She grabs my erection.

It’s like a jolt of electricity. Her touch shoots through my body. I’m so turned on I could light the city—I could power the entire grid. Lulu’s hand is rubbing my shaft, and it’s not fucking fair that it should feel this good, and it’s also the most fair thing in the universe.

Because it’s absolutely incredible.

Her hand is soft and strong, and it’s like she holds my heart in it. With every stroke up my cock, I lose a little more willpower and she turns the key in the lock a little farther.

The words start to rattle free from their cage.

It’s you.

It’s been you forever.

That won’t do.

I bat her hand away, taking both of hers in mine then pinning them above her head.

She stares up at me with wide, eager eyes, then whispers, “Make love to me.”

And like that, she’s reaching into the dark, secret place inside me. “That’s all it’ll ever be.”

Then I sink inside her, and the pleasure—the sheer, unadulterated pleasure—of being home blots out the world.

There is no room for any other thought.

No space for anything else.

But this.

I thrust deep into her, and she cries out.

I swivel my hips, and she shouts my name.

I grind and thrust and pump, and she pants, moans, groans.

We’re in sync, fucking and loving, loving and fucking.

She’s taking me to the ends of the earth, to the edge of pleasure, and I’m doing the same to her.

But it’s not enough.

I need to get closer.

“Lulu,” I breathe.

“Yeah?”

“Bring your knees up.”

She pulls them up higher, opening wider. “Like this?”

“Just like that.”

I adjust us so her legs drape over my shoulders, and this is fitting, this is how we’re meant to be together.

“I love this,” she murmurs, and the verb seeps into me.

Love.

With her under me, bent up and beautiful, I can control everything, including the revelation of the vintage of my emotions.

Because fucking her is everything.

It’s everything I imagined it to be.

And soon, we’re rushing, racing, chasing each other to the cliff.

She falls first, chanting my name, calling out God’s name, announcing her pleasure. Then it’s my turn, and I’m less coherent. I’m all grunts and sizzles as the wires crackle and pleasure burns, detonating in every cell in my body.

It’s enough to loosen the iron grip on my words.

A minute later, I’m holding her, stroking her hair as she murmurs sweet nothings.

That was incredible.

That was amazing.

That was so good.

And I whisper something that is wholly and wonderfully true. “I’m so in love with you.”

30LULU

I wear my heart on my sleeve.

I am the girl who believes in big, messy, beautiful love.

The kind that glows, spills over, and shines like a treasure chest rich with rubies, rife with sapphires.

I’m not scared.

I’m not afraid of feeling love again.

Because this—the way I want to curl myself around this strong, sensitive man, the way I want to smother him in kisses and sling quips in his direction and make him spicy peppers and run my hand over his sandpaper stubble and discover all the things going on inside his head—is new.

I don’t want to compare men. I don’t want to balance and weigh loves.

Leo is everything I thought he would be.