“I was close,” I whispered.

“I know,” he answered, stil resisting the pressure of my hands.

I blinked at the ceiling.

“Why?” I asked.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

And he wasn’t.

He took me from nearly there to nearly there to nearly there and I tried to get him nearly there but only got so far as getting his belt unbuckled and the top button of his jeans undone. He did pul away to yank off his boots and socks but that was it.

He had his hand between my legs and I had my hand in the back of his jeans and I was nearly there again, panting against his mouth when his fingers went away and slid up my bel y.

My eyes flew open.

“Whisky!” I snapped, bucking and trying to push him to his back to get some leverage on the situation.

I was so turned on, I’d never been that turned on before, my body was humming with it.

He was smiling.

“Don’t smile at me, you rat. Finish what you start.” He gave me a light kiss.

“Ask nice.”

I growled.

Then I attacked.

It got out of hand then. There was a bit of wrestling and unfortunately Hank was stronger. I ended up on my back, wrists over my head held by one of his hands, his other hand between my legs again and his mouth at my neck. I was close again and I knew he knew it.

“Let go of my hands, I want to touch you,” I demanded.

He didn’t answer but, instead, ran his tongue along my neck.

“Hank.” His name came out kind of whiney.

Okay, maybe a lot whiney.

His hand went away from between my legs and my body tensed.

“Please,” I said low and his head came up and he looked at me.

His eyes were hot and intense and I held my breath.

He rol ed completely over me. I opened my legs and his h*ps fel between them as he let go of my wrists. His hand worked at the buttons of his fly and I pushed his jeans down his hips, my mouth at his neck. Then my hand wrapped around him.

“Jesus, Sunshine,” he muttered but there was a smile in his voice.

I looked him in the eye.

I was trying to guide him into me but he was having none of it.

“I want you inside me, Whisky. Now.”

He pul ed my hand away and then his hands went to my hips, lifting them and he stared down at me but he didn’t come inside.

I gave in.

“Please.”

He slid inside.

It felt beautiful.

My head arched back and my arms wrapped around him.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

I looked at him, he moved inside me and it felt delicious.

“It starts now,” he told me.

I moved with him, I wasn’t real y focusing on what he was saying, mainly because it was building again and I could feel it coming.

“What starts now?” I asked.

“You and me.”

He moved faster, pressed harder, went deeper.

Good God.

“What?” I asked dazedly.

“You and me,” he said again.

“Whisky,” I breathed, “I’m not keeping up with you.” I was keeping up with him, but not in the way I was talking about. I held on to him and tilted my h*ps and he went even deeper.

“God, you feel good,” I said.

“Sunshine, try and pay attention,” he replied, sounding amused and I blinked at him.

He was stil moving and I was getting closer al the time.

“Are you crazy?” I asked, not real y caring if he was.

“Starting now, there’s a you and me.”

My arms tightened involuntarily and other parts of me tightened involuntarily too.

Hank’s eyes went lazy.

“Now, that felt good,” he muttered.

“Hank –”

He slid in deep.

“Be quiet.”

“Hank!”

His mouth met mine.

“Quiet,” he said.

Then he kissed me, he moved, I moved, pretty soon I said his name again (in a moan again) but mainly because he final y let me come.

And it was glorious.

Chapter Seven

The End

After we finished Hank moved away, pul ed off his jeans, positioned me into the bed with the covers over me, slid in beside me and turned out the light.

He lay on his back and rol ed me into his side.

Throughout al of this, I was silent and compliant, mainly because I was trying to decide how many types of fool I was.

I was settling on twenty-seven types of fool when Hank spoke. “I think I prefer you talking.”

“I’m sleepy,” I lied.

“You’re thinking and the way your mind works, that’s probably not a good thing.”

“You don’t know the way my mind works,” I told him.

“You’ve talked yourself into thinking al igators are cute.”

“I didn’t talk myself into it. Have you looked at an al igator? They are cute.”

His body moved with laughter.

“And owls are cute,” I went on, nonsensical y, ignoring his laughter, or more likely, because of his laughter. “I’ve always wanted to own an owl. Like Florence Nightingale.

She carried one in her pocket.”

His body kept moving, except I could tel instinctively the laughter had turned deeper.

Then a thought struck me and I got up on an elbow. “Hey, are you related to her?”

I felt his eyes on me in the dark. “Not that I know of.” I settled back down and put my head on his shoulder.

“Oh.”

He rol ed into me and I fel to my back.

His hand went into my hair at the side of my head.

“Are you real y sleepy?” he asked.

I wasn’t. I was wide-awake and scared out of my wits.

“Um,” I answered.

“Because if you want to talk, we got shit to talk about.”

“I’m sleepy,” I said immediately.

His hand slid out of my hair, down my neck, between my br**sts and down, to circle my waist. Then, he pul ed me into him.

“We’l talk tomorrow,” he said.

I pushed in closer.

I pushed in closer.

I wasn’t going to think about it. Not then. Maybe not ever.

I wrapped my arms around him and he held me close.

After a few minutes, I whispered, “Hank?”

“Yeah?”

I pressed my face into his throat.

“Thanks for tonight.”