I drop my head and thread my fingers through his hair. “I love it too,” I tell him.

He lifts his head and we kiss. I taste the sweat on his skin when I move my mouth along his jaw, open and sucking. I press my lips to his ear.

“Cannon,” I moan.

CJ groans hearing me say his name. He always does. Then he grips my ass with both hands and bounces me in his lap.

Our skin is slippery and warm. The sound of our thighs slapping together resonates in the shower. CJ lifts and lowers me. He’s doing all the work and I’m taking, taking, taking. Scraping my nails along his scalp and gasping in his ear.

“Yes,” I pant. “CJ, please . . .”

“You always beg me to let you come. Do you think I won't?” He leans back to look at me, resting his head against the wall and rocking me in his lap. His wild eyes are electric. Dark blue and stormy. He parts his lips with a grunt.

Holy shit, he looks good.

I squeeze his neck, forcing my eyes to stay open when all I want to do is close them and lose my mind.

“I just . . . I feel like I need this,” I reply. “When you touch me and . . .” I moan when his hand moves over my ass. “When you're inside me like this, it's so much more than just sex. It's bigger. That first night at the wedding, I felt it. Something . . . mm . . .” I shake my head, searching for the words while breathing heavier. His finger slips between my cheeks and rubs around and around and around. I gasp. “God, I don't know, it's just, it's always felt different. Awesome.”

“Awesome?” he murmurs, mouth twitching.

“I can't think when you do that . . .”

CJ’s finger presses against my ass and slips inside. “How about now, darlin’? Is this better?”

I groan and sink down, forcing his finger deeper. My head hits his shoulder. “I love that,” I whimper.

“I know you do,” he says against my ear, wiggling his digit inside me. “You come like crazy when I play with your ass.”

“Stop.”

My protest is halfhearted, and CJ knows as well as I do that I really don’t mean it. My eyes are closed now and I’m hiding my blushing face in his neck, but holy crap, I’m wet. I can’t deny how much I want this.

I start grinding in his lap, moving in slow, lazy circles. Fucking his finger as I ride his cock. “Oh, God,” I breathe. I’m so full.

“I’d never deny you, Riley,” CJ tells me, lips against my ear as he helps me move. “I couldn’t. I need this too.”

“Why? Because it means more?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, meeting my eyes when I lift my head.

I grab his face. I want to ask what more means to him. If it’s the same as what it means to me. If this feels different because it’s love. But instead I relish the feel of CJ and that heavy look in his eyes. The look he’s only ever given me, only me. I want to believe that so badly, because I know I’ve never looked at anyone else like this before.

We stare at each other, mouths close and open. We moan together. We move together. My pleasure doesn’t feel like it’s just my own anymore. It’s ours.

One body. One heartbeat. One irresistible desire.

CJ squeezes my breast and sucks on my nipple. He whispers against my slippery flesh, “Fuck, baby” and “I want to feel you come.”

I make a choking sound low in my throat as that sweet heat burns between my hips and up my spine. CJ is fucking my ass with his finger now and thrusting his hips. I can’t move. I hold onto his neck, arch my back, and yes, yes, yes.

“CJ,” I moan, shaking violently. My pussy growing tighter and tighter and . . . “Oh, God . . . Oh, my God.”

He grunts, fucking me harder until he’s pumping into me, cursing and spilling his release. I feel it wet and sticky on my thighs—our pleasure. It’s exquisite.

CJ breathes heavily into my neck. His finger slips out of my ass, and I groan at the loss. He chuckles. “Miss me there already?”

Yes, I don't say. I grab his face and rub it between my breasts. When he growls like a wild animal and takes over, I squeal in delight.

We laugh and stand together under the water.

While I towel off and smear lotion on my body, CJ passes on my suggestion of a bath and finishes up in the shower. Still floating around on my post-sex high, I let it go, moving into the bedroom. I need to get ready.

Bra and panties on and shorts tossed on the bed (next to CJ's boot I set out for him), I pull on my shirt.

Without CJ’s all-consuming stare and him moving inside me, I can think again. My mind immediately going to that big, important thing. Why isn’t he saying it?

“What were you going to tell me the other day?” I ask when he exits the bathroom, white fluffy towel around his waist and chest dripping wet. I swallow and watch a bead of water trail between his pecs as he moves toward me.

Damn. He really should find a job that requires him to be in nothing but a bath towel.

“What was I going to tell you when?” CJ asks, running his hand over his hair. “You gotta give me more than the other day, babe. Narrow it down.” He rummages through the drawers, shifting my clothes to get to his and making me smile. I’ve basically taken over his dresser. He grabs a pair of shorts, boxers, and a t-shirt and moves to the other side of the bed.

“At Ben and Mia’s. After we . . . you know.”

CJ tugs on his boxers and lifts his head. He smirks. “Oh. That.”