“That a good or bad thing?”

“It’s an entirely Cope experience.” She turned pink. “It’s good. Mostly.” She tried to look severe but failed.

“I do like that for some reason.” He relaxed, letting go of his hesitation. “I just feel this need to fix this, and I can’t. It’s miserable and there’s so much anger and I worry things have been said and done that can’t be taken back. My life seems very full of it at times. Sometimes, Ella, I wonder what’s wrong with people. I get so down about the things people do and say to each other.”

She tipped her head, and he reached out, sliding the edge of his thumb along her jawline. Her skin was so soft, pliant, and her lips parted in pleasured surprise as he stroked over the space just below her ear.

“And then you.” He smiled. “You and my family and friends. You all remind me that there’s so much more to life than the stupid shit people say and do. Thank you.”

She blushed so prettily all he could do was smile at her like a total moron. She made this night better, made knowing his father had said those horrible things to Ben sting a bit less.

“There have been times when I was sure I would break. And then someone reached out, just checked in on me, sent me a card, stopped by the café to see me, whatever, and I made it through another day. That’s all we have.”

His everything was turned inside out because she was this thing he’d never considered he’d ever deserve, and it bloomed before him.

“I need you, Ella. Can I have you?”

She put her coffee mug down and nodded, a serious look on her face. “It’s your turn.”

Now it was his turn to be surprised by something she said. “That so?”

“If I recall. Though the second time on Friday was sort of mutual, I’ll give you credit. Because it was a really lovely second time.”

“ ‘Let me, then, be what I am, wherever, and in whatever weather . . .’ ”

She stood, holding her hand out. “That’s lovely. What is it?”

He took it and let her draw him toward the bed.

“Neruda’s ‘It Means Shadows.’ You let me be Andrew. Not very many people see the difference.”

“I like Cope too, you know. But you can always be Andrew with me. And quote me lines of poetry. That’s a bonus. Don’t hide who you are with me. You don’t need to. Here and now, it’s just me and you.”

He drew in a shaky breath.

“I know. Thank you for that.”

She pulled her shirt up and over her head, surprising him with her boldness, pleasing him with the sight of her br**sts and with the knowledge that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“Don’t thank me, Andrew. I like who you are. I like how you are.”

His control was gone, sifted through his fingers like sand. In two steps he was against her body, his mouth seeking hers, his arms encircling her, holding her close while he plundered her mouth with his own.

Her taste, always Ella, tonight a bit of nutmeg and the creamy coffee she’d been sipping, sang through his system, smoothing the jagged parts, exciting his senses.

They tumbled to the bed, a tangle of arms and legs, clothes flying everywhere. He fell into her every time he touched her, but just then it was fast and hard, submerging himself, letting the shock of homecoming rush through him.

He groaned as her bare br**sts slid against his chest, the heated silk of her skin, the hard points of her ni**les. And again when her nails dug into his biceps as she urged him closer. Some primal thing deep inside roared to life. She wanted him as desperately as he did her. He’d pleasured her enough that she wanted more, trusted him to give it to her.

That was big.

So big he tucked it away to think on later.

He ducked out of her way when she reached for his zipper, wanting to put her first and knowing if his pants came off, he couldn’t resist being inside her. He had other plans just then.

Ella watched as he shimmied down her body, pulling her workout pants and underwear off. He paused at the socks, but then as he turned to look into her face, he drew them down her legs, first one, then the other.

He didn’t then pay any attention to the spot with the scars, instead lowering his head to kiss up her inner thighs and across her belly. He’d been wearing his beard scruffy over the last few weeks, and she loved the way it felt against her skin. Not scratchy at all.

Erin had told her that all the guys with beards used conditioner to keep them soft. She shivered at the mental image of Cope standing in a shower stall, head tipped back as water sluiced down his body, his arms raised to wash his hair so his biceps would be all bulgy.

She sighed, always sort of awed at how much power he had over her libido. The intensity was marvelous but a lot to process.

He chuckled against her skin, but when he spoke, his tone was rough and jagged. “I love that sound you make. Makes me all hard and needy for you.”

She made it again at his words and then he spread her wide and began to lick though the folds of her pu**y, slow and torturous.

This Cope was more intense than the one she’d had sex with before. This was Andrew, mysterious and sensitive and pretty damned alpha male. She may not be at a place where she could admit it out loud, but it blew her socks off when he got like this.

Each time his tongue made it to her clit, he used a bit more pressure, building her pleasure relentlessly. Up and up he drove her as she clutched at the blankets. He held her hips, keeping her exactly where he wanted her. Her back bowed as he drew her clit into his mouth with just the right pressure, and she came so hard the neighbors would probably avoid her eyes at the mailboxes for a while.