I sit up when I notice him lift the sheets with the intention of slipping under the covers with me.

He leans over and takes my lips, leisurely, with no rush. “I really, really enjoy kissing you.” The husky murmur is whispered against my mouth.

“Am I sleeping here?” I’m wondering out loud whether I should get dressed to be taken home.

His arm slides possessively around my waist as his chuckle prickles through me.

“Not sure how much sleeping there will be. But I’m not going anywhere. Neither, for that matter, are you.”

It’s dark. The only sounds those of wet kissing and whispers. Raw and hoarse. I’m straddling him, his arms around me. One hand cupping my butt, his thumb caressing the fissure.

Breathing and panting as we keep kissing.

“This okay . . .?”

His voice is husky. I’m panting harder and harder. He turns his head and kisses the exposed upper swell of one of my breasts, squished against his chest. He licks it and groans and squeezes the flesh, easing his other hand deeper along my ass cheeks to caress my pussy from behind. My clit is squished against his cock. My nipple is absolutely hard and puckered and I feel relief—relief and an intensification of everything at the same time—as he lowers his mouth and sucks me. He sucks me lightly at first, and when I moan, a little harder.

“More than okay,” I say, rocking my hips to tease his hard cock, wanting it inside me.

Soon we’re fucking, slow and lazy, sitting on the bed, my arms and legs around him, his hands on my ass, moving me, his mouth in control of mine, his hand on my breast, his scent in my nostrils.

I come with a little gasp that he swallows, and he murmurs how sexy I look as he rolls me to my back and finishes off with the most delicious thrusts of my life.

Soon, I start dozing off.

“Come here. I’ll let you be the little spoon tonight.”

“You been the big spoon often?” I ask groggily.

“Not really but you’re so tiny, I could fit in a couple of you right here. Scoot over.”

I roll to my side and love the feeling of his arm around me.

I turn to face him and tuck my cheek into his neck instead. I’d always loved being held by my dad and brother, it made me feel safe and protected and cared for. But I’d never been held like this by a lover. It’s different. There really is no space between bodies. You go the extra few inches closer so that you smell his skin and feel his heartbeat under your cheek—and while you’re enjoying that you almost fail to realize he’s sort of nuzzling your hair, also enjoying having you this close.

“How many women have you slept with?” I ask.

“If you’d asked me two months ago, I’d say not enough.” He groans and shifts on the bed to his back, and I cuddle his side instinctively.

“And now?”

He props himself up on his elbow and looks down at me, eyes thoughtful and intense. “I don’t know. It’s starting to feel like enough from where I stand.”

“As in, you won’t want to sleep with anybody ever again?” I laugh. “A man with your libido, there’s no way.”

“Don’t be obtuse, Olivia,” he laughs. “No. That’s not what I meant. I meant enough to know when I find one who could put all the other experiences behind me.”

“Not me, though.”

“Why not you?”

“Well, I’ve got six years to go before I’m twenty-eight. I mean, I want to work a lot and establish myself.”

He’s silent.

“Callan?”

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully, looking down at me with hot eyes.

“Why are you silent? It’s making me nervous.”

“Stop talking, Livvy.” He sticks his tongue into my mouth, shifting me on top of him to caress me and make me realize he’s ready for more.

“So this boss of yours. What does he make you do?”

It’s dawn.

We’re still in bed.

With a total of thirty minutes of sleep for the night.

We’re so fucked.

He lies naked on the bed, slim hips, broad shoulders, the definition of his muscles like a playground under my fingers.

“Aside from sending me to get his coffee twice, sometimes three times because he’s too busy to drink it while it’s hot, my boss pays me to chew on pencil erasers,” I say.

“Waste all the brilliance of that mean little mind?”

“I know, right? Pfft.”

He tilts my chin. “I had a good time last night.”

I feel a tiny twinge as we part. Is this it? Is this all, and how the other girls end up feeling?

“Am I seeing you again,” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“How’s Sunday for you?”

“I . . . um. Sunday is today.”

He just smiles at me, waiting.

I laugh and nod. “I might be free Sunday.”

“I’ll drive you home to change and pick you up at noon? Wear something comfortable.”

“Wait. What? Where are we going?”

“Let’s do lunch. Maybe some work later. Then dinner.”

Butterflies flit in my stomach as he drives me back to my apartment to hurry to get ready for noon. Okay, Livvy, this is nothing. It’s nothing, really.

But every inch of my well-fucked body knows it’s not nothing. The truth is nothing this man gets involved with could ever amount to nothing.

I’m just afraid to know what this something is.

Monday I have an extra little hop to my step after the fabulous Sunday I spent with Callan.

Mr. Lincoln is back in full swing at the office and he seems pleased with my work.