She chuckles and brings her hands to the back of my neck. “What am I doing to you? What are you doing to me? I don’t dry hump guys in their living room . . . not anymore, at least.” She laughs. “That was some old-school stuff right there.”

“You started it.” I run my nose along her jaw and kiss the spot beneath her ear.

She sighs. “I didn’t have a choice—you pulled me onto your lap. Was I just going to let you be hard underneath me?”

“You could have, and that would have been fine.” I raise my head so she sees how serious I am.

She reaches up and cups my cheek. “I didn’t want to. I wanted you to embarrassingly come in your athletic shorts.”

A chuckle pops out of me. “Trust me, Luna Moon, there was nothing embarrassing about it. I would do that over and over again, if it meant having a little piece of you.”

Her eyes soften, a smile plays at her lips, and I see it—the attraction, the yearning she has for me. I created that look with my words. Me. The guy who could barely stand the idea of a relationship. And yet, here I am, happily letting Luna lasso a rope around me and claim me as hers.

“You like me,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes and tries to push me off her, but I hold her tight, keeping us planted where we are.

“You really like me. You’re crushing hard, aren’t you?”

“Get over yourself.” She laughs, still pushing at my chest.

“Luna and Alec sitting in a tree . . .”

“Oh my God.” She laughs again. “You’re obnoxious. Thank you for reminding me.”

“You like it,” I say, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her again. I move my mouth over hers, and she immediately kisses me back. Her lips are just as eager as mine. “Stay the night,” I say, in between kisses. “Just to let me hold you.”

“Farrah is expecting me back.”

“Text her. She likes me.”

Luna smiles against my mouth. “She does, but I should get going.” She presses a few more kisses across my mouth. “You have work, and I have some planning to do and a lot of projects to catch up on.”

“Then see me tomorrow. Come over.”

“That I can do.” I release her hands and sit back on my heels. She glances down at my crotch and laughs. “Might want to go take care of that.”

“At least I’m not the one who has to walk back to my apartment with arousal in my leggings.”

“Don’t call it arousal. Good God, what are you, fifty?” She stands, grabs her bra, and smooths down her shirt. “It’s a quick walk.” Leaning down, she places a soft kiss on my lips and grips my jaw. “You and me, right? No one else?”

It’s her way of checking on what this is between us, making sure I plan on being exclusive, and I really like how upfront she is about it—it shows she cares as much as I do.

“No one else,” I answer, my eyes on hers.

“Good.” She gives me one more kiss and then takes off toward my door, where she slips her shoes on and grabs her bag. “See you tomorrow, Chris E.”

“Tomorrow . . . Luna Moon.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

ALEC

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I would never,” Luna says with a cheeky smile.

“I’m not kidding, you can’t laugh.”

“Please, Alec.”

I sigh and show her my drawing of my centerpiece—she snorts and quickly covers her mouth.

“I told you not to fucking laugh.”

“I didn’t. I, uh . . . had a bug fly up my nose.”

“There are no bugs in my apartment,” I deadpan, giving her a serious look.

“Microscopic. You can’t see them because you’re a man, and men have terrible eyesight.”

“Says who?”

She waves her hand vaguely. “All the professionals.”

“What professionals?” My eyes narrow.

“You know.” Her smile widens. “The researching kind.” She snorts again.

I toss my paper to the side and lean back on the couch. “You’re really fucking nice, you know?”

“Don’t be like that,” she says, climbing onto my lap, just where I want her.

Worked like a charm.

I place my hands on her legs and smooth them up to her waist, but she stops them, her eyes narrowing. “Oh no you don’t. Nice try, mister, but none of that tonight.”

“What?”

She removes my hands from her body and sets them on my stomach. “We’ve been doing that all week. You have to make a centerpiece in two days, and instead of making out with me, you need to focus on what you’re going to present to the judges on Saturday.”

“But your tits help me think. Your nipples are like magical idea devices. Let me suck on one—I’m sure an idea will sprout in seconds.”

“Yeah, well, you sucked on them last night and nothing came up.”

“Oh, something came, all right.”

She rolls her eyes and gets off my lap, leaving me half-hard and wanting her. “Where are you going?”

“You need to come up with some ideas. I was hoping your drawing would be magical enough that we could spend the rest of the evening with our hands down each other’s pants, but it looks like we’re going to have to actually practice.” She picks up a heavy canvas bag she brought with her and carries it over to the couch. She sets it down and unzips it, revealing an array of tools and craft accoutrements—everything we need to make a centerpiece.

“Uh, you know, I’m feeling a little worn out from work. I think we should just do the hands down the pants thing. That seems more relaxing.”

She gives me a “get real” look and starts unloading the bag.

“I’m serious.” I fake a yawn and stretch my arms over my head. “You know, maybe we should just go back to my bed.”

“If you’re so tired, then how would you be able to perform?”

I wiggle my fingers at her—the same fingers that made her come twice yesterday. “These aren’t tired.”

She pushes my fingers away. “Why are you such a dignified lawyer in your real life but an immature frat boy when it comes to sex?”

“I didn’t hear you complaining yesterday, or Tuesday.”

“Settle down.” She smiles to herself, but I catch it.

“Ha, admit it, you like that I’m an immature idiot.”

“I would never admit to liking that.” She stops unloading for a moment, holding a glue gun and a jar of glitter. “I will admit to you having a great mouth with an equally nice set of fingers.”

“And you as well.” I wink.

Her face reddens, and I know what she’s thinking about: how she pulled my pants down yesterday and not only gave me the best hand job of my life but also ended it with her mouth on my cock, ruining me for every other woman out there. The way she sucked and pulled . . . fuck.

“I’m getting hard,” I say.

“Seriously, Alec?”

“What?” I shrug. “You’re hot, you give good head, and you’re smart—all turn-ons for me.”

“Gives good head—think I should put that on my résumé?”

“Uh . . . no.”

She laughs and unpacks more of her bag. “We’re focusing on the centerpieces. I told you I would help you think of some good ideas, and that’s what we’re going to do. You want to help Thad . . . right?” She lifts a brow.

“You’re an evil wench, you know that?” I scrub my hand over my face as she chuckles. Sitting up, I survey the different items Luna’s brought over—ribbons, twigs, a glue gun, and feathers, lots of feathers. “Aren’t centerpieces made of giant flowers and shit like that?”

“Yes, but don’t you remember your theme—Flamingo Dancer? You have to incorporate that somehow. And last I recall, there were no flowers involved, since you didn’t choose any, which means you need to get creative with feathers.”

“Oh, I know how I can get creative with feathers.” I flash her a wicked grin.

“I’m going home.” She stands, but before she can even move an inch, I pull her back down on the couch, laughing the whole time while pressing kisses along her neck.

And she lets me.

“Don’t fucking move—do you understand?”

Wearing nothing but her bra, Luna is sprawled over my bed, hands gripping the black bed frame above her head, her legs spread and her chest heaving.

In just my boxer briefs, I circle her before grabbing a white feather from the nightstand and kneeling on the bed. Centerpieces were forgotten the minute I started running this feather up and down her arm, and then her neck, and back down again. When a moan escaped her mouth, I knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“Alec, please.”

I ignore her and draw light circles around her belly button with the feather, loving the way her stomach contracts with each pass. I don’t have to reach between her legs to know she’s wet. I can tell, just from the way she’s wiggling under my touch and the impatient look in her eyes.

I’m going to have some fun.

I brush the feather down her waistline, to her pubic bone, where I swish it back and forth until I’m barely grazing it over her slit. She sucks in a sharp breath and spreads her legs farther. I bring the feather back up to her stomach and graze the front clasp of her bra. Leaning forward, I unhook it, letting the sides fall and exposing her perfect tits.

I bring the feather up between her breasts and then circle one nipple, which peaks quickly. I move to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment, passing back and forth, watching as her breath catches in her chest, as she swallows hard and wiggles beneath me, her hands itching to move.

“Are you throbbing?” I ask, bringing the feather back down to her center.