When I wake up in the morning, it’s to the sun streaming in from the window beside our bed, and to a beautiful woman nuzzling deeper into the crook of my arm.

I gaze down at Celia’s dark wild hair, at the way her eyelashes fan out over her pale cheeks, at the way her chest moves slowly up and down, moving her full breasts lightly inside her skimpy tank top.

We had talked most of the night, until neither of us could keep our eyes open anymore. We’d fallen asleep just as the Chicago sky was starting to turn pink. Despite the fact that that was only a few hours ago, I still somehow feel as if I’ve had the deepest, most peaceful night of sleep in my life.

It’s like a weight has been lifted off me. I’ve never talked about my history with my brothers with anyone before, and for so long, it’s been like a festering wound. Talking to Celia about it was like ripping the Band-Aid off, and finding that the wound is actually more healed than you thought, and that with a little air, it might someday be nothing more than a faint scar. Suddenly it seems almost silly to be still hanging on to this thing from ten years ago — it should be something we can laugh about when we get together, not something that keeps us apart.

And I have Celia to thank for that. Somehow talking to her just feels easy. Natural. Like something I could do for hours, days, a lifetime. I’ve had my share of all-nighters in my life, but I’ve never spent one doing nothing but talking with a woman like that.

Something about Celia makes me want to let her in. It makes me want to let her see past the bad boy exterior, past the tattoos, past the chill bartender persona I’ve spent so long carefully cultivating.

I gaze down at her again as she stirs but doesn’t wake. I smooth down her hair and run my finger lightly along her jaw, admiring the sheer perfection of her face.

I realize with sudden heart-stopping clarity that I have feelings for her. Real feelings. Feelings beyond wanting to fuck her until she screams.

And the very idea fucking terrifies me.

Celia is too good for me. She’s smart and successful and beautiful — exactly why my family likes her so much, and exactly why she should never settle for someone like me.

I try to slip my arm out from underneath her but the movement jostles her, and her eyes pop open.

“Hi,” she murmurs, sleepily trailing her fingers along my bare chest.

“Hi.” My voice sounds hoarse, even to me, but Celia doesn’t seem to notice.

“How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” I admit.

“Mmmm. Me, too.”

She hoists herself up so that she’s propped up on an elbow and then she leans in and grazes her lips against mine.

The feeling of her mouth on me thrills me. A rush of blood goes instantly to my cock and I shift in the bed so that I can get a better angle. She presses her body against mine, smashing her breasts against my chest and rubbing her pussy along my thigh. Dear God, could this woman be any more perfect?

I run my hand along her stomach, sliding it under her flimsy tank top and she moans happily. She slips her hand beneath the covers and finds my cock. I’m already half hard, and her light touch is enough to get me the rest of the way. I nuzzle my nose against the hollow of her neck and let my groan vibrate against her throat.

Celia giggles, and the sound is like fucking angels tap dancing or something. Her hand slips inside my shorts and curls around my dick and I shift my hips to give her better access.

“Have I mentioned that I can’t get enough of your cock?” she murmurs, gripping me in her small fist.

“Yes, but you can tell me again,” I grin.

She laughs again. “Well, Jace Whittaker, I just can’t get enough of your monster cock. And I’m going to try really, really hard to get my fill before the week is up and this is all over.”

“Right.” Before this is all over. I watch as she crawls between my knees. The sight is a glorious one but all I can think about is her words — before this is all over.

Celia slips my cock out of my shorts, and then before I know it, she’s leaning over and flicking her tongue around the head. My body jolts at her touch, and at the way her dark hair is trailing down over my thighs.

She swirls her tongue all across the tip, getting me all wet and slippery before she pops the head fully into her mouth. It feels incredible but all I can think about is her words.

“Celia…” I don’t know what I want to say to her. I have a feelings for you? I don’t want this to end in a week? I want this to be real?

She looks up at me, her green eyes wide, lips wrapped firmly around my dick. It’s insanely fucking hot.

“Your mouth feels so good on my cock,” I finally say, because I can’t say any of the other things I want to say. We both know the deal here.

Celia grins, her smile forming around my shaft, and I have to grin back. I wrap her hair around my fist and move it back so that I can watch better. She starts moving her mouth slowly up and down, running her tongue all over the underside of my dick.

Her mouth feels like heaven, if heaven were warm and wet and soft. She looks up at me with those big green eyes, and I groan to let her know what a good job she’s doing, how much she turns me on.

She smiles again, as if pleased with herself, which is somehow even hotter than anything else.

She uses her hand to cup my balls and the way she tugs gently at them while she keeps working my cock with her tongue. I pull her hair a little, just enough to get her to look up at me again.

“I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” I pant.

In response, she tilts her head back down and takes me even deeper, so that I’m almost hitting the back of her throat.

“Oh, Jesus, Celia.” I grip her hair and move her head up and down on my cock, getting the rhythm just right. My balls start to churn and my cock surges and then …

“Fuck!” I explode into her mouth, sending wave after wave of ropey come down her throat. She wraps her lips tighter around me and swallows, using her hand to slowly pump every last drop from my tip.

I finally let go of her hair and lean back on my elbows, trying to catch my breath. She gives one last swirl around my cock with her tongue and then sits up on her knees. Her gorgeous lips are stretched into a smug smile.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while now,” she says.

I grin. “Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself, because I sure as fuck did. Now get over here.”

I pull her into my lap and run my hands up along her stomach, under that stupidly tiny tank top.

Like she says, might as well get as much of this in as we can, before the week is over.