That feeling that I was lucky to get often.

That feeling of sheer beauty.

* * * * *

I was curled up in Ren’s armchair in his non-TV seating area downstairs.

It was the dead of night and I’d twisted the chair so I could look out the window at a sleepy street disturbed only by the occasional car.

I couldn’t sleep, and not for the reasons people normally couldn’t sleep.

No, mine were different.

“Jesus, Ally.”

I turned my head to see Ren’s bare chest, pajama-bottomed legs (and the rest of him) through the shadows walking down the stairs.

“Woke up, you gone, not in the bathroom, you worried me,” he kept talking as he moved across the room toward me.

“I’m cool. Just couldn’t sleep,” I told him.

He stopped by the chair and looked down at me.

A nanosecond after his eyes hit me, he crouched in front of me and reached out a hand to wrap his fingers around my ankle.

“Is everything okay, baby?” he asked in his sweet voice.

He’d read me.

“Yes, Ren,” I said quietly, then explained just how okay it was. “Jet is having Eddie’s baby. Ava and Luke are on their honeymoon. Stella’s recorded an album that’s coming out soon. Tex is marrying Nancy. My man has accepted me as I am and I’m looking at office space tomorrow to start the job that I was meant to be doing. Your mom and sisters like me. My dad likes you. And my best friend, who I made a blood pact with when we were kids that she was going to marry my brother, we’d be real sisters and she’d name her daughter after me, is carrying my brother’s baby.” I shook my head. “So maybe it’s no. Everything’s not okay.” I leaned into him. “It’s very okay.”

“And that makes you not able to sleep?” he asked.

“I don’t know how to feel this happy,” I answered, and his fingers around my ankle tightened.

Then he let me go, got to his feet, but did it bending over to pluck me out of the chair. He turned, sat in it and arranged me in his lap.

“Ren, it’s okay. I’ll be—”

His arms around me gave me a deep squeeze and his voice was thick when he said, “I want you this happy for the rest of your life.”

Oh God.

Again with the melty!

I lifted a hand to his jaw, but tucked my forehead into the side of his neck.

“You willin’ to work on that with me, Ally?” he asked.

“Absolutely,” I answered.

“Good, baby,” he whispered.

He held me close.

I slid my hand from his jaw to press it against his heart and lay in his arms, feeling it beat.

After some time, Ren spoke.

“My girl, she feels deep.”

He was not wrong.

I said nothing.

He gathered me closer. “So f**kin’ deep.”

I pressed my forehead into his neck.

We again lapsed into contented silence.

It was me who broke it the second time.

“I wondered what it would be like, when the Rock Chicks and Hot Bunch settled in and the drama stopped.”

“And what’s it like?” he asked.

“Sheer beauty,” I answered.

His arms got tighter again and his lips growled, “Mouth, Ally.”

I pulled my forehead out of his neck and tipped my head back.

Ren took my mouth.

Then he took me on his living room rug.

After, he carried me up to his bed, leaving my nightie, panties and his pajama bottoms on the living room floor.

When we got there, neither of us had trouble falling asleep.

And we slept tangled up.

Maximum contact.

Sheer beauty.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Majestic

The next morning, breathing heavily as I jogged up Ren’s front steps after my run, I shoved my key in his lock and pushed open the door.

I used my wristband to wipe away the sweat from my brow as I huffed to the kitchen. Once there, I went direct to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water.

Closing the fridge and turning, I caught Ren sauntering in wearing a suit.

Excellent timing.

He saw me and stopped dead.

“Hey, babe,” I semi-panted.

His eyes slid down and up my sweaty body in my awesome Lucy running threads that the gang did a great job picking for me, and I knew they did a great job because I watched his eyes get hot.

I twisted off the cap of the bottle of water and grinned at him.

He came unstuck and moved to me. I thought goodness would commence, but he reached beyond me to open the fridge.

I stepped to the side, leaned against the counter and belted back some agua.

“How was the run?” he asked before he took a slug of orange juice, and I noted that Amalea was a good mom who raised a good son who cooked, did the dishes and was thoughtful, but she hadn’t taught him not to drink out of the bottle.

Whatever.

“Run was great,” I answered (lying; it was good, but that didn’t mean it was fun—what was great was that it was over).

He put the orange juice back and focused his attention on me.

“You comin’ to the office after your shower?” he asked.

I nodded.

We’d made plans before I went out to run that I’d come in that morning and look at the space he rented me.

“Good,” he muttered, moving to the coffee.

“We didn’t have breakfast so I’ll bring Danish.” I changed my mind. “No, LaMar’s.”

“Whatever you want,” he said, turning toward me.

I moved into him, leaned up and kissed his jaw before I moved away, saying, “I’m just gonna shower and then—”

I got turned and only a step in before an arm hooked around my belly. I was pulled back, pressed forward and ended facing where I usually sat on the counter eating the breakfast Ren cooked me.

Arm still around my belly, his other thumb hooked into my running capris and yanked down.

Holy crap.

My inner thighs quivered.

“Ren,” I breathed.

“Hands to the counter. Spread your legs. Tip for me.”

Oh God.

Hot.

I did as I was told. Ren’s arm at my belly slid down and his fingers curled in as his other hand slid up my chest to wrap around my jaw.

His fingers hit the spot. My head flew back and hit his shoulder.

His hand at my jaw kept it there as he buried his face in my neck.

His fingers between my legs coaxed orgasm one out of me (nice).

While I was still experiencing that, his hand at my jaw moved to between my shoulders as I heard his zipper. He pressed in, I bent, my ass moving back and up, and he slammed inside me, hard, fast, rough, doing this until orgasm two rocked through me (very nice).