It’s Friday evening, and we’ve just landed back in O’Hare after close to a day of traveling.

FYI, best frigging flight I’ve ever taken. Screw joining the Mile High Club. Getting Morgan off with my hand under the blanket we were sharing while people were sleeping around us and then watching her have to bite her lip to keep quiet as she came, her eyes on mine—hottest thing ever.

I can’t get enough of her. I’m addicted.

When I was a kid, I went through this phase of being addicted to waffles. I had to eat them all the time—for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I’d eat them with all kinds of different toppings and side orders. But it was the waffle I wanted.

Drove my mom crazy.

Eventually, the addiction waned.

But I still have waffles all the time. Even now. Best food ever.

Morgan is my new waffle. I want her all day, every day, in any way I can have her. And I don’t ever see that ending.

We’ve just gotten our luggage. We have to use a cart, as, remember, Morgan doesn’t travel light.

We exit the airport, head over to the taxi stand, and grab a cab.

The driver loads our luggage in the trunk, and Morgan and I climb into the back of the car.

Then, I realize that this is it. The trip is over. We’ll go back to our respective apartments.

And I don’t know where we stand.

We haven’t talked about what this means, what’s going on between us.

We were too busy screwing each other’s brains out in the hotel and making out on the plane ride home to talk about the status of our relationship.

Are we in a relationship? Do I even want to be in a relationship?

I’ve never been in one before.

Don’t judge me. I’m rich and good-looking. Why would I have tied myself to one woman when I could have them all?

But, right now…I want to be tied to Morgan. Figuratively and literally.

“I had a really good time,” she says quietly beside me.

I turn my head to her. Taking her hand in mine, I lift it to my lips and press a kiss to it. “Me, too.”

The driver climbs in the cab. “Where to, folks?”

I stare at Morgan, my heart pounding in my chest. “Don’t go home,” I blurt. “Not yet. Come back to my place.”

Her eyes widen. “But…my luggage…”

“Bring it with you.” I turn in my seat to face her and take her face in my hands. “Stay the weekend. I just…I’m not ready…” I can’t seem to find the right words. All I know is that I’m not ready to let her go. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

A soft smile touches her lips. “I’m not ready either,” she whispers.

And my chest expands with happiness. I feel like I’ve just won the lottery.

I have. I’ve won the woman lottery.

Without taking my eyes off her, I say to the driver, “East Grand Avenue and Lake Shore, please, buddy.”

Then, I press my lips to hers and kiss her because I have to. Because I can.

Because she’s mine.

The realization hits me like a freight truck.

Morgan is mine.

And she doesn’t even know it yet. But she is, and I have no intention of ever letting her go.

Not that I’m going to kidnap her and keep her in my apartment—although that could be a good option, if she doesn’t feel the same way. Kidding. Kind of.

But, for the first time in my life, I want something real. I want something with her.

I want a relationship with Morgan.

Shocker, I know.

Ladies and gentlemen, Wilder Cross no longer wants to be a hot bachelor.

I want to be a hot…I don’t know. What do you call a guy in a relationship?

Boyfriend.

I want to be Morgan’s hot, sexy-as-hell boyfriend.

And the thought doesn’t make me break out in hives.

Well, fuck me sideways.

The more I think about this relationship business, the more I see the benefits.

As in lots and lots of sex on tap.

Sex with Morgan. Which, of course, she’s fantastic at. She’s amazing at everything.

Only I don’t know where her head’s at with it all.

I know she likes me. And she likes my cock an awful lot. But a relationship? No clue.

I could just ask her, which would be the smart and sensible thing to do.

But what if she doesn’t feel the same?

What if all she wants from me is sex?

Well, shit. I didn’t think of that.

She could just want me for the spectacular orgasms I provide and nothing else.

She seems to like me now, but she wasn’t exactly my biggest fan in college. Deep down, she might still think I’m that same prick she thought I was in college.

I know I’m frigging awesome. But that doesn’t mean she does.

Trust me, people can fuck each other without actually liking each other. All you need is sexual attraction.

How do you think Kanye got laid before he became a Kardashian?

Well, actually, that probably had a lot to do with money. Which I have in the bucketloads.

But Morgan isn’t a gold digger—cue Kanye tune.

Seriously though, she’s worked her ass off for everything she has. And she was never one to screw around in college. I actually don’t remember her ever having a boyfriend. Thank fuck.

So, she has to like me, right? It can’t just be about sex.

Okay, so now, all I have to do is spend this weekend showing her that being in a relationship with me is the best idea ever.

And I can do that.

Easy.