“You’re never really going to know, but when the right time comes to say it, you’ll feel it in your bones. Don’t ignore that feeling—or you’re going to regret it later.”

—When to Say ‘I Love You,’ Heartmakers.com

I open the door and Chance comes through with the last of my boxes, setting them down inside the door with a small grunt of effort. Now my new apartment is a maze of boxes and sunlight, and it’s going to take forever to get everything unpacked and in place. “I still think,” Chance says, wiping sweat from his forehead with his shirt and revealing those amazing abs that I’m thinking about licking now, “that it would be easier if you just moved in with me.”

“And my reason for saying no is still the same,” I say. “I’ve never lived on my own before. I want the chance to have my own space, even if you are going to be here most nights.”

He grins. “Fair enough. By the way, I got a heads up from the lawyers just now. Strict house arrest and a ban on accessing the internet for the duration of that house arrest, which is five years. He’s going to be pretty bored.”

I raise my hand and he high fives me. “Thank you, you’re my hero.” Chance has been so great through this whole ordeal, making sure that I had to see the hacker, who’s name is David, as few times as possible while still making sure that he got the absolutely harshest punishment for the crime.

“Does that make you a damsel in distress?” he asks, pulling me closer so that I’m pressed against his body and can feel his growing erection.

“It makes me a damsel who’s horny,” I say, rocking my hips into him. “Even though there’s no furniture to fuck on.”

Chance sweeps me off my feet and then we’re on the floor together. I wore a skirt today, because it’s hot as fuck and I needed something light. He has my skirt up around my hips and his pants undone in record time. “I think I’m not the only one who’s horny,” I say, laughing.

“You’re right about that,” Chance says. I hear the wrapper of a condom, and his erection is resting against my ass. He guides it into me with certainty, and I gasp, because this position allows him a different kind of deep thrust, and I know it’s going to make me come apart.

His chest is against my back and his hand is under my hips, teasing my clit and rocking me back into him. “As a hero,” he says, his words punctuated by his thrusts, “it’s my job to make sure my damsel is very satisfied.”

“How will you know when I’m satisfied?”

“I’m not sure,” he says against my ear, “But there are a lot of walls and floors in this place, and I plan on using them all to fuck you.”

“Oh God.” The way he talks turns me on even more, and the red fire of arousal curls through me like a flame.

Chance stops talking then, holding me still while he fucks deeper, harder, and I’m filled with him until I’m almost bursting. “Yes. Yes. Yes.” It’s a chant that’s echoing around the apartment. I know this is going to be fast. We’ve been flirting all day, and I’m too aroused to last long.

His Prince Albert is pressing against me in exactly the right way, and I come, hard and fast. I feel it spilling down my legs as he continues to fuck me, grunting with the effort. The pleasure is red-hot, consuming me and remaking me, and I’m still in the middle of the orgasm when he comes, sending me over again into a second level of pleasure. It always takes us a few minutes to come back to ourselves, but we do.

He cleans up and joins me on the floor, pulling me into his lap so we can rest against the wall. “See?” he says. “We don’t need furniture.”

“I guess we don’t.”

Chance weaves his fingers in my hair softly, pulling my head back for a kiss. “I don’t need anything, as long as I’m with you.”

“You’re right,” I say. “It’s enough.”

The moment hangs between us, the unspoken I love yous passing between us. And then there’s a light in Chance’s eyes and he grins at me. “You have a lovely kitchen island in this apartment.”

“And?”

He shrugs. “It’s not furniture, but it’s close enough.”

“You make a good point,” I say, laughing.

He lifts me off the floor, and tosses me over his shoulder and I squeal while he carries me to the kitchen. “I can’t think of a better place to taste you than in the kitchen,” he says, laying me across the island. “And that’s just the start. I’ve got so many plans.”

I can’t speak, because his mouth is already on me, and the pleasure is carrying me away.

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