For a second, maybe more, I wonder if this is crazy. If I’ve gone insane, presumptuous, and all kinds of soft inside for trying to pull off this surprise.

Maybe I have.

Maybe I’m jumping off the nutty end of the diving board.

Maybe that’s okay.

Hope rises in me. A big balloon of it. Nerves expand too, relentlessly.

But what’s life without a big chance now and then? After all, she’s worth the risk.

Kristen opens the door. Her chestnut hair is piled high in a messy bun, her glasses are sliding down her nose, and her cute pink skirt makes me think very bad things.

Her expression, though, is priceless.

It’s hope meets wild hope.

It’s Is this really happening?

It matches mine.

She parts her lips to speak, but I go first.

I smack my forehead. “My bad. You texted me and asked if I wanted company this weekend. Figured I’d tell you in person that the answer is yes.”

She grabs my shirt collar and yanks me inside, crushing my lips with hers in a hot, searing kiss. The door isn’t even closed, and I don’t care. She’s on fire, devouring me, and I want to be burned. My head is a haze, and my body is rocketing to five-alarm levels.

Then she lets go.

“Whoa. Why’d you stop kissing me? You should do more of that. Never stop kissing me. Also, do it all night long.”

She laughs and kicks the door closed. “All night long can be arranged. Also, this is perfect timing. My grams just left about ten seconds ago.”

“Good. I told her to keep you occupied till I arrived.”

“Wait. Did she engineer this too?”

I laugh as I slide my hands around her waist. “No, but she did tell me she thought I ought to get my butt down here. And I told her I was already on it.”

She ropes her arms around my neck. “Good. Because I like your butt. Also, you had me worried.”

I tug her closer. “Woman, when you send me a deck of cards with a note that says Want to play strip poker sometime? I am on it. I booked the next flight out of town to see you. Yes, maybe Lulu made me promise that I would get on a plane to see you, but it was all I could think about anyway.”

She brushes a kiss to my lips. “Maybe let’s stop talking and thinking and texting, and start doing.”

That I can do.

I thread a hand in her hair and seal my mouth to hers. It’s one of those slow burn kisses, the kind that takes its time, heats you up, and warms you inside and out.

But it’s only slow burn for so long.

Because weeks of longing? Late-night phone calls? Flirty, dirty texts? And the kisses we shared on that first date?

The time for slow burn is over after one delicious minute of soft, gentle, open-mouthed kisses.

My circuits go haywire, and my desire rockets to sky high.

I grab her ass, lift her up, help her hook her legs around my hips, and then I carry her to the couch.

“Kiss you everywhere?” I ask, arching a brow, as I tug off my shirt. “I believe that was one of your requests?”

Her eyes blaze, and she’s stripping at the speed of light too. There goes the shirt, the bra, and hallelujah. My brain is officially fried because . . . breasts.

“Yes, but right now, I kind of need something else.”

“And what would that be?”

She sits up, reaches for my jeans, and makes her intentions clear. “You naked, fucking me.”

What do you know? Her intentions match mine. “I aim to deliver on all your needs.”

A few more seconds, and that pretty pink skirt pools on the floor, and my boxer briefs join it.

She reaches for my shoulders, bringing me close, whispering, “Hi.”

“Hi,” I say, as I roll on a condom.

“Also, please get inside me right now.”

I laugh. “You are so damn direct and it’s a hell of a turn on.”

Her eyebrows wiggle as her hand darts down, clasping my erection. “I can tell. You are definitely turned on.”

I groan from the red-hot pleasure, the wild thrill of her hands on me. Then, I groan from the sheer perfection of sliding inside her. This woman I adore. The woman I crave. And the woman I want badly.

She lets out the sexiest sigh in the entire galaxy as I fill her, and then she arches up into me, gripping, moving, owning her pleasure.

She’s so alluring, so unabashed as she seeks the right angle, the right friction, then as she asks me to go a little faster, a little harder.

“You’re going to kill me,” I murmur.

“Don’t die till we both come,” she says, then she shudders, and lets loose a fantastic oh god.

My own lust shoots higher, but I stave off my finish, needing to get her there first. Needing to make sure she’s all good.

Tags: Lauren Blakely Romance