I barely have time to get more of a fleeting impression of the house before Jason pushes open a door that leads to his bedroom.

He sets me on the side of a massive bed that’s covered with a navy blue and green velvet bedspread and settles beside me. His warm thigh presses to mine. He keeps one arm looped around my waist, his hand curved around my hip. I swallow. The sudden change in our position makes him seem larger and more imposing than he did when we were in his small car.

As if sensing my sudden trepidation, he slides a finger under my chin and gently urges my head around until I’m staring directly into his eyes. He leans closer and places a light peck on my lips.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers.

In the face of his genuine concern and caring, my trepidation melts like frost in bright sunlight.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

I lick my lower lip. The movement catches his eyes, which darken. Moving with exquisite slowness, Jason leans forward to kiss my lips.

My heart pounds slowly against my sternum, each beat marking the amount of time it takes him to close the distance and touch his lips to mine.

Even though I know it’s coming, I shiver at the connection. His lips caress mine, once, twice, a third time. Despite the layers of clothing I’m wearing, I feel his grip tightening, his fingers biting into my hip. I lean into him and part my lips, sending him a silent invitation, one that he readily accepts.

His tongue slides between my lips, brushing mine in a way that causes brilliant red and yellow fireworks to explode behind my closed lids. His kiss is more intoxicating, more addictive, than any drink I’ve ever had.

I wrap my arms around his neck, threading my fingers into his hair, and press myself against the hard expanse of his chest.

I want—no, need—to feel more of him. While our mouths continue to tease and torment with little nips and long explorations, I fumble with the buttons of his shirt. It’s more complicated than it should be. Jason’s taste makes my fingers clumsy and the way his teeth close on my bottom lip make it nearly impossible to stay focused on my task.

Finally, the last button slips through the hole and I push the shirt off his wide shoulders, revealing his exquisite chest.

Jason’s hands glide up my body until his hands grasp the collar of my coat. He slides it off me and tosses it to the floor before reaching for the bottom of my thrift store sweater.

“No.” I reach down and wrap my fingers around his thick wrists.

His eyes widen and he draws back, confusion replacing desire.

I realize he doesn’t understand, that he thinks I’ve changed my mind.

“No.” I soften my voice. “Not yet. I want to look at you.”

Understanding dawns and a bright smile unfurls across his face. He leans back on the bed, bracing himself on his elbows. “So, do you like what you see?”

“Very much.” I knew he’d look different than he had seven years ago. Even with clothes on, it was impossible to not to notice how much he’s bulked out in the last seven years, but I hadn’t realized just how much until now. Seven years ago, he was lean almost to the point of gauntness, but now he is built, seriously built.

If Greek statues were capable of feeling, they’d be jealous of Jason’s chest, which is far more impressive than theirs.

I reach out and place my hand against one of his pecs, thrilling in how big and solid it feels beneath my touch. “Spend much time working out?”

“A bit.” Jason moves my hand. His eyes capture and hold my own as he raises my hand to his mouth, turning it so he can bite the tender underside of my wrist. His tongue sneaks out and licks the same place, easing the sting of the bite and causing my stomach to twist as my heart rate doubles.

“It looks good on you.” I lean forward and scrape one of his nipples with my teeth. He gasps and a shudder runs through his body.

“Enough,” he says, twisting away from me. “It’s my turn.”

He tugs at me until I’m stretched out beside him. Again, he reaches for the bottom of my sweater but this time I make no move to stop him, submitting as he folds the hem upward and pulls the sweater over my head.

For the first time since getting into his car, a wave of insecurity washes over me. Jason’s not the only one who’s changed in the past seven years. But unlike his, which has done nothing but improve, my body bears the marks of motherhood. I love Kelsey, but hate that my body will never be bikini ready ever again.

Jason props himself up on one elbow and stares down at me. It takes all my self-restraint to lay still and not use my hands to cover myself.

“Beautiful,” Jason murmurs, his voice little more than a guttural growl. “Simply stunning.”

He reaches out, cupping my left breast in the palm of his hand, his thumb rubbing against my nipple through the material of my bra. I bite my lip to silence my instinctive cry. The touch is so simple, so basic, something the average eighteen-year-old experiences on a regular basis, but it’s been so long since I’ve felt the touch of a man, it’s enough to steal my breath and send a wave of euphoria crashing through and over me.

Jason shifts on the mattress. His mouth closes over my neglected right breast. I arch my back, using my body to beg for more.

I’ve relived the memory of the night that Kelsey was conceived a million times. I thought I remembered it with perfect clarity, but there was one aspect of Jason’s lovemaking I had forgotten.

He doesn’t rush through anything, preferring to see to his lover’s needs before he even begins to consider his own gratification. Each touch, whether it’s made with his hand or his mouth, is long, slow, and sends tidal waves of desire rushing through me. And one touch isn’t enough; each time I gasp with pleasure, it encourages him to repeat the motion over and over again until my brain glazes over, and over, and over...

As much as I appreciate the gesture, I’m already teetering on the very edge of climax, and as good as his touch feels, I know that when I come, I want him inside me, matching me stroke for stroke.

Determined to speed things up, I run a hand down his chest and trail it across his flat, washer-board stomach, and still lower until it brushes his erection through his pants.

He shouts and reaches down, catching hold of my hand with bruising force.

He rises up, placing a light peck on my mouth, silently apologizing for his temporary roughness. “Easy,” he murmurs. “We’ve all the time in the world.”

Oh God, I’m already about to explode from the rising pressure his touch creates. If he takes any more time, the suspense will kill me.

Somehow, he must have picked up on my desperate need, because he unhooks my bra and buries his face between my breasts, inhaling deeply as his hands find my belt and undo the buckle.

My fingers clutch at his hair, holding him in place while his hands unfasten both my belt and my jeans. I brace my heels on the mattress and lift my ass, making it easy for him to slide my jeans and damp panties off my hips.

With exquisite, mind-blowing slowness, he pushes the denim down my legs, his hands caressing and massaging every single inch of skin as he goes. Each touch sends a shockwave of electric pleasure that’s so intense it borders on pain shooting through me. I squeeze my thighs together in a desperate attempt to hold off my inevitable orgasm.

If Jason doesn’t hurry, it’s going to be a solo journey.

I close my eyes and try to will my ardor to cool, just for a few moments.

Jason lifts his head. I sense him looking his fill, taking in every aspect of my appearance. I should be embarrassed, but I’m too far gone to care.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs as he dips down for another kiss.

“Thank you.” I reach out and trail a hand down his back, loving how he shudders against my light caress.

Deciding that turnaround is fair play, I slide my hands along his waist and unfasten his pants, shoving them in the general vicinity of his ankles.

He rolls on top of me. Our legs tangle and I thrill at the sensation of skin rubbing against skin. I’d forgotten how good it feels.

With shaking hands, I drag his mouth down to mine and kiss him. It’s not a gentle kiss, but rather one that demands a response. Luckily, Jason is ready and willing to give as good as he gets and I realize that his slow, considerate style of lovemaking is impacting him as much as it is me.

“God, Ella,” he moans. He moves away from my mouth, kissing a trail over my chin, down my throat, until returning to my thrusting breasts. At the same time, his hand glides south, smoothing over my stomach until it reaches my very core. He cups my mound, and his touch feels like a hot brand as one finger strokes my lower lips, testing the moisture that’s been gathering there since before he placed me on his bed.

“Jason,” I cry out from between gritted teeth. I thrust my hips upwards, begging for more of his touch.

“Like that, huh?” he chuckles against my breasts before nipping at one nipple. The unexpectedness of his teeth against the darkened skin nearly brings me off the bed.

In response to my thrusting hips, he slides a finger inside of me while simultaneously continuing to lavish attention, first on one breast and then the other. In the background, I hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper.

“More,” I whisper.

In answer to my demand, a second finger joins the first, stretching me. A nail brushes my G-spot, causing my head to whip from side to side on the pillow while I buck so hard I nearly knock Jason off my body.

Sensing I can’t take any more of his slow, delicious torment, Jason nudges my thighs apart and settles between them, before guiding one leg up and over my right hip.

He pulls his fingers free, replacing them with the head of his eager cock, which presses against my hungry entrance.

I half-sob with desire, desperate for the release I know is coming.

Jason’s cock is way bigger than my vibrator, something that becomes increasingly clear as he enters me, one slow inch at a time. The pleasure is still there, but it dims in the face of the discomfort of being stretched more than I have been in a long time.

I bite my lip and force myself to relax.

“Easy,” Jason murmurs as he continues to press forward until his full length is encased within me. He stills and kisses me, hard, drawing my lower lip between his teeth as he gives my body time to adjust.

Slowly, almost experimentally, he starts moving, slowly stroking in and out of me. My body kicks in, doing what nature meant for it to do and providing the lubrication needed to ease his passage while his own sweat-slick skin rubs against my aching breasts.

I press my thighs against his chest, urging him on as my heart hammers a rapid tattoo against my ribcage, beat for beat, matching the throb between my legs.

Over and over again, moving in the same slow, steady manner that has characterized his lovemaking, Jason’s hips thrust in the age-old mating ritual.

I clutch at his shoulders, my unmanicured nails biting into his flesh, encouraging him to move faster, to pump harder.

For the first time, he responds to my demands.

I cling to him as if my very life depends on it.

We’re both moving toward a mind-numbing orgasm. The question is whether or not we’ll reach it together.

Jason utters a guttural cry and thrusts into me with more force, his hips slamming into mine so hard he scoots me across the mattress until my head bumps against the headboard, but I don’t care.

An answering jolt shoots through me, causing every single nerve ending to spring to life until I’m afraid I’ll explode from the inside out, that the pleasure will cause my very essence to splinter into a million pieces.

I squeeze my eyes closed and ride the rippling waves of pleasure all the way to their completion.

Jason makes one last shuddering thrust before collapsing on top of me.

Even as the last aftershocks of my climax vibrate through my limbs, a warm sensation of tenderness fills me and I wrap my arms around him, stroking his back and murmuring meaningless, soothing words until we fall asleep.