Hunter steps into the living room, wet hair sticking to his forehead, raspberry towel wrapped around his hips.

I try to pull my jaw from the floor.

Fail.

He stares back with fuck me eyes.

My knees knock together.

My sex clenches.

I forget my satisfaction in favor of the hunger growing below my belly.

I need him again.

I need him like this.

I need him naked.

But I need logic too.

We're still lacking condoms.

And I'm still… uncertain of my limits.

I reach for some hint of sense. Find little.

"Showing off?" It's more awkward than teasing. I'm too flushed and fluttery to tease him properly.

"No." He crosses the room toward me. "This is showing off." He drops his towel.

God, he's hot.

And he's so—

"My eyes are up here, Em."

"Your cock is down there though."

His chuckle fills the space. "Shit, is that where it is?"

I think I nod, but, honestly, I'm not sure.

"I don't want to break your heart, Em, but I brought these too." He waves something in his hand.

A fabric.

It's black.

Or maybe navy.

Really, who cares?

He bends.

Pulls on a pair of black boxers.

It makes him ten percent less distracting.

He's still so fucking yummy.

I want that.

I really, really want that.

But I'm not remotely sure if I can handle it.

He stands and crosses the room to me.

His hands brush my hips.

One inch at a time, he presses his body against mine.

Then it's his lips.

I kiss back hard.

He feels so good. So safe. So mine.

I've never wanted that before.

But, right now, I do.

I really, really do.

I pull back with a heavy sigh.

I want to tear off those boxers and drag him to my bedroom.

But first things first.

"So…" I motion to the door.

He raises a brow.

"We need something."

"Something?"

I clear my throat again.

"Oh." His chuckle is soft. "Now?"

"We could eat first. I mean, I did. But did you?"

He shakes his head.

"I made lasagna."

"Yeah?"

My cheeks flush. "What?"

"Just you."

"What about me?"

"You're Em."

"Obviously."

"Lasagna is perfect." He brings his hand to the back of my head and pulls me into a kiss.

I have no idea what he's saying, but I can't complain about the way he's saying it.

I kiss him harder.

His tongue slides around mine.

His fingers curl into my scalp.

Right now, I believe it.

That I'd drop to my knees immediately if he asked.

Fuck, I want that.

It's the only thing in my head.

I need to make him come too.

I need it in this deep, visceral way.

When our kiss breaks, I'm dizzy.

I don't know what to say.

Only that I need to stay here. In this perfect world of ours. "It's in the fridge."

"Thanks." He pulls back to grab the lasagna.

"I… uh…" Oh. That's it. "We need to celebrate your job."

He motions to my bedroom upstairs. "Didn't we?"

My cheeks flush. "I, um, I was thinking cupcakes."

His lips curl into that same knowing smile.

Something between I love making fun of you and I love everything about you.

It's as intense as anything we did upstairs.

And as scary.

I've never loved anyone.

Never trusted anyone that much.

But the way he's looking at me—

God, I could get used to that.

I really, really could.

"You have a problem with cupcakes?" Again, I fail to sound teasing. I'm in a permanent state or fluttery awkwardness.

"It's not that big a deal."

"Fuck that. It's huge."

His cheeks flush.

I swear to God, I die.

That's so…

He's so…

Ahem. "Your life is a train wreck, right."

He laughs. "Damn. Where's the sugar coating?"

"In the cupcakes."

His laugh gets lower. Heartier. "Fair." He grabs a spatula. Scoops a slice of lasagna onto a plate. Puts it in the microwave. "Yeah, my life is a train wreck."

"This is your first step to fixing that."

"Rehab was the first step." He hits the timer. Turns back to me. "But, you're right. It's big."

"Exactly. You have a job."

"And the best girlfriend in the world." He wraps his arms around my waist.

I giggle. "Say that again."

"You're the best girlfriend in the world."

"You're my boyfriend." It's surreal.

"Yeah." He brushes a stray hair behind my ear. "Am I not the best?"

"That's still to be seen."

"Brutal."

"As always."

"Yeah." His lips curl into that same smile. The I love everything about you one.

It makes my cheeks flush.

It makes my knees weak.

I have to hold onto the counter to stay upright. "You, um… can you help with the cupcakes or what?"

He nods.

I motion to the cabinet. Take him through grabbing all the ingredients as I find a bowl and a mixing spoon.

He places his body behind mine.

Helps me measure all the dry ingredients. Up to the chocolate chips.

The microwave beeps. Even though I motion for him to grab his dinner, he ignores it.

"You think this is too much chocolate?" I ask.

He presses his lips to my neck. "You have that category?"

"True." I pour another handful of chips into the batter. "And fuck you."

"Still don't have condoms."

God, I'm tempted to do something stupid.

Ask him to pull out.

Come on my back or my chest.

Or in my mouth.

Fuck, that's…

It's still tempting as all hell.

But first things first.

"I hear excuses." This time, I finally make my voice teasing.

He plants another kiss on my neck.

Mmm.

"I hear groaning," he murmurs into my skin.

"That was terrible."

"Still hear it."

"Hunter…"

"Yeah?"

"Um…" I reach for something to say. Find nothing. I'm too lost in this. In my head. "Your dinner."

"Aren't we making cupcakes."

"You should eat."

This time, he listens. He steps backward, grabs his lasagna and a fork, shifts onto the counter. "Fuck." He chews. Swallows. "This is amazing."

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know."

I flip him off.

He chuckles.

"I ever cook anything less than amazing?"

"No."

"So why the surprise."

"You're not the cooking type."

I motion to the bowl full of cupcake batter. Then to the oven. "Put it to three seventy-five."

He reaches for the knob. Turns it.

"How am I not the cooking type?"

"You're not going to like it."

"Tell me anyway." I grab the muffin tray. Fill it with foil liners.

"You're not exactly nurturing."

"Fuck you."

He laughs. "Told you."

I laugh too.

He's right.

Mostly.

"It's not that, exactly." I fill a pan with batter. "More that I have limited love to go around. I save it for the people who really deserve it."

His eyes find mine. "Like who?"

"Kaylee. And Brendon. He's annoying… but he's a good brother."

"You're sweet."

"Sometimes." I fill another row of cupcakes. "But only to people I like."

"Fuck, not good news for me."

I flip him off again.

He slides off the counter. Sets his plate down. Wraps his fingers around my wrist. Nips at my index finger.

I laugh.

"It's rough. My best friend doesn't like me," he says.

"Maybe you should have picked someone kinder."

"No." He rests his palm on my cheek. "She's perfect. We're perfect."

My entire body warms. "I… Uh…"

He's right. This is perfect.

But it could be more perfect.

If we…

If I…

Fuck, I'm not used to feeling shy and awkward.

I have to do it.

Go for it.

"I was thinking." I step back. Fill the last liner with batter. Lick the spoon.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe… maybe we don't have the condoms yet."

He arches a brow.

"But that doesn't mean we can't…"

He stares back at me, hanging on every word.

Fuck, I have to say it.

I can say it.

I'm capable of fun and dirty and uninhibited.

I was once.

I will get back there.

My heart thuds against my chest.

My fingers dig into the plastic.

My gaze stays on the floor.

"I was thinking… that I want to suck you off."