“Oh, God.” I sighed, feeling like I could come now that he was all the way inside me. When his h*ps flexed, I almost did.

“Shit, Luce,” he said, breathing heavily outside my ear. “You really were ready.”

Performing that hip swivel thing that drove him up the wall, I moved his hand from my hip until it was covering my breast. “Then what are you waiting for?”

His hands squeezed both my hip and my breast, and then he started moving his h*ps more. I’d wanted hard, and that was what I got.

Each time he thrust into me I was sure I was going to come, but I didn’t. This time I was the one waiting for him. The table started wobbling beneath me as he picked up his pace. My fingers drilled into his back; all I could do was hang on and enjoy the way he was making me feel.

I heard every low growl when he slid inside, along with every tortured groan when he slid out. “Come, baby,” he breathed, rocking into me faster. “I want to feel you come.”

His hand slid from my hip down lower, until his thumb was circling over my clit.

I knew I was close, but my orgasm came the next instant. Jude’s body touching me both inside and outside in every way sent me right over the big O edge so powerfully, I felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. I shouted his name, feeling my muscles contract around him as he slammed into me a final time. He sighed my name so many times I lost count, before collapsing on top of me.

NINE

I could still smell Jude on my pillow, but his head wasn’t sharing it with mine like it had all night. Well, all night after our makeup tabletop sexcapade.

But he was close. His off-key singing to the song playing on the radio was a dead giveaway. As I rolled over, a smile was already in place.

When my eyes landed on a backside, a bare backside, manning the coffee machine, my smile stretched wider.

“Have I mentioned lately what a fine ass you have?” I said, propping up onto my elbows, because if Jude’s bare backside was on display for my ogling pleasure, I was going to enjoy the view.

He smirked at me as he poured coffee into a cup. “Only last night, when you were grabbing it while you screamed my name.”

“My. Someone woke up on the cocky side of the bed this morning.” I was tempted to check my phone for the time, but that would have meant looking away. The time could wait; a na**d Jude making coffee couldn’t.

“I wake up on that side of the bed every morning, Luce,” he said, turning around.

Like the bad girl I was, my eyes zeroed in on a certain spot. “Yes, you most certainly do.” My smile could not possibly stretch further without hurting.

“Good morning,” he said, holding out the cup of coffee while I continued with my staring contest.

“Yes, it is,” I replied, sitting up.

“Okay, Luce, you gotta stop looking at me like that or else I’m going to be late to practice.” He waited until my gaze shifted to his before he handed me the coffee. That was probably for the best. Gawking women and steaming cups of liquid don’t go together well.

“If you don’t want me looking at you like that, you should have put some clothes on.” I raised an eyebrow at him as I took a sip. “Thanks for the coffee. Very domestic of you.”

Snatching his discarded boxers from last night, he hiked them into position before scooting next to me. “I like waiting on you hand and foot,” he said, his eyes traveling down my body. “And everywhere in between.”

I sighed into my cup. “Here’s a pointer. If you don’t want to be late to practice, you shouldn’t say those kinds of things either.”

His eyes cleared and returned to mine almost immediately. How he could go from dripping sex one moment to all business the next, I didn’t know, but it was something that I doubted I’d ever be able to master. “You didn’t exactly give me a chance to tell you last night, since you were busy ravaging me on that table that has now officially become my favorite piece of furniture”—he studied the table as a slow smile formed—“but I’m sorry for everything yesterday, Luce. I wanted the whole day to be perfect and it couldn’t have gone more wrong.”

No, it couldn’t have. Well, at least up until the night.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I’m sorry, too,” I said, so familiar with the words I could have been a certified expert by now. In the history of our relationship, “I’m sorry,” “Forgive me,” and “I messed up” came almost as frequently as “I love you.”

“If you don’t like the house, that’s fine. We’ll find another one,” he said, draping an arm over my shoulders. “I want you to be happy, Luce, and I never would have picked this place out if I thought it was going to upset you.”

I sighed in relief. Yesterday we’d battled this conversation out. Today we could talk about it calmly and constructively. Maybe this was how we needed to approach these kinds of land mines in the future: na**d and in bed.

“I know that, Jude. It just took me by surprise. Everything’s coming at me so fast, and sometimes I feel like I don’t have a chance to catch my breath.” I paused to take another drink. “You know?”

“Believe me, I know,” he replied with a nod. “You don’t need to explain it to me, Luce. I get it, and I’m sorry I made this whole thing harder on you. I’ll call my real estate agent this afternoon and have him start looking for a different place. Okay?” He pulled me closer, tucking my head beneath his jaw.