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Satisfaction unfurls in my stomach. His hips rock, and his dick hits the back of my throat. Lifting my chin, I look up to see his brow clutched hard, his eyes squeezed shut. I rake my nails up his thighs, and his jaw tightens with another low groan.

Leaning back, I fist his cock, pumping fast, keeping the momentum going as I catch my breath. “You like it?”

His hazel eyes sparkle with lust, and his voice is ragged. “I can’t come down your throat…”

“You can.” I lean forward, taking him all the way again, holding his ass with my palms. I love the tightness of him, the strain.

Blinking up, our eyes meet, and he touches the side of my cheek with his thumb just before his eyes squeeze shut. I feel the orgasm ripple through his muscles. He groans, thrusting forward, as his cock pulses, spilling down my throat. He stills, bracing through the remnants of orgasm, and I slide my hands along his thighs, rising higher to kiss his flat stomach.

“Come here.” He lifts me off my knees to his waist.

I wrap my body around him with his palms flat against my ass. We hug each other for several long moments, my back against the wall, his weight pressing against me. Our hearts beat in time as I melt into him, ready to give him everything.

I’m pretty sure I’ve decided… I want to know his decision.

Pushing off the wall, he carries me like I weigh nothing toward the stairs. “You want anything?”

“You…” I speak in his ear and kiss his temple. “And some water.”

With a chuckle, he lets me down. “Meet you upstairs.”

“I’ll bring you some too.”

The kitchen still smells like delicious marinara sauce, and I frown at the plastic container of leftovers now cool on the counter.

“Secret family recipe, my ass.” I slap the lid on it and shove it in the fridge before grabbing two bottles of water and heading upstairs.

Sawyer’s sitting up in bed with his shirt off. His back is against the headboard and his eyes are closed. The moonlight streams across the room, deepening the lines in his torso.

“One orgasm and I lost him.” I mutter to myself, taking a long drink of water and shimmying out of my denim skirt.

I suppose it’s not fair to give him a hard time. Like he said, he’s been hauling fifty-pound crates of peaches all day in the hot sun. It makes his body look amazing, but what good does it do me when I’m up late and horny?

Crawling across the bed, I lean forward to kiss his cheek. “You are not an owl.”

His eyes blink open. “Hey.” He slid

es his palms up my thighs, awakening all my senses.

“You talk a big game, old man, and you’re already asleep.” Leaning forward, I kiss the side of his mouth, tracing my lips along his cheek.

“Just resting my eyes.” His hands move higher, lifting my sweater over my head. “What took you so long?”

“I was right behind you.”

“You were not. I changed clothes, got in bed, waited—”

“I put away that award-winning dinner I made for you.” Leaning forward, I kiss my way to his lips, which curl into a smile.

“Mm… dinner.”

Stopping my progress, I look in his eyes. It only takes a second before we both bust out laughing.

“It was awful!” I’m laughing so hard tears are in my eyes.

“It was not awful.” He unfastens my bra, and my nipples tighten as the lace falls across them.

“I’m never cooking for you again.”