“Look at me,” he commanded softly.
He knew he was close, but he wanted her with him when he came. With their gazes locked on each other, they found their release together.
Drake gave himself over to Love in more ways than one, and he knew there would be no turning back.
* * *
Drake woke the next morning still on the couch, with Love wrapped around him like a warm blanket. And he couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be. Which, frankly, scared him to death.
“Drake?” Love’s voice was soft, unsure. Definitely not groggy with sleep. “Are you awake?”
“Yes,” he admitted.
She lifted herself up on an elbow. “We had sex again.”
Sex? That was definitely not sex. Drake had had plenty of sex and none of it was even remotely similar to what had happened between him and Love. “Are you cold?”
She glanced at him. “Did you hear me?”
“I heard you,” he murmured.
She fingered a fold in the throw he’d draped over them. “Can we talk about this?”
Not with your naked body pressed against mine. “Maybe we should get dressed.”
Unfortunately, she didn’t take the hint and move. “Drake, this isn’t what I expected. We made love.”
“Well, we are married.” He knew his attempt at humor didn’t work when her chin quivered. He squeezed the tip of it between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m sorry.”
She dropped her forehead against his chest, and he tickled the back of her neck.
“It’s complicated,” she murmured. “We’ve yet to talk about this marriage and lawyers and the divorce. Instead, we had sex again. I’m worried we just changed things once more.”
Their lovemaking had been intense, a game changer for him. And he definitely wasn’t ready for the change. “Love, I’d like to think that we’ve been friends long enough to withstand anything that comes our way. We’re adults, and we made an adult decision last night.”
She glanced up at him. “What now?”
He brushed his thumb over her eyebrow. “I honestly don’t know. And it’s kind of hard to think about that when you’re lying against me like this.”
She laughed then. It was a full, throaty laugh that seemed to lodge itself in his heart. Love was beautiful on an average day, but the after-sex-relaxed-bedhead Love was stunning. She was perfect.
“You’re my best friend,” she said.
He swept his palm over her shoulder and squeezed. “Nothing is going to change that.”
“You’re worried.”
“Who said I was worried?”
“You don’t have to say it.”
Distracted by her and the need to be with her again, he sat up. She held the blanket to her chest and slid off him so that he could stand. After dragging on his pants, he turned to her. “If I’m worried, it’s because I don’t want you hurt. Not because I’m worried about our friendship.”
“We slept together, Drake. How do we come back from that? It’s not like we can magically not be attracted to each other.”
She stood and slipped on his shirt, which looked damn good on her. So good, he imagined taking her again with the shirt on. “We don’t. We adjust to it. Like you said, we can’t take it back. It’s like an amputation. We’ll miss the way it was before, but we’ll learn to live differently.”
“I say that to my patients who’ve just lost loved ones.”
“I know,” he said. “It applies here, too.”
She chewed on her thumbnail. “What if it happens again?”
He’d asked himself the same question a million times since she’d put on that shirt. He knew it was going to happen again, he just didn’t know when. “It won’t,” he lied. “We won’t let it, okay?”
“And you can just go back to normal?”
Nope. “Well, I want to try to figure this out. You’re too important to me not to try and work on it.”
She walked closer, peered up at him with sad eyes. “Are you sure?”
He wrapped his arms around her, and she burrowed into him.
“I need you, Drake.”
They stood like that for a while, swaying to their own music. “I’m here, Love. Always.”
A hard knock at the door interrupted their tentative peace. Love frowned. “Who could that be? It’s so early.”
Drake buttoned Love up in his shirt. She smoothed a hand over her hair as he walked to the door. There was another knock before he got there and he paused when he saw who was on the other side through the small window. Shit.
“Who is it?” Love asked, tugging at his shirt.