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Jacob was never a good sleeper until he started sleeping with me.

The first time he told me that, I tucked the fact away like a treasure, iron-clad proof that he was meant to be with me. We’d

been together for something like six months, stealing days in London here and there and spending nights together on overlapping

then had a spell of bad luck with engine trouble and poorly timed safety cars, and Mahoney had won the championship two races

ago. The lowest I could finish was third, even if I crashed out of the last race. No one else was close enough in points to

get past me.

“Next year,” Jacob told me, the night before the last race of the season. “I can feel it.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Secretly, I was thrilled by his belief in me, but I was just barely cool enough to hide it. I pulled off my shirt and crawled

into bed, fighting a yawn. “You staying tonight?”

Sitting on top of the covers beside me, Jacob glanced at the clock. It was only ten p.m., but I always tried to get to sleep early before races. Plus, we were in Abu Dhabi, and my internal clock was completely messed up.

“Mm, sure,” Jacob said finally, standing to pull off his own jeans and shirt. “I always sleep better with you.”

My heart stilled for just a moment. I had to force myself to match his casual tone. “You sleep like the dead. I don’t think

I can take any credit.”

“I’m actually a total insomniac.” Jacob crawled under the covers and slid an arm around my waist. “I’ve lived my whole life

on, like, four hours of sleep.”

My arms went around him automatically. “I’ve seen you sleep twelve hours before.”

“Mm.” He pushed his head into the crook of my shoulder. “All you, Keeping. You’re, like, Ambien for my soul.”

My heart skittered foolishly in my chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm-hm.” I felt his smile against my skin. While I lay there, trying not to grin at the ceiling, he let out a sigh. “I’m not

that tired right now, though.”

He said it with a grin and a subtle press of his hips.

“I should really get some sleep,” I said, just to bug him.

“Sleep is for losers. Plus, I’m good luck. We’ve proven that.”

Grinning, I shifted so I was lying on my side, facing him. “I guess I can’t argue with that.” The last three races I’d won,

I’d spent the night with Jacob beforehand. “Plus, Brian’s always saying I need to do more cardio on race weekends.”

Jacob pulled a face. “Jesus, don’t talk about that douchebag in bed, I’ll never get hard again.”

I chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

I wrapped a hand around his back and pulled him closer, capturing his mouth in a rough kiss.

Jacob was the only person I’d ever slept with, but we’d been together for months, and I’d paid attention.

When he was drunk, he liked to be in control, crawling into my lap and dictating his desires in rough, breathless orders.

The rest of the time, he was—not shy , exactly, but he liked for me to take the lead.

I tangled my fingers in his hair and kissed him hard and deep, then pushed his arms up over his head, pressing his palms into

the mattress.

“Keep your hands there,” I said.

He chuckled. “Bossy jackass.”

I shifted back so I could pull off his boxers and then knelt for a moment at the foot of the bed, admiring the picture he

made stretched out on the sheets. Featherlight, I traced my fingertips up his legs, earning a soft hitch of breath when I

reached the sensitive skin on the insides of his thighs. I crawled forward and settled my weight on his hips, continuing the

slow, gentle trace of fingertips over his chest and neck and jaw, then brushing one thumb over his lower lip. I kissed him

once, soft and open-mouthed, then traced my mouth down the same path my fingertips had taken.

I could feel the steady thud of his pulse under my lips, and when I finally put my mouth on him, he made a soft noise at the

back of his throat. I moved slowly, without any intentional rhythm, enjoying the building tension in his frame, the quickening

breath and increasingly impatient squirms. I stepped away for a moment to rummage through my bag, returning with slick fingers

that set him shifting even more helplessly against me.

After a few minutes under my mouth and fingers, there was an urgency building in the rhythm.

“Travis,” he panted, and I pulled back obediently. A shiver ran through me when I saw he still hadn’t moved his arms from

over his head, and I had to bite sharply into my cheek to refocus myself.

He groaned when I pushed inside, his back arching, his fingers grasping at the sheets. My eyes were on his face; his were

on my shoulders, my chest, my abs. It was the one tiny thing that always felt strange to me—he never quite made eye contact

when I fucked him. It was as though it was too intimate for him, like I might look into his blown-out gray eyes and see too

much.

Regardless, it had been over two weeks since I’d been with him, and with every tight, hot thrust I was hurtling closer to

the end. I shifted positions so I could hit that sensitive spot inside him every time, and he started panting, a sure sign

he was about to fall apart.

He came about a second before I did, crying out and clutching at the sheets. The sight of him pushed me over the edge—I came

deep inside him, gripping him tight as the last aftershocks ran through me. For a few seconds, it was very quiet, the only

noise the thump of my pulse in my ears and the rough sounds of our breath.

Jacob was always odd during those moments immediately after, too.

He was quick to shift beneath me and slip away to the bathroom.

But he would always emerge with a crooked smile and chuck a roll of toilet paper or a washcloth at me, so casual that I never bothered bringing up those few strange moments.

And once we were under the sheets with the lights off, he would curl up with his chin tucked into my shoulder and his arm wrapped around me.

I figured those little quirks were just normal parts of sex.

I’d never had anyone fuck me before, not that I hadn’t offered Jacob the chance.

Probably I would feel just as shy after.

And anyway, I thought, as his breathing evened out and he drifted into a heavy sleep, he only slept well when he was with

me. I was like Ambien for his soul. He’d said so himself.