Page 14 of Carnival Fever


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“However you want,” I say, sliding a hand into his silk boxers and gripping him tightly. “Ooh, that’s nice and firm.”

“It’s yours,” he assures me. “All yours.”

When we’re both naked, we take our time. Millions of kisses, an eternity of caresses, opening and sliding and clutching and thrusting for as long as we can, enjoying the other side of the rainbow and resting in each other’s arms afterward.

I sigh with complete happiness, snuggling my head onto his shoulder. “I needed that. I needed you.”

“Oh, yes,” he says fervently. He kisses the top of my head. “You believe me, don’t you? That I was coming to you.”

I do believe it.

“I thought at first it was just Carnival fever,” he says in wonder. “I thought it wasn’t real…but it was. It is.”

“It’s real,” I say, and I kiss him yet again.

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