My orgasm hits me like a train—and without the usual buildup or warning. My whole body spasms out of control as the waves of my climax flow over and through me. I’m totally unprepared and don’t get the chance to make sure that London is there with me. Another first. Luckily she is, and we come hard together in perfect unison. But as I look down to meet her eyes, I see that they have clouded over. Clearly she has something on her mind. What the fuck?

“Hey, Tog, what’s up?”

“Nothing. I don’t know. Umm… I think I’m just overwhelmed and overtired or something. It’s been a big day. In fact, a big few months. Ignore me.”

Not gonna happen.

“You’re pretty hard to ignore, sweets. Especially when I’m balls deep inside you.” I smile down at her, hoping to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t seem to work. She props herself up on her elbows, looking into my eyes, but more importantly allowing me to look into hers, to really see her. The connection we have is clear when our gazes lock. I stare at her, long, hard, and unblinking. I’m sure the worry I feel is etched on my features, just like hers is.

“Seriously, you okay, babe?” I probe again.

“Yeah I am, I promise. I know you’re sick of hearing me say I’m overwhelmed, but it’s true. It’s been a hell of a few months, as you know, and I’ve been running on nervous energy and little else. The tour, the photos, the interviews, the show tonight… it’s… big. I guess. I mean, I know it’s just another day at the office for you, but for me it’s a lot to handle. The crash was inevitable. I’m just relieved I made it through the show before losing my shit.

“I’m so unbelievably tired. I’ve been bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. It’s so unlike me, but I guess exhaustion will do that to you. I can’t wait to catch up on some sleep and get back to my normal self. I’m fine, honestly.” She licks her lips slowly and salaciously.

Although I’m aware she’s trying to distract me from what’s really going on with her, it doesn’t stop my body responding—I’m hardwired to want her. Still inside her, I feel my dick twitch again. I don’t think I will ever be able to get enough of this woman.

“You’re killing me here, London. Killing me,” I say, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Her thick black curls are completely out of control right now—I love them at the best of times, but even more so now, when she’s sporting the “freshly fucked by Arlo” look. I guess it’s kind of a caveman thing. Like I’ve left my mark on my woman in more ways than one. I love it, but I need to stop thinking this way. As much as I’d like to go for round two, I really don’t think it’s the right time.

“We’ve had this conversation before, Tog, and you know I’m not going to be okay with you holding back on me, right?” I know her well enough by now to know that if something’s not right with her, it’s far from “nothing,” and if I ignore it now, I’ll regret it later.

I run my fingertips up and down her ribs, idly stroking her tattoo as I speak. I love it. Strength Through Weakness is totally appropriate for her. For someone so physically small, she’s one of the toughest and most resilient people I know. It may be discreet—you’d only see it if you were intimate with her—but it’s totally intrinsic to who she is.

It’s the same with the cluster of silvery scars on her hip. They’re an everyday reminder of how fleeting life is. How one day—in fact, one tiny moment, one split second in one day—almost tore her from the world. Each time I look at those scars, which is often, I fall in love with her a little more. I’m also thankful they’re there. They mean she’s a little broken, like we all are, but more importantly, they mean she’s here.

“We’re gonna be married someday, but for us to ever get to that point, you need to trust me. With what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. With everything.”

London chokes on thin air. I don’t think she’d look more shocked if Elvis turned up carrying Bigfoot in his arms.

“Don’t look so horrified. Anybody would think I said I’m going to eat your liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.” Judging by her expression, I think she’d almost rather that. Fuck. I should be offended. I swallow my pride, something I seem to be required to do on an almost daily basis to survive life with London Llwellyn. I lean toward her, planting tiny light kisses down her spine.

“You’re…” Kiss. “…perfect…” Kiss. “…and…” Kiss. “…one…” Kiss. “…day…” Kiss. “…you’re…” Kiss. “…going…” Kiss. “…to…” Kiss. “…be…” Kiss. “…my…” Kiss. “…wife…” Kiss. “…and…” Kiss. “…have…” Kiss. “…my…” Kiss. “…babies.” Kiss.

“Knock it off, Arlo. That’s not something you should joke about, even if you’re trying to cheer me up.” Finally she speaks! She tries to scooch out of reach of my kisses, but I simply move across the bed with her, scooping her up in my arms. She always feels so tiny when I hug her, I guess because compared to my six-four frame, she is. It’s just that her personality more than makes up for her physical size, so I always think of her as bigger than she really is.

“No joke. I’m deadly serious. Never been so serious about something or someone in my life.” She starts to squirm in my arms, but I hold firm.

“I know it’s just the post-orgasm endorphins talking, Arlo.” She’s starting to sound angry. What the actual fuck? Before I can come back in my defense, she continues.

“I’m also pretty sure that unless you’re blind drunk in Vegas and accidentally have a quickie Elvis wedding with a hooker, I’ve got more chance of walking on the moon than I have of seeing you walk down the aisle. With anyone.”

At that, she leaves me openmouthed as she wraps the sheet around her body and stomps into the bathroom, I presume to clean up. I feel like I have whiplash with this woman. One minute we’re coming down from our postcoital high, the next I’m inadvertently offending her in yet another unexpected way. Music, I get. Bars and clubs, I get. Tattoos, I get. Fucking, I get. Love? London? Not so much. I sigh and wait for her to emerge from the bathroom.

“Ah, there she is. I was beginning to think that you’d freaked out and hightailed it out the window. That would have been a first—it’s usually me bailing, not the chick.” I grin, hoping that my good humor will prove infectious.

“I was just trying, and failing, to tame the stupid bed hair.” Funny that she hates it whereas I find it unbelievably sexy.

As she approaches the edge of the bed, I pull the sheet from her body, yanking her down toward me.

“I swear I will never tire of looking at this body,” I murmur, a note of awe in my voice. I pull her in closer, so her back is against my chest. I’ve never been the spooning type. In fact, I’ve never been the type to want anything after sex except maybe another round and a fat blunt. If a woman is still there ten minutes after we’re done, I start to get restless, even with Marnie. Hell, ten minutes seems long. Yet with London, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here.

She traces idly around my tattoos with the tip of her forefinger. It’s such a small, almost subconscious gesture, but so intimate. As she often does, she begins narrowing the path of her finger, circling one particular tattoo.

“This one’s new. Tell me about it?” she says finally, scrutinizing the ink on my chest. It’s a little ritual we have. She picks a tattoo and asks me to tell her the story behind it.

“Yeah, I guess you could say it’s new.”

“So…?” Her tone is probing. Why does this feel like an inquisition?

“So…?” I have the feeling my stalling is getting me nowhere except further under the microscope.

“So tell me.” She cocks an eyebrow, and I can tell she’s not going to let it go until I spill the beans. I guess I deserve it. When I want to know something about her, I’m like a dog with a bone—I won’t take no for an answer.

“It’s a hummingbird.” A hummingbird flying out of an open birdcage door, to be exact.

“I have a pair of working eyes, Arlo. I can see that. You know how this game works, so why are you dragging it out? Is there something you don’t want me to know? Is it about Marnie or something?”

Where the fuck did that come from? “What? No, of course not. The opposite, in fact.” I sigh. I had hoped we could let the subject drop, but now with the mention of Marnie, I can’t.

“Hummingbirds are beautiful. They’re these tiny delicate-looking little creatures, but they’re capable of so much more than their fragile appearance would suggest. Just being in flight takes unbelievable strength, yet they make it look effortless. They flap their wings, and then they’re there, but not there, you know? It’s like they hover somewhere between reality and another world that the rest of us can only observe from afar.”

She nods but doesn’t speak, continuing to trace delicately, lightly pressing over each line. As her fingertip moves across one of the wings, she hesitates.

“Wait, what’s this? It looks like….”

“It’s an L. There’s one on the other wing too, see?” She nods and raises her eyebrow questioningly again. I sigh again. Shit. I may as well put my cock on the block now.

“It’s about you. I got it when we were on the break. I guess if I couldn’t have the real thing, I wanted something close to my heart to remind me of you. A hummingbird flying the coop seemed fitting, somehow. I sketched the design late one night when I was having trouble sleeping.” Because I was busted up over you. “I took it into the tattoo store the next day and worked on it some more with Zed, and this is what we came up with together. It has fast become my favorite piece. I love it. It’s so beautiful, just like you.”

I look at her and see that she’s smiling from ear to ear. When our eyes meet, she lowers her mouth to my chest, kissing the tat repeatedly while keeping eye contact. Blood rushes straight to my dick.

I need to deal with the Marnie situation in the morning, but for now, I sweep London’s hair over her shoulder, revealing her neck to me again, and proceed to plant tiny kisses all over it. We both ignore my growing hard-on, favoring sleep for once. Another first for us. The last thing I remember is London bringing our linked fingers to her lips, kissing each of mine in turn. That, and the feeling of bliss that comes from knowing this is the first of many nights we’ll fall asleep together like this.