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When I came out, he was hanging up.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. My brother is being my brother.”

“Oh—I thought it was work.”

He shook his head. “Yes and no. But even if it was news that the company was part of a hostile takeover, it could wait. I have much better things to do right now.”

Then he disappeared into the bathroom with a wink. Gods, he was going to be the death of me.

Garner was still brushing his teeth or whatever when I crawled up onto the mattress, already half laughing at myself for how obvious I was being. I’d pulled the sweater I borrowed from him on—if borrowing meant stealing it from the back of the chair—and curled up against the pillows.

He stepped out a minute later, towel around his neck, face freshly scrubbed, and just… stopped when he saw me.

“You okay?” he asked, as if I hadn’t just made the most obvious invitation in the world. Even the front desk clerk gave me a knowing smirk.

“I’m great,” I said, patting the mattress next to me. “But I’d be better if you were right here.”

His smile turned crooked in that way that made my stomach drop. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t.”

Garner came over, the weight of him dipping the mattress as he sat beside me. “Touching okay?”

“Please,” I said, without hesitation.

His hand landed on my thigh, warm and solid. My breath caught. He leaned in slowly, kissing my cheek, then my jaw. I tilted toward him, instinctive and ready.

“You want to stop, say it,” he whispered.

“I won’t,” I whispered back, already tugging at the hem of his shirt. “But I will tell you if anything’s off.”

His eyes told me he wanted this as much as I did, but I believed one hundred percent that if I asked him to stop at any point, he immediately would. I was safe in this man’s arms.

“Good,” he murmured. “That’s really good.”

We kissed again, but this time it was different, as if it was somehow more important. Slow at first, curious and sweet. But it didn’t stay slow. Not when he climbed over me, eyeslit up and hungry, almost animalistic. He grinned so warm I felt worshiped, desired, needed. I laughed when he straddled me, my back hitting the sheets. The playfulness came easy, something I’d never experienced before.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he said, hands framing my face.

I gave him a look, that based on his response, shouted my insecurities.

“I’m saying it because it’s true, not to get you into bed.” He kissed my forehead. “I have to admit, I like being up here—I can’t wait to see you come apart underneath me.”

“Yes. Please. Now.” I was to the point of begging.

“Oh,” he sassed, “I intend to.”

Clothes came off in bits and pieces—mine first, then his. There was laughter and playfulness between kisses. He teased my choice in sweaters; I pointed out his bear socks. That kind of thing. But it felt right, safe. And when he finally settled between my legs, both of us bare and shaking a little, I cupped his face and kissed him slowly.

“I want you,” I said. There was no point hiding it or being coy. We were adults, communication was key.

“Then you’ll have me.”

He reached for the lube I hadn’t even seen him bring in. Not that I needed it. I was so slick and ready for him, something he noted as his fingers circled my entrance, and then one slipped in, sliding in and out until I was bucking beneath him. That’s when he added a second and then finally a third.

Every shift, every motion came with soft check-ins: “Still good?” “This okay?” “Too much?”