What I’d always thought was sex, wasn’t. Because this sex made me want more before Carson even started moving. Even calling those other times sex was like calling a paddleboat a yacht. So this was pretty much the best day of my entire life, and I wanted to beat my head against the wall for putting it off for so long.

All the air came out of my lungs the first time he pressed into me.

“Lane, stop. You can’t do that.”

“Do what?” What did I do wrong?

“If you keep it up I’m going to come. I don’t want to come yet. And you don’t want me to come yet. So switch from my name to ‘oh god’ or something.”

I busted out laughing, making him groan when my muscles tightened around him. “If I forget, are you going to gag me? Please?”

“Fuck!” He whistled on an inhale. “Don’t say shit like that.”

“Or tie me up.”

“Stop it,” he growled.

“Or spank me.”

“Well, that was going to happen whether you mentioned it or not.” Then he was laughing too, and cursing, and blaming me for whatever was going to happen and whatever he had to do to make sure it did.

When he started moving, both of us stopped laughing. I couldn’t do anything but feel and press into every thrust. It was almost eerily quiet, other than the occasional gasp or groan. Okay, a lot of gasping and groaning, but I couldn’t help it. Especially when he started thrusting faster, going deeper and harder.

We watched each other and, while I didn’t know what he was seeing, I saw everything. In his eyes and his mouth, the way his expression changed right before it got too intense and he had to kiss me or change position to break the tension. But he always went back to looking at me, as if he couldn’t help himself, as if he were trying to tell me something that he couldn’t say. I didn’t know what it could possibly be or even if I was right about something being there. It was just a feeling, a powerful one, almost as powerful as the pleasure.

His kiss made everything almost too good, too beautiful and intimate, way more than I could’ve ever dreamt of.

Then the opportunity to think passed. “I’m gonna—” Oh god. I was losing it, trying to hold it back because it was all-consuming, too dangerous. I couldn’t stop it, though. When the dam broke, what I wanted or didn’t want or thought or didn’t think made no difference anymore.

He groaned as if he was experiencing it alongside me. But he couldn’t have because he was still moving, rocking deeper into me, and he wouldn’t have been able to do that if he’d felt the same thing I did. My orgasm went on and on, lengthened by his intensity as he started really driving into me.

He said my name quietly, reverently. “It wasn’t supposed to feel like this.” Before I had a chance to consider what he said or respond, he pressed deep inside me and let go.

---

Aside from kissing a lot more, separating, a quick trip to the bathroom, and getting under the covers, neither of us had moved in about an hour. Neither of us had gone to sleep, either. We just stared up at the ceiling, absorbed in our own thoughts.

Every once in a while I’d glance at him out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t think he looked at me once. A little paranoia set in—even though that was by far the most incredible sexual experience of my life, there was a chance he would’ve given it a five out of ten. What had he said about Hillary? The parts he remembered were good, but it wasn’t overly special. Nothing about me was overly special, but somehow I’d convinced myself it would be different for us.

Maybe he was staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out a way to tell me to leave. Oh my god. Of course he was. He just didn’t want to seem rude. Not that I actually imagined Carson would have a problem being rude, but what did I know? I opened my mouth, but he spoke first, still not looking at me.

“I need to know something.” His voice was flat, without any of its usual humor or sarcasm. “When you were with a frog you loved, before he became a frog, is that what it felt like?”

“I was just thinking about that.” And just thinking how they hadn’t compared, not even a little. “Um…no, it never felt like that.”

He let out a breath, and his body relaxed a little. Then he scooted me closer. “How are you feeling?”

“Really good.” That wasn’t even close to an accurate description, but it was the best I could come up with. “I’m still tingling.”

“Glad to hear that,” he said on a laugh. “What about the other stuff—the…feelings stuff?”

“Well, I really like you and that was a fantastic way to start the day, but I’m not going to turn you into a frog.”

“I already am a frog, so that doesn’t help.”

“No, you’re not.” And I wouldn’t make him one. “I feel exactly the same way I felt yesterday except a little more tired and a lot more satisfied.”

“Great answer.” He finally turned his head towards me and studied me for a moment. I started to get fidgety, not knowing what to do.

“Should I leave now?”

“Not if you don’t have to.”

“I don’t.” So I curled up under his arm a little more and pulled the blanket down so I could trace his abs with my finger. None of the frogs had a body even close to Carson’s, nor were their sides as ticklish.

“Quit it.” He swiped my hand away and then flipped onto his side to face me, looking at me seriously. “Can we do this again? I mean on a different day because I’ve already decided we’re doing it a few more times today. In fact, I’m going to take you in a very long shower as soon as you answer the question.”

“Yes,” I said immediately. “Yes, we can do this again.”

And we did. Repeatedly.

---

I’d spent most of my free time with Carson before we started having sex. After? After, we were practically inseparable. Still friends, still hanging out, but the minute he decided he wanted to get me alone, he did. Wherever we were.

It was going so much better than I ever imagined it would. Even though Carson was amazing in bed and out of it, somehow knowing there was no possibility of a future negated all the crap that used to get me in trouble. We had all the good parts of a relationship and none of the bad.

I was finally able to be with someone without expectations or resentment, insecurity or subtext. Because those were all things that didn’t exist in Carson’s world. If he wanted something, he asked for it...or demanded it…or just took it. And when I wanted something—I couldn’t ask for anything more than this.

Whenever Carson asked me something, I answered without hesitation, not worrying how it would make him feel or if he would judge me. Every once in a while, my mind would flash back to one of the frogs and I’d instantly feel my shoulders lift and self-consciousness set in. That didn’t happen with Carson. It didn’t happen because we both knew there was no forever for us, nothing to protect or plan.

Knowing what I wanted and being able to say it made my time with him easy and stress-free. In a million years, I would never have thought things could be so perfect. I’d always believed love was what I wanted. I was wrong. I’d wanted to like myself and be with someone who did, too.

Love wasn’t real, but this was. And I wasn’t going to let myself ruin it.