The second I hear the bathroom door, I whip my head up like a dog waiting for his supper bowl.

Realizing I look too damn eager, I force my gaze back to the Sports Illustrated in my lap and feign interest in an article on concussions in the NFL.

But that makes me seem like a total douchebag, and besides, I can’t not look at Amber.

“Holy shit,” is all I can manage as she walks out of the bathroom in a robe that matches the one I’m wearing. But it’s a completely different garment on her, filled with lush curves and creamy skin and a sash I’m aching to tug with my teeth.

Control yourself.

My mouth has gone dry, so it takes me a second to form words. “You look amazing.”

She smiles and tucks her damp hair behind one ear. “Thanks. Sorry, I forgot to toss my dress out. Did I miss the dry cleaning guy?”

“Nope, not yet.” A knock sounds at the door, and I kinda want to ignore it so I can keep staring at her.

But I force myself up off the bed and grab the plastic garment bag that holds my own sauce-spattered suit. “You can throw it in here,” I offer, and Amber complies. Her hand grazes mine as she drops the dress in, and a pleasant electric surge vibrates all the way up my arm. I wonder if she knows how fucking beautiful she is.

The knock sounds again.

“Better get that,” she says.

“Yep.”

I march toward the door with the bag in hand and spend a few minutes conferring with a fretful-looking woman who frowns at Amber’s dress and mumbles something about it being a lost cause.

“It’s a really great dress,” I murmur as I slip her a crisp hundred. “See what you can do.”

I close the door and turn to see Amber perched on the edge of the bed. Her bare legs are crossed, and her damp hair frames her face. I didn’t notice before that she’d scrubbed off all her makeup, but she looks gorgeous without it. Sweet and flushed and maybe a little vulnerable.

“Hey there,” I say softly, adjusting the sash on my own robe.

“Hey yourself.” She swings her legs and gives me a nervous smile. “I was going to arrange myself on the bed like a Playboy model, but I felt like an idiot, so—”

“No,” I murmur, coming to sit beside her on the bed. “You’re not an idiot. And I don’t need you to pose or primp or do anything but be yourself.”

Her face tilts into a smile, but there’s still uncertainty in her eyes. “I’m a little nervous,” she admits.

“You mentioned that.” I reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind her ears. “How about we just talk?”

“Okay.” She smiles, but it’s a little shaky. “How’s your cat?”

I laugh. “He’s great. Cranky and full of attitude.”

“In other words, normal cat.”

“Yep. And don’t worry, I already called and made sure he’s being fed.”

I don’t know why I avoid telling her it’s my mother filling the supper bowl. Am I hiding something, or just weirded out by talking about my mom when I’m sitting half naked with the girl of my dreams?

Amber bites her lip. “Can I see your tattoo?”

The request surprises me, but I don’t question it. I reach up and slip the terrycloth off one shoulder and turn to give her access.

“Oh,” she says, sending ripples of pleasure through me as she traces it with a fingertip. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.”

“There’s something every guy wants to hear when he’s in bed with a beautiful woman.”

She giggles but doesn’t stop touching me. “Your fiancée had a matching one?”

“Toast with jelly.” I wonder if this is a weird thing to talk about under the circumstances, but Amber’s the one who brought it up. I’ll cheerfully chat about taxidermy or polio if that’s what will put her at ease. “I thought about doing a cover-up. I even had an artist sketch something up once.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I shrug, enjoying the tickle of her fingertips on my shoulder. “Same reason Greg and Aline left their candles lit, I guess. It’s part of me. Where I came from and what got me to where I am now.”

She smiles and rests her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes lock with mine, and I catch myself holding my breath. “I love that about you,” she says, and my chest tightens at the use of that word.

Love.

I know that’s not how she means it, but I can’t help that my brain goes there. “I love that you don’t cover up the past or bury things and try to pretend they didn’t happen,” she says.

My gut knots up like wet sisal rope, and I realize I’m clenching my jaw. I should say something. I should say something now, open up to her while I can.

But my thoughts skid off the rails as Amber’s hand trails from my shoulder to my chest. “Sean?”

“Yeah?”

“Touch me.”

They’re the sweetest two words I’ve ever heard in my life, and I sit there for a second just basking in the glow of them.

But a request like that calls for more than that, so I reach out and skim my palm along the side of her face. Cupping her cheek, I hold her gaze and smile. “I’m glad we’re here together.”

“Me, too.”

I lean in and kiss her, taking my time. I mean to go slow, easing into it, giving her a chance to pull back.

But something happens when my lips touch hers. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s Amber, or maybe it’s something chemical that ignites as my tongue grazes hers. She gives a soft little whimper and deepens the kiss, her fingers tunneling into my hair. Her mouth is minty, and I wish I’d bothered to shower or pop a Tic-Tac. But the way Amber is moving against me suggests she’s not exactly appalled by my contact.

“You feel so good.” She presses her body against mine, and I swear to God I’ve never felt anything so amazing.

She moans, and it’s like a fistful of pop-rocks going off in the center of my chest. My left hand drops to her bare knee, while my right trails slowly from her face down the smooth column of her throat. Her skin feels like heaven, softer than anything I’ve touched my whole life.

Her hands find their way inside my robe, and she rakes my chest with her nails. A ripple of pleasure chatters down my arms, and I stroke the curve of her hip with my palm. I let her explore, giving her a chance to get used to me. To be sure this is what she wants. Her skin smells like soap and I could lie here all day breathing her in.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” she says.

“Same,” I murmur, wondering if she has any idea how long I’ve wanted her.

Not just the Amber of my teenage fantasies, but this Amber. The real flesh and blood version who makes me laugh and ache and feel all kinds of things I never thought I’d feel.

I dot a slow trail of kisses down her chin, her neck, and into the hollow of her throat. She sighs and tilts her head back, giving me access to the most delectable cleavage I’ve ever laid eyes on.

The robe still covers her completely, and I ease it off her shoulders just enough to bare the tops of her breasts. I skim my lips over the curve of the left one, taking my time. She shivers, fingers curling against my chest as I move to kiss the top of her right breast. God, I love the sounds she makes. The soft sighs and whimpers, that sharp little intake of breath.

The robe slips down, revealing one peaked nipple, and I claim it with my mouth.

“Don’t stop,” she hisses through clenched teeth.

I draw in a deep breath, ordering myself to go slow. I want her so much, but I want to savor this even more. Her skin is unbearably soft, and the damp tendrils of her hair are a pleasant tickle against the back of my hand.

She shifts, and her left breast practically slides into my mouth. I devour it, unable to stop myself from tasting every inch of her. She’s so fucking sweet, so hot and soft and driving me crazy with those hungry sounds she’s making.

I ease her back on the bed, desperate to cover her body with mine. My hand finds the sash of her robe and I tug it open, baring her to me. “Jesus Christ.” My throat is tight, and I have no idea where this sharp clench of emotion just came from. “Look at how fucking perfect you are.”

She smiles, but there’s something unsure in her eyes. “Not perfect,” she murmurs. “Just me.”

“To me, you’re perfect.” I plant a kiss on her collarbone and notice she’s stiffened a little. “Are you good with this?” I ask softly. “The checkerboard’s right over there if you’re having second thoughts.”

She laughs and pulls me down onto her. “I want you,” she says. “In case that’s not obvious.”

“I’m glad,” I say, kissing my way slowly down the center of her body. Ribs, belly, hip…my mouth claims every inch of her like I’ve been starving for years.

The instant my tongue grazes the soft dampness between her legs, she gasps aloud. Her fingers clench in my hair as I bury my tongue in the sweetest spot it’s ever been. I circle her clit, and she cries out, arching tight against me. Her thighs fall open, giving me all of her. I’m mindless with the taste of her, with the sensation of Amber writhing against me, crying out, begging me not to stop.

Her nails claw my scalp, and I know she’s there. “Sean,” she gasps, and that syllable is like a rocket blasting through me. I cup her hips in my hands and stroke her with my tongue until I’m positive I’ve wrung every last drop of pleasure from her.

When she goes still in my hands, I look up to see her watching me from under her lashes. “Hi there,” she says.

I smile and prop my forearm on her thigh, resting my chin in my hand. “Hello yourself.”

“So was that a chef thing or what?”

“A chef thing?”

“The unbelievable affinity for oral.” She giggles, looking a little dazed. “That was—that was—” She laughs again and grabs hold of my arm to pull me up and over her. “That was so amazing I can’t even find words to describe how amazing it was.”

“You’re amazing.” I kiss the soft shell of her ear, wondering if she wants to stop here. I’m okay if she does, even though my dick is throbbing like a jackhammer.

Her hand slides down between us, and for a second, I think that’s what she’s reaching for. I’m braced for her touch, so I’m surprised when she fishes in her robe pocket and comes up holding something square and crinkly.

“Condom.” She gives a sheepish smile. “I want you to make love to me. Please.”

There’s that word again. Love. It should scare the ever-loving hell out of me, but it doesn’t. Maybe that’s the scary part.

I take the condom from her hand, my gaze holding hers. “You sure?”

She nods and gives me a small smile. “Positive. I need to feel all of you.”

That’s all the encouragement I need. I get the condom on, my whole body aching with the need to have her completely. God, I’ve wanted this for so long.

I shift my weight so I’m on top of her, positioned between her thighs. I’m right there, the tip of my cock grazing her warm center. I ease inside and watch her eyes go wide.

“You okay?” I breathe.

She doesn’t respond with words. Just grabs my ass and pulls me all the way in. I can’t help it; I groan aloud. She’s so tight and wet, and I catch myself growling as I pull back to drive in again.

“Oh my God,” she gasps. “This is—you’re so—”

I know.

Somehow I know what she’s saying, even though neither of us can find words. I’ve had sex hundreds of times before, but never like this. Never in a way that left me feeling so joined to another person that I can’t tell where her body ends and mine begins.

I claim her mouth again, our kissing more frenzied than it was just minutes ago. I can’t get enough of her, can’t begin to describe how good it feels to be inside her right now.

There’s a buzzing in my brain, and I curse myself for not being able to hold on longer. I mentally recite a recipe for lavender crème brûlée to buy myself some time.

“Sean.”

And I know she’s there again.

It takes us both by surprise, the sensation, the suddenness, the synchronicity of it all, and my God, the pleasure. She’s arching up against me, the pulses of her orgasm giving way to my own until we both lie spent in a tangled pile of sweaty limbs and pounding hearts.

When our breathing slows, I don’t roll off her. I anchor myself with my elbows to take the weight off her chest, and look down into those wild brown eyes. My heart swells so big I think it’ll pop.

“Hello,” I murmur, planting a kiss on the edge of her mouth.

“Hi,” she whispers back and smiles.

I press another kiss to her temple and one along her cheekbone, pretty sure I’ll never run out of spots on her body that I’m dying to put my mouth. “Would you believe me if I told you that was the most incredible experience of my whole life?”

“No,” she says, laughing a little. “That’s just the sex talking.”

She holds my gaze, and there’s something unsure in her eyes. Something that tells me we both know the truth.

“That wasn’t just sex,” I murmur into her hair as I roll off and pull her against my chest. “Not by a long shot.”

She snuggles against me, spine resting against my breastbone so I can feel my heart thudding against her. Catching my hand in hers, she draws it to her mouth and presses a small, achingly soft kiss at the tip of each finger.

“Maybe you’re right,” she murmurs, dotting one more kiss at the center of my palm before letting my hand fall against her.

I curve my fingers around her breast, savoring the weight of it, the feeling of her whole body pressed against me. There’s no other way to say this: I’m in love with Amber.

I’ve always been in love with her, but this is different.

I’m in love with the real Amber. Not some fantasy mermaid girl, but the one who makes me feel like this. The Amber who makes me my very best self. I love her so much I can’t breathe.

It’s too soon to say so. I know I’m a fucked up guy, and there’s a lot I’m not telling her. We’re a long way from discovering all there is to know about each other, and maybe she’d hit the road if I revealed it all.

But right now, lying here with Amber King, it’s as close to perfection as I’ve ever known.