“Should we talk about the condom thing?” I ask.

She blinks those pretty brown eyes at me. “I’m on the pill. I think we’re okay.”

I kiss her shoulder. “And if we’re not?”

“Then we still will be.” She grins at me.

Yes, we will be.

Emily

I wake Logan by placing quick kisses across his naked chest. He sleeps like the dead, since he can’t hear. Nothing usually wakes him, but apparently this does. The sheet tents quickly, prompted by the length of his manhood, even before his eyes blink open.

His arm wraps around my naked back, and his blue eyes meet mine. “Morning,” he says, looking down at me. “Why are you so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this early?” he asks. He props a hand beneath his head so he can look down at my face.

“I can assure you there’s nothing bushy about my tail.” I took care of that with a day at the spa before I came back to New York. I laugh when he chuckles and growls, rolling me beneath him. He tosses the covers over his head and inches down my body.

“What are you doing?” I ask. I quickly realize he can’t hear me, and I tap his shoulder. He tosses the covers back and looks up. “What are you doing?” I ask again.

“I didn’t get to see enough of your non-bushy tail last night.” He grins and works magic with his fingertips. “Not bushy at all,” he says.

His lips rest right above where the triangle of private hair would be if I hadn’t just had a wax, and he kisses me softly. I squirm because what he’s doing feels really good, but I’m also mortified by the intimacy of his actions. He acts like my body has been his since the beginning of time. Like there’s no thought of indecency or embarrassment between us. I like it. I like it a lot. I can imagine him having this same intimacy and more with my body when we’re both old and gray. When we’re helping one another shower rather than having sex in the shower. When we’re bedridden instead of lying in bed making one another sweat. I can already imagine it. And I love it.

Yes, it frightens me sometimes. What sane woman wouldn’t be scared to death of a man who can make her feel the way Logan makes me feel? No one.

I love this man. I love every part of him. And he apparently loves every part of me if his questing fingers and his foolish grin are any indication.

I tap his shoulder. “You’re going to have to let me up.”

His eyebrows draw together. “Why?” He parts my lower lips and blows across the center of me, and my feet arch of their own volition.

A blush creeps up my face. It’s absolutely absurd to be embarrassed when his fingers are inside me, but I really have to pee. “I need to go to the bathroom.”

He grins and flips me over. I think he’s helping me get up, but he’s not. He climbs on top of me and straddles my thighs. He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my neck. “Let’s try something new,” he says. And then he does. And it’s magical.

Logan says my name over and over, and I stretch out across the sheets. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can’t talk. He falls down beside me. His breaths are harsh, and he’s struggling to compose himself as much as I am.

“Do you still need to pee?” he asks with a chuckle.

“I might if I could move,” I say. He tweaks my nose and laughs. It’s a throaty sound, and it makes me so happy to hear it. “Where did you learn that?” I ask. I realize my mistake as soon as I make it.

He shrugs and avoids my gaze. I reach for him, making myself come out of my post-coital stupor, and I climb up on his chest, elbowing him so that he winces and I can take his mind off my mistake. I don’t want him to feel guilty for his past. I can’t change it. And right now, I’m damn glad he has one because I’ve never had an experience like that. Just think what I was missing.

“You have pointy elbows,” he says, pulling my arms to my sides so I fall flat on his chest. I stick my chin into him and laugh. “And your chin, too.” He tousles my hair playfully. “Death by elbow impalement,” he says. He has dismissed my earlier moment of insanity with my stupid question. Good.

“Sorry I was being nosy,” I say quietly.

“You can ask me anything you want,” he says. He looks into my eyes. “But you can’t get mad at me when I give you the answers.” He arches a blond eyebrow. “Do you really want to know where I learned that?”

I push off of him. “No.”

He chuckles. “Wait,” he says, pulling me back on top of him. “I learned it from a men’s health magazine, silly.” He laughs. “I wasn’t even sure it would work.” His laughter rumbles around the room. It’s such a welcome sound. He looks down his nose at me. “Did it work?”

“Oh, heck yeah,” I breathe. It worked.

He kisses me. “Good.”

Logan

I follow Emily into her apartment and stop short when I see Trip lying on her sofa in nothing more than a pair of boxers. He has one hand stuck in the waistband of his underwear and the other is behind his head. He’s completely oblivious to the fact that we’re there. What the f**k, I sign.

He didn’t know we were coming.

I don’t give a f**k if he knew we were coming or not. He doesn’t live here. And he doesn’t live alone. This is shit.

“Trip,” Emily calls. She picks up a couch pillow and throws it at his head. “Put some clothes on.”