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like I twitched. I was the very definition of wet noodle when Jonny carried me through the house. My arms were hanging over his shoulders, my legs were limp, and my forehead rested below his chin. If it weren’t for his death grip on my bottom, I would’ve fallen to the floor.

Jonny gently laid me on the bed and sat on the edge. There was a tiny part of my brain that still worked, reminding me I was mostly naked while Jonny was fully clothed. With any other man, I would’ve been embarrassed. Actually, with any other man, I would’ve been horrified. But Jonny had just given me two of the best orgasms of my life. I was wrung out and sated and couldn’t find a reason to be uncomfortable.

“You okay?” he asked.

Was he insane?

Perhaps I’d heard him wrong.

“Did you just ask if I was okay?”

Jonny did a slow blink. He did that a lot when he thought I was acting dorky. I knew because I’d asked him once why he blinked and shook his head when I asked questions. He told me straight out it was because I was the only person who could shock him into silence. Since I was awkward more than I wasn’t, he blinked a lot. He also laughed at me, something I worked for. Sometimes I did and said stupid things just to see his eyelids slowly close as a smile tug at his lips.

“Yeah, I asked you if you were okay,” he confirmed and brushed my hair off my shoulder.

Once he had the hank tucked behind my ear, his fingertip trailed down to my neck and his hand stopped at my bra strap.

“Do I not look okay?”

And there it was—his deep, rumbling laugh. A gift that was no less perfect than the first time he gave it to me. Each time I heard it I paused to memorize the rusty sound, unsure how long it would be before he blessed me with another.

“I was rough.”

“And?”

“You banged your head pretty hard.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, baby, you did.”

I shrugged, and now that I wasn’t doing my best impersonation of a coma patient, I knew I actually lifted my shoulder in response.

“Oh, well, it doesn’t hurt.”

That might have been a lie. My brain still wasn’t firing on all cylinders. The haze of back-to-back orgasms hadn’t faded, thus I was still tingly. At that point, I could’ve had a fractured skull and I probably wouldn’t have known it.

“You always this cute after you’ve been fucked nearly unconscious?”

“First, you didn’t fuck me nearly unconscious. Second, don’t ruin my mellow by being an asshole.”

“Baby, you were practically comatose.”

My mellow faded and my eyes narrowed. “Sweet britches, it’ll take more than that to get me to pass out.” Jonny’s lips twitched and he shook his head. He wasn’t buying my lie. “And now you’ve gone and harshed my postcoital bliss, which means you owe me another orgasm.”

Jonny’s grin turned wicked right before he busted out laughing.

I pulled a double. I’d never heard him laugh twice in one day, not even twice in a week. And after a month of brooding alone in his family’s beach house after quitting his job, I, Roberta Layne, made Jonathan Spencer laugh two times in as many minutes.

Sweet Jesus.

My heart soared.

I was already enamored but now I was addicted.

No other man would ever do.

It was Jonny Spencer all the way.

5

Jonny sat on the side of the bed and forced himself not to allow his eyes to wander. They wanted to, really, fucking wanted to. He’d had many fantasies about this very scenario or variations thereof—the one constant was Bobby. It was always Bobby in his bed—dressed, undressed, in her bra and panties, in just her panties, alternately in just her bra. Since the day he’d met her all other women had faded, no one else would do.

And now there she was; Bobby in his bed, complaining he owed her another orgasm. Like that was a hardship.

Peaches and vanilla and sex.

Now that the sharp edge was off, he’d take her in his bed, nice and slow.

“Should I serve that up now or would you like dinner first?”

“Umm.” Bobby tapped her chin and looked him over. “That depends, can you cook?”

Christ. Cute.

“You’re gonna have to roll the dice and take a gamble,” Jonny teased.

“Feed me.”

“So, you think I can cook?”

“Well, I know you didn’t get that body eating drive-thru hamburgers and Procs. I’m thinking it’s a safe bet your cooking is at least passable.”

No, not cute. Goddamn adorable.

Unable to stop himself, Jonny’s hand traced the line of her collarbone. The tip of his finger dipped into the hollow of her throat then moved down between her breasts.

“Next round this comes off.”

He felt her shiver and smiled.

“Does that mean the next round your clothes come off, too?”

“If you want me naked, all you need to do is ask.”

“I want you naked,” she rushed out.

“You’re gonna have to wait until after I grill our steaks. Wouldn’t want to scare the renters next door.”

“I don’t know; they leave a review on Yelp about the hot guy next door who grills in the buff, the place might be booked solid for the next year.”

Jonny couldn’t stop the rumble of laughter if he’d tried. Then again he didn’t bother to stop it. He’d long ago discovered that when Bobby turned up the wit she was damn funny. He also knew she worked at it, did whatever she could to draw it out of him. It was normally after she’d made him smile or laugh he retreated, not allowing himself to fully enjoy the moment.

It was the only way he’d been able to keep control of his sanity. He wasn’t good enough for her. He knew it then and he knew it now. But he no longer had the will to fight her appeal. He’d warned her repeatedly but she always stood by him. Always came back and tried to get a smile. Never wavered when he needed support. And she gave as good

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