I’m balancing on the edge.

Literally on the edge of the couch. But also on the edge of big life decisions. Do I run away? Leave the town where I grew up, the one I hated for a bit but have fallen back in love with? Or do I stay and work on my dream?

“I like you looking passionate.” Gavin’s voice dips to a gravelly timbre that settles low in my belly. “There’s nothing stopping you, you know. You’re kind of a badass but a totally likable one, so …” He gives my knees a tiny yank, and I yelp as my bum slides off the couch, landing solidly in the space between his crossed legs.

“God, are you okay? Did I break you?” I brace myself with hands on his shoulders, hoping I didn’t just crush anything.

Shaking his head, Gavin runs his hands up my legs until they’re locked firmly on the dip of my lower back. He pulls me in tighter to him, his smile stretching lazily. “So, the big question is, are you gonna take that boot in the backside”—he slides his hands down and gives my ass a strong squeeze—“or are you gonna be the one delivering the ass-kicking? ’Cause I’d hate to see any harm come to this glorious piece of art.”

“What about you? Are you a Cali boy now? Because, if we’re really talking about my hopes and dreams …” I don’t know that I can take that last step and finish my thought.

“I like Cali, but I don’t want to live there. I plan on going out there when I have to, but I see myself settling on this side. Might be interested in a place outside the rush of the city though. Lots to think about.”

His fingers drift up underneath my sweater, and my skin tingles into goose bumps at first contact.

“You’d live here? Not by your family?” I wrap his hair around my fingers until the hint of a groan rumbles through his chest.

“Sasha’s here. My parents’ll visit if both their kids are up here.” He pushes higher, trailing the band of my bra, seeking permission. Teasing me.

Frustration bubbling, I let go of his locks and whip my sweater up and gone. And, though I’m ready to jump back in, devour him, lick his plump lips, Gavin pulls back, putting space between us that I didn’t plan on—and sure as hell don’t want.

He slides his hands up my torso. “I’ve dreamed about this”—he burns a path up my sides, pausing at my purple lace bra—“prayed I’d get to see this again.” He dances higher until his palms rest on the front of my shoulders. “What the fuuuck?” he groans, drawing out the word, pushing me so that I’m arched back over the edge of the cushion. “Gracyn, what … is that?”

He turns me, bends me, moves me so that he can see the script along my ribs. It seemed so right at the time, like the perfect thing to ink into my skin for eternity. Probably everyone thinks that though. And, in his silence, I start to wonder if I made a mistake. Not for me. I will carry Gavin’s words with me always. But …

“When did you do this?” he asks, pushing at the band of my bra, fully exposing my tattoo. Tracing the lines from his song.

One kiss, and I was done. Baby, you’re my one.

“The day after Lis sent me the song. I’m sorry. I thought it was perfect, and I wanted you there, close to my heart but only for me. Didn’t want to share that with the world. I’m sorry.” I reach for my sweater, ready to be away from his assessing eyes.

“Don’t you dare cover that up. This … you’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. And it’s true; God, is it ever true.” He pushes us both up off the floor and grabs my hand. “Which room is yours, G? I want to see you. Need to see you lying out for me.” He leads me down the hall and stops between the two doors. “Right or left?”

I pull him to the right, into my room, not caring in the least that my bed isn’t made. With a flick, my button is undone, and I push my jeans down my thighs, stepping free and kicking them toward the pile of clothes in the corner.

I can feel his gaze on me before I see it.

“Christ,” he breathes as he steps into me, trailing a finger down my chest, flicking the cluster of deep aubergine crystals on my bra, nestled between my breasts.

My skin almost burns as his eyes linger over his words. Tapping the simple script, he murmurs, “Gonna spend some time here, but mercy, woman, look at you.” He grips my hips, walking me backward until my legs hit my bed. “Lie down for me, right in the middle.”

I had every intention of taking my time and maybe taking a couple of pictures with my phone because, my God, she is spectacular. But seeing my words etched into her skin, her breasts perfectly contained in deep purple, and those tiny lacy shorts hugging her hips, no fucking way do I have that kind of control.

I reach behind my head and pull my shirt off, dropping it to the floor. My girl’s a mess, and I love it.

Kissing and licking, I crawl up her body, pausing to inhale her scent, tasting her through the lace of her panties before adding them to the growing pile of clothes. I reach down, adjusting my dick in its almost painful confines, certain that my zipper’s etching a permanent brand down the length.

“You should lose those,” Gracyn whispers as she slides her legs back in place along the outside of mine.

“You think?”

She hums a, “Yes,” and pulls herself upright, curling her fingers around my waistband.

I hiss as she grazes the head of my cock, sending a surge of electricity straight through me. Gracyn smirks, pops the button, and shoves my jeans down until I kick them to the curb as well.

Impatient as all fuck, I want to dive right in. I want nothing more than to sink into Gracyn and lose myself in her, but a selfish prick I am not.

Gracyn, however, has other plans. She pushes me back onto the bed and straddles my hips. Reaching up behind her, she unhooks that bra, sliding the straps down her shoulders. Holding it in place in front of her until I pluck it away and fling it across the room.

Wanting her closer to me, I say, “I need to see this better,” and trace her tattoo with my thumb.

She cups her breasts, pushing them up and together, and that fucking view is the stuff that songs are written about. Her breasts are like a gift, a treat I can’t wait to taste. I sit up, catching her off guard, and lick one of those dusky-pink nipples caught between her fingers. When she pulls her hands away and twists them in my hair, I wrap my lips around the tip of her gorgeous tit. Licking, sucking, and nipping that piece of flesh until she is panting and writhing on my cock. The sounds she is making are like a sweet melody, but I want her screams. Those are the lyrics to our passion.

I wrap my hands around her hips, pressing my fingers into the soft curves, my thumbs pushing her back, palms pulling her forward, sliding her along my dick until she finds a rhythm and takes over. With her tits in her hands and her pussy rocking, I drop my head back and watch her. The way she moves is sensual and sinful. The way she feels and sounds … I need more. I want more.

I run my thumbs on the soft flesh at the crease of her pelvic bone and thighs. The smell of her arousal has me salivating. One lick through her panties wasn’t enough. I position my palms under her thighs and pull her core directly to my mouth.

With a squeak of surprise, Gracyn grabs hold of her headboard as I place her knees on either side of my head.

“Ride my face, baby. I want to drown in you.”

Gracyn looks down at me with the same heat I’m sure is reflected in my eyes. Slowly, she lowers her core over my chin, giving me a chance to inhale her musky scent. As if defying nature, my dick gets harder. All I can think about is making my girl come apart.

Rocking her hips up to my lips, I open my mouth and flatten my tongue against her. I give a slow lick from her opening to her clit, and she tastes every bit as good as I remember. I want to drink everything she has to give me.

I suck and nip that bundle of nerves, using my lips, teeth, and tongue. All the while, Gracyn does exactly what I asked of her—riding my face.

All too quickly, she’s falling apart with a shudder, and her hips buck as she wrings out every last bit of her orgasm. I move my tongue lower to lap and savor every drop of her. When she finally stills, I move her down my body, lining my cock up with her core once again, and I look at her. With her brow covered in sweat and a post-orgasmic flush to her skin, Gracyn is the most beautiful woman my heart has ever known. My chest fills with pride, as I know I’m responsible for the slumberous look in her eyes.

Wrapping her in my arms, I roll us, ending up almost hanging off the bed. With a yelp, Gracyn grabs on to me, digging into my shoulders. I scoot us back to the center as best as I can, not wanting any space between us now that I have her pressed to me from chest to hip.

With a tilt of my hips, I rub my cock through her slick heat, bumping against her clit with each thrust—creating friction that, no matter how good it feels, it isn’t quite enough. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get inside her soon.

“G, babe, tell me you have a condom. Please say you do,” I murmur into her neck as I kiss and nip my way to her collarbone. That delicate line leading me to the soft swell of her breasts.

Breathlessly, she says, “I don’t. Shit, I don’t.”

I still, knowing full and well that, if I don’t, I might actually die of desire. But, since Gracyn isn’t in my brain, she keeps moving, picking up my slack, oblivious to my precarious situation. I haven’t felt like this for ten years, easy—like I could blow this whole thing before we really get started.

“IUD.” She grinds against my hard length. “Clean.” She thrusts her hands into my hair, pulling so that she’s staring right into my eyes. “Tell me you are, too.” She rocks her hips back until I’m all lined up, just waiting for the green light.

“I am.” I nudge her opening.

“Tour? Groupies?” she asks.

“Nope. I couldn’t.” I lock on her eyes, so she understands … knows the depth behind what I’m saying. “My heart wouldn’t let me be with anyone but you.”

And, with her heels digging into the backs of my thighs, she breathes, “Please.”

And I push in until I’m buried in her, completely surrounded by her. Absolutely consumed by her. This is it, the best possible death, because, surely, this is nothing short of heaven.

I pause, allowing us each time to adjust, the magnitude of this moment taking my breath away.

“You okay?” I grunt, molars grinding together.

“God, yes,” she pants and squirms. “You? Please say yes … I need you, Gavin. I need you to move.”

Slowly, I rock my hips, pulling almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Slow and deep, probably too gentle, but damn, I’m on the fucking brink.

“Please, Gavin, more …” One hand holds tight to my hair while the other claws at my ass.

I lean my forehead to hers and drag out before thrusting deep.

“Please …” One heel slides down my leg until her foot rests flat against my calf, locking me in place, leveraging against me—with me. She’s driving the tempo, trying to take control. “God, please …”

“Fuck no, you don’t.” I push my knees tight up against the backs of her thighs and snap my hips, causing Gracyn to gasp as her inner muscles flutter and contract. I squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth, hoping I don’t get to the point where I have to start going over chord progressions in my mind. I thrust, adjusting ever so slightly, until I feel it—that spot deep within that makes her shudder and gasp. Beg and pant. Say my name like she’s whispering a prayer. And I thank God himself when she tips over the edge, when she falls and cries out and comes undone.

I draw out her orgasm, thrusting through it, my own crashing through me like a tidal wave.