Ramona awoke to light brightening the dark beneath her lids and the sound of rushing water. She rolled away from the direction of the annoying brightness and was immediately reminded of the previous night’s activities. It felt as if she’d had an overly vigorous workout - abdomen, back, and thighs aching. She curled into a ball and pulled the covers around her. Was there such a thing as an orgasm hangover? Even her throat was sore.

A few blinks brought the room into view, including the line directly into the bathroom where Lucas stood immobile in a glass-enclosed shower. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again, just to make sure she was not, in fact, dreaming. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath as he braced himself with a hand against the wall. He did not look real. More like something out of a highly photoshopped ad. And certainly not anything like the boy she had known so long ago.

The pull drew her out of bed, each step reinforcing how thoroughly used her body had been. A flash of memory stopped her steps as she relived his fingers inside her, his lips pulling on her clit, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as her body heaved and pulsed. Before she had even caught her breath, he was on her again. And again. The whole night. Not once had she touched him. Or done anything but receive him. And come.

He lifted his head and smiled. But it was not a friendly smile. It was a smile of a man who’d accomplished what he’d intended. Who’d proven a point. Over and over again.

She stepped into the shower, the warm water electrifying her tender skin, and brought her mouth to his before he could say anything. Their bodies pressed together, heat and steam and desire everywhere.

She pulled away to look at him, then blinked to force her thoughts into line. She ran her finger across his collarbone, skimming the red finger-shaped marks that dotted his shoulder. “It’s you. But it’s not you.”

As if he knew what her cryptic words meant, he answered. “It’s only me. It’s always me.”

“You were the boy I loved.” Her hand skimmed across the hard muscles of his chest.

“And now?”

She spoke as if in a daze. “This man… I don’t know…”

“You do know. It’s still me. Don’t doubt what you feel.”

Her hand dropped down and wrapped around his raging erection. He groaned.

He’d probably had no release or relief after hours and hours of pleasing her.

She dropped down to her knees. His body began to shake and she feared he might come before she had a chance to put his glorious cock in her mouth.

He proved to be much stronger than she expected. The warm water showered the back of her body, keeping her warm, while she enjoyed every inch of him. Whenever she would sense his approach to release, she would loosen her grip, move him away from the back of her throat, pause.

She looked up at him while she caught her breath, which nearly made her gasp. His hair dripped into his wide-open eyes, his face flushed and every muscle in his body flexed as if to give her something even more stunning to appreciate. She flicked her tongue along the ridge of his head until one of his hands slammed against the glass wall. He wouldn’t last much longer, so she enveloped him with her mouth, nearly gagging as he filled to the back of her throat.

The rumble began so low in his body she felt it before she heard it. And then all she knew was the warmth streaming down her throat, the extreme contractions in his cock and the near crumbling of his formidable body.

Still holding on to him, she stood up and kissed him.

“Fuck…” he whispered into her mouth.

He stepped both of their bodies back to place her under the spray of the shower. She tilted her head back and went under. She opened her eyes and watched him creating suds in his hands, which he then rubbed over her body. With the same meticulous attention to detail he had demonstrated in cracking the code of her orgasm with his mouth, he bathed her. Taking time with her long hair, kneeling to wash her feet and tenderly touching between her legs, free from claim or desire, but full of tenderness and care.

---

She didn’t even wait until drying off before walking back into the bedroom and laying on the bed. Her eyes drifted closed with the sensation of his lips touching hers.

Delicious scents mingled in her awareness, bringing her from dreaming to waking, no less disoriented than when she’d fallen asleep.

She opened her eyes to an empty bed for the second time that day but didn’t bother searching in the bathroom. She knew exactly where Lucas was and what he was doing. Still feeling the tenderness in her muscles, she scanned the room for something to wear.

The shirt he’d worn the night before lay draped on the overstuffed chair in the corner. She picked it up and dropped her face into it, taking a deep breath. Yes, that was his intoxicating scent, like fresh bread and the ocean.

She slipped it on but didn’t bother to close any of the buttons. An unexpected sense of comfort accompanied her on the short walk to the kitchen, free from any worry about milling around his house barely covered.

His concentration turned to delight as he saw her. “Good morning, sleeping beauty.”

“Mmmm… that was probably the best nap I’ve ever had. Thanks for letting me sleep.”

“I’m not sure I could’ve kept you awake even if I wanted to.” He stopped moving the frypan across the burner to give her a smolder.

“I’m awake now.”

He turned off the stovetop and upended the contents of the pan onto a large oval plate. She wrapped his large shirt around herself. “Can I help?”

He stopped on his way to bringing the platters over to the table. “I’d love if you didn’t cover yourself.”

She dropped her arms to the sides, allowing the shirt to fall open, giving him full access to her naked body.

He returned, slid his hands around her waist and pulled her into him. His teeth grazed the edge of her jaw, sending goosebumps across her skin. He stepped back, scanned her body, and exhaled a deep sigh. There was no question what that look meant.

He filled two large mugs with coffee, served the beautiful breakfast onto their plates and held her chair out to sit.

Ramona gave herself a moment to appreciate the perfection of the meal in front of her. Omelets, sausage, roasted vegetables, something that looked like a custard in a large ramekin.

“I’m sorry, no green juice. If you’d slept a bit longer I would have gone out to buy one for you.”

She placed her hand on his thigh. “This breakfast couldn’t be improved. Even with a green juice.” Her hand pressed into the muscle and squeezed.

Her stomach grumbled.

“Please… eat.”

Everything was as delicious as expected. Maybe even more so as her hunger blossomed. He’d already finished when she began on her second helpings. The custard ended up being the creamiest, most exquisite bread pudding and she considered picking up the whole container and licking it.

She caught him beaming at her. “I feel like you’re waiting for me to finish.”

“I am.”

The answer surprised her. “Why?”

“Because as soon as I’m done feeding you, I’m going to be fucking you.”

The spoon that was halfway up to her mouth dropped out of her hand, clanged on the side of her plate, thunked on the edge of her chair, then landed with a crash on the stone floor. Neither of them moved to pick it up. Instead, she stood up, popped a piece of sausage into her mouth, and strode down the hallway into the bedroom.

By the time he arrived, her shirt was on the floor, and she was leaning back on her arms in the center of the bed. His t-shirt and bottoms joined hers on the floor and then he was on top of her. All of him, hovering, holding, just above her but not any closer.

She tried to use her strength to get him to drop down, to eliminate any space between them. He stayed up on his straightened arms.

“I see you as clearly as I ever have. Not as a woman who’s separate from the girl I loved. The one I knew I would never stop loving.” He stared into her eyes. “But it’s not different for me. It’s all you and always you.”

Finally, he lowered himself, easing her thighs open with his own. He pressed into her, everything heightened by the tenderness from the previous night’s activities. With each stroke, he pushed in a bit further and she willed herself to relax, to stay present, to take him in. What began as a slow build escalated quickly into a frenzied reach to grasp and hold everything that was him. She could not get enough of his mouth on hers, his body in her arms, his cock inside her. She wanted all of him, leaving nothing for anyone else.

He slowed down, and she took his face in her hands. It was so hard to keep her eyes open as the waves of pleasure built with each stroke. He never broke contact.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

With excruciating slowness, he brought his full lips to hers, the weight of his body pressing into her. She pulled him tighter, closer, fuller. Her breath quickened, her hips bucked against him.

“Ramona… Tell me what you want. How can I please you?”

That question, from that man, a hair’s breath away from her flesh, created a pulling in her lower belly. A recognizable contraction before release. There was nothing left but to let him love her.

Still feeling the pulses from the orgasm that washed over her, she watched as his expression transformed from a focused intensity to the ecstasy of release. She cried out with him, everything dissolving into the song of their unity. He continued to pulse inside her for much longer than she’d ever experienced. She pulled him in tighter, wrapping her arms around his broad back, never wanting to let him go.

Their bodies dropped heavily onto the messy bed, sheets and pillows unnecessary in the tangle of bodies. As the minutes passed, her eyes stayed open just a sliver, breathing timed to the gentle stroke of his fingertips up and down her arm. He might have been drifting off to sleep. She kissed the tip of his nose and his eyes opened wide.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said, through a drowsy smile.

“I don’t want to sleep anymore.” Her fingers skimmed down his chest and belly, landing on the ever-hardening situation between his legs.

The amber of his eyes flashed as he rolled her on top of him. “Me neither.”

---

The morning drifted into afternoon in a steady stream of sex and sleep, punctuated by another luscious meal, leaving Ramona more relaxed than she’d been in a very long time. Their bodies molded, with a perfect seal, to each other.

“I love the way we fit together,” he rumbled into her ear.

Like a lock and key. Like friends who became lovers. That gap of so many years now meaningless. It all of a sudden struck Ramona as odd. Perhaps not relative to the greater issue, but odd nonetheless.

Of all the women he could have easily had, why was she the one in his bed? “I have a question.”

He didn’t even try to hide the stiffening of his body. “Okay…”

“Why did you want to be with me?”

“Ramona.” Her name sounded more like a growl than a word.

“Please. I want to better understand what we’re doing. Or at least why.”

A deep sigh lifted and lowered his chest. And then another. She bit her lower lip. Maybe he couldn’t answer this question, either. Maybe-

“You are the bravest person I know.”

Now, that she didn’t expect.

He cleared his throat. “You stood up to the scariest person I’ve ever met-”

“The Governor.”

“Yeah. It was amazing to watch you. Bold, fearless, with the ability to outsmart anyone. Even him.” He pressed a kiss just above her ear.

“I’m not sure I felt bold or courageous or any of that. It just felt like… survival.” The arm around her tightened its grip.

“I’ve never told you this, but even after we fell out of touch, you were always my inspiration whenever I needed some courage. When I left law school, when I had to confront my parents, all the degradation I was subjected to in culinary school and the apprenticeships. I would picture you, hair all over the place, pointing your tiny finger at your grandfather and letting him know what was what.”

“That’s pretty funny.” It was, but not the answer she was looking for. “But how about now, as we are? What makes you want to be with me?”

He laughed. “I see. You mean other than your pussy makes me believe in God?”

She spun around, eyes blazing. Surprise splashed into a hint of self-consciousness.

“Oh, you’re being serious.” He lowered his dark lashes. “Sorry. Alright, I’ll tell you why you’re here.”

He shifted their bodies, bringing himself face-to-face with her. Their eyes connected across the pillow. “You’re smart, one of the smartest people I know, but you never use it as a weapon. You’re committed to helping others while being surrounded by people who only ever want to take. You curse better than anyone I know. When you’re sleepy, you make a sound like a cat purring. You think about what you say and do before saying and doing anything. You-”

“Okay. Thank you.” Maybe this was more than she could handle.

His eyes narrowed. “Excuse me. I am not done.”

She nodded because, frankly, what else could she do?

“Let’s see, where was I?” He rubbed his chin. “It’s as if you’re made of steel and stone and bulletproof glass. But in reality, you’re like molten gold. Or melted cheese. Just so warm and wonderful. You’re who I’d want to be, if I weren’t me.”

Holy Mother of God. There was no point in even trying to keep herself together. She had to tell him…

He burrowed into her gaze. “Is that what you were asking?”

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean…” She ran her palm across his cheek, the stubble waking all her nerve endings. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you?”

“Why I’m with you.”

He put his hand on hers, then slid her palm to his mouth. His soft lips, warm breath, steady pressure raised the temperature of the room by several degrees. He placed both of their hands on the center of his chest. “No, love. I’m not going to ask you.”

Her spine straightened as if it had been animated by some outside force. “Why not?”

“Because I know you’re struggling. And conflicted. I don’t need you to declare your feelings under these conditions. I’m already asking too much of you.”

Reality pressed at the base of her throat, stealing her breath and her words. He was asking too much of her. How had she forgotten all of that? All those beautiful words he said did not make up for the fact that he still hadn’t told her the truth. And yet, something, maybe the fact that she was sex drunk, kept telling her not to run. Not to get lost in a story she didn’t know. If she could see this through, maybe something wonderful would be waiting at the other end. Or maybe something devastatingly awful.

---

She left him splayed out on the bed to head to the bathroom. She couldn’t remember ever being this sore. A glance at the clock glowing on the nightstand nearly made her trip as she tiptoed back to bed. It was three pm.

As quietly as possible, she gathered her clothes scattered around the room, each piece evoking a memory and its very own aftershock. Her body had clearly been rewired for orgasm, and even the thought of him gave her a lovely jolt. Fully dressed, she took in the sleeping vision. Who could imagine the most wonderful boy would have filled into a man that looked like that?

He fluttered his eyes open as she zipped up her jeans. His smile dropped as he bolted up. “What are you doing?”

“I have to go, Luc. It’s the middle of the afternoon. I’m surprised my family hasn’t sent a search party. I was supposed to be home hours ago.”

He rubbed his palms over his face then swung his legs around and stood up. His naked body nearly made her forget why she was leaving.

So tenderly, as if they hadn’t spent the entire day fucking, he ran his finger across her cheek and kissed her. She dropped the jacket that had been in her hands and wrapped her arms around him.

“I don’t ever want you to leave,” he whispered.

She held the breath that wanted to rush from her lungs and the tremor that rose up her spine.

“Is that too much for you to hear?”

All she wanted was to drown in the amber of his eyes. “You already know the answer.”

He nodded, a sad smile spreading across his face. She released her embrace and he stepped away, then began pulling pieces of clothing out of drawers.

“It’s okay, Luc, you don’t have to get up or get dressed. You relax.”

“I’m driving you home.”

“You really don’t-”

He stopped zipping his jeans. “I’m driving you home.” He softened his tone. “Please. I want to.”

She halted her movement toward the bedroom door. “Okay. Thanks.”

As she stepped into the hallway a sensation that might have been mistaken for a heart attack gripped her. Leaving that room, that house, that man, was exactly the wrong thing. It didn’t matter anymore what it looked like. It didn’t matter that a huge secret filled the space between them. All that mattered was being with him. Whatever situation had forced him into this engagement, she could help him. She could free him. They would figure this out together.

“Ready?” He put his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

But that conversation would have to wait. She had to get home.