Chapter Five

For the two days after the award ceremony, Evelyn threw herself into producing the follow-up show. Harry had tried to talk to her twice since then, and she'd successfully dodged him. She couldn't commit to doing more shows like that one. If Harry wouldn't let her do the new show she'd pitched, she'd have to find someone who would.

Everything was in place for the episode she'd planned, B-roll footage, a few well-placed clips from the original episode, and guests who could speak on the volatile subject—none of whom were the kids who had suffered this tragedy. Harry and Trent would get their sparks and excitement, and she could hold on to the shreds of her soul.

In three days, they'd film. Three more days of dodging Harry.

She'd also successfully avoided thinking about Owen. But now the clock was counting down. She knew he needed space to think, so she didn't contact him while he was on duty. But she refused to bury her head. They were good together, and it made sense for them to take it to the next level. They already acted so much like a couple. They turned to each other for comfort and security. They shared everything about their lives. They laughed and cried together. They just fit. If she let him, Owen would hide and pretend she hadn't kissed him or invited him into her bed.

She was done with that shit. She wanted him. Tonight, he needed to make a decision. If he didn't want her, that was fine. She'd get over it. But she was done dancing around each other. Their chemistry was getting hard to ignore. They'd still be friends, but she wanted more. If he couldn't—or wouldn't—give her more, then she'd seek it elsewhere. Just like her job. It was time to go after what she wanted.

She really hoped Owen wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Leaving the studio, she texted to see if he wanted her to grab dinner. Sometimes he liked to cook, but other times, when coming off a shift, he wanted takeout. He quickly responded that he'd ordered Chinese.

No other conversation or question. Just a quick answer.

No way was she going to let him make this weird. When she got to his house, she grabbed her overnight bag from the back seat. Even if she didn't end up spending the night with him, she didn't want to stay in her work clothes.

But she really wanted to spend the night. Not on the couch. Not fully clothed. Taking a deep breath, she walked up the steps and let herself in his house.

Soft jazz played, and a small candle lit the center of his coffee table in the living room. She tried not to get her hopes up.

"Hey," he said, coming from the kitchen. He wore his post-run outfit: a pair of low-slung sweatpants and a worn T-shirt.

She looked around. "Where's Probie? He always greets me."

"I think I wore him out on our run. Ready to eat?"

"I'm starved, but I want to change first. With my luck, I'd spill something and it's a bitch to get stains out of this blouse." She knew from experience. She'd spilled coffee on it a couple of times already.

"I'll get the food set up. I was getting ready to put it in the oven because I wasn't sure how long you'd be working." He turned to go back to the kitchen.

She went to the bathroom and changed into the yoga pants and tank top she'd brought, carefully folding her work clothes and tucking them into her bag. She looked at the box of condoms she'd packed, hoping she'd have a use for them. Back in the living room, Owen sat on the couch, containers of Chinese food spread across the table. It was like any other night they'd shared dinner.

Except for that damn candle.

She set her bag next to the couch, and he looked up at her. His gaze traveled over her body as if he had never looked at her before. It was like the charged glances they'd been sharing, only amplified. That's a good sign, right?

She sat down beside him. Her nerves got the better of her, so without waiting, she picked up a container and stabbed the chopsticks into it, not caring what it held. Ugh. Sweet-and-sour chicken.

He handed her a plate with fried rice and took the chicken from her, but he didn't start eating.

"So," he said.

She scooped up some rice and ate it. "So," she answered around her mouthful.

"I've been thinking."

"Thinking is good. Usually." She forced her voice to remain calm and steady, even though her heart thundered in her chest.

He shot her a look. "I heard you the other day. About us. And the attraction. Yes, I'm attracted to you. I always have been. But changing things between us freaks me out."

"Like I said, things have already changed or at least shifted. I don't know that there's any going back."

"That's what worries me. I date around because it keeps things simple, predictable, like your paternity test episodes. There's no expectation for it to go anywhere with those dates. With you, I'd have expectations."

She put her plate back on the table. "I didn't bring this up because I'm horny. I'm not talking about getting laid." She chuckled. "Well, obviously, that would be part of our relationship. Just not the only part. It would be like us. Only better."

"Owen and Evelyn two-point-o?" he asked.

"Yeah, new and improved."

"What if it doesn't work out?"

She reached over and put her hand on his thigh. He covered her hand with his. The physical reassurance emboldened her.

"How could it not? That's what I've been thinking about. We're good together in every sense. Are you going to suddenly develop some weird habit that'll make me crazy? We know each other better than most. We've seen each other through some rough times. You know I'm always going to be late. I know you need to run in order to think." She waved a hand between them. "This makes sense."

He continued to stare at her, but she couldn't read him. The energy between them took on a life of its own.

"Sex changes things." His voice was rough.

"We both know it'll be good. More than good."

Her nerves took over, so she knew the babbling would start. She'd learned how to control it in professional settings, but in personal interactions, it bubbled up from time to time. Like now, when everything important to her was on the line. "I don't know what else to say or do. I want this, but if you don't, that's okay. I don't fully understand because it's not like I'm asking you to risk more than I am, but I can respect it. I can't deal with the uncertainty—"

His hand came up to her cheek, cradling her jaw. "Shut up, Evelyn."

Then he leaned forward and kissed her, cutting off all words and thoughts. Rationally, she knew this shouldn't feel different. They'd kissed before. Hell, she'd kissed him two nights ago. But the weight of their discussion and the meaning behind the kiss changed everything.

His lips were soft against hers. Slight pressure and gentle nibbling had her leaning toward him, seeking more. His tongue slicked along her lips and into her mouth.

He held her head, his fingers threading into her hair. Her palms rubbed his chest, and she surged up to straddle his lap. Pressing her body tight to his, she wiggled her hips. He moved his hands to her ass and held her close.

He groaned, and the vibration of it moved through her. But they didn't do more. They were enjoying making out and touching each other while fully clothed, getting as hot and horny as teenagers. Lust pooled low in her belly as she felt him harden beneath her. When they came up for air, they stared into each other's eyes.

"So we're doing this?" she asked quietly.

"We're doing this."

She slid off his lap and tugged him to stand.

He let go. "As much as I'd like to get you naked, I'm not leaving this food out for Probie to get into. He'll be shitting all over the floor for days."

Evelyn laughed. "Way to ruin the mood. I thought you had mad skills."

"You're a sure thing," he said with a wink.

She bumped her hip into his and helped him carry food into the kitchen. They haphazardly shoved everything into the fridge, out of the dog's reach.

"We can eat first, you know. We have all night. No curfew," he said.

"Food will be there later. We can work up an appetite." She wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him again. Then trailed her tongue down the side of his neck. Right now, she was hungry for something other than Chinese takeout.

…

Owen couldn't think straight. Hell, he couldn't think at all. He was taking Evelyn to bed. Evelyn. His Evelyn . The weight of that pulled at him, but his hard-on couldn't be distracted. He followed her to his bedroom, watching the sway of her hips as she moved. Once across the threshold, she turned and pushed the door shut.

"I love your dog, but I don't want him interrupting," she said quietly. The movement of closing the door put her nearly chest to chest with him.

"Where were we?"

She looped her arms around his neck and tugged. "You were in the process of impressing me with your kissing skills."

"I was, was I?"

"Mmm-hmm." She pressed up and into him, bringing their mouths together.

Molding her to his body, he walked her back to the bed. Before they made contact with the mattress, she yanked at his shirt and the waistband of his pants. He grabbed her hands and stilled them. No way was he going to let her rush him. "We have all night, remember. I'm not in a hurry."

She smirked and slid away. "But Mr. Firefighter, sir, I'm so hot. I'm on fire." She whipped off the shirt she wore and moved onto the bed. Beckoning him with a crooked finger, she continued, "Can you put out the fire?"

The husky breathlessness of her voice made his dick throb. While she leaned back, he snagged the waist of her pants and peeled the soft cotton away from her body. She wore dark blue matching bra and panties. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it.

He crawled up her body, placing kisses along her hip, her stomach, the valley between her breasts. He licked his way up her neck to her ear, where he nibbled her lobe before saying, "Just so you know, I have every intention of stoking this fire before I even consider putting it out."

She shivered in his arms, and he wanted more of that. He wanted her to be as completely undone as he was. He reached under her and flicked open her bra. She wiggled out of it as he stroked his fingers back down her torso and past the lacy edge of her underwear. Her eyes fluttered closed.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

She opened her eyes. A furrow wrinkled her brow. "Of course."

He paused, one hand almost inside her panties, the other sliding hair away from her face. "I want this to be good for you. For us. You have to tell me what you want and like."

She let out a low chuckle. "Trust me, if you do something I don't like, I'll let you know. Until then, assume it's all good."

Her words made it all seem so simple.

She shifted, causing his hand to slide farther into her underwear. Her breath hitched as his finger brushed her mound. He slid his hand lower and cupped her. She was warm and wet. His dick pressed against the confines of his underwear and sweatpants.

He stroked her. "I'm not assuming anything, Evelyn. Tell me. Tell me what you want."

She grabbed his wrist and held him against her. "I want you. I want your hands and mouth and dick. I want you to make me come so hard I won't be able to walk. Hard, soft, fast, slow, I want it all." Her palm touched his cheek. "I want everything."

The look on her face was open and honest, a side to her most people rarely got to see. That was his Evelyn. He nodded mutely. His hand stroked her as he lowered his mouth to her gorgeous breast. His tongue circled a stiff nipple while his finger circled her clit. First her breathing sped up, then she began writhing.

He switched breasts and while his mouth worked on one nipple, his free hand played with the other. Evelyn lifted her hips. His palm rubbed her clit, and she gripped his shoulders.

"More," she said.

He rose up so he could watch as she fell apart. He sped up the movements of his hand, moving from sliding fingers inside her to circling her clit, to pressing against it, looking for the magical combination. She lay beneath him, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, skin flushed. Then a moan started deep in her, and her body became taut. Her nails dug into his skin as she trembled and moaned through her orgasm. He held her in his arms until she came down, opened her eyes, and smiled up at him.

That sight alone was enough to get him off for the rest of his life.

"That was amazing," she murmured.

"I hope you don't think that was all I had. I'm just getting started."

"That's good to hear."

Shoving his pants off, he reached over to the drawer and pulled out a condom. While he put it on, she shimmied out of her damp underwear. Her scent filled the air. Blood pounded through his system.

Evelyn pushed herself up to her knees. Lightly touching his shoulders, she caressed the crescent marks her nails had left. Her lips followed the touches, bringing her body in contact with his. Her nipples, still hard, rubbed his chest. For long moments, they knelt there, exploring each other's bodies slowly. Touching, kissing, rubbing, until he couldn't take it anymore.

"I want to be inside you," he said roughly.

"Lie back. Let me take care of you."

He stretched out until his head was on the pillows. Evelyn straddled his prone body and then rubbed against him like a cat until her mouth met his again.

While they kissed, their tongues dancing, she rose up and took him inside her. Languid movements followed, and he became lost in the sensations of her soft body. The wet heat of her mouth and her pussy worked in tandem to drive him blind.

He sat up, keeping her straddling his lap. Their thrusting became shallower, but he was able to hold her. He couldn't believe this was really happening. He was with Evelyn. Naked. Inside her. They were totally clear and sober. He'd dreamed of this so many times over the years. Convinced himself it was an impossibility.

He couldn't imagine anything better. Until she looked into his eyes and smiled. Her entire face was bright, and her smile was one of satisfaction. His chest filled, and it became hard to breathe. If he could freeze time, he would stay right here in her arms with that smile on her face. God, he loved her so much.

Then she shifted so her legs encircled his waist, the movement driving him deeper. Her entire being wrapped around him. Suddenly, he couldn't wait anymore. He flipped so she was on her back again. He buried his face in her neck as he drove into her. Flesh slapping, slick sweat mingling.

He wanted to come, but he wanted her to come again, too, if not with him, before him. "I'm close," he growled.

"So go," she said.

"Are you?"

"I already came."

He lifted up to look at her. "Can you?"

She lifted a shoulder. "Sometimes. Not usually like this. And sometimes I'm too sensitive."

As much as he hated the thought that there was a "usually" that hadn't included him, he wanted to know. He wanted to give her more, be better.

She touched his cheek. "Totally not expected. This is good."

"Let's go for the unexpected." As much as it pained him, he pulled out of her body, immediately missing the heat. He lowered until he shouldered her legs wider and her thighs were at his ears.

She stroked his head. "Owen, you don't have to—"

"Want to," he said against her sensitive flesh.

Her hips bucked in response.

He blew a cool breath against her. "If it's not good, let me know."

Then he used his tongue in light swipes over and around her clit. She didn't tell him to stop, so he continued. It didn't take long until she was panting and gripping the sheet in her fists. When her thighs spasmed against his shoulders, he held tight. As soon as her body sank back to the mattress, he slid inside her once again.

Her muscles squeezed him tight, and it only took a few thrusts for him to see stars. Tingling started at the base of his spine, and his balls contracted. He wanted to hold still and pound deeper all at once. Braced on his elbows, he drove into her again until he was completely empty.

With his muscles twitching, he used his last ounce of energy to slide out of her. He removed the condom and tossed it in the trash before collapsing beside her again. They were both out of breath. She curled against him, and he held her until they were back to normal. When his heart rate and breathing were regulated, his brain fired up.

He just had sex with Evelyn. And they hadn't been drunk, seeking to forget their exes. They'd made the decision to be here. Together.

His heart kicked again. He fisted his hands and reopened them to stop the shakiness. What the hell have we done?

"Are you okay?" She stroked his chest.

He patted her hand, surprised that his own was now steady. "Yeah."

"Ready for dinner?"

"I'm not sure I can move."

Sitting up, she asked, "Do you want me to bring you food? You really need to keep up your strength."

And just like that, his panic was gone.

"Funny." Just to prove he could, he pushed up to sit beside her. "Let's go eat."

…

Evelyn's personal life had taken such a sharp turn that she worried about her professional life. Everything with Owen was damn near perfect. Nothing changed in their friendship, other than the fact that she now had regular non-self-induced orgasms. Why the hell hadn't they done this sooner?

At work, she'd finished taping the school shooting episode. Harry had stopped asking about it, which was almost as worrisome. Instead, he'd switched his focus to sending her ideas that he thought would hit the same emotional notes. No matter how many times she rebuffed him, he came back with more. Like a creepy guy looking to get lucky, he couldn't take a hint. And since he was her boss, she couldn't just tell him no.

The follow-up show was set to air tomorrow. To put it out of her mind, she buried her nose in meetings and phone calls, trying to figure out what else she could bring to the table for Trent. Even the carefree talk show host was growing weary of paternity tests. As she packed her bag for the day with plans to snuggle in bed with a bottle of wine and Netflix because Owen was at work, her phone rang.

She hesitated answering. Few people called her desk. Most used her cell. Except Harry. He always assumed she was at her desk.

"Hello."

"Come to my office. Right now."

"What—"

"Now." Then he hung up.

Shit. So much for her quiet evening.

She slung her bag over her shoulder, intent on leaving as soon as Harry yelled at her for whatever she'd done wrong now.

Knocking on his partially open door, she said, "Hello?"

"Come in," Harry responded sharply.

She pushed the door wide and stepped through. Harry slid his chair back and reclined. He folded his hands over his stomach and pinned her with a look. She waited.

"When we said you should do a follow-up to the school shooting episode, what did we say we wanted?"

Fuck. This was worse than she'd thought. The episode was supposed to air in less than twenty-four hours. She licked her lips and tried to formulate a response.

Harry waved a hand. "Don't. You know what we wanted. We wanted more of the real-person, emotional crap you delivered last year. You had people heated and arguing. Yelling and crying. There was fire," he said, shaking his fist. He shifted and swiveled his computer screen to her. "This is crap."

She stiffened. She'd known he wouldn't be thrilled with what she'd produced, but she did not create crap. "That is a good episode."

"Not what we wanted, though."

"I stand by the work I did."

Harry rose. "It's not enough. We're not airing this as it is. You need to go back and bring in the elements we wanted. We need to see those kids. The audience wants to know where they are, see them being successful in spite of having gone through this."

Tears clawed up the back of Evelyn's throat. "And what about the kids who haven't been successful? Or those who suffer from PTSD? The ones who haven't been able to go back to school? The ones who struggle with survivor's guilt?"

Harry's eyes flared with interest. "Yes, exactly. We want to see the real effects of this."

Her stomach rolled and threatened to pitch her lunch. "They've been through enough. I will not parade them in front of a camera for the world to comment on their misery. It's wrong."

"But it wasn't wrong last year?" Harry asked, his voice rising with irritation.

His dig hit home. "Of course it was wrong. But I was caught up in the moment, in the story. I hated doing it, especially after I saw the final product. We put those kids and teachers through the wringer. We should've protected them. They deserved better."

Harry pressed his lips together, and the muscle in his jaw twitched. "We're pushing the airing. I know you're going out of town this weekend, so you have a week. Fix it or you'll be fired."

This was his line in the sand? "After all our years together?"

"That episode and more like it will put Trent Talks on the map as something more than a fluffy filler. That's what we all want. The bottom line has always been the bottom line."

She pressed her lips together before she said something she'd regret. When Harry didn't continue, she figured she was dismissed. She turned and left his office. Moving like a zombie, she went to her car and drove home. What was she going to do?

Part of her had thought she'd get away with it. She'd taped that show, knowing it wasn't what Harry had demanded, but she thought she'd air it and then go out of town with Owen for his brother's wedding. By the time she returned, Harry would have cooled off and it would be back to business as usual. She should've known better.

As she poured her first glass of wine, her phone rang. Owen. Kicking off her shoes, she answered. "I'm beginning to wonder if you set up security cameras in my house. You always know exactly when I walk in the door."

"I just have excellent timing. How was your day?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Movement on his end told her that he was moving away from the other guys. The sounds of the TV faded. "What's going on?"

"I just told you I don't want to talk about it."

"I heard, but I also know you'll feel better after you do. Otherwise, you stew and make yourself more miserable."

Having someone know you that well was both a blessing and a curse. She couldn't get away with a snarky comment. She blew out a heavy breath. "Harry watched the episode."

"And?"

"He hated it. Which shouldn't surprise me. I didn't deliver." Over the last week, as she'd worked her tail off to bring this episode to life, she'd shared her plans with Owen. He'd been impressed with her ideas and take on how to present the sensitive topic.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means that if I don't redo the episode by next week, bringing in the kids and teachers who were there, I'm fired." She choked on the last words. She'd never been fired from a job.

He muttered a curse and paused, the silence pounding against her.

"I don't even know how I can get it done with your brother's wedding this weekend."

"Oh, hell no. You're not canceling this weekend because of your douchebag boss."

She hadn't been thinking about backing out, but Owen's immediate dismissal rankled. "I didn't say I planned to cancel. Which means I have mere days to redo everything." The realization of how little time that was hit her.

"So don't do it."

She wrinkled her whole face as she pulled the phone from her ear. Did I hear that right? "What?"

"I said don't do it."

"Did you not hear the part about how I'll be fired if I don't?"

"Not to sound like an asshole, but so what?"

Fear and anger burned across her nerves. How dare he act as though losing her job wouldn't be a big deal? Just walk away from everything she'd worked for? She clenched her jaw, grinding her molars.

"Evelyn."

He said her name so gently, it was like he was standing there, touching her. She began to calm. He had that effect on her, which she usually enjoyed, but right now, it irritated the fuck out of her.

"I know how important your job is to you. I'm just saying that before you decide to kill yourself making Harry happy, think about what it would take to make you happy. You don't enjoy your job anymore. You're looking for something else. Just do it."

Her jaw loosened. She opened her mouth, but before she spoke, his words sank in. What if she walked away? Refused to play into Harry's manipulative game?

"You still there?"

"Yeah," she said quietly, absorbing the possibilities.

"Are you pissed at me?"

"I was…but now, not so much. It's a lot to think about."

"But you'll consider it?"

She inhaled and slowly released the breath. "I don't know. That's huge. To strike out on my own with my pitch and hope someone picks it up."

"I have faith in you. And if you fall on your face and become homeless, I'll let you bunk with me."

Laughter bubbled up in her chest. Leave it to Owen to piss her off and then cheer her up in the same five-minute conversation. "Thanks, but I have savings. I'm not quite headed to the poorhouse."

"It sounds like you've already made up your mind."

Had she? The thoughts circled her brain, sounding better with each pass. "I'm thinking."

"I'm here if you need to bounce ideas off me."

"I need to take a serious look at my life. And although you're a part of that, this is something I have to figure out for myself."

"Okay. Talk tomorrow?"

"Of course."

They disconnected. She drained her abandoned glass of wine and refilled it. Then she opened her laptop to come up with a plan.

…

Owen spent the day getting ready for his brother's wedding weekend. He'd tried calling Evelyn when he got off work, but she didn't answer. He didn't like the way they'd left things. He hated seeing the way her job tore her apart. When they'd first met, she was still new to producing Trent Talks . Back then she'd been excited. Over the years, he'd watched that enthusiasm slip away. He'd probably chosen the wrong words yesterday, but he'd meant them.

He wished that just once, she'd stand up for herself at work. She was always bending over backward to make things easier for someone else. He didn't get it.

After dropping Probie off at the kennel, he drove to Evelyn's. They had a night flight and had agreed to get a car from her place. When he parked, he was surprised to see her car in its spot. It was only four in the afternoon. She hadn't said anything about leaving work early, although knowing her, she probably still wasn't packed.

He rode the elevator up and used his key to get in. As he closed the door, he called, "Evelyn?"

"Here," she said.

He stepped forward and saw her huddled over her small dining table tucked in the corner between the kitchen and the living room. She didn't look like she'd left all day. He neared her, kissed the top of her head, and said, "Hey."

"Hey," she said without looking up from her laptop.

She reached over, picked up a few sheets of paper, scanned them, held them near her screen, and then put them back down.

"What's going on?"

She blinked rapidly and looked up at him. "I quit."

"What?" He slid the chair out next to her and sat.

"I emailed Harry this morning and told him that I stand by the episode I did. That I'd be doing a disservice to the teachers and students if I made them get in front of the cameras again."

"What did he say?"

"He told me to take the weekend away to think about it."

He waited.

Her eyes got big and she smiled. "I told him I wouldn't change my mind, and if that meant I was fired, so be it."

Oh shit. He hadn't expected to her jump ship like that. Stand up for herself, yeah, but not just quit.

She laughed. "You look like I should." Taking his hand, she said, "This is good. I haven't felt this relieved in a long time."

"What are you going to do?"

"Well, I have to wait until it's official and I get the actual letter of termination, but I've started making a list of who to pitch to. I've been researching better numbers to use to explain why this is a good show for right now. People need a break from the heavy politics and misery out in the world. They need feel-good. Now I have the numbers to back it up."

He listened and tried to process what she said. But it didn't matter what the words were—she was happy. "You're okay with this decision?"

"I'm not gonna lie. When I first hit send, I almost threw up. But the more I thought about it, the easier it got. I'm a good producer. I can make this happen. I just need to find a home for the show."

"They'd be stupid not to hire you."

She leaned forward and kissed him. He briefly wondered when he'd stop being shocked when this happened. Their relationship was the same as always—the casual touches, meaningful conversation—and then they'd kiss and every time, it felt almost like a dream.

When she sat back in her chair, he asked, "Are you packed?"

"Oh my God!" she said with wide eyes.

He shook his head. The woman was always late. "Come on. I'll help."

In the bedroom, he almost tripped over a suitcase.

"Gotcha!" she said, and stepped into his space.

"Is that your idea of a joke?"

"Nope. I wanted to lure you into my room so I could have my way with you before we had to go hang out with your family."

He held her hips, pulling her close. "What's wrong with my family?"

"Nothing. Just that, you know…I've known them for a long time and we were just friends. Now things are different. What does that look like? How do we act around them?"

"If you're asking if I'm going to have sex with you in front of my family, the answer is no."

She shoved his shoulder. "You know what I mean. We've been doing this for a couple weeks, but we haven't told anyone."

"Uh…"

Her eyes narrowed. "What?"

"My brother knows. When I canceled my room, he called me because he thought it was a glitch. I told him I did it. Then he asked if you were supposed to have two double beds instead of the king. When I said no, he got the picture."

Evelyn thunked her head on his shoulder. "If Dave knows, that means your mom knows."

He lowered his mouth and kissed the side of her neck. "If you do the math, that means everyone knows."

"Oh God," she complained.

"Give me a few minutes and I'll have you saying that again in a totally different tone."

"I'm being serious. This is gonna be weird."

"Why?" he asked, continuing to kiss her ear, her neck, her shoulder.

"They'll look at me differently. They'll know we had sex."

That pulled him out of the moment as he laughed. "So what? I know my parents have sex. I just don't think about it. I promise, no one is thinking about us getting it on. Except me." He pulled her toward the bed. "I think we have an hour since we don't have to get your bag packed."

"I don't take that long to get ready."

He laughed again as they fell onto the bed. "Next time, I'll set a stopwatch."

She slipped her hand into his jeans and stroked him, and he forgot everything he was going to say.