We were lying on my mattress in my nearly empty room. Even with all of my childhood furniture gone, I was trying hard not to be weirded out, especially not after he’d just had his mouth, his hands, his body all over and inside mine. He propped himself on his elbow and faced me. I was still breathing heavily from the orgasm he’d just given me, but my eyes were open, looking at the popcorn ceiling.

“Why do they texture ceilings?” I said. “It’s so pointless.”

“Is that really what you want to talk about right now?”

No, it wasn’t, but I also didn’t want to look at him just yet.

“No holds barred,” he reminded me and tapped my temple three times. Tap, tap, tap. “What’s going on up there?”

“I just can’t believe you’d get married,” I whispered. I felt him stiffen beside me and knew he was probably wishing he hadn’t gotten off the ceiling topic, but I couldn’t leave it alone. The idea had haunted me since he’d told me about it. “What if you happen to meet the woman of your dreams, and you’re wasting time by being married to another one just for the sake of a contract?”

He laid his head beside mine. His breath tickled my nipple when he spoke again. “Do you really think it’s likely that I’d meet someone like that?”

“You never know.”

“That wouldn’t happen.” He shook his head. “I know it wouldn’t.”

“But how do you know?” I pushed back, needing space to think and desperately wanting to look into his eyes. The second I did, I regretted it. His sad and hollow expression hit me deep in my marrow, and not for the first time, I wasn’t sure I could be the one to fix this brokenhearted man.

“People like me aren’t meant to fall in love. We aren’t meant for others to fall in love with us either. I’m too closed off, too guarded, too . . . I just . . . you know how people talk about the perfect match?” He shifted onto his elbow. I mimicked the movement. “I don’t want that to ever be true for me because my perfect match would be hollow and afraid, and I don’t want to ever have to see that version of myself.”

I wasn’t sure what to do with his confession, so I said nothing. I’d always thought your perfect match was supposed to complement you in every way, but what did I know about perfect matches? The only thing I knew for certain was that the mere thought of him being like this with somebody else felt like a stab to my chest. His gaze broke away from mine and landed on my exposed breasts. I resisted the urge to pull the blanket back up.

“I feel shy,” I whispered, closing my eyes away from his heated gaze.

“Shy?” He chuckled, that deep sound that did crazy things to me. His nose flicked mine, and he said, “Open your eyes,” against my lips with this soft, gravelly voice that made my heart pitter-patter a little too hard for my comfort, so I took my time complying.

“I think we need the lights off.”

“I disagree.” He moved so that I could see all of him, but it also meant he could see all of me, which he had already done in New York. Why was this so embarrassing? I felt a flush creep up on my face. “I want to look at you.”

“You don’t need to look at me to fuck me.”

“But I want to.”

“I hate you right now.” I groaned, fighting the urge to shut my eyes.

He grinned, eyes dancing. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying, and I seriously hate you right now.”

“Hm. Come here, baby.” He leaned in and bit my bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth. He grabbed me with ease and positioned me so I was straddling him, his hard length between us as he took in every inch of me. “Show me how much.”

My heart pounded as I braced myself on his chest and sank down on him. This time, I did close my eyes, savoring the feeling and trying to control the moan that threatened to come out as he stretched me, filled me so completely. I found my rhythm, slow at first. Gliding over him, I threw my head back every time his thrust met mine and his pubic bone tapped my clit. Then he grabbed my ass and spread me, his hips coming up harder, faster, making me feel wilder, out of control. I lifted my knees and picked up the pace, bracing myself on his strong, thick thighs as his hands slid up my body, as his palms cupped my breasts, as his fingers rolled my nipples.

“Oh God,” I moaned.

“Yes,” he hissed right before he flipped me without so much as losing his rhythm. I was panting for breath, my legs over his shoulder and he entered me again, slowly, so slowly I thought I’d vanish before he completely stretched me. I whimpered when he stopped moving, let out a harsh breath, and looked down at me, his hair swirling onto his forehead, bobbing with his blinks.

“Okay?”

I nodded, lips parted as I looked up at him, my heart pounding so hard I was sure it would end up inside his chest instead of mine. When he brought his face down and slanted his mouth on mine in a slow, tender kiss, my heart stopped beating all together. He bit my lower lip as he thrust deeper into me. My breath hitched, my back arched with the torturous movement. He seemed to be pacing himself, or maybe just enjoying tormenting me by not giving me what I wanted. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted myself, pressing into him. His gaze found mine in a gasp, and for a moment, neither one of us moved. Then he started to fuck me, spreading my legs farther apart, gripping my inner thighs harder with each thrust. My back arched into his movements. I wasn’t sure how much more of it I could take. I wasn’t sure how much . . . his hand came down between us and found my clit, stroking it as he fucked me. His free hand moved to cup my breast, his fingers pinching and rolling my nipple. Sensation seared through my veins as we found our pace. I felt like a furnace from the inside, hot with each lick of the wildfire that seemed to consume me. He whispered my name, a vow, a pledge. I moaned out his with pleasure as I went over the edge and looked into his eyes as he bit his lip and spiraled down with me.