Page 120 of Any Port in a Storm

“Leave them,” I say. “They’re hot.”

He shoots me a dangerous grin. “My sweatpants are what do it for you?”

“You’ve no idea.”

I crawl over him, my hair falling all around us as we tangle in my sheets in the evening shadows. I drag his pants down his hips, lowering my lips to his chest, the muscles of his stomach, against the crease of his thigh. When I take him in my mouth, his Adam’s apple bobs, and his head falls back against my pillow.

“Laurel,” he moans.

“Can I help you?”

“I was supposed to write you…an essay…” he manages with great effort.

“Shhh,” I say. “I’m doing my best work here.” I run my tongue over him, taking immense pleasure in the way he’s squirming beneath me; the way his breaths are growing increasingly ragged with every passing second. “Do you need more?”

He brushes my hair from my face. “I always need more of you.”

I taste him until he’s shaking beneath me, then lower myself over him. “This better?” I whisper.

“It’s all better,” he moans. “It’s all perfect.”

When we’re finished, I collapse on top of him, my thighs shaking with effort; my skin glistening with sweat.

Nick runs his hand in gentle, broad strokes over my back, soothing me just to the edge of sleep.

“That was an A+ performance,” he gravels.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” He plies my neck with kisses. “And that’s good, because it was half of your grade for the semester.”

I giggle. “For a historian, you certainly do love to stretch your analogies like a writer.”

His lopsided grin takes my breath away. “What I actually love,” he says, taking my hand in his, “is everything about you.”

My heart thuds. “What?”

Nick brushes his thumb over my cheek; the gentlest caress of my life. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you, Laurel. I’m completely, totally in love with you.”

I take in his bright eyes, brimming with life and color and affection; his skin, still pink with effort from bringing me to paradise and back. His hair flung every which way on my pillow; the anticipation in his brow, desperate for my answer.

My pulse races, charging forward into our future. I lean down to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad to hear that.” I slide my lips to meet his, pouring all of my soul into him the best way I know how. “Because I’m completely, totally in love with you, too.”

His arms tighten around my waist, then rise to rest in my hair at the back of my neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to tell you that.”

“Actually,” I say wryly, “I think I probably have a very good idea.”

I’m pouring my coffee, wearing Nick’s Hawthorne University History Department hoodie, when strong hands wrap around my waist; a gentle kiss brushes the side of my neck. “Morning,” Nick whispers.

“Mmm,” I murmur, melting into him. “Good morning.”

“It is a good morning, isn’t it?” He grins and grabs a coffee mug.

“You won’t hear any complaints from me.”

Nick leans against the counter in a decidedly attractive way. “What’s on your schedule for today?”

“Two lectures, then I have to meet with Spillinger. You?”