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“Careful,” he murmurs, his hand resting on my hip.

I lift my head up. “You know what?” I tell him. “I’m done being careful.”

“You are?” he says softly. “Me too.”

“Would you like to come up to my apartment?” I ask him.

He grins at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I thought you’d never ask.” He trails his fingers over my jaw. “But there’s one thing I need to tell you first.”

“Okay.” I blink. “Go for it.”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s steadying himself. “Georgia Ingram, I’m completely in love with you. And if I come into your apartment, I’d really like it to be as your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend,” I repeat, trying not to smile.

“Man friend. Partner. Jesus, they need to make a better word for it.” He shakes his head. “Whatever it is, whatever you want to call it. I want to be that. I want to be the one who always fights for you. The one you can depend on. The one who makes you smile the way you’re smiling right now, because you know how completely special you are to me.”

“Am I smiling?” I ask, the grin pulling at my lips. “I hadn’t noticed.” I step forward, feeling the hard planes of his body as I loop my arms around his neck. “And the answer is yes, because I love you too, you annoyingly perfect English gentleman. Now can we go inside my apartment before I start ripping your clothes off out here?”

When he kisses me, there’s nothing hesitant about it. His mouth is full and sure, his fingers angling my head so he can kiss me deep and long. I cling to his shoulders, kissing him back, my heart pounding so hard I swear he must be able to feel it through his coat.

Our tongues tease, our bodies rock. And when he pulls away we’re both flushed.

“Shall we go inside then?” he manages to croak.

I laugh. “Good idea.”

We kiss our way up the stairs, then he presses his mouth against my neck as I fumble for my keys, the door giving way so easily we almost stumble inside. He has to reach out to steady me.

It’s only when we make it to my bedroom that I remember the clothing crisis I had this morning. It’s laid out in full technicolor on my bed.

“Damn it,” I mutter, pulling away from him. And then I sweep the discarded clothes onto the floor in a grand gesture.

Theo looks down at the colorful heap now scattered across the floor and lets out a soft laugh.

“I had a mini crisis,” I tell him. “You should have told me exactly what to wear.”

“I would never dare to tell you what to do,” he says. “Unless you want me to.”

He steps closer, his hands settling on my hips like they belong there.

I tilt my head back to look at him. “I’d like to try that,” I tell him. “Another time.”

Because there will be others. Lots of them. I know that as he lowers his head and his mouth captures mine. This time his kiss is tender, soft, his fingers deft as they unbutton my blouse, throwing it to join the rest of my closet on the floor.

All of our clothes follow. Until we’re skin to skin, our breaths mingled, our legs tangled, our hands cupping each other’s faces like we can’t believe how lucky we are.

He lays me back on the bed, his eyes roaming over me, taking every inch of me in. Then he climbs over me, his brow dropping to mine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs.

“Show me.”

The corner of his mouth lifts as he kisses me again. Harder this time, like we both need it. Then he slides his hand between us, groaning when he feels how much I need him. His fingers graze my clit and I let out a cry.

“I need you inside of me,” I whisper. “Please Theo.”

He takes his time. Sliding himself against me, reminding me how hard he is, how big. Then he trails his fingers down my thigh and lifts it around his hips, angling himself until he’s able to push inside.