He lifted up to sitting, forcing me to straddle him, and ended the kiss only to finish what I started, tug off his shirt and toss it aside.

Then he tugged off my tee and tossed it aside.

His arms closed around me, his mouth took mine again, and he fell back, taking me with him and twisting so I was on my back, Ren on me.

His hands moved on me and I liked it.

My hands moved on him and it was debatable but I might have liked that more.

His mouth took, mine gave.

This was our way. One place I absolutely didn’t mind Ren being bossy and domineering was in bed. And he was both, he’d never been anything but both, and I got off on it.

Finally, his fingers curled into the cup of my bra and pulled it down. I bit my lip in anticipation for the delights awaiting me and he didn’t delay. He moved his mouth there, sucked hard, getting what he was going for immediately; my moan that corresponded to the heat surging through me at the same time me driving my hands in his hair.

He swirled his tongue around my nipple then blew against it.

Oh God. I loved it when he did that.

I felt it pucker further and harden harder and whimpered as that shot straight to my happy place.

“Kick off your boots, baby,” he murmured as his arm that was around me shifted up, his fingers honing in on my bra clasp.

With a flick, it was undone.

With a tug it was gone.

“Hurry, honey,” Ren ordered softly then he went after my other nipple.

It was difficult, I wanted to concentrate on what he was doing, but I managed to toe at my boots until they were gone.

Ren heard the second one hit the floor. I heard my zip go down and suddenly my jeans, panties and socks were gone.

Lying down my side but up on an elbow, his hungry, heated eyes came to mine and my happy place convulsed.

“Spread for me,” he whispered.

I held his eyes and did as asked. He held my eyes and slid his fingers through the wetness between my legs.

My hips jerked.

A growl tore from his throat.

Hearing it, my hips jerked again.

Ren delayed no further, slid down my body, rolled into me and his mouth was there.

I wrapped my legs over his shoulders and dug my heels in his back, my fingers in his hair, arching and moaning as my happy place spasmed.

“Ren,” I breathed.

God, I loved this.

No, that wasn’t right. I liked this before. But I loved the way Ren did it. Like he couldn’t get enough of me. Like he’d waited lifetimes for a taste of me and now that he had me, he never wanted to stop.

It was amazing.

He kept going until my happy place was nearly as happy as it could be.

Then he was up and covering me, his eyes catching mine right before he slid inside.

As he filled me, my lips parted, my eyelids lowered and I wrapped all my limbs around him.

There it was. Everything I needed.

Holding my gaze, he started moving.

“Ren?” I called on a whisper.

“Yeah, baby,” he answered, gliding, not thrusting.

He was making love to me.

He loved me and he was making love to me.

Thank God I didn’t fuck this up.

I tightened my arms and legs, lifted my head, touched my mouth to his and dropped it back to the bed as my declaration of gratitude for what he was giving me.

Then I requested, “Can I change my answer?”

“What answer, honey?” he asked, still gliding, going faster, not harder, but touching me deep.

I arched into him, sliding a hand up his back and into his hair.

“To that question you asked last summer,” I answered, my words hitching because he was again going faster, this time harder, and it was doing a number on me.

But I needed to get this out or I’d lose focus and not say it.

And I really needed to say it.

Again, that wasn’t right.

I really needed Ren to hear it.

“Ally, baby, what are you talking about?”

“This,” I said.