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The bra was unhooked and down my arms faster than I could blink, and his hand cupped my breast, his thumb brushing across my nipple. I gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.

“Like that?” he asked, his voice strained.

“Yes,” I breathed. “More.”

He repeated the motion, watching my face as he learned what made me gasp, what made me press closer. When he lowered his head, his eyes held mine.

“I can’t wait to taste this, Tempest.”

God, the way he said my name, like a prayer, like a promise. “Yes.”

His mouth replaced his hand, warm and wet, and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me. His tongue circled my nipple before he drew it into his mouth, sending jolts of pleasure through my body. My hand found his hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands as I held him to me.

Flynn shifted, sitting back, leaving me exposed to his gaze. His eyes traveled over my body with undisguised appreciation. “You’re so fucking delicious,” he said. “Every inch of you.”

I knew what I looked like. According to every magazine, TV show, and social media post, I was too round, too soft, too much in all the wrong places .

But the way Flynn looked at me made me feel like I was exactly the right softness, the perfect amount of round, and exactly enough in all the right places.

He kissed his way down my body, brushing his beard down my cleavage, pausing at my stomach to kiss my belly button, nibble at the stretch marks on the curve of my hip, suck on the soft flesh of my inner thigh.

Each fresh territory came with him telling me exactly what he was going to do and I didn’t even realize a dirty mouth could be the best kind of request for my consent to keep going.

But it was and each of my answers only fueled his hunger.

By the time his face was at the very core of me, I was a wreck of anticipation. “Spread your thighs so I can fuck your wet pussy with my mouth and make you come.”

I know I was supposed to agree out loud, but all I could do was comply with his demand.

He licked his lips and then his head was between my legs, licking, learning, tasting, teasing.

Holy moly. I never would have guessed the tickle of facial hair on my inner thighs was a turn on, but whew, boy.

I was telling Flynn never to shave his beard.

Was beard burn on thighs a thing? I desperately wanted to find out.

When he finally licked across my clit for the first time, it made me gasp so loud, I clasped my hands over my mouth. But nothing prepared me for the way he looked up, watching my face as he brought me pleasure.

“Flynn,” I managed, my voice barely recognizable. “I need?—”

“Tell me what you need,” he encouraged. “I want to hear you say it. ”

“I want you, inside of me,” I whispered. “Please, I need more of you.”

“Just as soon as you come for me, my queen.” He pressed my legs wider and dipped his head back down, not just licking this time, but sucking my clit into his mouth, while pressing his fingers against my entrance.

There wasn’t a rose toy or vibrator on the planet that had anything on Flynn Kingman’s mouth and beard.

I went from oh-that-feels-so-good to coming so hard I was seeing stars in seconds.

My back arched, and my muscles locked. The only thing I could do was feel, feel the force of the orgasm that rocked through me until I was nothing but a mass of bliss and pure pleasure.

Flynn didn’t let up until my body finally floated down from the high he’d just taken me to, and my muscles relaxed one by one.

He crawled back up my body and wrapped himself around me, whispering, “You’re a god damned goddess when you come.

You did so well, and taste like a fucking dream.

I can’t wait to make you come on my face over and over. ”

Somewhere in the haze I found my voice, though it was a little rough. “Is that what they mean when the books say he whispered sweet nothings?”

He chuckled and held me tighter. “They aren’t nothings. I mean every word.”

“Can we do that again?”

His laugh was a little choked this time. “As many times as you want.”

“What if I want something else? Something more?”

“Anything, love. ”

God, this was going to sound so corny. But it’s what I wanted, more than anything else. “Make love to me.”

He rolled away suddenly, and I made a sound of protest until I realized he was reaching for his jeans. He pulled out his wallet, extracting a foil packet.

He tore the packet open, his expression turning serious. “Tempest, are you absolutely sure about this? Because once we start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. Fuck, I don’t mean that. I’ll stop mid-fucking coming if you asked me to, but?—”

I reached for him, pulling him back to me. “I don’t want you to stop.”

He rolled the condom on, then settled between my thighs, his weight supported on his forearms. I could feel him, hard and insistent, pressing against me.

His eyes searching mine. “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

“I will,” I promised. “But don’t stop unless I tell you to.”

He smiled at that, then kissed me deeply as he began to push inside.

There was pressure, an unfamiliar stretching that bordered on discomfort but didn’t quite cross into pain.

I focused on his kiss, on the feeling of his body against mine, and then he was buried deep within me, our bodies as close as two people could be.

“Is this what you want?” he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

I nodded, adjusting to the newness of having him inside me. “Yes. Don’t stop.”

He began to move, his eyes never leaving my face as he watched for any sign of discomfort. The initial strangeness gave way to pleasure as our bodies found a rhythm together. He reached between us, his fingers finding my clit again, circling in time with his thrusts.

“Flynn,” I gasped, my body tightening around him. “That feels?—”

“Good?” he asked, his voice strained. “Tell me, Tempest. I need to hear you.”

“So good,” I managed. “Don’t stop.”

He moved faster, deeper, his control visibly slipping as pleasure built between us. I wrapped my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, wanting more of him.

“That’s it,” he encouraged. “Take what you need. Show me what you want.”

His words, his touch, the feeling of him moving inside me, it all became too good. The tension that had been building shattered, and the orgasm hit me even harder than before. I called his name, my fingers digging into his shoulders as my body clenched around him.

Flynn faltered, buried his face in my neck, a groan tearing from his throat, and came right along with me. For several heartbeats, we remained locked together, our breathing ragged, our skin damp with sweat rather than rain.

Slowly, carefully, he rolled to the side, taking me with him so that I lay half-across his chest. His hand traced lazy patterns on my back as our breathing gradually returned to normal.

“Flynn—”

“I know it’s too soon,” he said quickly. “I know we haven’t been doing this, us, for very long. But Tempest, I... I’m absolutely nuts about you. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before. ”

A short time ago, I would have thought that was a line. I would have put my walls up, and I definitely wouldn’t have believed him. Instead, I searched inside my heart and said, “Me neither.”

His smile could have lit up the darkened cabin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I settled back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

Outside, the storm continued to rage, wind and rain battering the small cabin. But inside, wrapped in Flynn’s arms, I felt safer than I ever had before. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t hiding. Wasn’t pretending to be someone I wasn’t.

With him, I was just Tempest. And somehow, miraculously, that seemed to be exactly who he wanted.

“I want to tell you about something. Something important to me, about me.” The words came easier in the dark, in the safety of his arms.

He shifted, his hand coming up to stroke my hair. “You can tell me anything.”

I took a deep breath. He waited, giving me space to find the words. No pressure, no impatience. Just acceptance.

“I’m not just here on spring break. I was, am working,” I said finally. “I was meeting my agent, and FlixNChill, because I write romance novels and they want to make them into a series.”

There. It was out. The secret I’d guarded so carefully, revealed in the aftermath of the most intimate night of my life. I held my breath, waiting for his reaction.

Flynn’s hand stilled in my hair, then resumed its gentle stroking. “Is that what you’re always writing in that notebook? The one you slam shut whenever I get too close?”

I nodded against his chest, not trusting myself to speak.

“That’s... cool as shit, babe.” The genuine admiration in his voice made me look up. “You’re already a published author? While still in college?”

“You’re not... disappointed? Or weirded out?”

His brow furrowed. “Wait, they are dirty, aren’t they?”

I snort-laughed and definitely blushed a little. “Yeah, I write pretty spicy stuff.”

“Tempie, my girlfriend, writes dirty romance novels. I’m the luckiest man on the planet.”

I was his girlfriend?

“Ooh,” he said with a whole lot of excitement in his voice. “Does this count as research? Fuck, yeah. I am so down to get you inspired to write all night long.”

Same.