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I bite my lip and flush that he heard me. But not from embarrassment. “Why didn’t you come join me?”

“I did join you. On the other side of the door. It was hot as hell, but I was just getting started when your phone rang and interrupted us both.”

The visual that conjures up of him stroking himself while he listened to me get off makes my mouth water.

We join the queue at the order desk, and he maneuvers me to stand right in front of him. I anticipate the press of his body into mine, but it still makes my heart skip a beat when that warm, muscular chest touches my back. It’s been three months since our first time, we’ve had sex every day.

On the day Aunt Flo makes her appearance, he fucks the valley between my breasts, and two weeks ago he introduced me to the mind-blowing pleasure of anal sex. He runs his hands down my arms, and they erupt in gooseflesh. He leans down to nuzzle my neck with his nose. I reach between us and cup my hand over his growing erection and give it a discreet stroke. “Is that a rocket in your pants or are you happy to see me?”

He hisses. “You’re asking for trouble.”

“Only the good kind, I promise.”

It’s our turn at the counter, and I step to the side so he can focus on paying.

“Mr. Solomon. Nice to see you again,” the man behind the counter says, his glasses sitting on the edge of his nose as he scans the screen of his computer. “Ah, yes. Here are your measurements. This is for your kitchen, correct?”

“Correct, and here’s the stone I’ve chosen.” He slides the paper he wrote it on across the counter. The man types the number into the computer and smiles in approval. “Very nice. And does Mrs. Solomon approve?” he asks me with an expectant smile.

“I do like it. But I’m not his wife,“ I correct him.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Omar says and bumps my hip. I smile at him and the man, but I’m taken aback.

I like the way that label sounds, but we’ve never talked about it. I know he’s not sleeping with anyone else, and I know he cares about me, but I’m not holding my breath. And I don’t want to read more into it than he means.

We walk out to the car and are back on the road toward home when I finally ask.

“So I’m your girlfriend?”

“Sorry, would you prefer partner?”

“Either would be fine, but I didn’t think we were labeling this.”

He glances at me, and the corner of his mouth turns down. “Okay, how would you define us then?”

I return his sideways look. “As lovers. And friends.”

“Who don’t spend a single night apart. Who are inseparable. Who are exclusive?” he retorts.

“So there’s no one else you’re even interested in?”

“Fuck no.” He turns his head to glare at me for a second before he looks back to the road. “You?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Better fucking not. You’re my girl, Jules. I didn’t say it because I didn’t think I had to.”

His possessiveness is such a turn-on. But I want to be clear before we move on. So I keep my knees together and press him. “Well, I don’t take hints and never get innuendo. It’s just not how my brain works. So if you’re saying all of those things add up to mean I’m your girlfriend, then that’s cool. I’ve never been anyone’s girlfriend. But I know people who have something like this with multiple people.”

He scoffs, and his lips quirk in a dismissive smirk. “Then they’re not doing the same things we do. Because if they did,they wouldn’t be with multiple people because they wouldn’t even see anyone but each other, right?”

“Right.” My heart expands in my chest. I don’t expect him to be here forever, but while he is, I want him all to myself. “So girlfriend?”

“I’ll call you whatever you want as long as, to you, it means we’re together.”

“I like that.” A littletoomuch for comfort.

“I likeyou.” He puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes.