New explorations. New sensations. New orgasms.

Yet the same fucking desire. The same way he knew her body—every noise, every squirm, every breath. The same way he knew that the soft sputters coming from her meant his baby was getting damn close to an orgasm.

“I need you to come for me, love,” he whispered.

“No,” she breathed.

“Oh, yes.”

Andrea rolled away from his hand. For a second, he was left there, bereft, wondering what the fuck she was thinking. They’d been together all night. Of course, things weren’t magically better between them, but it didn’t fucking mean she could run away in the morning.

Then, she grinned at him and pushed him backward onto the bed with his dick protruding upward, as hard as a rock and ready for her.

“I want to be on top, and I want you to come with me,” she demanded.

He relaxed back into the bed. “Whatever you want.”

He realized how terrified he’d been there for a second, worried that she had wanted this to stop. He couldn’t remember ever being frightened about a woman like that before. If that made him a pussy, then fine. He’d gone crazy for months over this woman…just add it to the list.

Andrea hooked her leg over his hips and eased herself down on top of him. The smile on her face was euphoric. She rested her hands on his chest and started to move up and down on his cock. Her tits bounced wonderfully with the movement, and he nearly forgot to meet her thrusts as he stared at the sight. In the early morning light shining in through the windows, she looked like a goddess. And as she made herself come on his dick and he followed along with her, he truly believed he would worship her.

They took a long shower, soaping each other up and remembering the ease of being together. Then, after he gave her one last kiss, he left her in the bathroom, as he knew she liked to spend ample amount of time in there, getting ready.

Clay grabbed his phone out of his hastily discarded suit pants and checked the messages. He had one from Brady.

You just had to trash the car, didn’t you? Dick.

Clay laughed heartily. He, Chris, and Lucas had decorated Brady’s Lexus the day before with wedding slogans painted on the windows, flowers over every conceivable space inside and out, and cans hanging off the back of the bumper on strings, so they’d rattle when he pulled away.

They’d all gone in on the event and probably gone a little overboard. But Brady was only going to get married once, and it was fun to get at him like this. Plus, he couldn’t be that upset. He and Liz were on the way to the airport to go to Bora Bora for three weeks and stay in some private overwater bungalow where Clay suspected they would just fuck the entire time. Though Liz had sworn she’d bring enough books with her to fill a library, Clay doubted she’d have any time to read.

The second text was from Gigi, who he guiltily remembered kicking out of their room. He’d gotten a suite with two rooms for them since, obviously, they weren’t sleeping together, but since things with Andrea had worked out even better than he’d imagined…he’d asked Gigi not to come up.

She hadn’t seemed to care. In fact, with the way she had been eyeing Chris all night, Clay wondered if that was where she’d ended up anyway.

Whenever you come up for air, I kind of need my stuff. Clothes or something. Let me know when it’s safe. Otherwise, I’m just sitting here, smelling like vodka and looking like the walk of shame. So, you know…normal for me.

Clay snorted and messaged her back.

Going to be a while.

Fuck.

Maybe if you came up right now, it’d be fine.

If this is awkward, I’m going to hate you forever.

Clay figured Andrea had at least another forty-five minutes before she would be done in the bathroom anyway. And, if last night wasn’t proof that she was the only woman he wanted in his life, then he wasn’t sure what else he could do to convince her right now. Though he had some ideas for later.

Using her key card, Gigi came in through the door and practically tiptoed over to the second bedroom where she had been planning to stay. Clay had been sure to put some actual clothes on—a teal polo and khakis—before she got there. She waved at him as she grabbed clothes out of her suitcase and then zipped it closed once more.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

“So…where were you last night?” he asked, following her to the door.

“I got a room.”

Clay narrowed his eyes. “Bold-faced lie, De Rosa. The Biltmore was booked up for the wedding.”

She rolled her eyes. “And?”

“You couldn’t have gotten a room, which sounds to me like you stayed in someone else’s room.” He leaned against the doorframe and watched her squirm.

“Doesn’t matter where I was, Maxwell. All that matters is, you got your girl back.”

She gave him a quick hug and then opened the door.

“Um…what’s going on?” Andrea asked.

She had appeared silently into the bedroom. He was shocked as shit, considering she’d only been in there for fifteen minutes, and she came back out with pencil-straight hair and only light makeup. She was goddamn stunning. It was like looking into the sun.

“Hey, baby,” he said casually. “Gigi just came to pick up her stuff. She was trying not to disturb us.”

Andrea wrinkled her nose. He knew that she still wasn’t over what she thought had happened with Gigi…even though nothing had happened. He certainly didn’t consider the ill-conceived kiss he had given Gigi the night he thought he’d lost Andrea for good anything for her to worry about.

“I see,” she said, crossing her arms and eyeing Gigi.

“Yeah. So sorry. I wouldn’t have bothered you at all, but well…I don’t have any other clothes,” Gigi said hastily.

Clay gave Gigi a sympathetic look. This was so awkward for her.

“Just really glad to see you two back together.”

“We’re not back together,” Andrea said frostily.

Clay’s head whipped back to face her. “What?”

“Um…I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.” Gigi held her hands up. “I’m not into Clay at all. He’s like a brother.”

“What do you mean, we’re not back together?” Clay asked.