“I don’t know. I’ve already told you. I haven’t brought anyone to the house.”

My heart sings with happiness over that.

Bobby steps back from me. “Down, Tiki. Sit.” Bobby’s voice is commanding even in his usual wonderful, gentle tone.

The dog immediately obeys.

Bobby smiles. “It’s all right, girl. This is Kaley. She’s a friend.”

I watch him scratch Tiki’s head and am reminded of how marvelous his touch is and that we were—or at least, what I hoped before the interruption—on our way to bed and reconciliation.

My smile suddenly turns into a frown. “Just a friend?”

He grins at me. “If I tell her more she may not want to accept you into the pack.”

I laugh. “Then don’t tell her more. I want very much to be welcomed here.”

Bobby’s smile shoots straight to my heart. “Why don’t we go inside for the wine?”

He holds his hand out to me and I take it. He opens the screen door and I precede him into the comfy living room. Something brushes the back of my leg and I look down to see Tiki close to me instead of Bobby.

I look back at him just as he steps through the door and the image of him surrounded in sunshine makes my body throb with anxious want. Everything about him is gentle and good, male and perfect. I savor the sight of him and can’t believe that I chatted to a stranger that he was the perfect imperfect guy.

Bobby is the best man I’ve ever known. Beautiful inside and out. And I can’t believe that I am here, again with him, and very soon about to get to kiss and touch every speck of that glorious man.

The screen door make a little slap as it closes and I shift my eyes to see Bobby studying me.

“Keep staring at me like that, Kaley, and you won’t get the wine. Two years is a long time.”

There is nothing I can do to keep the smile from my face. I used to dream this moment and now I’m here.

“That’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” I whisper.

He pulls me against him, claiming a fast, heated kiss, and then his laughter fills up the quiet house. “Then I’ll grab the wine and you get into bed.”

How wonderful it is to hear the sound of his laughter again. I want to lie in bed with him, stroll the aisles of a grocery store, learn to love these dogs, and be forever with him and his laughter.

I watch him disappear into the kitchen. I take in the lovely arrangement of the living room.

“Where did you get the money for all this?” I ask.

I hear laughter from the kitchen. “Kickstarter campaign. Donations. I board some dogs. I hold training classes and I’m thinking about releasing a book.”

“A book?”

He moves through the kitchen doorway, a bottle of chardonnay and two glasses in hand. “I’ve got an outline and four thousand words done. It’s about our foundation, our rescue operations, and the world of illegal dog fighting. When it’s finished I’d like you to be the first to read it. Everyone says the key to success is to market in multiple channels.”

He’s talking as though what we’re doing is not a one-time thing and my heart takes off racing again. Still, I feel a little worried that we haven’t covered any of our issues, not our breakup or that night or details of exactly what this is.

I watch as he sets the wine on a table and puts Tiki into her cage.

“Why are you caging her?”

“She likes it in there. It’s her safe zone and, like I said before, she isn’t used to sharing me.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend you haven’t been with anyone else since we broke up. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

Bobby steps closer to me and starts to speak, but then his mouth is on mine before I can take in air. I am suddenly lost to everything but the feel of him and he is moving us toward the bedroom. He plunders deeply in my mouth and I find myself opening all parts of me to him.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed that.” He kicks closed the bedroom door behind us. “We can talk as much or as little as you want later. I’ll tell you anything, everything you want to know. But I am not going to bed one more time without you.”

He is staring at me with hungry eyes and I am just as anxious to make love to him and to kick from the room anything that might interfere with us loving each other forever.

I lean in closer as he starts to unbutton my dress. It may be the wrong time, wrong moment, but I can’t stop myself and I say, “I love you. I may have made a mess of us, but I have never not loved you.”

My dress is gone and Bobby sweeps me up into his arms. “I’ve always loved you and I’m going to love you the rest of my life. That’s what I figured out in two years without you.”

“Me, too,” I whisper, kissing his neck and feeling myself being lowered onto the bed. “Make love to me. I can’t wait another moment.”

And then we are not waiting, we are naked in bed together, my flesh pressed to his flesh, my lips are being devoured by his, and the urgency of our bodies is capering in the air and making the room electric. All my parts awaken at once. How have I managed to survive two years without this?

The bed smells of fresh washing and Bobby, and the two scents together are rightly so. Fresh sheets. He planned this. Everything below my waist begins to throb madly. He wanted me even before I followed him here.

His kisses run over my mouth, my cheeks and neck as if he’s reclaiming the feel of me and I am just as frantic to reclaim the feel of him.

He turns me beneath him on the bed and lowers his mouth to flick at my nipple. A violent shudder rolls down my limbs and I moan, arching into him, filling my hands with his soft, chestnut waves. I move against him in aching demand, feeling his hardness against my urging softness, and wanting him inside me without delay.

My body is boiling and I don’t want to come before he’s inside me. Later, we’ll take each other with leisure, but this yearning I feel is too greedy for play right now. His lips move from my breasts. His thumbs gently stroke my nipples as his kiss roams downward to my navel, his tongue swirling the acutely receptive flesh there. My muscles below clench and Bobby moans, moving downward, always downward in his kisses.

“I love the way you feel against my fingers and my lips,” he whispers, knowing exactly how to tease, tempt and get me to beg. “I love the way you taste.”

I arch upward on the pillow. “Then taste me, Bobby, and get in me fast.”

His laughter vibrates against my lower abdomen. “Not a chance. I’m taking my time with you. Having you my way.”

With lips and hands he lowers to that spot desperate for release. A light blow against me. A kiss near and not there. My flesh is burning, I am throbbing and ready for him. I want to jerk up and force him to that part of me aching for him. I hold myself back, letting him guide me there. This time I’m going to let Bobby take me his way…

Something pulls me from sleep—a cell phone?—and I slowly give myself over to waking when all I want to do is snuggle deeper into the sheets and sleep. Every part of my body is limp and sated for the first time in two years.

Bobby’s way was slow, glorious, torturous, and magnificent. I’ve always been the more eager and aggressive one, and Bobby’s preference for slow savoring of the senses used to make me secretly wonder if his leisurely self-control meant he wasn’t really turned on by me.

How paranoid and insecure I used to be at times. I always wanted a frenzied rush to orgasm as confirmation that he was totally into me. If the guy fucked me hard and fast it meant he couldn’t contain his desire for me.

Boy, did I get that one wrong. His unhurried, sensual play is more potent and erotic, more deeply connecting than anything I’ve ever known with Bobby. The man made a symphony out of making love to me. All of my senses have been blissfully fed and I am consumed by my love for him in a peaceful intensity that is so very right.