Reeve’s lips move from my mouth to my jaw, down to past my collarbone, where he takes his time with my breasts. I know Reeve is a self-admitted breast man, which makes him an ironic choice to defend Jenna’s case. But normally he’s devouring me, biting and pinching to get the most arousal out of me. Tonight, however, he’s gentle and careful, softly swirling his tongue with a humming noise in the back of his throat. It makes me want to arch my back and purr like a kitten in his arms.

His fingers work like butterflies between my legs, pulsing flutters across my most sensitive parts. He builds me up slowly, like a dull fire catching its first big flame from a tiny gust of wind. Then the fire takes hold, leaps, and fans, and with one perfect touch of his thumb against me, I come apart in a slow burst of magical fireworks within my body.

It’s the most beautiful orgasm I’ve ever had, and I know I’ll never forget it.

Pushing up on his elbows, Reeve hovers above me. His eyes are serious, a deep ocean of unstated emotion. “Tell me it’s okay not to put on a condom,” he says quietly, his voice husky with desire. “Tell me it’s okay to fuck you bare.”

“It’s okay with me,” I tell him quietly as my hand comes up to touch his face. My fingers graze along his temple, push back into his hair. He turns his head slightly, pushing it against my palm in a display of needful affection.

Nothing else needs to be said about the condom issue. The minute he asked me if it was okay, I trusted him enough to know he’s telling me that he’s clean. When I told him it was okay with me, that meant I was protected and clean, and he took me at face value, because he proceeds to fill me with his massive length in one sweetly sublime thrust.

Reeve slowly moves within me, leaning to the side on one elbow, his other arm locked out straight to give him more leverage. His face hovers over me, lips just inches from mine. I can smell the wine on his breath and hear the ecstasy rumbling in his chest.

We stare at each other, boldly, candidly, leaving no room for walls or barriers to the feelings that have developed. I feel, in this moment, closer to him than any man before in my life.

Reeve rolls his hips, pumps into me carefully, drawing out every bit of feeling and nuance as our flesh slides against each other. He makes love to me, all the while staring into my eyes. It’s a connection that starts to cement us together hard, and I know when both of us come, it won’t be broken.

At least not by any ordinary means.

My climax starts building again, and I can tell Reeve’s is, too, as his hips move a little faster. He lays his weight down on me, grabbing my hands with his and pulling my arms above my head. His fingers lace with mine, and I raise my knees up to his ribs to accommodate him deeper.

Both of our bodies now undulate against each other, slick with moisture, our chests heaving from exertion. Because Reeve’s body is flat against mine, every grind of his pelvis against me causes deep pulses of pleasure to fire throughout my body.

With one extradeep push, the buildup of pressure tears free, and I’m falling apart. I do so with a soft cry, arching my neck and biting at my lip.

I hear Reeve say, “So fucking perfect,” and then with one more hard thrust, he starts shaking. His head falls to my shoulder, and he lets out a soft groan of release while his cock jerks inside me as he comes.

My arms wrap around his neck, and I hug him tight as we continue to shiver against each other. This has been the most perfect sexual experience of my life, because I actually opened up my heart, and it made all the difference in the world.

I think I should have figured out after that first night we slept together at his house that Reeve could never be just a fuck buddy. It’s one thing to have sex. It’s quite another to sleep all night with a man. There’s something intimate in drifting off to dreamland, wrapped up tight in someone’s arms.

It’s not something I had with Ford. Ford and I were truly about the sex. We were friends, of course, and could talk about many things. But we weren’t snugglers. We didn’t express ordinary affection, or tell each other our deepest secrets while sharing a pillow.

From that first night, I learned that Reeve is a snuggler. He likes to be wrapped around me when he sleeps. He claimed it was only because he was used to snuggling up with Mr. Chico Taco, but I seriously doubt that, as the massive dog has his own gigantic bed on the floor. And poor Chico. On the nights that Reeve stays with me, he has to suffer with sleeping over at Vanessa’s house. This I feel bad about, for Mr. Taco’s sake, but secretly I’m pleased, because every time Reeve asks her to take him, he always tells her he’s staying at my house for the night.

Petty, I know, but I love it.

Right now, we aren’t exactly in full snuggle, time-to-go-to-sleep mode. Instead, Reeve is flat on his back and I’m pressed into his side, my head lying on his shoulder. My right leg is twined with his, slightly bent and raised so I can feel his softening cock against my knee, still wet with his release. His arm curled under me strokes my hip while my fingers play with the patch of trimmed hair that surrounds his dick.

“Looks like we’re back on the battlefield tomorrow,” I say absently. It’s the first time I’ve willingly brought up Jenna’s case to Reeve.

“Yup,” he says. “We should probably do a lot of glaring at each other across the table. You know, just so people don’t think we’re fucking each other.”

I snicker and give a playful tug on the hairs my fingers are skimming through. “I’m sure we’ll both conduct ourselves professionally.”

Reeve is silent and I concentrate on the thrum of his heartbeat under my ear. Tomorrow is the court-ordered mediation for Jenna’s case. All cases filed in superior court are ordered into mediation, where the parties sit down and try to settle the case voluntarily. If that doesn’t work, we start preparing for trial.

“I’ve recommended they make an offer to settle,” Reeve says, and my fingers still because he’s giving me information he probably shouldn’t. I don’t say anything, though, because I don’t want him to feel any obligation to divulge anything to me.

“Even if they take my advice, the amount they put on the table won’t be enough,” he says as an afterthought.

“Is there any amount of money that will make it right for Jenna?” I ask rhetorically.

“Not for what she’s been through,” he says with compassion.

My heart zings in joy that Reeve has said that—not because I think it will help my case, but because he’s a truly good guy and despite the fact he’s working for the Antichrist, he has a heart. I saw it when he looked at Jenna’s deformities with compassion, and I can’t help but think someone like him would be better serving the cosmic universe by working on our side of the law rather than doing insurance defense.

“Tell me about Midge Payne,” Reeve says out of the blue, changing what was a precarious subject for us anyway. “I’m dying to know if she’s real or an urban legend.”

I chuckle softly. “I can assure you she’s real.”

“There are so many rumors floating around the bar,” Reeve says.

“Well, I know a mixture of truth and rumor, probably. Let’s see . . . she started working for Grant Knight in 1977 when she graduated from law school at Duke. She was twenty-four and he was forty-four. Even though he was married, he seduced Midge and they became lovers. She made partner in 1978 and the firm became Knight & Payne.”