“Whyyyyyyyy?”

“Stop being lazy!”

I grin. “No.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’re saying? No? No response to me calling you lazy? No explanation? Nothing?”

“Nope. I am being lazy, and you know what? I want to be.”

“Such a bad influence. What am I supposed to tell the boys?”

“That you’re dating a brilliant woman who realizes that, contrary to what the population would like us to believe, it’s perfectly okay to be lazy once in a while. God gave himself a day. Why can’t we? We aren’t meant to run constantly.”

“So, you’re doing nothing today?”

“Day of rest,” I say by way of explanation.

“For real?”

“For real.” I sit up from my place on the couch where I’ve been relaxing, reach over to grab my iced tea off the coffee table in front of me. After taking a sip, I sigh contently and sit back.

He nudges my leg, jostling it around. “Come on! Let’s do something. I’m boorrrred.”

“You’re bored,” I deadpan.

“Yes.”

“You’re thirty-five years old.”

He nods then shrugs. “And I’m a thirty-five-year-old man who’s bored.”

“You’re worse than the boys.”

“Well, the boys are playing football with their buds, and I wasn’t invited.”

I giggle and roll my eyes. It’s been three weeks since we were first together, and there’s been only a few days we haven’t found time alone.

The slow burn of our relationship seemed to go up like wildfire, and there’s no way of putting it out.

“Fine.” I sigh like it’s a huge burden to spend time with him. It isn’t. Not in the least. And if I know Andy, I have a very good idea how he wants to fix his so-called boredom. “What do you want to do?”

He waggles his eyebrows at me, smiling wolfishly before taking my kindle out of my hand and placing it on the table. He crawls up my body, situating himself firmly between my legs, forcing me to lie back on the couch.

“So, when you said you were bored…”

“It’s hard being bored,” he says pushing himself against me.

A giggle bursts out of me. “Oh, my goodness did you really just say that?”

“You bored?” His lips are on my neck, causing a delicious shiver to pebble my skin.

“No. I’m a grown up.”

“I distinctly remember you telling me that you were in the mood for exercise and needed a cure for your boredom.”

“I don’t…”

I’m cut off by the feel of his hands working their way up my shirt, lifting it away from my body, as his fingers blaze a trail across my stomach.

He leans back, looking down at me before swiftly removing my shirt over my head, my hair tie that was haphazardly wound around my hair flying across the room in the process.

He smirks at my lack of bra, and I shrug.

I told him it was a day of rest, so I was giving the girls a day off from the confines of a bra, too.

Before I can say a word, his mouth is on me once again, his tongue making no pit stop to ask for entrance or to see if I’m ready by taking its sweet time.

There’s no grace.

He’s forceful and strong.

He tastes like the cinnamon gum that he’s always chewing and smells delicious. A combination of his body wash and outdoors and just a tiny hint of sweat from his run over here.

His muscles are firm under my fingertips while I let them move over his hot skin. They flex under my touch, and when I feel for the hem of his shirt, he wastes no time in pulling back, helping me to remove it.

Our bodies come together in a sweat-slicked collision, my breasts pressed against his bare chest. The small amount of hair that speckles his chest causes a friction against my smooth skin that makes my stomach tighten. I wrap my legs around his waist, needing some sort of pressure to help relieve the sudden ache.

That’s the thing with Andy that I’ve never had with anyone else.

I can be feeling my ugliest, wearing no makeup, pajama pants, and a T-shirt that I’ve had for decades, glasses covering my eyes rather than my contacts, and he’ll make me feel more beautiful than a Victoria’s Secret model. The way his eyes devour every inch of me, his heart beating wildly beneath my hand, and his body’s reaction to me that I can feel so fully pressed against me makes me feel like I’m Wonder Woman.

Ten minutes ago, I was in the mood to do absolutely nothing. I was all settled in for a full day of being lazy and honestly was looking forward to it.

Doing nothing just got run over by a steamroller, and now all I can think about doing is… Andy.

“Andy,” I moan, stretching my neck to the side as his mouth makes its way from my mouth down my jaw, continuing its jaunt until he’s found my overly sensitive breasts. Getting older isn’t entirely for the birds. I’m hornier than I’ve ever been — though that could be only because of Andy — and my breasts have become so tender, so sensitive, that I can go from zero to holy-moly-I’m-going-to-come-from-one-swipe-of-the-tongue in seconds.

“Whatcha need, baby?” he mumbles, still taking his time to kiss, suck, lick. He bites down gently, causing sparks to shoot from my fingertips, and I arch my back in response.

“You,” I gasp.

“Oh, you’ve got me.”

“Now, Andy!” I scream, but I’m still soaring. Flying through an orgasm so rapidly I should feel in danger of having a heart attack.

He lifts his head as I’m coming back down, my nails digging into the back of his head, and he smiles.

“Still lazy?” he jokes.

“For the love, Andy. How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

I don’t answer him. I stare into his eyes, so happy and full of life. Of love. I pull him down to me, taking his mouth with mine as I tug on the waistband of his shorts. He helps me push them down, allowing my hands to immediately go to his ass. The tightness of his cheeks spurring me on.

“So damn sexy,” I whisper.

A slow smile spreads across his beautiful face.

I lift a hand and trace one of his cheekbones.

He captures my hand and kisses the tip of each of my fingers; a jolt of electricity shoots through my body with each graze of his lips.

“Hang on, baby,” he commands, wrapping my arms around his neck and motioning to my legs to grip tightly around his waist.

In one swift motion, he lifts, bringing me with him, clinging to him like a spider monkey.

With a grunt he stands, pushing his shorts the rest of the way down and steps out of them as he walks us in the direction of my bedroom.

He lays me down gently on my bed, spreading my tangled mess of hair out all around me.

“You deserve more than a quickie on your couch when I’m in the middle of my run.” His eyes are assessing me, taking in every inch of my face.

“What?”

“You’re worth so much more than that. You’re worth… dammit, Christine. You’re worth all of it. I know we haven’t been together that long, and you might think that I’m just rebounding from her, but that’s not it. You. You’re it for me. I can’t believe I spent so many years without knowing that, without you in my life and taking over my thoughts. But I want you to know, this isn’t just some passing thing for me. This is everything.”

I bite my lip, but the sting of tears comes anyway. I can’t stop them. The floodgates are opened, and it’s all his fault.

“I love you, Andy.”

His thumb swipes away a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Well that’s good because I sure as hell love you.”