What a night.

At the first crack of light through the solid black curtains on my window, I see Gwen sacked out on the other side of my king-sized bed. She’s sleeping on her stomach, her blonde hair rayed out on the mattress, her arms splayed, her naked back smooth and tempting. The sheets bunch just below the curve of her spine, barely covering her beautiful ass. I start getting hard, because that ass is mine. Or at least it was last night, more than once.

I roll to my side, lean on my elbow, and prop my head in my hand and watch her before she opens her eyes, because what if Gwen goes back to being … well, Gwen? What if she wakes up embarrassed because now I know that dirty talk turns her on? Then what if she gets the morning-after regrets, even though she showed absolutely no sign of regretting anything last night? She shocked the shit out of me with her wildness and how she was so open to me — in a lot of ways. She also surprised me by casually suggesting that she wanted to come over to my house. Like I could’ve misinterpreted that, and even though I broke several traffic laws on the dick-pounding ride over here, I gave her every chance to back out.

Didn’t happen.

I touch the tip of my index finger to the middle of her back, then slowly trace down her spine. I don’t know whether I’m trying to wake her up or let her get some well-deserved slumber, but I can tell you what’s rising and shining elsewhere in this bed. Blood rushes to my groin as I skim down to the small of her back, and it’s time to make a decision: wake her up or take another cold shower?

As I look at her peaced-out face, my better instincts win out. A cold shower it is.

After I’m done, she’s still sleeping, and I go to the kitchen to put on some coffee. The Sunday sun eases through my kitchen window, which has a view of Marloe and its tall buildings down the hill. I bought this old house back when I first started earning a decent amount of money — enough to help Mom out, too — and every year I give it a bit of a facelift: new flooring, a new workshop in the backyard, a renovated bathroom, a refurbished family room …

I hear water running in my bathroom, and my body burns again. The aroma of coffee is strong, and by the time Gwen makes her way into the kitchen, I’m feeling just as fired up as the brew I’m making.

Somehow I manage to look casual as I take two mugs out of my windowed oak cabinets and set them on the herringbone glass-tiled counter. “Morning.”

She’s wearing that sweet, blue-flowered dress from yesterday. Without her usual jeans and henley, she seems softer, more open, and goddamn does she have a pair of legs. I was especially appreciative of them when they were clenched around me half the night.

She pushes the hair back from her face, and just when I think she’s about to go all shy and reserved on me, she gives me a bold look, running her gaze from my bare feet, up my jeans, and over my naked torso. She lingers on my wet hair, then smiles to herself as she takes a seat at the trestle table. When she stretches her arms over her head, my gaze latches onto her breasts. I’d give my soul to see them again, to feel them in my hands and taste the tips of them …

“Boy,” she says. “I really slept, didn’t I?”

Uh, you did a hell of a lot more than that, remember?

She lowers her arms. “I slept better than I have in ages.”

“Maybe it’s because you wore yourself out.”

She laughs and holds back a smile, then shrugs. “I guess I did.”

Good. She’s not pretending like nothing happened. “Coffee?”

“Actually, I can’t do caffeine. It gives me the hyper-jitters.”

The last thing I want is to get her back to jittery, and I go to the pantry and open the door. I pull out a bag of decaf and hold it up to her as I return to the counter. “I got you covered.”

“You drink the weak stuff?”

“It’s not for me. I keep it around just in case.”

“Just in case of …?”

Now it’s my turn to shrug. “For guests, who don’t like caffeine. Guests who come over in the evening.”

She leans her elbow on the table and rests her head in her hand. “You mean for women who come over in the evening and need coffee in the morning.”

She doesn’t sound jealous or pissy. In fact, she’s kind of amused. A little jealousy might’ve been nice, but as I get a second glass pot out of a cabinet and set about making her coffee, I brush off the thought. I’ve been too busy with the Climax build to have any women over lately, and now that I think about it, none of them even compare to Gwen.

I stop in the middle of scooping coffee into the filter and … holy shit, it’s true. Ever since I first saw Gwen in the diner, she’s had my mind screwed up a hundred different ways. I’m even starting to question my personal pledge to not get serious.

I start coffee prep again, because didn’t she tell me yesterday that she wasn’t the dating type? Besides, once the diner reopens, she’ll go back to her true love — work. The only reason she’s letting me in now is because she and Milton’s are on a break from each other, and once the diner is back in commission, things will return to the way they were: with the two of us on opposite sides of the counter. Yeah, temporary is better with Gwen, because once I give her this coffee and she’s done with it, she’ll want to scoot back home.

Then I take another look at her still watching me with her head in her hand and a dreamy smile on her face, and I don’t want her to go anywhere. She doesn’t even hide the fact that she is smiling this morning. She’s afterglowing as much as I am.

So … progress? But where could we possibly end up with each other besides at a brick wall? I haven’t even thought of what’d happen if a good girl like her found out about my past …

“What do you think about some breakfast?” I ask. “Eggs Benedict? Pancakes? Waffles?”

“Wait, wait. I’m still back on Eggs Benedict. Are you fancy in the kitchen, McMuscles?”

I grin. “I’m pretty good at finessing whatever I set my mind to.”

Her gaze goes hazy, as if she’s thinking about how I finessed her last night. I’m sure as fuck thinking about it, too, and my cock starts throbbing.

Grit laces my voice. “In fact, I’m going to keep finessing you, Gwen, starting right after breakfast.”

“You … are?”

She’s thinking what I’m thinking — about returning to that bed and making good use of it. But I’m in the mood for some teasing, and I go back to being the hard-to-get guy for just a minute. “I thought I could finesse you today by taking you out to the botanic gardens. Then brunch at the café there. They serve it with champagne if you’re feeling daring.”

“And here I thought you meant a different kind of finessing,” she says playfully.

“I just said I’d start there.”

Temptation brightens her blue eyes, but then she sits up in her chair. “I’m in yesterday’s clothes, Quinn. I can’t go anywhere but home.”

I knew there’d be some pushback, but I’m not giving up. “I guess you would need a change of wardrobe. Luckily, Marloe has clothing stores and I’ve got the time to take you to one.”

“Ladies’ clothes shopping?” She eyes me like I’m being ridiculous. “You?”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’d far rather see you taking off dresses than trying them on.”

This time, I brush my gaze down her body. I’m talking about this dress in particular. I’d like to see it off in the next heartbeat, and she bites her bottom lip, moving around in her chair. Then something wicked pulses in her eyes, and she reaches up to the top button on her dress. She slowly undoes it. As she unlatches the second one, I discover that she doesn’t have on her bra.

She pulls the material down over her shoulders just enough to show me the tops of those small but sweet breasts, and I’m all done being hard to get. I turn off the coffee and start walking toward her.

“I just remembered,” I murmur. “I didn’t show you my rainforest shower last night.”

She smiles and undoes the next button, utterly undoing me, too.