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“I used to stand here when there was a storm outside,” he says quietly. “I’d count the seconds between lightning and thunder.”

“That sounds almost romantic.”

I turn then, slowly, until my back is against the window and I’m facing him.

His gaze drops to my mouth. “This is better.”

He leans in, kissing me properly this time. Not hurried or frantic. Just slow and certain, like nothing else matters.

For a moment, the wind outside fades, and it’s just us. I feel a shiver snake its way down my spine.

He pulls me against him, the thickness of his need pressing into my stomach. I wrap my arms around his neck, my body aching for him, need making every muscle in my body tighten.

He takes my hands in his and walks backward, pulling me with him, until he reaches his bed. He’s still silent as he pulls my sweater off, then deftly unfastens the buttons on my shirt, until it gapes open, exposing my bare stomach and lacy bra.

His eyes flick up to mine. There’s an intensity to his gaze that pins me in place. I nod, again, because I think he needs this. Maybe we both do.

He turns us, pressing me against the bed, and then he pulls the shirt sleeves down my arm, throwing the white cotton onto the floor. My shoes follow, along with my socks and then my jeans until I’m only wearing panties in the coolness of his room. I shiver.

“Are you cold?” he asks thickly.

I shake my head. I still can’t find my words. Maybe it’s his intensity, or the desire I feel fizzling between us. All I know is that something inside of me feels raw and I need him to be as exposed as I am.

But he takes his time, slowly unfastening his cuffs, his thumb flicking at each button until he shucks it on the floor. He tips his head to the side, looking more animal than human, like he’s trying to understand me.

Or maybe he likes the way I look at him. Because I’m feeling feral, too.

And when he’s naked, his heavy cock jutting up against his stomach, I hook my fingers into my panties and pull them off. He stares at me for a long moment, like he’s trying to drink in every contour of my body. Then he leans over me, his hands braced on the mattress, and slowly kisses me like we have all the time in the world. I reach my hands up, curling them around his neck, arching my body into his.

He lets out a grunt, then grabs his wallet, pulling out a condom. This time he’s the one who rolls it on, like he’s impatient. He presses against me as his lips capture mine again, his hand sliding down my side to hitch my leg around his waist as he slowly, achingly, slides inside.

God, I feel so full. He pauses for a moment, then pulls back until I almost lose him.

“Georgia.” He mutters my name into my neck then rolls his hips once more, until our bodies are so close I can’t tell where he ends and I begin.

I run my hands down his back, feeling the heat of his skin, the knotting of his muscles. His heavy cock drags against my most sensitive spots as our mouths move, our hands caress, our breath mingles.

“Please,” I whisper. I want it all. I want everything. I’m not even sure that will be enough. I dig my fingers into him, nails scraping, and he gives a thick grunt against me, like he knows what I need. As though he needs it too.

This time he thrusts back into me, hard enough to set my nerve endings on fire, and we’re a mess of mouths and scrapes, ragged breaths and perspiration. My eyelids flutter shut as I move with him, our hips pressing together then coming apart, my heart slamming against his as he pulls my legs up to give himself the best angle.

“Open your eyes,” he tells me.

I do as I’m told, greeted by the intensity in his gaze as he stares straight into me. And god, this is too good. I’m not sure it gets any better. My breath comes in short, ragged bursts as he slides himself against me, the friction almost unbearably perfect as he hitches my leg even higher.

“Theo…” His name is a plea and a prayer.

“I know.” He kisses me again. “Fuck, baby, I know.”

And it’s those soft, simple words, uttered against my swollen lips, that send me soaring over the edge. Pleasure explodes inside of me, radiating out so fast it makes my back arch, as he swallows my cries with his own mouth, then follows me into oblivion.

He pulses hard and fast as I convulse around him, his arms sliding beneath me, wrapping around me, holding me as he drops his brow onto mine.

My chest tightens so hard I find it hard to breathe. Oh god, I think I’m in love with him.

No, I know I’m in love with him, and I shouldn’t be. It’s too soon, too much. I’m leaving soon and then what?

But he doesn’t move away. He stays there, his forehead pressed to mine, like he’s steadying himself. Like if he lets go too quickly, something might crack.