The delicious, soul-shattering orgasm seemed to last forever, and when he’d wrung out the last little shiver from her, he gave her mound one last kiss and then sat up, picking the condom up again from where he’d tossed it down on the bed. She watched in fascination as he opened the package and unrolled the sheath onto the length of his hard penis. Then, when it was covered, he leaned in on his hands and gave her another deep, wet kiss that tasted of her skin.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and immediately she felt the press of his penis against her core. Anticipation flashed through her, and she clung to his neck, kissing him ravenously as he pushed into her. This time, he didn’t move slowly or delicately. This time, it was a full thrust into her, and the feel of it was shocking. She made a soft little squeak in the back of her throat as he seated himself in her.

His mouth lifted from hers and concern showed on his face. “All right, sweetheart?”

Oh, but the feel of him was more than all right. She felt filled, in all the ways she’d been longing for during the past month. He was inside her so very deep and she ached and craved more at the same time. “It’s perfect,” she told him honestly.

Rob groaned, and he leaned in to kiss her again, his mouth moving over hers even as he began to pump into her with sure, quick strokes. The air mattress groaned and protested under them, but they were oblivious to it. Marjorie moved her hips in time with his, trying to match his pace despite the shaking of her legs. It felt like another orgasm was building inside her . . . or maybe the last one just hadn’t stopped. Either way, she whimpered and ran her hands over every inch of Rob’s skin that she could touch. Her motions became frantic as his strokes increased with intensity. “Need you,” she murmured. “Need more. I’m close again.”

He nodded and leaned back, and to her surprise, he grabbed her by the hips and turned her onto her side. He scissored her legs apart and stroked into her again, one arm holding her leg high into the air against his body. It changed the angle of his thrusting, and she moaned because it made her feel more full than ever.

“That feel good?” he panted.

She nodded, biting her lip. Everything felt good. It was like he knew just how to touch her and make her body sing with desire.

“I’m about to make it feel better,” he said, and began to stroke faster. He pumped into her harder than usual, and to her surprise, the sensation began to make everything else react. She moaned and clung to the mattress as he made love to her with sure, rough speed.

And then she was coming, every nerve ending alight with feeling, every bone in her body turning to mush. Marjorie cried out Rob’s name.

“I’m there, too,” he panted, and his strokes grew wild, uneven, his movements exaggerated. He groaned and held her in place for a long moment, his eyes closed tightly, and she realized he was coming, too. She wondered how it’d feel to have him come inside her without a condom.

Someday, they’d test that.

For now, she was content to have him lie down next to her, breathing hard. He pulled her against him and she watched idly as he removed the condom and put a new one on. When they spooned, he pushed his cock inside her again, linking their bodies.

“This is new,” she murmured.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he told her. “Stay the night?”

She snuggled down against him. “Of course.”

He brushed aside her wet hair and kissed the side of her neck. “Stay forever?”

Her heart felt incredibly full. She nodded. “Always.”

***

The next morning, Marjorie dressed in her paint-ruined clothing and Rob packed an overnight bag. Hand in hand, they headed out of his building and walked to her apartment. They’d decided last night—somewhere between marathon sessions of loving—that Rob would stay with her until the renovations on his penthouse were done, and then she’d move in with him. It sounded perfect to Marjorie’s ears, but she knew Rob was a little worried that if he was back in her life, he’d fuck things up for her with her job as Brontë’s assistant.

So today, she was going to have to leap again, and take Rob with her.

Marjorie and Rob showered at her place and combed the last bits of paint out of their hair, and she changed into a casual maxidress and a pair of strappy heels. Then, she invited Brontë to meet her for lunch at their favorite spot. Bring Logan, she texted her. I have something I need to discuss with both of you.

All right, Brontë sent back. Do I get a hint?

No hints! Just keep an open mind. And whatever you might think, it’s not a business meeting.

Curiouser and curiouser! We’ll be there. Logan’s meeting me for lunch today anyhow, so this works out perfectly. See you soon!

“You sure you want to do this, sweetheart?” Rob asked her as they headed out the door to her apartment.

“No,” she told him honestly. “I’m really not sure at all. But I don’t want to live in fear of what they’re going to think, and we’re not going to sneak around behind anyone’s back anymore. If they don’t like it, they’ll just have to suck it up, won’t they?”

“Damn, that makes me hot when you say that,” Rob told her. “I think I like it when you take charge.”

She just gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She knew he was nervous. He said he didn’t care what Logan Hawkings thought of him, but she suspected otherwise. He wanted the man’s respect, if nothing else. Marjorie hoped Logan would have an open mind about things, or this afternoon was going to be very, very awkward.

They arrived at the cafe early and got a table in the back, tucked away from the lunch rush. Rob fidgeted in his seat next to her, but Marjorie was serene.

She knew what she wanted—Rob. Everything else was just going to have to fall into place and cope.

Soon enough, the cafe began to fill with customers, and Marjorie watched the door as Rob fiddled with his phone with his right hand, the fingers of his left interlaced with hers under the table. As she watched, she spotted Brontë’s dark curls, followed a half step behind by the taller Logan.

“They’re here,” she murmured to Rob, and stood up to wave at her friend.

Rob slowly stood at her side, and as Brontë and Logan approached the table, she saw their expressions change to dismay as they saw who she was with.

Marjorie raised a hand as they approached the table. “Before anyone says anything, this is not about business. This is about me. And I’d like for you both to hear me out before anyone says anything else.”

Brontë and Logan exchanged a look. The billionaire looked pissed, Marjorie noticed, but Brontë laid a calming hand on his sleeve and he shrugged, impatience stamped into his features. He pulled his chair out for his wife and then sat down, and Marjorie sat again too. Her hand found Rob’s under the table again and she gave him a confident smile that she didn’t entirely feel at the moment.

“What’s going on?” Brontë asked, her voice as polite and friendly as ever.

Marjorie kept smiling. “I just wanted you guys to know that Rob and I are back together.” She looked over at him, her gaze filled with love. “We reconciled yesterday, and since I know things left off badly the last time we were all together, I thought we should hash things out. The truth of the matter is that Rob is exactly the person who he says he is . . . and I love him. He loves me with all my flaws, and I love him. And we wanted to bring this out into the open, because no one is hiding anymore.” She licked her lips, her throat suddenly dry. “And he’s going to be a major, major part of my life, so you’re just going to have to accept him.”

Brontë’s eyes widened, and a tiny smile touched her mouth. She looked over at Logan.

Logan was stone-faced for a long moment. He studied Marjorie, and then his gaze slid back to Rob, who was being unnaturally silent. Only the squeeze of his hand told her his true feelings.