That was harder than writing a dating profile.

  Than swiping right.

  Than sliding into a guy’s DMs.

  That was telling my truth to a guy I—gasp—actually care about.

  I wait for his response, but not for long.

  His smile is a constellation lighting up the night sky. “I would love to be your first. I’m pretty sure I’d be great at being Mr. Right Now, because I was going to tell you, too, that I’m not in the market for a relationship. I wasn’t quite sure how to say it, and that’s why I went a little quiet in the car. I’m sorry if that worried you.”

  That’s why he went silent. That makes sense now.

  “I’m not worried,” I say, my shoulders relaxing, my overactive pulse settling. I’m curious, though, so I stay silent, waiting and hoping he shares more.

  “It’s just . . . well, you’ve been so patently honest with me, and I want to be the same,” he says, and it sounds like this is hard for him, and I want to tell him it’s okay, I’ll listen. Instead, I do that—listen. “I just got out of a bad relationship in New York. Where my heart was a little bit broken. She didn’t think I was good enough, or rich enough, and she left me for someone with a bigger star and a bigger name, and I don’t want to go through that again,” he tells me, vulnerability coloring his tone, and I just want to hug him, and to hiss at her. Who would do that to this fantastic catch of a man? “I can’t tell you how refreshing it is, Clementine, that you just put what you want on the table.” An embarrassed laugh bursts from him. “Holy hell, I’m spitting out words too.” He scrubs his jaw, laughing.

  I giggle, bouncing on my toes. “It’s infectious, isn’t it? Confessing what you really want?”

  “Evidently it is,” he says, then loops a strong arm around my waist. “So I hope you’re good with all that.”

  I tap my chin. “Gee, sounds like neither one of us wants strings. I’d say we’re on the same page, and that’s very, very good.”

  He grins. “Yes, but let’s correct one thing.”

  I slide closer to him, savoring the connection again. “What’s that?”

  He strokes my jaw, sending a shiver through me. “Reasonably attractive? I’m reasonably attractive?”

  I laugh, then shake my head. “The only one more handsome than you is my dog.”

  He hums. “I accept. Now, let me take you upstairs because I think you’ll really, really like sex too, because I really, really want to sleep with you and introduce you to the joys of fucking.”

  “Let’s go,” I say, and neither one of us is speaking male-lien.

  After all these years, all those duds, I’m finally ready to lose my virginity.

  Bring it on, Mr. Right Now.

  7

  Shane

  That didn’t help matters at all.

  Wait. Back that up.

  Her confession helped matters in my trousers. But I didn’t need a leg up there. I was, and still am, ready to go in that department.

  The trouble is my stupid heart.

  It’s beating faster for Clementine.

  Thumping harder.

  It’s not fucking supposed to. I told my heart to stay in time-out. It’s wounded. It’s taking a break. It’s on the bench.

  Yet it’s hungry for this woman.

  For more than no strings.

  As I follow her up the steps, I ought to just focus on the gorgeous sex offer she laid out. The one I accepted. Only, I like everything she just said so much. I like that she said it. Her openness is an allure. Honesty is such a turn-on, for my dick evidently. But, inconveniently, it flips the switch on the organ in my chest too.

  Settle down, heart.

  There. A stern talking-to will do the trick.

  I wish.

  She’s just so easy to like. Easy to fall for. When she reaches the door, she swivels around, an impish look in her pretty eyes. “Oh. I have to warn you, if my dog doesn’t like you, it’s lights out.”

  “Your canine holds the key to your knickers?”

  She laughs. “Well, that’s fair, right? If he doesn’t like you, there’s a clear reason.”

  She’s not wrong. Dogs are excellent judges of character. “Clearly. I’ll do my best to gain his approval.”

  As she opens the door, there’s a scratching sound behind it, then a happy whine once it swings open.

  The whimpers grow louder, and a tiny beast jumps up and down on his back legs, greeting his person. “Hey, big guy. Of course I missed you,” she says, scooping up the white-and-brown fluffball and kissing him. She turns to me. “This is Magnus.”

  The tiny Papillon tilts his head and opens his snout like he’s considering giving me a verbal dressing down. “Be good,” she warns him.

  And he behaves, sitting taller in her arms, closing his snout.

  “Hey there, Magnus,” I say, then stroke his chin.

  His tongue lolls out, and since when in Rome . . . I bend and drop a kiss to his silky head.

  He answers by licking my cheek. A sloppy dog lick from jawline all the way to my eye.

  Converted!

  Clementine hoots. “Shut the front door! You’re in.” She steps back, wagging a finger. “Admit it. You clearly covered your face in liverwurst.”

  “It was bacon.” Then I gesture to the hook that holds a leather leash. “I presume he needs to go to the loo. Let’s take him for a walk down the street?”

  That earns me a preposterously large grin from the pixie blonde. “Are you trying to get in my pants by being good to my dog?”

  Stroking my chin, I study the ceiling for a few seconds. “Well, you already promised me your knickers, so at this point, I’d say I’m just that great a guy.”

  She rises on her tiptoes and brushes her lips to my other cheek. “You are.”

  Then, she hooks a leash on her pup, and we head back the way we came. As we wander down the pavement, we chat, catching up more as we go.

  “So if your ex was a jerk, because she totally was for saying you’re not good enough, since you’re freaking amazing,” she says, “and all my dates were jerks, does that mean we’re each other’s only good exes?”

  “Funny, I was thinking something along those lines at the club.”

  “You were?”

  Magnus stops to sniff a tree, and we both slow our pace. “Yes, except . . . we aren’t truly exes, are we?”

  She tilts her head in question. “We’re not?”

  I nudge her with my elbow. “We never actually broke up. Life got in the way.”

  “Hmm,” she says, seeming to noodle on that as Magnus finishes and we spin around. “You’re right. There was no dumping. So no anger or true heartbreak.”

  I wouldn’t say no heartbreak, but now’s not the time to protest on that count. “And honestly, we probably would have kept going,” I say, then I catch my breath, a little surprised I said that. “Did I just get ahead of myself by presuming we’d have kept on?”

  She laughs, setting a hand on my arm. “Shane, we would have kept on in every way, especially at prom. I wanted to keep seeing you, and I also wanted to see you naked,” she says, then waves her hand at my chest. Her voice goes low, seductive. “I wanted all this unreasonably attractive hotness. And I still want it now.”

  We practically race back to her place.

  Five minutes later, she unclips the dog’s leash and sends him to the couch. “Stay, Magnus.”

  Obediently, he curls up in a dog ball.

  “Bye-bye,” she says, waving to the beast, then she pulls me into her room and shuts the door.

  She slides her hands up my chest. “Hi, you.”

  “Hi to you, Clementine Rose,” I murmur, then dip my face to her neck, pressing a kiss to her soft skin. She smells like oranges and honey. The former is fitting for her name, the latter for her personality. I can’t get enough of her scent, and I kiss her neck so thoroughly, she’s sighing and moaning when I reach her ear and nip on her earlobe.

  “Shane,” she whispers on a breathless pant.

  I pull back, meet her heady gaze, then run a finger across her lips. “I’m so damn glad I ran into you this evening.”

  “Me too. Can you please undress me and take me tonight? Now. I can’t wait any longer.”

  She removes her hair clip, and I make quick work of her top, then undo her jeans. She helps me along, sliding them down her legs, stepping out of her boots. I step back and whistle in appreciation for her lacy black panties and matching bra. The set is so damn sexy, it’s almost a shame to remove them.

  But it’s time for them to go.

  I roam my hands around her back and undo the bra, all while I dust tender kisses on her lips and eyelids, then let the fabric fall to the floor.

  I haul in a harsh breath at the lovely sight in front of me. Perky tits, soft, creamy skin, and a flush down her chest.

  The best part though?

  The way she bites her lips then gasps as I cup her tits. Groaning at the glorious feel of her flesh in my hands, I knead harder, teasing at her already firm nipples.

  Her hands fly to my hips, grabbing me tight. “Can I take your clothes off too?”

  “Seems fair,” I tease, and in seconds, I’m down to my boxer briefs.

  She tugs at the waistband, a fantastically filthy look in her green eyes. A look that turns hotter, needier when she squeezes my hard-on.

  “Oh fuck, that feels good,” I grunt as she strokes my dick over my briefs.

  She grins like she’s won the lottery. “Monster cock,” she whispers with the wildest grin.

  I crack up. “If you say so.”

  “I do, I do, I do.”

  Then she handles the rest of the stripping, yanking on my boxers till they’re gone. Her lips part in a wild O as her gaze lands on my cock—thick, hard, and pulsing for her.

  “You seriously have a . . . beautiful dick,” she says, her voice husky, her eyes reckless.

  “I’m so glad you approve of my package,” I tease. “Now, enough admiring of me. I need to worship your pussy with my mouth.”

  “Let the service begin,” she says, and flops onto the bed.

  I climb over her, shimmy those knickers down her ankles, then moan in lusty appreciation at the sight.

  My Clementine is soaked.

  She’s fucking glistening, and I need to savor all that sweetness. I kneel between her legs, spread her thighs, and run my hands along the soft flesh. “You’re so fucking edible,” I growl as I stare at her sweet, hot, and perfect pink center.

  As she arches her back, her hips rise. Already, she’s asking for me with her body, and her need makes my dick thump hard.

  But the pursuit of her pleasure comes before mine.

  I lower my face and kiss her legs, dusting soft lips along her thighs, inching closer to the heady paradise. Taking my time, I lavish soft kisses on her thighs, her mound, then closer, and so much closer.

  When I’m there at last, she’s begging, gasping, and finally, I press a kiss to her pussy.

  We both groan at the same time.

  She tastes incredible—all desire and bare need.

  I lap up her wetness, swirling my tongue around her clit, drawing dizzying circles that make her rock and arch against me.

  Her hands fly to my hair. She grips me, tugging me closer.

  I love how in touch she is with her own body. With her own lust.

  It drives me—her noises, her gasps, her fingers that curl around my head.

  “Yes, oh God, yes,” she cries out as I suck on her clit, flicking my tongue against the delicious rise.

  Then I press an openmouthed kiss to her, devouring her with my lips as she moans and writhes.

  Soon, she thrusts with wild abandon, and I kiss her like crazy as her voice reaches the night sky.

  In one long, glorious gasp, she calls out, “Yes.”

  Then comes, shuddering beautifully.

  As her taste floods my tongue, I kiss her gently till she seems to come down from the cliff of bliss. Then I let go, sweeping my lips along her mound, her stomach, her pert breasts.

  I raise my face, meeting her eyes.

  They’re shimmering with lust, and satisfaction too. “That was a joy indeed.”

  “More joy where that came from, love,” I rasp out.

  A faint blush spreads on her cheeks from the term of endearment.

  Or maybe from the orgasm.

  Hard to say, and really, who cares right now?

  I push up on my elbows. “Have you thought about how you want it for your first time?”

  “I want you on top of me. Just like this. And I have condoms.”

  “It’s good to be prepared,” I say, as she reaches into the nightstand and produces one.

  I shift to my knees, but before I slide it on, she sits up, reaches for my cock, then curls her fist around it.

  Lust surges down my spine.

  “Like I said, monster cock, and I can understand the appeal of the ten-thousand-dollar bill now,” she says with a grin.

  I crack up, loving that we can laugh in this moment.

  It’s amazing and wildly dangerous because laughing like this leads to falling.

  Falling fast.

  8

  Clementine

  Breathe.

  Just breathe.

  But I also stare, since, well, there’s a gorgeous man between my legs.

  Hallelujah.

  He’s so much more than looks though. So much more than his carved jaw, strong cheekbones, than his warm eyes and lush lips, than his ten-thousand-dollar cock.

  Shane Walker is a man who’s caring, witty, and honest, and who treats me like he adores me.

  That’s what I want.

  This kind of man.

  Or, really, this man.

  The man I wanted once upon a time when I was younger.

  The one I’m about to have now.

  Maybe this is why I waited. He was always the one I wanted.

  But I can’t get ahead of myself. I’m not looking for strings, and he’s not either.

  This can’t go anywhere. Just enjoy it for tonight.

  I am so damn ready to enjoy every second of him tonight.

  Once the condom is on, Shane settles between my legs, meeting my eyes. “Still good?”

  “So good,” I say, parting my legs farther.

  A wild groan seems to be ripped from his throat. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he says, then rubs the head of his cock against me.

  My body crackles, sparking with lust. I arch against him, needing more.

  “I want you,” I whisper. I love saying those words, thrilled by speaking my dirty mind to a willing and eager sex accomplice at last.

  Tingles race down my chest, and a new awareness hits me.

  I love telling him what I want in bed.

  Him. His cock. Our intimacy.

  I meant it when I said I’m not innocent.

  I have a sexual heart and mind, and I’m putting them to use tonight.

  When he pushes in, my breath comes in a sharp gasp, and I tense from the intrusion.

  “Okay?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  He sinks in more, and I wince.

  “I can stop, love. Do you want me to stop?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I growl. “Don’t you dare.”

  A soft laugh comes from the man. He’s braced on his arms, his big hands pressed into the mattress by my sides. I slide my palms up his arms, traveling along his muscles as I breathe again, in, out, then deeper.

  Let myself relax.

  I’m ready.

  “More,” I say, urging him on.

  And he gives.

  Oh hell, does he ever.

  He sinks all the way in.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, adjusting, shifting, trying to relax into this foreign but almost fantastic sensation.

  “Talk to me, love,” he whispers.

  Does he even know he says that in the heat of the moment? Love? Is he aware of what it does to my heart? It does things that Mr. Right Now shouldn’t do for me.

  It makes my heart sing.

  The temporary pain washes away, and I linger in the goodness of this, in the rightness of him, in the truly fantastic sensation he’s bringing me.

  In this unexpected night of reconnection with my teenage boyfriend.

  The guy I nearly fell in love with seven years ago.

  I gaze up at him, our eyes locking, our bodies tangling. He looks at me like he cherishes me already, and surely it’s the endorphins talking, but I like what they have to say. “Show me the joys of fucking and making love,” I whisper.

  “Both. I’ll show you both,” he says in a bedroom promise that sends sparks flying across my skin.

  I let him know how joyfully I want it as I wrap my legs around his firm ass, curl my hands over his shoulders, and move with my brand-new lover.

  My one-and-only lover.

  We find a rhythm, a sexy, indulgent pace that lights me up everywhere.

  That’s hotter than my fantasies.

  More electric than any solo ride with a fourteen-speed vibe.

  He hits me just right, his throbbing length sliding over my clit as he pumps and thrusts. He swivels his hips just so, and the languid, sexy move sends a current through my whole body.

  Down my spine, all the way to my toes.

  Dear God, my toes are actually curling, my body is melting, and pleasure coils in my belly.

  Soon, I’m on the cusp of another orgasm. I can feel it just out of reach. It’s almost there, on the horizon.

  And I don’t want to lose it, don’t want to miss the chance to come again.

  So I slide a hand between my legs and help myself along.

  “Yes, fucking yes. That’s so damn sexy,” he says, encouraging me. “Play with yourself.”

  Don’t need to tell me that twice. I’m there, rubbing and chasing my bliss as the guy who got away drives me to the edge of pleasure.

  “I missed you, Clem. Fucking missed you so much,” he rasps out on a broken pant, and his words send me flying.

  Right over the edge as I call out his name when I shatter.

  He’s there with me, thrusting and grunting, and then he stills, groaning for what feels like forever.

  In his arms, I’m keenly aware of three things.