I sighed and snuggled into the warm sheets, stretching under Dillon’s hand as he caressed my back. I felt his lips on my shoulder and smiled, eyes still closed.

I’d spent the night.

In Dillon’s bed.

In Dillon’s house.

I’d wanted to, Lord knows, I’d wanted to, but I hadn’t wanted to seem presumptuous, so I hadn’t packed a bag when I’d come over the night before. I hadn’t wanted him to think I was making a giant leap in our “relationship.”

Sure, we’d spent the weekend together in Chicago, but that didn’t mean he was ready for sleepovers in his home. That seemed much more personal. More of a serious relationship move. So, I’d come over with only a fresh-baked apple pie, which I knew was his favorite, and hope, that at the very least, we’d have a serious make-out session on his large sectional couch.

What I’d gotten was so much better.

First, he’d carried me up the stairs and made love to me. I’m talking, sweet, slow, gentle love. It was amazing, and so much more tender than even I’d imagined Dillon could be. And I’d imagined having him every way possible.

I mean, fifteen years is a long time to fantasize about someone.

Then, we’d enjoyed our Chinese food in front of the TV while watching episodes of Saturday Night Live on Hulu. After which, we took the dogs for a long walk on his property, and he’d asked me to spend the night.

We hadn’t done anything else other than get into bed and snuggle up next to each other before drifting off to sleep. But it was wonderful. Everything from start to finish had been more than I’d hoped for, which meant I’d spent the drive over agonizing for nothing.

I thought it all meant that Dillon and I were definitely on the same page, and wanted to give this whole relationship thing a try. But, I didn’t want to assume and end up looking foolish, or worse, getting my heart broken, so I knew I needed to ask.

I wanted to be a hundred percent open and honest, which meant I’d have to actually ask the question. Vocalize the words. And the thought had my eyes opening and all happy morning pleasantness flying out the window as nerves kicked it out of the way.

“What just happened?” Dillon asked, causing me to turn in the bed to look at him.

“Huh?” I asked sleepily.

“You were all sleepy and soft, then you stiffened when I kissed your shoulder. Is everything okay?”

I paused before answering. Not because I didn’t want to, but because Dillon in the morning deserved a pause.

His dark, auburn hair was rumpled, and his stubble was dark and thick. Clad in only a pair of boxer briefs, which were covered by the sheet, he looked delectable, and I found myself distracted by the sight.

“Laurel,” he pressed, so I stopped ogling him and gave him the truth.

“I was wondering what your thoughts are … about us,” I began, turning until I was laying on my back. I played with the edge of the sheet as I continued, “I know, in Chicago, we’d agreed to the whole no strings thing, but, since that obviously didn’t stick, I was hoping we were thinking along the same lines…”

Dillon picked up some of my hair and rubbed it between his fingers, his expression soft, but serious.

“Well, if you’re thinking that being together for one weekend wasn’t enough, and that you’d like to continue to see each other and see where this thing between us goes, then, I’d say, we’re on the same page.”

My heart leapt, but still, I pushed.

“So, exclusively dating?” I asked with bated breath.

He picked up the sheet and moved until he was hovering over me, which is when I realized I was wrong, he was no longer wearing boxer briefs. Then lowered himself to rest gently between my legs, his forearms holding most of his weight.

I shifted instinctively beneath him, biting back a moan when he thrust against me.

“Absolutely,” Dillon replied, his lids getting heavy as he moved again.

Is it getting hot in here?

My vision went a little fuzzy as I lifted my hips to do a little thrusting of my own.

“Perfect,” I moaned, not sure if I was talking about our agreement to date, or the spot he was currently rubbing against.

“You want to keep talking?” Dillon asked gruffly, his hand moving between us to shift my panties to the side.

As he slid inside of me, inch by glorious inch, I gasped, “No, thanks,” then all chatter stopped.

I wrapped my legs around him, the T-shirt of his I was wearing going up around my waist, and tilted my hips as far as I could, as he drove inside, his pelvis hitting my clit perfectly as I squeezed his tight ass.

“Yes,” I moaned. “Right there.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Dillon managed as his pace quickened. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Harder,” I urged. So very close.

He complied, moving faster, deeper, harder, until we were both coming, my orgasm ripping through me, causing me to cry out.

“Oh my God,” I moaned, my body pulsing around him, my blood humming in my veins.

I could get used to waking up to this every day.