“We’ll wreck your couch,” she gasped. “We need a blanket.”

He reached behind him and pulled the cotton throw he’d been using earlier off the back of the couch, rolled her onto him, and spread it over where she’d lay. It wasn’t perfect, but it would work. She settled onto the couch again and reached out for him.

“You’re still dressed,” she whispered as she sank her hands into his hair again. She wrapped her legs around him, grinding against his erection.

“Not for long,” he told her. He supported his weight on both hands as he moved over her in a crouch, kissing and licking his way down her abdomen. He could smell the heavy perfume of her arousal, feel the little tremors as she responded to him, the surprisingly strong grip of her thighs around his hips. He balanced himself enough to flip her legs over his shoulders with both hands as he grabbed her hips and pulled her closer. She let out another moan as his tongue lapped her.

He used one hand to spread her legs a little more, and the other to slide one long, crooked finger inside her as he teased her clit with his tongue. He tried two fingers instead, thrusting slowly, continuing his torment of the small bundle of nerve endings at the notch of her sex with his mouth. He felt her body tensing beneath him, listened to breathing that was now panting, and heard her gasp out, “Oh, God!” He increased the speed of his fingers, gently massaging the spot inside while he licked and sucked the nub between her legs. She pushed into his mouth.

A sudden motion made him open his eyes. She’d let go of his hair and slapped both hands over her mouth. She was trying to say something, but he couldn’t make out the words. Seconds later, she gave a muffled scream and he felt the intense waves of her orgasm clench around his fingers. He gently withdrew his hand as she tried to catch her breath, moved over her once more, and pulled her into his embrace as he lay down next to her.

Her body was still vibrating. There was nothing better in life than holding a woman seconds after orgasm, unless he counted the fact he’d helped her get there in the first place.

“It’s your turn now,” she murmured.

“There’s plenty of time. Just rest,” he said. He stroked the soft skin of her back as her breathing returned to normal.

“So far, so good with your parents,” she joked.

“Maybe they wore themselves out.”

“Reading the Bible?”

She turned her face into his shoulder, and he had to laugh. They rested against each other for a few minutes. He noticed they breathed in sync. He could fall asleep right now. Well, he could fall asleep after his hard-on subsided somewhat, which wasn’t happening as long as he was holding a beautiful naked woman.

That beautiful naked woman pulled him into a sitting position and knelt between his legs. “Speaking of wearing ourselves out,” she teased, “let’s try something else.” She unbuckled his belt, undid the button and the zipper on his jeans, and helped him pull them off. He shoved off his boxer briefs too, and his dick sprang free. He felt her grip him in her hand. She cupped his balls in her other hand. Her mouth descended over him, and he threw himself back against the couch.

Her tongue moved around the head. She licked and caressed him, she formed her lips into an “O” and teased him, pulling him in and out of the warmth and wetness. She worked him with her hands and her mouth until he felt himself coming, and then she’d pull back and wait until he begged her through clenched teeth.

“Oh, shit. Fuck. I . . . Jesus. More. Suck me.”

“Are you sure?” He opened his eyes enough to see the teasing smile move over her lips. “Maybe we should relax for a few minutes.”

She moved her hand slowly up and down his shaft until he thought he was going to burst, and then she’d back off again. She was killing him with pleasure. It wouldn’t be a bad way to go. He was putty in her hands, harder than he thought possible, and the slightest touch was going to send him over the edge. Kendall squeezed him once more, her mouth descended toward him, and through the haze of extreme pleasure and desperate need, he didn’t care if he woke up the neighbors, let alone his parents.

“Oh, Jesus,” he ground out.

Kendall bent over him one more time. Seconds later, he felt like his head was about to separate from his body as his orgasm ripped through him. He let out a long, loud groan and slumped into the couch cushions. He tried to catch his breath. Kendall laid both palms on his thighs as she pulled herself up off the floor.

“Are you okay?” she teased.

“I’m great.” He grabbed her around the waist to pull her into the couch cushions with him. “How are you doin’?”

She laughed softly. “I’m terrific.”

The sweet afterglow of orgasm didn’t last. He heard movement on the floor above them. Seconds later, there were footsteps on the staircase, and they both heard his dad’s booming voice.

“I’m sure there’s still cake, baby. We’ll get some and take it back to bed with us.”

“You know I love a midnight snack.”

His mother sounded like a giggly teenager. His parents had chosen one hell of a time to get out of bed. There wasn’t a lot going on between his ears or above his waist as a result of the past fifteen minutes or so, but he managed to realize they were about to be discovered. Luckily, his couch faced away from the kitchen. If they were quiet, lay flat, and held still, they might escape discovery.

“Lay down,” he told her, and moved in next to her. He wrapped his arms around her. It didn’t matter if he was a grown man: He really didn’t care to be caught in the act by his parents. He told himself to breathe.

“They won’t see us. Hold still,” he whispered.

“I think they heard us. It’s bad enough,” she whispered back.

He heard scurrying footsteps in the kitchen and his dad’s bigger, heavier ones.

“I could have sworn I heard voices down here,” his mom said. “Maybe we should take a look around.”

Drew heard the refrigerator door open and shut, the cabinet where he kept the plates opening and shutting, and the sound of the silverware drawer opening and shutting. “Bonnie McCoy, you get your cute little fanny back here and quit snooping around. Drew is fast asleep in his room. Nothing is wrong. Let’s go back upstairs.”

His parents’ voices receded as they climbed the stairs. He could hear the click of the bedroom door shutting all the way downstairs. He took his first deep breath in five minutes. He stroked Kendall’s face and kissed her on the forehead.

“Portland’s starting to sound better and better,” he muttered.

AFTER GRABBING THE clothes strewn around Drew’s family room and hurriedly dressing themselves, they decided to spend the next few hours attempting to get some sleep in his bed before she had to go to the airport. Kendall grabbed the quilted fabric overnight bag she’d brought out of the entryway of his house, and they hurried upstairs as silently as possible.

Drew’s room was huge and thickly carpeted. One wall was dominated by a clerestory window that looked out over his backyard. The king-sized bed he slept in didn’t make a dent in the available space. The bed itself had a dark bentwood headboard, no footboard, and was somewhat nondescript. The bedding was simple in design, earth tones, and he had no decorative pillows. The sheets were white. A wooden chest sat at the foot of his bed. He also had a dresser and a flat-screen TV mounted over it on the opposite wall. She smiled at the large glass jug full of change on the floor beside the dresser.

The room included a bathroom, which had the usual high-end finishes—granite countertops, tile flooring, double-glass-walled shower, big whirlpool tub. There was nothing here, though, that expressed Drew’s personality or what he cared about besides the stack of books waiting for him in the recessed cubbyhole of his nightstand. She wondered if there were family photos, football mementos, or other items that might show her a little more about who he was somewhere else in the house.