She took a breath and turned the handle, gasping when she saw what was inside. “Oh, my God.” She spun around, gaping. “Are you for real?”

I wasn’t sure if her reaction was good or bad, but I stepped into the room and around her to explain. “I’ve been collecting ever since I was a kid, obsessively, really. I’ve just always loved comics and sci-fi, my dad too. You should see his collection.”

“Holy shit,” she breathed and wandered around the room, awestruck, stopping in front of my The Empire Strikes Back movie poster. “How do you have Stephen Spielberg’s autograph?”

I relaxed, smiling at the wonder on her face. “My dad’s firm manages his finances.”

“This is amazing, Cooper.” She moved to the shelves. “First edition Harry Potter … are these signed too?”

“They are. They were the first novels I ever read.”

She blinked. “I think I just had a bookgasm.” She reached for one. “May I?”

I nodded, and she pulled out the first book reverently, opening it to the inscription.

“Wow,” she breathed. “You are officially the most hardcore geek I’ve ever met.”

I laughed, relieved, feeling the unfamiliar comfort of sharing myself with someone else. Someone I trusted. “Now you know my deepest, darkest secret.”

She set the book back down and turned to me, her eyes soft. “No one knows?”

I shook my head.

“Not even West? How were you able to hide … this?” She motioned to the room.

“He knows a little. I’ve always collected comics, but he doesn’t know how serious it is.”

“Yeah, because this is pretty fucking serious, Coop.” She smiled, wandering past me and over to the Batman costume.

 My eyes were glued to the apron string that swayed back and forth as she walked. She turned to me, and my eyes snapped up to hers.

She shook her head, smiling. “Please tell me you’re not actually Batman.”

I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “No, I’m not actually Batman.”

She leaned back into me. “Is it from a movie? You didn’t have it made, did you?”

I paused. “Maybe.”

“For Halloween?”

“ComicCon.”

A laugh bubbled out of her. “Put it on.”

“Can’t. We need one more person to assist.”

She laughed even harder. “I bet you look amazing in it.”

“I do. Have I scared you off yet?”

She turned in my arms. “Um, no — one look at the Harry Potter books has me seriously hot and bothered.”

“Just wait until I show you my Tolkien collection.”

She smiled, lips parted as she angled her face to mine. There were maybe two millimeters of slinky fabric between us, and I could feel the warmth of her body just on the other side. When I brought my lips to hers, she wrapped herself around me and tightened her arms until I was as close as I could be.

My hands roamed down her back and to her bare ass. I squeezed, and she laid her hands on my chest, pushing gently, moving us back to the only piece of furniture in the room, my black leather recliner. The backs of my knees hit the seat, and I sat down, but she didn’t follow right away, just stood in front of me, smiling. My hands were on her hips, fingers on bare skin.

She touched my face as my hand moved down her thighs and under the apron, trailed up the inside of her thigh and between her legs to cup her, squeeze her. My middle finger rested against the line of her, and I ran the pad down the length before slipping inside. She leaned into me, eyes closed, her face soft and relaxed as I stroked her.

Her arms rested on my shoulders, and she bent down to kiss me, a slow kiss, a heady kiss. She slipped a knee next to me, and I leaned back as she climbed onto my lap, reaching behind her to pull the apron string with a zip. I yanked it off and tossed it, her curly hair bouncing as it passed through the neck. Her hand skated down my stomach to the hem of my apron, her eyes down as she moved it out of her way and wrapped her fingers around my base, lifting me. She licked her lips as her hips rose, and I watched her lower her body onto me with a sigh. Our bodies met in a seam, no space between us, her hands on my chest, arms pushing her breasts together. The sight of her naked body straddling mine, her hair in her face, her hands on my chest as she rocked gently — I committed the moment to memory.

My hand found her breast, and I traced the curve and squeezed. The other hand rested on her hip, riding along as her body rolled in waves. Her fingers clenched against my chest, and her brows came together, the softness in her face shifting as she came closer. I knew her body so well that I could almost count down the seconds. A shallow breath she took — three — a small moan passed her lips — two — her nails dug into my skin — one. She came with a cry, grinding against me, pulsing around me.

After a moment, she slowed, lifting a hand to move her hair from her face, smiling at me lazily as she leaned back. She reached behind her, resting her hands on my thighs as she rolled her body, lifting her hips every time she rocked back. I watched our bodies meet and separate, my hands on her hips as I flexed into her, pulling her down faster with each motion until I couldn’t hold on. Her name was on my lips, my heart stopping for a long moment when I came, my body thrumming inside of her.

When I finally opened my eyes, she was smiling at me, lip between her teeth as she shifted to lie on top of me. Her lips found mine, soft and sweet, and my fingers tangled in her hair, not wanting to separate.

But she broke away, smiling down at me as her hand found my jaw. “Do you bring all the girls in here to impress them with your collection?”

“No one else has been in here besides you and my maid,” I answered quietly.

She watched me for a moment. “Why me?”

I smiled and touched her cheek. “Because we were playing a game, and I trust you.”

Some emotion passed across her face in a flash, too fast for me to catch it before she kissed me again. But the kiss was different, laced with longing, burning hot.

When she backed away, she seemed fine, just smiled at me once more and said, “I’m still hungry.”

And I let it go, because that was what she wanted. “Well, put that apron back on and let’s get you fed.”

She climbed off of me and grabbed the apron from the ground. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

She headed to my room, and I cleaned up in the hall bathroom with every thought on her. And then, I made my way back to the kitchen to finish dinner, feeling lost and found, together and broken, all at the same time.

I had the bread and bacon on the flat top and was busy slicing tomatoes, grateful for the mundane distraction, feeling a little more together by the time that Maggie returned looking fresh as a magnolia blossom. She snickered, her eyes on my ass.

“I kinda forgot you were wearing that.”

I smiled as I set the bread on plates and smeared garlic aioli mayo on them, then laid the chicken breasts on the top.

She took a seat and sipped her wine. “Oooh, fancy sandwiches.”

I topped them with tomatoes, spring mix, and bacon. “I can’t help it. I’m just a fancy guy.” I made my way over to the bar and set her plate in front of her. “Bon appétite, Madame.”

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur.”

I took a seat next to her, my ass sticking to the leather.

She picked up her sandwich and adjusted her grip. “So what are you up to tonight?” She took a bite.

“Actually, West and Patrick are coming over in about an hour.”

Her eyes widened, and she froze mid-chew.

“You have an hour. Don’t worry.”

She made a face and started chewing again.

“I’ll call Bobby to take you home.

“I don’t need—”

I shook my head and picked up my own sandwich. “I’m not letting you walk through the park in the dark.”

“I can take a cab.”