A slow smile curls over his firm lips. “Kind of love you being all possessive, Fi.”

I harrumph, but give his chest a little kiss. “I am sorry, though. That this is happening, I mean.”

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “Me too.”

We grow quiet, lost in our own thoughts, Dex stroking my hair and me drifting in a strange half-sleep state.

“Six Underground” by the Sneaker Pimps plays softly from a set of bedside speakers.

“I never asked how you came to like trip-hop music,” I murmur, too content to talk louder.

“Are you asking me now?” There’s a smile in his voice.

“Smartass.” I give his ribs a little nudge, loving the way he squirms as if it tickles. “And yes. I told you when we first kissed that I didn’t expect you to like this music. It’s still a surprise.”

He takes a breath, and I lift along with his chest. “Okay, but don’t laugh.”

“That’s basically assuring I’ll laugh.”

“Fine. Laugh it up,” he says. “It was a car commercial. I kept hearing this song and…” He cranes his head to glare down at me, though there’s a smile on his lips. “You’re laughing already?”

I smother my laugh. “It was the same for me, is all.”

His lips twitch, those hazel eyes of his gleaming more gold than blue now. “Which song?”

“It was two songs. Morcheeba’s ‘Crimson’ and Massive Attack’s ‘Paradise Circus’. You?”

“Zero Seven’s ‘In the Waiting Line’.”

“I love that song. They used it in Sex and the City too.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” With a grunt, he turns, and suddenly I’m on the bed and he’s over me, his warm body gently pressed to mine. His lips find my neck and suckle. “God, I love the way you smell.”

My fingers comb back his loose hair. “And how do I smell?”

“Like happy dreams and well-fucked woman.”

A shout of laughter leaves me, and I tug him closer as he works his way along my collarbone, his hand sliding up to my breast. The thick slab of his erection presses against my thigh, tempting me, but I let the anticipation build for now.

“I love the way you smell too.”

He pauses, his lips brushing my shoulder, his beard tickling my breast. “How do I smell?”

“Like…” I smile up at the ceiling as I consider. “Pancakes and midnight.”

“Oh?” His voice is muffled as he resumes exploring my neck and teasing my nipple with the blunt tip of his thumb.

I squirm, trying to open my legs wider to let him settle between them. He does with a low groan, but doesn’t enter me. He’s waiting for my answer.

My voice is breathless, distracted as I am by his roaming lips. “You know…” I kiss his temple, the crest of his cheek, “when you’ve had a night of sweaty, hot fucking…” I give the line of his jaw a little nuzzle. “Going at it until you can barely move. And you’ve worked up an appetite that only a stack of pancakes and more hot sex will satisfy?”

Ethan lifts his head then, his eyes slumberous but his expression careful. “You had a lot of those nights?”

It hits me what I’ve said, and my fingers tighten his hair as I tell him the absolute truth. “Only with you, Ethan. That’s why it’s your scent.”

God, his smile, it unfurls like a spring leaf to the rain, spreading wide and open. “Good answer.”

Unfortunately, my stomach also has an answer, and that’s to make a God awful growl as if talk of food has released the hunger hounds.

Ethan grins wide, and a laugh rolls out of him. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch that last bit there.”

“Shut up.” I slap his shoulder while blushing hot over my entire body. “We’ve been at it for hours.”

“And hours,” he confirms with a solemn nod, though the smug satisfaction in his expression grows.

Before I can say a word, he leaps up, hauling me with him. I squeal as he lifts me with one arm. “Ethan, what the hell?”

He strides out of the bedroom. So much for being depleted. His stamina awes me. “Where do you think? To go make you some pancakes. I need to keep up my girl’s strength.”

Dex

Despite my good intentions, my plan to feed Fi pancakes goes south as soon as she tells me we need flour to make them.

“Shit,” I say, stopping in the middle of the kitchen. Fi’s clinging to me like a little barnacle, her legs wrapped around my waist, her pussy pushed against my abs—which threatens to break my will and turn me back to the bedroom.

She smiles with sleepy but lust-filled eyes. “You’ve never made pancakes, have you?”

“I’m not much of a cook. Hang on.” I walk us over to the fridge. Holding her tight with one arm, I open the door and bend to rummage through it.

Fi makes another of her adorable squeals as we tilt down. But I’ve got her. She isn’t going to fall on my watch. She weighs next to nothing.

Vague fantasies of doing drills while carrying Fi on my back drift through my head as I grab a box of takeout and set her on the counter, earning another squeak.

“Shit, that’s cold,” she says with a laugh. But she leans back on one arm and gives me a cheeky grin, her golden hair sticking out wildly around her face.

Damn, but she’s gorgeous. So fucking perfect for me, she takes my breath. Sweet, perky tits with puffy nipples that always seem to be begging for a suck. Tiny waist and wide hips. A butt that’s more than a handful. A true Tinker Bell body.