“I don’t like underwear,” she tells me.

  She’s the perfect woman. “I don’t like you in underwear either,” I tell her, smiling down at her.

  She motions for me to come to her, and I don’t need to be told again. The time for talking’s done. My dick can’t wait any longer, and neither can I.

  I slide into the bed, covering her body with mine. There’s no more need for words, only actions. My lips find her mouth, and I kiss her with all the need that’s pent-up inside my body. I want to be one with her. I want to feel her, inside and out. I want to explore every inch of her.

  This should be long and sweet. The first time should be when it’s with your wife. She’s not some woman I picked up in a bar for a quick fuck and no promises. But it’s been too long since I’ve been with someone, and I’ve thought about this moment since the first night when she walked out in my underwear.

  I’ve never been one to take anything slow. Somehow, I’ve managed to keep my hands to myself most of the time, except for that one night, but I didn’t get anything in return.

  “You want fast or slow, baby?” I ask her as I hover over her body, staring into her eyes.

  “Deep,” she breathes as she rakes her fingernails down my back, following the line of my spine.

  A shiver runs through me at the mere thought of being buried as deeply as possible inside her. “As you wish,” I murmur as I bend my neck and take her lips in a demanding kiss.

  “Condom,” she whispers against my mouth. “Please.”

  I don’t complain. I don’t have anything to say. She’s right, especially after everything she’s been through lately. One thing at a time, and right now, we need to figure out who we are as a couple before we can start a family.

  I reach over, fishing through the nightstand drawer. As soon as my fingers land on one, I grab it and waste no time ripping the plastic with my teeth. I sit up on my knees, my dick sticking straight out at her like it’s begging for her touch. I make quick work of the condom and slide back between her legs.

  I reach down with one hand, finding her wet and ready. “Ace,” I whisper, “I’ve barely touched you.”

  “I’ve dreamed about this moment. Fantasized about it since the second I met you.” Her cheeks turn pink at the admission.

  “Me too,” I tell her, not wanting her to feel ashamed. “I’ve wanted this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

  “Shh, I’m a sure thing, sweetheart,” she tells me, raking those red fingernails up and down the tender skin of my back. “Now, you better start giving me some pleasure before I take it.”

  I like it. I like her style. I like her mouth. I like her spark. A small part of the woman I met at the hotel has come back out in her. I do as she asks. I take her mouth, running my fingers up and down her middle, sending her hips jumping off the bed, chasing my touch.

  “Fuck me,” she moans against my mouth, leaving me without any control. “Hard, fast, and deep.”

  Something inside me breaks loose. I can’t control myself. There’s nothing I want more than to bring her pleasure, and if she wants it hard, fast, and deep, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

  Without another word on her part, I line up my dick but enter her slowly, wanting her to get used to the piercings and the size of my cock. Her body stiffens for only a moment before she relaxes, and I can push fully inside her. I’m as deep as I can go, and I close my eyes, wishing we could stay like this forever. There’s no better feeling in the world. If there isn’t a heaven, this must be the closest thing to such a place…at least for me.

  “You good?” I ask her, not wanting to hurt her. That’s the last thing I’d want in a moment like this.

  “Sweetheart,” she says in a different tone. “I said hard and fast—now, you’re deep, but I’m not feeling like you’re good at following directions.”

  I raise an eyebrow, my dick still so deep in her I can’t believe she can breathe, let alone carry on half a conversation. “Ace, you better watch that sweet mouth. I’m making sure you’re okay before I give you everything you want and more.”

  She nudges my ass with her heel, making her wishes known a second time. I know I don’t have the upper hand, but any time I’m buried in pussy, I never do. No man does. We lose all control, or even the need for it, when we’re inside a woman. A second time of nudging my ass cheek, pushing my cock even deeper, and all bets are off.

  I pull out almost entirely before slamming back into her, making it impossible for her to form words. Her eyes lock with mine and never waver as I fuck her exactly how she wants.

  It doesn’t take long before her nails are stuck in my skin, probably drawing blood, but she could cut me with a knife right now and nothing would stop me. Her body shakes, her legs go stiff, and her breathing becomes uneven. She’s close and gets closer with every thrust of my hips, pushing deeper, hitting just the right spot.

  “Fuck,” she moans. “Trace.”

  “So fuckin’ good,” I whisper, trying to stop the shakes that want to take over my body.

  The orgasm starts deep in my spine, surrounding my body. I can’t stop it from happening as it crashes over me just as her cunt squeezes down on my shaft, pulling me along with her.

  I see colors. All shades of the rainbow flash behind my eyelids as I fall into nothingness and everything at the same time. I gasp, trying to fill my lungs with air, but there’s no room for anything except the sheer pleasure that’s coursing through me and pushing everything else aside.

  I’ve barely come back to my senses when she looks up at me, face flushed and coated in a fine sheen of sweat, and says, “I hope you’re not a one-and-done, because I plan to take the next one slow.”

  “Fuck me,” I mutter, smiling and loving everything about this woman.

  “I plan to,” she says as she pushes me up and onto my back, taking a seat on top of me. “All. Night. Long.”

  Damn it. I’m a goner for this woman, and I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of her.

  23

  ANA

  The first sip of coffee in the morning determines what kind of day I’m going to have. If it’s too weak or too strong, it throws everything else off-balance. Don’t even get me started on coffee creamer.

  Trace isn’t one for fancy flavors, but since I’ve been at his place, he’s done his best to keep it stocked, and I even caught him sneaking a little bit into his coffee the other morning.

  Trace…

  The night before was, hands down, the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life. He wasn’t lying when he said his dick wasn’t like anyone else’s I’d ever been with before. I’m sure there are plenty of men out there sporting the same jewelry, but I hadn’t met one until him. And I don’t know if that had anything to do with it, but damn it, the orgasms were beyond extraordinary.

  “Morning,” Trace whispers in my ear as he bends down to kiss my cheek. “Sleep well?”

  I tip my head back to look at him and smile. His dark hair is a mess, but somehow, he pulls it off and looks even better than he usually does. “I don’t remember the last time I slept so well. You?”

  “I was exhausted.” He smiles.

  I smirk behind my coffee mug, using the ceramic to hide my slight embarrassment. “Good. Good,” I mutter, hoping he doesn’t want to go over the entire evening with a play-by-play, along with rating the performance.

  He doesn’t say another word as he heads for the coffeepot, and I watch every muscle in his body shift under his skin as he reaches for his very own mug. He peers over his shoulder, catching me looking, and I instantly glance down at my computer screen.

  “So, what’s on your agenda today?” he asks, pouring himself a cup before reaching for my sugar cookie creamer.

  “Stocks. Always stocks.” I press a few buttons on my laptop, trying to pretend to be busy, but I’m not. I already did my early morning trading, and now there’s nothing to do until they ring the bell and the market officially opens for business.

  Trace slides into the chair next to me, holding the cup that reads It Should Be Criminal to Be This Handsome, and he invades my space by craning his neck to see my screen. “And what does that entail?”

  I turn my face toward him and blink. “What does that entail?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he says, but he plasters a smile on his face. “I’ve never done shit with stocks before. I haven’t a clue.”

  I open my mouth and close it, shocked that he’s never done anything with the stock market. “What do you do with your money?”

  He shrugs. “Safe-deposit box, some is in my safe in the bedroom, the rest is in the bank between savings, checking, and savings bonds.”

  I grab his hand and bring it close to my eyes. “You don’t look old.”

  He pulls his hand away and laughs. “I’m not. I’m just too busy and never bothered to learn. How much can you really make compared to a savings account? It can’t be that much.”

  I shake my head, realizing the man doesn’t have a clue about money and how the system works. He has beauty and some brains, but thinking about anything beyond his dick doesn’t seem to be in his cards. “What do you think I made last year?” I ask him as I reach for my coffee mug, one that reads Once in a While Someone Amazing Comes Along, and Here I Am. Fitting.

  He looks up at the ceiling like that’s somehow going to hold the answer. I’ll be shocked if he even comes close.

  When he doesn’t reply right away, I ask him another question. “How much did your money make you last year in your room and in the bank?”

  He tips his head to the side and sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe a grand.”

  “A grand?” I don’t laugh. I want to, but I don’t. “I made way more than that.”

  “Twenty thousand.”

  I shake my head. “You think I can live in a place like I did in Miami making twenty a year?”

  “Maybe,” he mutters with a shrug of one shoulder. “Do you only live on money you make yourself?”

  I was waiting for more questions about my father and if I was truthful about supporting myself. I was honest. I don’t want to be beholden to anyone, especially not my father. His pockets were lined with blood money, and although Sean had no problem taking it, I did. “I supported myself. It’s all mine.”

  “Damn,” he whispers. “One hundred.”

  This time, I chuckle. I can’t hold it back. He’s so off base, and I’m afraid the number will shock him. “More than that, honey.”

  “I like that.”

  “What?”

  He smiles, and I swear to God, it makes my heart skip a beat. “I like that my wife makes over one hundred G’s and she’s the breadwinner of the family.”

  I don’t know why, but I love everything about what he just said. I love that he loves it, too. “You don’t look like you’re doing badly, even with your poor choices with your money.”

  “Oh. I have money. Old family money. Everyone in the family gets their share when they hit adulthood, but mine hasn’t grown except for some small interest. I live on what I make at the shop since I’m part owner with everyone else. It’s not a ton, but it’s enough to live comfortably and not have to worry about a damn thing. But it’s not oceanfront view in Miami money.”

  “I love it here. I’d take this view,” I say, meaning him and not the apartment, “over what I had there.” I was lonely in Miami. Lonelier than I ever knew until Trace and his family became part of my life.

  “I like this view more too,” he says with a wink, and he knows exactly what I’m talking about.

  I don’t hide my blush this time, but I’m not embarrassed. I’m just not used to someone showering me with compliments as often as Trace does without expecting something in return.

  “So, on average, how much do you think you make a day?” he asks casually as he slides an arm around the back of my chair, and I go back to watching my computer screen.

  “Well,” I say, sitting up a little straighter, loving talking about stocks to the point that most people zone out when I do. “I aim for a thousand, but if I can get more, I take every fucking cent I can until I see shit starting to turn.”

  He starts to choke and moves his arm away from my chair to pound on his chest. “Wait,” he croaks, giving himself another hit. “Did you say a thousand?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A day?” he asks, barely getting the words out while gasping for air.

  “Yep.” I smile at him, seeing tears welling up in his eyes from the coffee heading down the wrong pipe.

  “Fuck,” he mutters as he wipes the tears away.

  “Some days I lose, though. But when I’m on fire, that shit’s cranking, and the cash is rolling in,” I tell him.

  He finally settles, getting the coffee out of his windpipe. “You’re shitting me.”

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  “Do you lose?”

  “A lot.”

  “How much?”

  I grimace.

  “I don’t want to know.” He puts up his hand. “You make more than you lose?”

  “Of course.”

  “So,” he says and pauses. “You made over two hundred K last year…give or take some. Yeah?”

  “I made seven figures last year.”

  Trace jerks his head back and nearly goes white. “You made…” He blinks, his mouth open, shock clearly written all over his face. “You made a million dollars in a year?” he whispers, like it’s a crime and we have to talk softly so I’m not found out.

  “Over that, but yeah,” I say, knowing it’s a lot for him to handle. “Is that okay? You okay?”

  He stares at me. He doesn’t say anything at first. I can see the wheels turning inside his head, the realization that I’m more than capable of taking care of myself financially. I’ve had to for many years, and I’ve found no better way to support my lifestyle than gambling in the stock market. “I’m… I’m… Yeah.”

  “Yeah?” I ask hopefully.

  He nods. “I think so. I mean, can someone be upset that their woman makes more money than them?”

  I like that he calls me his woman, and I’ve never liked the sound of that coming out of anyone else’s mouth before. “There are men out there who would lose their absolute, ever-loving mind over that fact.”

  “Those men don’t have my dick, though,” he says with a smile, and I swear to God, he winks at me and I lose it right there on the spot.

  I laugh and I can’t stop. Trace Caldo can be sweet as pie sometimes, tender and loving, but then there’s this crazy, cocky side of him that makes me want to smack him and then plant a big one right on his lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Ridiculously endowed,” he teases, smirking at me behind the rim of his coffee mug.

  I roll my eyes at him, but he isn’t lying. He is ridiculously endowed, and I’m the lucky woman who is able to enjoy every single blessed inch too.

  “My wife’s the breadwinner,” he says to himself with the biggest smile. “I like that.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not a gold digger.”

  “That you aren’t, but most importantly, you’re smart. Smart as hell, really. That’s the sexiest thing about you.”

  “You like my brains?”

  He reaches over and taps my temple gently. “This right here. Biggest turn-on ever. Sexy as fuck, Ace.”

  “You’re a weirdo.”

  He smiles, and my insides flutter, something no one has ever been able to do to me before. “You like that about me,” he says.

  “Among other things,” I agree, lifting my mug to my lips and moving my gaze back to the screen.

  “What are they?” he asks from my side.

  I stare at him in disbelief. This man is… Sigh. “Do you need your ego stroked this early?” I tease.

  “Baby, I’ll take all the stroking I can get whenever you’ll give it.” His eyes drop to his phone as soon as it starts to dance around the tabletop. “They’re starting early this morning.”

  “Who?”

  “My family.”

  “Which one?”

  “All of them,” he groans, staring at the small screen in his hand. “We have a group chat, and they’re blowing it up.”

  “Oh. That must be nice,” I say, trying to keep the hint of jealousy out of my voice but failing.

  “And it’s a pain in the ass sometimes too. There’re too many people, and they’re all over the place with the conversation.”

  “What are they talking about today?” I keep my eyes on my computer screen, but I want to lean over and read every line of the group chat.

  “Gigi’s pissed that someone left a few lights on at the shop all weekend. She’s going on and on about the electricity bill, but I know it wasn’t me, so I don’t give two fucks. Tamara is asking about a girls’ night. Something about needing time away buried deep in margaritas and tacos. And of course, they’re also talking about you,” he says so casually that I almost miss the comment entirely.

  I glance to the side, gawking at him. “Me?”

  “Yeah. They love you. They want you to go to girls’ night too.”

  “Oh. I don’t know,” I say, biting my bottom lip, worried that I’ll somehow make a fool out of myself if I’m around his family alone.

  “They’re chill. A little nutty at times, but great girls.”

  “Women.”

  “What?” he asks with his eyebrows furrowed.

  “They’re not girls. They’re women.”

  He shrugs. “Whatever.”

  “No whatever, buddy. They’re grown adults. Want me to call you a boy?”

  He shakes his head. “Point taken. I’ll file that away in my Don’t Be a Douchebag folder.”

  “It has to be pretty full.”

  He chuckles. “You have no idea.”

  Since I have a brother who’s just about as cocky as Trace, I do have some idea. But Sean never bothers to learn or evolve. He will always be and has always been the world’s biggest douchebag.

  Trace places his phone on the table, faceup, which is important. He’s not hiding anything from me even if I’m not looking. We’re still new…fresh. Anything can happen.

  “So…” he says as he turns to me. “You stickin’ around?”