When Nora first saw the room outfitted like a costume shop, complete with purple twinkle lights and golden fleur de lis, her first instinct had been to giggle, but then Matisse had dropped his head into his hands and shook his head from side to side, and all humor left her. She examined the room closer. Sure, the phone was blaring a song about raising hell, but it happened to be one of her favorite songs, and Matisse knew that.

While his romantic gesture fell a little short of the mark, she could see the effort he’d made, and she loved it. The song on the phone changed, and she melted. It was in French, and she couldn’t understand it, but it reminded her of the last time he’d serenaded her, and she was filled with such love. Her throat tightened.

“I love it,” she said, and the next thing she knew, he was slowly dancing with her. He whispered the song into her ear and told her he loved her.

The edge of the bed hit the back of her legs, and she placed her hand on his chest, urging him to step away for a moment. Gathering her courage, she unhooked the towel, letting it drop to the ground.

Matisse couldn’t have given her a better reaction. His eyes widened, and he licked his lips. One step forward, and he was pressed against her. He ran his hands over her back then a little lower until his palms skimmed her butt. Keeping his eyes on hers, he lowered his head. Her eyelids fluttered shut just as their lips touched.

He kept his kisses light, like the touch of a feather. Slowly, each press lasted a little longer, his tongue tip touched her lip then retreated. As he guided her onto the bed, he never stopped kissing her. He hovered over her, hands holding him up, before he deliberately let his weight sink onto her.

She spread her thighs, making room for him, and he groaned. He wore a pair of stiff jeans, and as he rocked into her she winced. These would have to go. Without realizing it, she’d wrapped his shirt in her hands, bunching it in her fists. His skin grazed her knuckles, and she released the material, diving for harder, softer skin beneath his pants.

He wasn’t wearing underwear, and he hissed when fingers enfolded his length. Rearing back, he popped open his button and shimmied out of his pants before ripping his t-shirt over his head and lying over her again.

“Your skin,” he whispered, lips sipping at her neck. He scooped her hair back, tucking it over one shoulder to make room for his mouth.

Matisse was all lean muscle, and angles, but his skin was baby soft. He was a contraction of sensations. Her nails dug into his back, but there was nothing to hold onto, and they slid across his skin, scratching as she tried to grip him and pull him closer.

He flexed into her, his length nestled between her folds, rubbing against her clit, and she jumped. At her shoulder, he chuckled, proud of himself, and pushed himself up. The purple and green lights made shadows on his face, reflecting the green she’d never noticed in his brown eyes, and hollowing out his cheeks.

He dragged himself back again, and the smooth crown of his dick teased her entrance. When she thought he would thrust forward, he didn’t. Instead, he angled his hips to stimulate her clit. Shifting, he propped himself on one arm and trailed the back of his hand over her throat and sternum then pressed his hand, palm down, over her heart.

“Am I here, Nora?” His dark eyes, purple and green and then gold, flashed at her. “Will you keep me here?” His uncertainty undid her, and she held his hand against her heart.

“I love you.” She wanted him to have no doubt. “You have my heart. I’m not built to forget, or love less. You’re in here, and you’ll stay here forever.”

His eyes closed, and with a slight repositioning, lined himself up again.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and her eyes popped open. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them, but she was drowning in feeling. Matisse, who seemed so confident, sure of his intelligence and attractiveness, needed her. He was waiting for her to show him she was ready, not just to make love, but for whatever came next. This moment would seal their future, tie them together, so that no matter what, it would never come undone.

Holding his hand in place, she arched upward, and licked from the hollow of his throat to chin. He was salty. Her tongue rasped against his skin. Letting herself sink into the blanket, she did it again. This time, as she arched he thrust, pushing into her and seating himself deeply.

He stayed there as she adjusted to his size, and she focused on the feel of him. When he retreated, she clenched her inner muscles, wanting to hold him there. Her action had the opposite effect. It made something wild inside him spring to life, and he reared back and slammed back inside her, pelvis grinding against her clit with a quick twist of his hips.

The sounds leaving her mouth weren’t sounds she’d ever heard herself make before. Matisse was so tuned into her. If her breath caught, he smiled and repeated the motion. If she panted, he slowed, keeping her poised on the edge of an orgasm. It teased her, out of reach. Like a fire, it started with a comfortable warmth—a tingle in her stomach—but grew until she was inside the inferno, thrashing wildly. Still, she held onto his hand until he turned his palm in hers and slammed it into the pillow above her head. Now that he was deeper, sweat beaded along his jawline, dripping onto her face. When one perfectly clear drop landed near her lips, she licked it.

Matisse’s eyes widened, and he moaned. “Fuck, cher. Nora. Tell me you’re close.”

Watching him fight his orgasm was all it took for hers to engulf her. She shut her eyes, crying out as she convulsed around him. He continued to thrust, tiny tremors running through his body until he withdrew from her. He scooted down her body and lay his head on her chest.

She felt him move, heard the sound of something snapping, and realized with relief he was throwing away a condom. Slapping her forehead, she groaned. “Thank God you’re smarter than I am. I lost my head. Didn’t even think about protection. I’m so sorry.”

He kissed her breast, nuzzling the skin then settling back. “I’ll take care of you.” He yawned and wrapped an arm around her waist, throwing his leg over hers. “Promise.”

Nora melted. His words rang with truth. Before these guys, no one took care of her. If she didn’t look out for herself then too bad. She didn’t have to do that anymore. If she dropped the ball, one of them would be there to catch it.

She wasn’t alone.

Tears trickled from her eyes, and she rubbed her face against the pillow. Whatever shit she’d dealt with in her life, it was all worth it because it brought her Matisse and her guys.

Matisse gave a little snore, and she smiled. Closing her eyes, she stroked his hair from his face until she fell asleep, warm and happy.