“You never do,” I whispered through a smile as my hands moved down the cut planes of his stomach, settling on the seam of his jeans. Now this button my fingers managed to tug free in the space of one surprised inhalation.

“Luce.” There was warning in his voice, but also welcoming.

I chose to hear the latter.

Pinching his zipper between my thumb and finger, I slid it down, torn between wanting to savor the moment and wanting to let it devour me whole. Done with the zipper, I folded the material of his jeans down and slid over him, moving down his body until I could feel his warmth between my legs.

He growled, moving beneath me, making me gasp out loud.

“Damn it,” he muttered as both arms wound tight around me right before he slammed the brakes. His arms held me firmer than any seat belt could have.

“I thought you could handle it,” I breathed, smirking at him.

His chest rising and falling hard against mine, he met my smirk with one of his own. “I was wrong.”

And then his mouth covered mine, his hands forming over my face. His body pushed against mine, bowing my back over the steering wheel.

“Yes?” I managed to get out against his unyielding mouth. It was a one worded question he didn’t need any further explanation to. It was one I’d been asking a while. One he’d never agreed to, up until tonight.

I felt his smile against my mouth as his tongue teased mine for another moment. Holding my face as firmly as one could and still be considered gently, his mouth left mine, his eyes taking their place.

“Hell, yes,” he replied, his smile a dichotomy of peace and conflict.

Every muscle in my body clenched in anticipation. This was it. Finally. The man who’d slept with more women than I cared to know was finally allowing himself to sleep with his girlfriend.

“Are you sure?” he asked, looking like he’d bust something if I answered in the negative.

“I’ve been so sure I went on the pill the week after we got back together,” I said, sliding up and down over his lap. He groaned again, his head falling back against the seat. “Are you sure?” I asked, moving a bit faster to sway his response.

“Luce, I’ve been so sure I went and got tested and have been carrying this rubber around in my back pocket since the day we got back together,” he said, grinning that tortured kind at me.

I formed my hands around his face, tracing the scar that ran down the length of his cheek with my thumb. This man was everything I wanted‌—‌in every way a woman could want a man‌—‌and at last, I could have him the last way I hadn’t.

“I love you, Jude,” I said. Because that was all there was left to say.

The lines of his forehead ironed out. “And that makes me the luckiest bastard in the world.”

I smiled at him. “Come here,” I said, holding his face while lowering my mouth to his. “I want to know how the luckiest bastard in the world makes love.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said before fitting his lips to mine.

His hands had just found their way to the button of my jeans when a blinding set of headlights exploded into the cab.

I groaned, covering my eyes with my forearm when the driver flicked the truck’s brights on.

“Shit,” Jude cursed, looking over his shoulder.

The truck door exploded open, followed by some male hooting and hollering.

“Expecting company?” I sighed, covering myself with my other arm as I worked my way off of his lap. It was painful, separating myself from that what-could-have-been.

“Not exactly,” he replied, folding himself over my lap and grabbing my sweater. Lifting it over my head, he pulled it on, holding each arm for me as I worked each arm in. The sweater felt scratchier than it had five minutes ago.

Jude had just lifted his zipper when someone threw themselves against the driver side door.

“Ryder, man!” one of Jude’s teammates hollered through the pane of glass, appraising the two of us. “You getting your freak on with this fine minx?” Looking at me, Jude’s teammate wagged his brows. “You lucky bastard.”

Looking my way, Jude smirked at me. “Told you.”

A fire crackled at my feet, the stars blinked above me, Jude’s arms held me tight against him, and the sound of an entire college football team belching their way through “Hey Jude” serenaded me.

“I can’t believe this big night I thought you’d planned for us also involved more than fifty football players,” I said, tilting my head back against Jude’s chest so he could see my expression.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, kissing the lines of my forehead. “I thought we’d have a couple hours to ourselves before these animals showed up.”

A couple hours? I would have settled for, oh, about fifteen minutes.

The belching chorus came to an inconclusive ending, the temporary silence only to be interrupted by a chorus of flatulence. I groaned, closing my eyes and pinching my nose.

“Man, that was lame, Ryder.” Tony’s, Jude’s number one wide receiver, unmistakable voice hollered across the campfire. “If I was trying to win a girl back, there’s no way I’d go through the whole effort of bribing her roommate to get her to some mixer so I could have the DJ serenade her with some suckass oldies song why I professed my undying love to her.”

I opened my eyes so I could deliver a glare through the fire at Tony. I loved the guy, his infectious character was impossible not to, most days. This wasn’t one of those days.