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“Hell, no.” He eases off the bed, popping the button at the top of his pants. “She’ll be over the moon with excitement. She’s crazy about you.”

“She’s crazy about me as a nanny,” I say, distracted by how hot it is to watch him strip off his pants, revealing the long, thick ridge of his erection straining the fabric of his boxer briefs. “She might not like me as a live-in girlfriend. She might get freaked out. Or jealous.”

“Never. That’s not Sarah Beth. But if she does have problems, we’ll solve them. Because we’re loving, caring adults who work well together in a crisis.” He lips crook up on one side as he teases the top of his boxers low enough to allow his cock piercing to peek out of the top. “We proved that the night we met.”

My breath rushes out. “Dear God, get in bed. Now. In bed and inside me. I need Elvis rubbing me on the inside.”

“Elvis?” he asks as he crawls on top of me, where I would very much like him to stay for a long, long time.

“I’m naming your cock piercing Elvis,” I say, looping my legs around his hips and arching my aching center upward until my clit rubs against the hot length of him. “I haven’t settled on a name for your cock yet. I feel like I need to get to know him better first.”

“Well, let me help you with that,” he says, reaching between us to fit his erection to where I’ve been missing him so desperately.

I groan as he pushes slowly, languidly into me, holding my gaze as he fills me. “My pussy would have missed your cock if we’d never met, too.”

“I can’t believe we both felt that way,” he says, wonder in his expression as he begins to move, every stroke of his body into mine confirming that he’s mine and I’m his and we should never be apart again. “And that you wrote it down.”

“There is magic in the world,” I say, cupping his face in my hands as I lift into his thrusts. “I promise. And I’m going to make sure it never leaves you again, baby.”

His eyes begin to shine once more as he nods, “Right back at you, sweetheart. But don’t even think about running off with the fairies. I’m keeping you right here, in Bad Dog, Minnesota. Home of the world’s largest Swedish meatball sub.”

“Wow,” I say. “World’s largest, huh?”

“We grow ‘em big here in Minnesota,” he says, sinking even deeper, until I’m so full of him I can barely breathe.

“That you do. I guess I’ll have to stay, then. Just to try the meatballs.”

“I’ve got your meatballs right here, baby,” he says, making me laugh as he rolls me on top of him and grips my hips tight in his big hands. “I want to watch you ride me. Show me how you like it when you’re on top.”

“Yes, sir,” I say, bracing my hands on his chest and doing just that, while he rolls my nipples in his fingers, and the room fills with our moans and soft murmurs of appreciation.

I come just minutes later, calling his name, and then he rolls me over and shows me how savage he can be. He fucks me hard and fast and I love every minute of it, because it’s Drew. I love everything he does to me, especially when he comes with a cry, swearing, “No one else. I never want to be with anyone else.”

Later, as we’re catching our breath side by side on the narrow bed, I roll over and press a kiss to his chest. “Good. Because I don’t intend to share Elvis or Chad with another woman.”

His lips twitch, but his eyes stay closed as he says, “You’re not calling my dick Chad.”

“But I like the name Chad,” I tease. “It rhymes with bad, which your dick is sometimes. In a good way, but bad all the same. Bad, bad Chad with Elvis on top.”

He slaps the side of my ass, making me yip. “Hey, what was that for?”

“No Chad. You get spanked every time that name passes your lips.”

I giggle. “But Chad is a—” I break off with another outraged sound as he spanks me again, harder this time. “Looks like your hands are bad, too. I’ll have to name them Biff and Cliff and put them in time-out so they can think about what they’ve done.”

“They’d rather think about what they’re about to do,” he says, rolling on top of me and pinning my arms to the mattress over my head. “To you and Clarissa.”

I beam up at him. “You named my clit?”

He laughs. “Not really. I’m just playing along with your crazy games.”

“Because you love me?” I ask, needing to hear it again.

“Because I love you,” he says, his voice gentle and heartbreakingly sweet. “Desperately and completely.”

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