“Hey, are you finally free for lunch today?” Alyssa asks me, tapping her nails, now done up like rainbow unicorns, across the top of the cubicle. She shoots a smug glance down at Patty, so I know it’s driving her crazy.

“Uh, yeah,” I tell her, clearing my throat.

“Good. Because I’m buying,” she says and then lowers her voice. “We still have a lot to talk about, and every time I’ve come by here this week you’ve already gone out to lunch.”

“And gone for more than hour,” Patty pipes up.

I fight the urge to stand up and look over the partition to glare at her.

“Sure,” I say, giving Alyssa a measured smile. “Lunch is good.”

And she’s absolutely right.

The last two lunch hours this week I’ve been gone.

It’s no surprise where I’ve been.

Where Will’s been.

The only reason I’m sitting here now is because the Fox Studio executives are still in town and Will has taken them out somewhere for lunch. Otherwise I’d be back at his apartment for a quickie.

Fuck.

I’d give anything for that right now.

We’d only done this on Wednesday and Thursday, and now it’s Friday and my body is craving him like a damn junkie needing her fix. And the fix is forever and always Will’s cock.

Or his fingers. Or his tongue. Or his mouth.

God, he’s so good.

“Earth to Jackie,” Alyssa says and I snap my eyes open, forgetting that she’s still standing here and staring at me. “Let’s go now. Or are you busy napping?”

I hear Patty snort from the other side and I narrow my eyes in automatic response.

Soon Alyssa and I are walking past reception.

“Where are you bitches going?” Tiffany asks with a pleading look in her eyes, obviously wanting to come with us.

I’m about to invite her when Alyssa says, “We’ll be back soon,” shutting her down quickly.

I wait till we’re out the door before turning to Alyssa. “That was harsh. I think she wanted to get lunch with us.”

“Office politics,” she says with a wave of her hand. “And I wanted to talk to you about the fact that you’re sleeping with Will.” She shoots me a loaded look before she slips on her sunglasses. “And I wasn’t about to discuss that around anyone else but you.”

“Sleeping with Will?” I repeat, wondering if I have enough nerve to lie to her. And also strangely touched that Alyssa hasn’t gossiped about this with anyone.

“Oh don’t even think you can lie to me,” she says to me. “I will sniff out your bullshit in a second. It’s so obvious, Jackie.”

Oh god.

“Shit. It is?”

“Ah, ha!” she says, jabbing her finger triumphantly in the air as we wait at a crosswalk. “No, it wasn’t actually, but now I have the proof.”

Fuck. “You’re a sneaky bitch,” I mumble.

She jabs her elbow into me, laughing. “Sneaky Bitch was my nickname in high school. That and Captain Jugs.”

Now I’m laughing. I actually wish I had known Alyssa back in high school, she probably would have saved me from hanging out with a bunch of deadbeat losers.

“Captain Jugs, that’s awesome,” I tell her. “Mine was Jackie Pee Pee Pants.” She gives me the most horrified look. “But that was elementary school,” I add quickly.

“I’d hope so. Anyway, don’t change the subject. You’re sleeping with your boss and now you have to tell me all about it.”

I look around as we cross at the lights. I don’t even know where we’re walking to. I lower my voice. “You might not want to say that too loud.”

“So? Your dad isn’t in town.”

“Alyssa,” I say testily. “It doesn’t matter. No one can know.”

“And they won’t. For now.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, how long are you planning on doing this for?”

“Need I remind you that you were the one who said I could just fuck him and be done with it.” I pause, thinking it through. “You know what? This is all your fault.”

“My fault?” she cries out, as if I’ve dishonored her in some way. “How?”

I poke my finger into her shoulder. “You told me the ball was in my court. Remember?”

“And? Wasn’t it?”

“Yes but . . .”

“Look, Jackie Pee Pee Pants. You’re making this out to be far more complicated than it should be. You like him, he likes you. You’re fucking. What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem.”

She wiggles her fingers at me. “Your face tells me there’s a problem. Where should we eat?”

“I don’t care. Somewhere with stiff drinks.”

“You’re really becoming one of us, aren’t you?” She says this proudly.

We settle down at the Brix and Mortar, because every other patio is filled at this time of day. May can be wretched in Vancouver, or it can be glorious, and right now everyone is outside soaking up the sunshine like it might not appear for the rest of the summer.

In a way, it’s like Will and me. I feel like this week I’m soaking up every second I get with him, preparing for when reality slaps us both in the face and we have to call the whole thing off.

Fuck. It’s inevitable, really. This relationship can’t be more than sex without one of us or both of us losing everything else we have. And yet in a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to choose at all. It would be easy.

I find myself ordering a smoky old-fashioned, coming to like the strong sweet drink. Alyssa, of course, thinks I’m nuts.

“You’re becoming one of us, and he’s rubbing off on you,” she notes, sipping her wine.

“You got that right.”

“So tell me how it happened. Start from the beginning.”

And I do. I tell her everything starting at last Friday from the moment I stepped into Will’s apartment, getting ready for the gala, all the way to yesterday when he screwed me on the floor of his living room while the dog-walker was out with the dogs.

“I’m not sure I like you anymore,” she says, though her eyes light up when the plate of nachos arrives at the table.

I shrug. “I wouldn’t like me much either. I don’t have to tell you he’s incredibly good in bed. Sex should be his middle name.”

“No you don’t have to tell me, again, because you already have,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Plus, his middle name is Hung, isn’t it? Will Hung? Get it?” She sighs. “I’m so jealous.”

“Don’t be jealous,” I say, crunching on a chip and pondering the name Will Hung McAlister. “Okay, be a little jealous. But honestly, I don’t know where this is going. Where it can go.”

“Are you in love with him?”

The question is so point blank it catches me off-guard. The guac slips off the chip and lands with a splat on the plate. “What? No?”

“No, question mark?”

“No,” I repeat, more forcefully this time. “I mean, I care about him. Of course I care about him. And I love spending time with him. I love fucking him. I love being around him and staring at him and I think he’s one of the closest people to me, if not the closest but . . .”

“That’s okay, say no more,” she says. “You don’t have to decide right now. Your heart is still working on it.”

“My heart is working on it?”

“Working on being in love. With some people it doesn’t happen easily. The heart isn’t always a switch you can just turn on. But it does happen. And when it does, you won’t hesitate, not even with me. The light will go on. And you’ll know.”

I watch her for a moment. “How are you still single?”

She gives me a wry smile and sighs. “I’m afraid I’m too philosophical for most men, believe it or not. I’m sure one day I’ll meet someone who will take me for what I am, dare I say love me for what I am. But until then, I’m about having fun.” She pauses. “I’d say you should do the same but . . . no. What you and Will have is different.”

“We don’t have anything,” I remind her. “We’re just fucking. Just screwing. And it’s good. I want to keep it like that.”

A ghost of smile appears on her lips and she nods. “I get it. Well, here’s to that then. At least Will’s blessed dick isn’t going to waste.”

“Hell no it’s not,” I say, raising my glass.

But even as the conversation turns to other things, my mind is still stuck on her words.

My heart is working on being in love with him.

What if I don’t want that?

What if being in love is the last thing I need?

I don’t think I could handle it. Jeff destroyed me in more ways than one and it’s not even that he broke my heart. He ruined me, ruined my soul, my will to live, and ruined Ty. If I fell in love with Will and it didn’t work out? Oh, Jesus. How could I survive that? And how could Ty? Ty’s only been around him twice and he already adores the man. He’d be broken. I could never do that to him.

“Hey,” Alyssa says to me as we wait for our check. “Everything is going to be all right, you know that?”

I try to smile.

“You’re with the right guy,” she adds. “If there’s ever been a sure bet to stake your heart on, I’m pretty sure it’s Will McAlister. You just have to give him a chance. And fuck everybody else.”

* * *

When we get back to the office I’m sufficiently buzzed.

Luckily the office is half empty since everyone else seems to have had the same idea on this sunny Friday.

Unluckily, Will is back and in his office.

The moment I try and sit down at my desk, he’s beckoning me inside with his finger.

I sigh and follow him in.

The truth is, I’d follow him anywhere, but the lunch with Alyssa has me in a mood and now the drinks have lowered my inhibitions.

He comes behind me and closes the door, then wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me up to him. “How’s my dream girl doing?” he murmurs before he kisses me, long, deep and sweet.

And just like that, every worry I have is gone. I melt into his touch, into his arms, and I never want him to let me go.

“How is it that life can be so crazy, so chaotic, so scary,” he says as he kisses the corner of my mouth, “and yet one kiss from you and all of that goes away?”

I swallow hard, feeling a rush of emotion washing over me. I’m really regretting those old-fashioneds now. The last thing I need is to be this in touch with my feelings.

“How was lunch?” I speak up after a few moments, his hands getting lost in my hair. I’ve started wearing it down just because I crave this feeling, the way he brushes his fingers through, the way he pulls and tugs.

“It was good,” he says, gazing at me. God, he has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. Whatever I need to know I just need to look at them and they tell me everything.

“Good,” I say softly.

“You went for lunch with Alyssa,” he notes. “And I can taste Luxardo cherries on your lips. You had an old-fashioned. Or two.”

“What can I say, I guess I’m as old-fashioned as you are.”

“Cute,” he muses, kissing me again. “Since we both missed lunch, how about you come over now. Have dinner with me.”

I hesitate. “I don’t know.”

“I’m calling your mother and telling her I’m taking you out for dinner. Then I’m telling her about the team-building exercise. I’m guessing you haven’t run your brilliant idea past her yet?”

“Will, please, I can call her.”

“Nope,” he says, taking out his cell and jabbing the screen a few times until it’s ringing.

“Will!” I cry out, trying to take it from him but he blocks me with his arm.

“Yes, hi Diane, how are you?” Will says smoothly into the phone.

I grumble like a child, folding my arms in a huff as I flop down in the chair.

“Yes, well I’m sure he’ll call you when he gets a moment. You know how busy LA is,” Will says, rolling his eyes because he has to cover for my dad and his stupid Bermuda golf trip. “Listen, your daughter was working extra hard this week and I wanted to take her out for dinner. Is that okay? Good. I agree. She deserves a break. So you’ll take care of Ty? Perfect. I’ll let her know. See you later.”

I stare at him. “What happened to the team-building?”

“Something for another time,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “By the way, your mother says to enjoy yourself and order the most expensive dish on the menu. Your father is paying.”

Figures.

“Doesn’t it bother you, having to lie to them?” I ask. “They’re your friends.”

He shrugs, looks at me with an open expression. “No. Not at all. It’s none of their business what I do. Why, does it bother you?”

“No,” I say. Though honestly? I kind of wish that one day I could tell them. It would be in a different universe, somewhere where I never made any mistakes, somewhere I didn’t have so much to prove. Maybe a world where they don’t know Will at all and I could bring him home with his nice suit and charming smile and they could see how good of a man he is for me.

“Hey,” he whispers to me. “I don’t like seeing you frown. So none of that now, you got it? I’m taking you home, then I’m taking you out for dinner and that’s all you need to know.”

The rest of the day flies by, and soon we’re stepping into Will’s apartment and I realize how much it’s starting to feel like home to me, a feeling I quickly brush away.

The dogs are excited, as per usual, and they both fight for my attention, even Joanie who can hold back a bit. I like to think they genuinely like me now, not just as a human who gives cuddles and walks and treats, but as Jackie Phillips, Will Hung McAlister’s secret lover.

I admit there is a huge fucking thrill in having to sneak around like this. As much as I hate having to hide it, I’m also revelling in the fact that it’s forbidden romance at its finest. Aside from Alyssa, no one knows about our trysts together, no one else reads into our body language at work. No one knows that we play together just as well outside the office—or even better—than we do in it.

“I bought you something,” Will says to me after he’s come back up with the dogs, having walked them around the courtyard for their business.

“What?” I ask warily, perched on the bar stool, a glass of wine in my hand.

“You’ll see,” he says, disappearing into the bedroom.

I take a sip of the wine, waiting while Joanie and Sprocket start fighting over a dog treat I had tossed onto the floor while they were gone.

“It’s actually a few things,” Will says, coming back toward me. His hands are behind his back. He’s looking fucking amazing today in his teal dress shirt, the way it fits each hard line of his muscles. Especially now with his arms held back, his shoulders are popping against the seams, the color of the shirt bringing out the depths of his eyes.

I find myself biting my lip, more in the Pavlovian way that I’ve been trained for sex with him than the fact that he got me a present.

But then he holds out two bags, one eggshell blue from Tiffany’s and the other from Holt Renfrew. I want to grab both from him and peer inside, but at the same time I know I couldn’t possibly deserve it.

“You deserve it,” he says, reading me as he usually does. “You deserve everything, Jackie. I don’t want you to argue with me. Remember the rules.”

“I remember the punishment,” I tell him cheekily as I reach for the bags.

Knowing how much I’ve dreamed about having something from Tiffany’s, I save that bag for last and open the Holts one.

I peek inside and pull out a dress. It’s another Dolce and Gabbana.

I look up at him, feeling flustered. “Another D & G?”

His grin is nothing short of cocky. “Hey, I know they fit you now.”

This midi-length dress is also black, but with three-quarter length sleeves that cover up my arms, a lace-trimmed V-neck, and flattering ties at the waist. Colorful cocktails are printed all over it. It’s beautiful and fun and like nothing I currently own.

“Do you like it?” he asks, wincing because I haven’t said anything yet.

“I love it,” I tell him softly. “But . . .”

“No buts,” he says. “As long as you like it. It should fit you like the other one. You can wear it out tonight, or another night, or not at all, but it’s yours.”

I exhale loudly, not wanting to seem ungrateful. He gets so annoyed when I put up a fuss over things like this, which makes me realize I should accept that Will is the type of man to buy me things and I should keep my stupid mouth shut.

“I’ll wear it tonight,” I tell him. “Whenever you like.”

“It’s for you, Jackie, not me. Remember, I like you naked and often.”

I smile at him and start on the Tiffany’s bag.

This one is smaller of course and I take the blue box out, carefully unwrapping the ribbon.

He stands there, rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets, clearly enjoying my expression as I slowly open it.

My heart is starting to pound. I hope it’s not what I fear it could be.

An engagement ring.

But that wouldn’t make any sense.

He’s told me he’s falling for me, not that he loves me.

And I’ve never given him any sort of reason to think that I might feel the same.

Even so, I’m holding my breath while I flip back the hard box.

I gasp when I see what’s inside.

A necklace. Simple, silver with a heart-shaped diamond pendant. But the diamonds are huge and the necklace is beautiful and I can’t possibly accept this.

“Will,” I tell him, shaking my head. “It’s beautiful but I can’t take this.”

“Jackie,” he says coming over to me and taking the box from my hands. “You know how I feel about you. You know I want to do this. So let me do it.” He brings the necklace out and the way it catches the light of his kitchen, glimmering like a disco ball, nearly takes my breath away.

He spins the bar stool around and puts the necklace around my neck before spinning me back in place. He steps back and admires it. “It’s not a pearl necklace, but it will do.”

I let out a laugh. “I don’t know, I think I want a pearl necklace too.”

“After dinner, you hungry monster,” he tells me, grabbing my hand and pulling me off the stool. “Go take a look. If you don’t like it, I’ll take it back.”

I go into the bathroom, feeling unsteady on my feet after just one glass of wine. It doesn’t help that I wore my Louboutins to the office today and I’m still not used to walking in them. Once I’m inside, leaning against his marble sink and staring at myself in the mirror, I feel like I’m looking at someone else.

This isn’t the girl from up north living in fear, hoping that one day her life would make sense again.

This is the woman living here, whose life is finally coming together. It’s no longer a fantasy. The security, the safety, the hope. This is all real. And I have a big fat diamond heart resting on my collarbone that proves it to me.

Will said he was falling for me, but I know what this necklace means. It means what he’s been afraid to tell me. It means I have his heart.

And I realize now, staring at my reflection in his mirror, that his heart is all I’ve ever wanted. Even when I didn’t know otherwise.

Easy now, I remind myself, taking in a deep breath through my nose. You’re controlling this ride. You can get off at any time.

Pun not intended.

And I know . . . why, why would I want to?

I don’t let myself finish that sentence.

I leave the bathroom and give Will my most reassuring smile when I come out.

I’m sorry, I want to say to him. I’m sorry I’m kind of crazy. I’m sorry that I might break your heart. I’m sorry I have problems that might burn this all to the ground. I’m sorry that I don’t think I’m ready for what your beautiful heart is giving me, and I don’t mean the gifts.

But I don’t say any of that.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him, trying to keep the tears from my eyes.

“Good,” he says softly, pressing his lips together as he nods. “I’m glad.”

Oh jeez. Those eyes of his. They pull me in. They make me throw everything away and just give myself over, body, heart, and soul.

But I don’t. Not even my body, not yet.

He takes me out for dinner instead. We go to Rodney’s Oyster House just down the street from his building.

I wear the dress because it felt right. It looks right too (though I should probably size up to a twelve next time), hugging me in all the right places, making me feel like a million dollars. Probably because I am wearing a million dollars.

Will feeds me oysters which I slurp down gleefully in between dark draft beers. Every now and then I catch him looking at the necklace and smiling to himself. Every time that happens I feel my heart being pulled toward him.

He tells me stories about growing up on the west coast of Vancouver Island, how he basically grew up in a trailer in the woods, later upgraded to a yurt before yurts were even cool, and how his mother was a hippie.

“I can’t believe that,” I say to him. “You, who looks like he was swimming around the womb in a suit.”

“Believe it,” he says. “I was raised vegan. I attended many solstice ceremonies. I actually kind of liked that lifestyle. As a kid it was mysterious and fun.”

“And when you escaped from that world you went the opposite?”

“Pretty much. I guess. I’m not even sure it was a conscious decision but it definitely looks that way now.” He pauses, wiping his lips with a napkin. “To be honest, I never rebelled against it. It just happened. I have deep respect for my mother and her lifestyle. I guess it just wasn’t me.”

“But that’s a creative lifestyle. And you’re an artist. That came from somewhere.”

“I suppose. My mother likes to make sculptures.”

“And now you’re sketching again.”

He nods. “Something has me inspired.”

His eyes trail over my lips and rest there. Then he looks away. “I hate to say it, but it was actually my father that encouraged me to draw.”

“Your father? I thought he died when you were five.”

“He did. But it was that year that he told me I was good at it. I had just done doodles before, like any other kid, but I guess he liked them. Or maybe he just felt guilty and had to say something. Either way, his encouragement stuck.”

The muscle along his jaw is tensing and I get the feeling that this conversation is making him uncomfortable. I know it’s horrible of me to want to see Will in this state instead of his usual calm and easy one. But I say, “Why do you say he felt guilty?”

He purses his lips for a moment, staring off into space before fixing his eyes on me. There’s a world of pain in them. “Because he used to beat the shit out of me.”

His admission nearly knocks me off the stool. Everything inside me sinks, like stones through water. “He beat you?”

“Yes,” he says with a nod, staring down at the oysters now. “Most nights. I think my mother too, though she never talks about it.”

“Oh my god,” I cry out softly, reaching across the tiny table for his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

He glances at me briefly. “It’s okay. It’s just life. It happens to a lot of people . . .”

“But you were so young.”

“I was. But it happened and it’s over. He died before he could do it for much longer. Drinking and driving accident.”

I’m beside myself with his news. “Oh god.” No wonder he was so understanding about what happened with me and Jeff. “Will . . .”

“Please,” he says, voice clipped as he fixes his gaze on me. “It’s in the past and I’ve dealt with it. Counseling for both me and my mother. It’s still there but it’s also gone. That’s the best you can hope for. It’s made me a better person, made me realize I’ll do anything to never become like my father.”

“You could never be like that,” I tell him, holding his hand tighter.

“I know,” he says. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t know that.”

“I feel like an idiot bringing up the cartoons now,” I say to him.

“Jackie,” he says imploringly. “First of all, the fact that my father encouraged me to draw means I have one good thing to latch onto when I think about him, and I think everyone deserves to have one good thing about them. And second of all, it’s called fucking animation, kid.”

I shake my head, punching him lightly on the arm. “You’re becoming like the rest of them.”

“You mean the stoners who spend their nights at the office, washing up in the bathrooms and living off the vending machines? No thank you.”

“Guess you wouldn’t have the money.”

“No. And I wouldn’t have you.”

“You could have had me. Maybe not as an assistant . . .”

He tilts his head back, looking down at me. “You mean to tell me that if you were at this bar right now and you saw me here sitting alone, you would come up to me?”

“Oh hell no,” I say, then grin at him. “You would have come up to me.”

“Maybe,” he says carefully. “You run a little hot and cold, I hope you know that. I wouldn’t know what signal to pick up on.”

The thing is, I don’t want to run hot and cold with him. I want to run hot for him all the time.

“So what signal am I putting out now?” I ask him, even though I’m afraid of the answer.

“Well,” he says gently, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “You love the necklace. You’re happy with the dress. You want nothing more than to come back to my place after this and get thoroughly fucked. Show these oysters what they’re good for. And then you want to go back to your home and think about the millions of reasons why you shouldn’t be with me.”

I stare at him with wide eyes. God how can he be so accurate?

“You’re not the easiest woman to read,” he goes on. “But I’m learning. And what I’ve learned the most from this week is that you feel most comfortable when I back off and leave things in your hands. The only problem I have with that is, if it’s all in your hands, I might never see you again.”

I chew on my lip, trying to protest, to say the right things. He pushes my chin up so I’m looking right at him.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I know this is all new. I’m in your hands. Every single part of me.”

I believe him.

And that scares me too.

When we get back to his apartment after a few too many oysters and pints of beer, I’m just as amorous as I was earlier. If anything, the fact that he sat across from me for a few hours, in a public setting where I was too afraid to touch him, only made the desire more fervent.

Will shuts the dogs away in the spare room and by the time he comes back to the living room, I’m attempting to get out of my dress.

“Let me help you,” he says, coming behind me until he’s grasping the zipper and pulling it down. He does this slowly, like he’s enjoying the very tame show of my back being exposed.

Then he pulls it off all the way and I step out around the dress, totally naked except for my heels.

“Keep the shoes on,” he says, a look of wonderment in his eyes.

“I will if you sit down on the couch. Take off your pants first.”

“You’re bossy.”

“I’m bargaining,” I tell him. Then I put my hands on my hips, waiting.

He tries to smile as he strips, his pants falling to the floor. No surprise at all, he’s fully erect.

“Sit,” I tell him.

He does so and then raises one hell of a sexy brow at me. He starts moving down the couch until he’s halfway off, his back pressed against the edge. “Now you sit,” he says. “I’m bargaining too.”

Sitting on his face isn’t that hard of a bargain though.

I climb on top of the couch, gripping the backrest while I straddle his head, slowly lowering myself onto his face.

The moment his tongue makes contact with me, I feel like I am spiraling out of control.

“Fuck,” I swear, my fingers digging into the couch, my head going back. “You are way too good at this.”

“Getting you wet?” he asks just before he dips his tongue inside me and back out. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

I’d actually never done this before. The whole “sitting on a guy’s face” thing. I never thought guys actually wanted this.

But Will does.

I slowly grind my hips into his mouth, and his moans fill me from head to toe. When I glance over my shoulder at his body, I see his cock in his hand, slowly jerking himself off.

I want to watch this for as long as I can. There’s nothing sexier than watching a man pleasure himself and Will is more than adept at it, giving me pointers of my own. He knows what he wants, knows how to handle himself.

But as his tongue works me deeper, his mouth and lips teasing my clit, sucking it in and out of his warm mouth, the smacking sounds filling the air, I can’t focus on anything anymore other than chasing my own release.

I come fast, a rubber band inside that me snaps and snaps and I think I’ve ground myself so hard on Will’s face that he’s left me with rugburn.

I lean against the couch, breathing hard as Will sits up, with me on his lap.

“I never told you when to come,” he says, kissing my neck, his hand gliding down my side to my waist.

“Guess you have to punish me,” I tease him, still breathless.

“It’s not as much fun when you want it.” He presses his forehead against mine, both of us are damp with sweat.

“Is that so?”

“No, I’m lying,” he says. Then he reaches around and spanks my ass.

I yelp, the sting bringing my head out of the clouds.

“You’re a bastard,” I tell him.

“Only when I need to be.”

Then he grabs my waist with his other hand and pushes me down over his cock.

“Fuck,” I swear again as he fills me up, so impossibly full. This angle is plenty dangerous.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers in my ear, “you ride me and I’ll ride you. You want me deeper, you’ll have me deeper. You want just a tease, you’ve got a tease.”

I nod, adjusting to his size, to the rhythm of my hips against his, pushing down deeper and deeper on his cock until he’s in almost to the hilt.

I’ve never been a fan of the woman on top position, only because I like the man to take control. I like to feel wanted, dominated. But Will is turning it around for me. He is in control and he is dominating, every single thrust he makes up into me, every little circle of his hips. His hands at my waist are firm, determined. He’s working me, carefully, steadily, his eyes boring into mine and telling me just how much he wants me, how much he loves this.

I love it too.

Maybe too much.

I ride him on that couch for what feels like forever and no time at all. The slow, languid, sensual pace eventually turns to a frenzy, the slapping of skin, the splash of sweat as our bodies writhe and slam against each other.

And all this time he has a fist in my hair, holding my head in place, making me look at him. Even when I close my eyes for a moment in ecstasy, my mouth open and moaning, and I look back again, he’s still staring at me. His gaze is crazed and adoring, feral and tender, and mirroring everything I’m feeling inside.

“You want to come, Dream Girl?” he whispers hoarsely in my ear and I can hear the need in his voice.

“Yes,” I whisper back and he slides his fingers over my clit, setting me off like a bomb.

The orgasm radiates outward and I come with a choked-off cry, like the feeling is too much for my throat to handle. I buck and tremble and he’s holding me, trembling too, his big, strong arms around me, keeping me in place until we both ride out the orgasms.

“Jackie,” he says after a few moments of breathing heavily into my shoulder. “I don’t want you to go.”

Go? I hate that he’s reminding me of it, even though it’s the truth. I don’t want to turn into a pumpkin.

“I know,” I tell him, running my fingers down his gorgeous face. “I don’t want to either.”

“If you could just stay overnight. I want to wake up with you in my arms. I want to take my time and have breakfast with you.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

Something passes over his brow, an idea.

“What?” I ask.

“Come with me,” he says, sliding out from under me. He hauls me to my feet and leads me to the bedroom, pushing me on the bed and taking off my shoes.

“Not that I’m complaining that you think you can go again after that, but . . .” I say to him, wondering what he has in mind.

“Get under the covers. I hope you’re hungry.”

I frown. “What?”

“Just do it,” he says and watches until I’m totally in his bed, sheets up to my chest. I have to admit, it’s nice. And far too comfortable. “I might fall asleep,” I tell him. “I have to get a cab home.”

“We’ll call you one in a bit,” he says, leaving the room. “Just shut your eyes.”

“But I’ll fall asleep,” I protest, but the words come out like whispers. My eyes drift shut. Sleep comes for me.

And then the smell of bacon tickles my nose.

Am I dreaming about bacon?

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,” Will says, standing at the foot of his bed, completely naked except for an apron, holding a plate of . . . breakfast?

“What is this?”

“Breakfast in bed.”

I glance at the clock. “It’s midnight.”

Shit. My mother is going to kill me.

“Perfect. That means it’s the morning.” He comes around the side of the bed and hands it to me. “Here.”

I look down at the plate. Hash browns, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a grilled tomato. It’s the real deal.

“You just did this?” I ask.

He nods. “Yup. Quickly learned that I shouldn’t fry bacon naked. You were out like a light for about ten minutes.”

“Where’s your plate?”

“It’s coming,” he says, disappearing out of the room again.

While he’s gone, I poke the food with my fork. Strangely enough, even though it’s the middle of the night I’m awfully hungry. All that sex makes you famished and oysters and beer aren’t necessarily the most filling meal.

I take a tentative bite of the eggs. They’re good. Really good. A spice that I can’t even recognize.

“How is it?” he asks when he comes back, his own plate in hand.

“What is this spice?” I ask him. He gets in the bed beside me. “I can’t place the flavor.”

“It’s a type of mild curry powder,” he says proudly. “Told you I knew how to do a good breakfast. Now you just owe me a homecooked meal one day.”

“Is Hamburger Helper okay?”

He grins broadly. “I’ll take whatever you’re dishing me, Dream Girl.”

The two of us sit in bed and eat our breakfast. Maybe it’s not the same as staying over and waking up in each other’s arms, but it’s a pretty good substitute.