything.”

“Good.”

They made their way into the sleeping bag. It was crowded, and she was still naked, so it only took about three seconds for him to get hard again.

She reached between them. “Are you sure there aren’t any more condoms?”