I was unprepared for the feeling of my bare chest fully over hers, her thighs slipping around my hips. It was too much. Hanna was too much.

She gasped, slipping her hand between us; I hadn’t given her much space. I was lying heavily on her, warm skin to warm skin, but she found me, guided me up until I could feel the dip of her entrance, and then she led me higher, slipping and teasing my c**k over the slick rise of her clit, the soft warm folds of her sex.

She exhaled a burst of air, breathlessly telling me, “Good. Good.”

Pushing onto my hands, I watched as she rubbed me over her skin. Her eyes fell closed and a small moan slipped from her. “It’s just . . . it’s been a while,” she whispered.

I pulled my eyes up to her face, watching her lick her lips, her lashes flutter open so she could look down at the space between us, watch herself play with me.

She blinked back up at me again, her hand stilling between us. “About three years.” Her forehead wrinkled slightly as she said, “I’ve had sex with five guys but probably only had sex about eight times. I really don’t know what I’m doing, Will.”

I swallowed, bending to kiss her jaw. “Maybe I won’t be so rough then,” I whispered, but she laughed, shaking her head.

“I don’t want you to be gentle, either.”

I looked at her breasts, her belly, where she held me between her legs. I wanted to feel her bare skin on my cock. I’d never in my life had sex without a condom and wanted to feel her so much it hardened me further. “I’ll make it good,” I spoke into the skin of her neck. “Just let me feel you.”

Hanna jerked beneath me, pressing me into her opening, her eyes fluttering closed as I shifted forward.

A hot flush crawled up her neck and her lips parted in a sweet sigh. It was overwhelming for me to watch her process what we were about to do, and I could see the moment when it happened, when it really hit her that we were about to have sex. She opened her eyes again, and her gaze fell to my lips and went softer, calmed momentarily from the frenzy. She ran her hands up my chest and cupped my neck, whispering, “Hey.”

That look, that tenderness in her eyes, made me realize for the first time what was happening to me: I was falling in love.

It was a relief so enormous it wrung the air from my lungs, and I deepened the kiss, wondering whether she could feel from my touch that I had just put a name to what we were doing—making love—or if she simply tasted her sex on my tongue, and didn’t understand that my entire world had just spun free of its programmed orbit.

I pulled my face back but pushed my h*ps forward, aching to feel the softness of her body fully pressed to mine; I just wanted to get inside her and stay deep.

She looked up at me as I slid deeper, but she no longer seemed to be able to see my face. Her eyes were glazed, overwhelmed, and tiny little inward gasps accompanied her every inhale. A tight twinge of pain passed over her face. I was only a few inches in, and it was tight, but it was so f**king good.

I heard my own voice come out but it sounded faraway: “Open up for me, Plum. Move with me.”

Hanna relaxed, lifting her legs higher up her sides so I slid in deeper, and we both let out a taut moan. She gave her h*ps an experimental roll, pulling me fully inside, and the sensation of her warm thighs pressed to my h*ps caused me to let out a loud grunt.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispered, stilling below me.

“I know.” I kissed her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her lips.

She nodded, pushing up, unconsciously telling me with her body that she needed me to move.

I pulled back, starting an easy rhythm, getting lost in the feel of her warmth. I would pick up my pace, sucking savagely on her neck, growing wild and heated and then slow, and eventually stop, kissing her deeply, relishing the way her hands explored my back, my ass, my arms, my face.

“I’m good,” she whispered, turning into my hand when I swept some damp hair off her forehead.

“You look so f**king perfect under me.”

I wanted to build the need in her, make her go off like a bomb when she finally came with me inside her like this. She started to shake when I sped up, but growled in tight frustration when I slowed again. But I knew she trusted me, and I wanted to show her how f**king good it could be if there was no rush, no need to do anything but this for hours, and hours.

I kissed her, sucked on her tongue, stole every one of her sounds into my mouth, swallowing them like a greedy f**king bastard. I loved her hoarse noises, how often she said please, how much she let me drive what we were doing. The reality of her, sweaty and pliable beneath me, ate away at my calm, and I shifted from lazy pushing into quicker, hungrier thrusts. She answered with mirrored movements of her hips, arching into me, and I knew this time she was close and I couldn’t stop or slow.

“Feel good?” I ground out, pressing my face to her neck.

She nodded, unable to answer, hands gripping my ass and fingernails digging sharply in my flesh. I pulled her leg up, pushing her knee to her shoulder and let go, f**king her as fast and hard and close to her body as I could.

It was wild, unreal, explosive the way her orgasm built beneath her skin first as a flush, and then a tightening of her muscles until she was shaking, and sweaty and begging unintelligible words beneath me, preparing to come.

“That’s it,” I whispered, struggling to hold back my own release even as it itched low in my belly. “Fuck, Plum, you’re right there . . .”

I watched her eyes squeeze closed, her mouth open, and her body bow off the bed as she screamed in cl**ax. I moved through it, giving her every single second of pleasure I could possible wring from her body.

Her arms fell away, leaden, and I propped myself up on my hands, looking down at where I moved in her, feeling her eyes on my face.

“Will,” she exhaled, and I heard the languid glee in her voice. “My God.”

She reached up, slid her finger into my mouth so I could taste her sweetness. I moved one hand between us, rubbing her clit, knowing she was going to be sore soon, but needing to feel her come around me one more time.

After only a few minutes she arched, h*ps rocking faster with me. “Will . . . I . . .”

“Shh,” I whispered, watching my hand move over her, my c**k slide in and out. “Give me one more.”

I closed my eyes, my mind diving down into pure sensation: her quivering thighs all around me, the rhythmic tightening of her pu**y as she came again with a hoarse, surprised cry. I cut the last chain of my self-control, hitting deeper and harder, prolonging her release with my thumb pressed to her clit. Hanna’s head was thrown back into the pillow, hands on my ass, pulling me forward while she rocked up into me. Her eyes were squeezed shut, lips parted, and all around her head, her hair was a wild mess on her pillow. I’d never seen anything more beautiful in my life.

She dragged her nails up my back, watching my face, fascinated. The sensation was too much: her rough touch, soft body beneath, and her wide-eyed, fascinated study.

“Tell me it feels good,” she whispered, lips swollen and wet, cheeks flushed, hair matted with sweat.

Her nails pushed down, in a rough pinch and in a flash I knew with the pain of her nails and sweet pleasure of her body wet and squeezing me, I wasn’t going to last. Pleasure flooded my veins, hot and frantic.

She curled into me, biting down my shoulder to my chest. “Come,” she gasped, dragging her nails possessively down my back. “I want to feel you come.”

It was as if I’d been plugged into an outlet, every inch of my skin alive and buzzing with heat. I stared down at her: br**sts moving with the force of my thrusts, skin sweaty and perfect, angry red bite marks from my teeth all over her neck, shoulders, and jaw. But when I looked up and met her eyes, I lost it. She was staring at me and it was her—Hanna, this girl I saw every morning and fell in love with a little bit more every single time she opened her mouth.

It was so f**king real. With a loud shout, I collapsed on her, bucking wildly and flooded with a pleasure so intense I barely registered the warmth of her arms around my shoulders, the press of her kiss to my neck when I stilled on top of her, or the way she whispered, “Stay on top of me like this forever.”

“Don’t ever stop being so f**king open,” I murmured, pulling my gaze to her face. “Don’t stop asking for what you want.”

“I won’t,” she whispered. “I got you tonight, didn’t I?”

And just that simply, I was claimed.

I woke to the shifting of the mattress, the sound of springs as Will climbed out of bed.

Dim, blue light seeped through the window and I blinked into the darkness, trying to make out the shape of objects nearby—the doorway, my dresser, his silhouette disappearing through the bathroom door.

Without switching on a light, I heard the water start, the shower door opening and closing again. I considered joining him but seemed unable to move: my muscles felt like rubber, my body heavy and sinking into the mattress. There was a deep, unfamiliar ache between my legs and I stretched, squeezing my thighs together to feel it again. To remember. Now my room smelled of sex and Will and I could feel myself grow dizzy from it, from his proximity and the thought of so much of his na**d skin just on the other side of the wall. Arms, legs, a stomach like granite. What exactly was the protocol here? Was I lucky enough that he’d come back and we’d do it all over again? Is that how this worked?

My thoughts drifted to Kitty and Kristy and I wondered whether last night was just like all the other nights he’d spent with numerous other women. If he held them the same way, made the same sounds, offered the same promises of how good he’d make them feel. Will didn’t spend every night with me, but we did spend a lot of them together. When did he see them? A part of me wanted to ask, so I could know the specifics of how he slotted all of us into his life. But a bigger part of me didn’t, not really.

I ran my hand through my tangled hair and thought of last night: of Dylan and our disastrous date, of Will, and how it felt to realize he’d been just outside my apartment. Worrying. Waiting. Wanting. Of the things we’d done and how he’d made me feel. I’d never known sex could be like that: both hard and soft and alternating between the two for what felt like forever. It was wild; his hands and teeth left me deliciously bruised, and there were moments I thought I might break into a million pieces if I couldn’t get him even deeper into me.

The familiar squeak of the faucet sounded above the pounding spray and I turned my head toward the door. The water slowed before the shower fell silent, and I listened as he stepped out, pulled a towel from the rack on the wall, and dried himself off.

I couldn’t pull my eyes away as he walked out, his na**d body moving through a slice of moonlight. Sitting up, I crawled to the edge of the bed. He stopped just in front of me, his c**k lengthening as I stared.

Will reached up, running his fingers carefully through my tangled hair before drawing a line down the side of my face and, finally, tracing my lips with his fingertip. He didn’t duck down to look me in the eye. It was as if he knew I was studying him. As if he wanted me just to look.

I swear I could hear my heart hammering in my ears. I wanted to touch him. I wanted, more than that, to taste him.

“You look like you want to put your mouth on me,” he said, his voice thick and hoarse.

Swallowing heavily, I nodded. “I want to see how you taste.”

He slid his hand down his length and he took another step closer, sweeping the head of his c**k across my lips, painting me with the bead of moisture there. When my tongue darted out to taste it—and him—he let out a low groan, letting his hand slide up and down the base as I slipped my mouth around the tip, licking a little.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “That’s so . . . so good.”

I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t this, to be so turned on by the actual act, or how empowering it was to be the person who made this gorgeous man unravel. His hands moved to my hair and I closed my eyes. His breaths were ragged as I moved my mouth farther and farther onto him. Finally, I heard him swallow and then gasp with a shaky inhale.

“Stop, stop,” he said, and took a step back. He sounded like he’d been running a marathon. “You have no idea how much I’d love to let you play with me like this, your tongue and fuck, those lips, Hanna.” His thumb brushed over my chin. “But I want to be careful with you the first time you take me in your mouth, and right now I feel too wild, and too f**king greedy.”

I knew exactly how he felt. My body hummed, my pulse hammered in my neck, and I squeezed my thighs together again, feeling the sweet, impatient ache grow with every second.

He leaned down, kissed me, and whispered, “Roll over, Plum. I want to f**k you facedown.”

I could only nod, moving to lie on my stomach, my mind too hazy to even come up with a response. The bed dipped and I felt him behind me, settling between my parted legs. His hand moved along the back of my thighs, over my ass. He gripped my hips, fingerprints burning into my skin as he pulled me to my knees and farther down the bed, closer to where he wanted. I could feel how wet I was, feel it on his fingers as he moved them against me, on my thighs. My heart hammered in my chest and I tried to shut out everything but the heat of his skin, the brush of his lips and hair along my back.