It’s an amazing day in San Francisco. I don’t give a fuck what time of day or night the clock says it is when I’m here beside Kirk in a magic-tinged, post-orgasmic afterglow. Every day is an amazing day in San Francisco.

For Kirk and me and a good percentage of people in general, these are among the best and most agreeable moments in a relationship—or pretty much in life.

If you read my newsletter, you’re all too aware that it wasn’t always like this. There are always going to be challenging times. The newsletter is a way to channel some of that, but it’s also a way to connect with amazing people and get different points of view.

I gaze at Kirk, shameless in my adoration. Even though he’s looking straight ahead at the wall, lost in a memory or some sort of deep thought, he definitely registers me looking.

“You doing okay?” I ask this as a prelude to what I really want to talk about. I know he’s doing much more than just okay—I make sure of that, several times a day, and he makes certain that I’m doing fucking fantastic on a regular basis as well.

“I think you know how I’m doing, Em,” he says with a smirk. “But in case you need to be reminded, I’ve never been better in my entire fucking life, so yeah, I’m doing okay.”

Okay then, so I figure it’s time to bring up the subject I still keep to myself—well, myself and all my readers.

“My newsletter, Kirk.”

“Uh, what about it, babe?”

I’m getting a little flustered now, if it’s not obvious. The two worlds of my actual life with WineBar and the one where I write about it are colliding. It’s inevitable, but it’s still kinda weird when it happens.

“So my readers, um, well, they like this story. I mean you, the whole WineBar thing.”

“Well, yeah, no shit. I don’t see a problem with that. It’s unavoidable with me. With us.”

Kirk doesn’t just throw that and us stuff in there without thinking; he really means it. I don’t mind being included in his alpha cockiness one bit.

“I’m still doing it, the newsletter. I mean, I love my readers. Yeah, I tell them about shitty times, like that stint in New York, but it’s also for times like these.”

“You mean the best fucking times in the whole fucking world?”

“Exactly,” I respond sincerely. “Getting here, though. I mean, it was quite a ride, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, a wild ride indeed. One I’m more than happy to be off of.”

It seems that it’s now WineBar’s turn to give me pause. Because what would jumping back on that crazy ride entail exactly?

Going back to dating? That’s like a billion miles from my mind, and I know Kirk feels the same way. We’re both ecstatic about where things ended up.

“I wouldn’t mind revisiting it, though.”

“What do you mean revisiting?” Kirk’s not going to be able to take much more of this cryptic talk, I realize.

“Revisiting as a book,” I clarify.

Kirk nods as if he understands this completely, but he quickly realizes he doesn’t.

“Please explain that, Em.”

“Let’s see. I’m a top 100 romance author, I’m talking about a new project, the word ‘book’ is involved...”

“Ah.”

Kirk is someone who makes known what he wants. Unlike so many other men, so many other people, you don’t need to struggle to read him, except for this time.

“What do you think?”

“What do I think?”

“Stop stalling.”

To Kirk’s credit, he does stop stalling. But the look on his face is unreadable.

“Do you often base your romance on reality like this?”

I take a deep breath, ready to explain the best I can.

“The type of thing I do—it can be an escape, sure. Being with you, though, and even the whole wild ride leading up to it, that’s been an escape too. An incredible, breathtaking, whirlwind escape. Doesn’t that sound like a book to you?”

Kirk matches my smile with one of his own.

“Maybe.”

Kirk’s up from the bed now, pacing around my bedroom. He’s thinking about it.

I sit up. I’m determined to get him on board, and I’m also excited to get started. I’m excited about the way everything worked out.

“What are you planning to include?” Kirk’s becoming more enthusiastic with every step he takes around the room. He’s starting to warm up to the idea.

“I like that you think that I’m planning details already.”

“Baby, I know you’re planning details already. You can’t bullshit me!”

Kirk walks back to the bed. And so it’s set...or so I think.

“There’s going to be a barbecue,” Kirk states, sitting back down on the bed.

“There’s going to be the barbecue, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m not asking.”

“Hmm” is all I say.

“And how do you feel about that?”

Kirk laughs, playing it off like the joke it kinda is.

“I think I like it when you act all alpha,” I tease.

He suddenly has me on my back, and he’s hovering over me, one leg hooked over his shoulder. Just like that, I’m already wet.

He rakes his gaze down my body, and I can practically feel every nerve blaze to life as he does.

“Is that so? Well, in that case, let me tell you what else your readers want to know. They want to hear all about how I make you cum over and over, screaming my name as I drill my cock into you hard and fast.”

I can’t breathe. God, he’s so fucking hot when he talks dirty.

“They want to hear how you can’t get enough of me. How you love it when I cum all over you and how you lick up every last drop.”

Oh god. I grind my hips up against him. I’m so fucking turned on.

He laughs. “Is this going to be in the book?”

I pretend to think about it for a minute.

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

“It fucking better be.”

Then I smile, and Kirk laughs. But not for long. Because the next thing I know, he’s doing exactly what he said, making me cum over and over in the mind-blowing, earth-shattering way only he can.

It’s an amazing day in San Francisco…the first day of the rest of our lives.