The nipple piercing is a blip that interests him intensely. He drops down from his elbow to investigate, and I finally realize the full potential of that metal, slid into such a sensitive tip. Other men have tried tuning me like a radio, but Tom knows what to do. I shiver and shake as he tests my reactions.

I wonder if he likes it. “So, pierced tough chicks are your thing?”

“God, yeah,” he says with it in his mouth. “How is this metal so sweet?” His tongue touches it as he speaks and I’m levitating off the mattress. He laughs, pleased, and does it more.

“Every single time I’ve thought about this mystery piercing I’ve walked into a wall. Arch up,” he adds with the right amount of bossy. His forearm slides under me, and I’m tipped up and he plays with me until I put my hand on the button of my jeans.

He releases me to speak. “Is this actually happening? Or did I walk into a wall too hard?”

“Yes, this is finally real.” I break the remaining buttons on his shirt. It falls open and I run my hands up his torso. His elbows lock and unlock. His hips bump forward. The involuntary reactions of his body are sublime.

His tight T-shirts have not been lying. Body, body, body. He’s the most spectacular combination of flat and curved. Muscles for days. Lines and hips and so many hours of manual labor that I nearly hurt for him. Why does he have to toil this hard? His body loves my hands.

“This is really happening, unless I’m having another one of my vivid Tom Valeska sex dreams. In which case, I won’t be able to look at you in the eye tomorrow.”

He replies with amusement, “You probably won’t anyway, after all I’m going to do with you.” He feels the squeeze of my thighs and kisses me again. He loves my lips. “DB, I am going to get to know you tonight.”

“You know me pretty well already,” I shudder out, and he shakes his head.

“Not the way I want to.” He feels me lift my hips in reply and his hands jerk my jeans to my knees. Everything pauses. When he speaks he’s trying to compose himself. “But now’s a good point to ask if you want to continue. And if you don’t, that is completely fine.”

My heart swells with love. He’s the best possible guy. The perfect man. And I’m in a bed with him. I’m so lucky I could cry. I try to sit up but my body is saving its strength.

“Please, please. Enthusiastic yes. Pitiful begging, et cetera. I’m not even kidding. Put me out of my misery.”

“Darcy Barrett, begging me in bed. I’m having one of my fever dreams.” He laughs softly and I feel his hand wrap my ankle. Then I’m rolled onto my stomach. When he pulls back on my hips I jolt inside with surprise. For a second, I expect the painful drag of elastic and a blunt breaching pressure, maybe tight hands marking my hips. It’s a bad-sex flashback and I’m quaking.

He says, “Control freak.” Then I understand. He’s just reading what’s printed on my Underswears. I love him so much all I can do is laugh and put my hands over my face.

Now he’s rubbing the stubble of his jaw up my spine. I feel his brow bone press into my shoulder.

“Your skin has this silvery shine to it, and all I want to do is …” He shows me. It involves his tongue and teeth. My groans are muffled in the mattress. He uses his palm to turn me over. He spoils me, soothes me, and wants to know me. I feel him filing away every eyelash quiver and exhalation. He passes fingertips over me, chasing and creating goose bumps.

“You and your beautiful skin have been haunting me for years. One Christmas I kissed you on the cheek to say hi. It … overwhelmed me. I had to go sit in my car.” He does it now, shaking his head like he can’t believe it. “It was the best gift I got.” Over and over, he presses on my cheekbone. “Thank you.”

He’s so sweet and open; how can I ever hope to match him? I have no experience being truthful or soft in bed, but I have to try.

“You’re so lovely.” I thread my fingers into his hair. “Well, I spent every Christmas waiting for the goodbye hug. Yeah,” I sigh as he squeezes me to him. That deliberate pause that makes me feel like he’s saying my name in his head. “Oh geez, that’s even better now that we’re horizontal.”

“You spent every Christmas waiting to say goodbye to me?” He has heartbreak in his voice, even as he pulls down my underwear. “DB, I gotta make it up to you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you do.” I feel his hesitation. He’s gone shy. Biting my lip to hold back my smile, I take his hand and slide it up my leg. “Start now.”

He feels me, he inhales how ready I am, and now we’re back to vicious.

He bites my earlobe to hold me still while he tests and plays, his fingers easy and sure. He’s very good at solving problems. My body shivers in the cage of his body, and his breath in my ear sounds inhuman. I tense; he tightens. I relax, he rewards me. He wants me compliant and soft. He wants me liquid and silky.

“Slow down or I’ll come,” I blurt, then I laugh in disbelief. “I’ve literally never said that before.” I grab desperately at my nightstand drawer. “Lucky I’m in bed with the world’s hardest worker.”

“I’d better go easy on you.”

“Why?” I’ve barely got enough light to see the glint in his eyes when he bites the foil square like it’s a pack of candy. Then I access my memory vault and laugh. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about your dick.”

“Oh, you forgot?” He laughs and gives me a little slap on the butt. “Thanks a lot, DB.”

“How could I forget, really.” His hand is between my legs again, giving me the sweep of his thumb, kind and tender. “Everything about you is sublime. I have been hurting from wanting you. Tom Valeska, get in me.”

He always gives me what I ask for.

I can’t shut my mouth to silence my moan. “Oh fuck. You feel like the world’s most perfect man.”

He’s laughing even as his endless gentle push turns into an easy back and forth between us. He’s bigger than anyone I’ve ever had. I hate the intrusive thought—how dare my brain even think of any of the others? But it’s coupled with the realization that he’s taking care of me, and it’s the hottest thing.

“Thanks,” he says with affection. “You feel like a dream come true.”

My body is lit with pleasure. He has a reserved quality in his movements. If I can just get Tom Valeska to lose his mind over me, I can die happy. “No way. Don’t go easy.”

“Just … Just let me be careful.”

“I don’t want careful. I want honest.” Finally, that first slip of his control. It’s brain-meltingly good, feeling his body being so authentic. “I’m getting this every day. Deeper. Tom, I want you harder.” Automatically, I put my hand down between us. My orgasm is my responsibility. Except, apparently it isn’t.

“That’s what I’m here for, dummy,” he admonishes me in between freestyle-stroke breaths. He tickles his fingertips against me, even as he holds himself back. “Is your heart—okay?”

It’s the first time a man has ever asked me that in bed, because no one’s ever known. I bite back the automatic sure and assess myself. My heartbeat is a dim sloppy drum in my ears.