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tongue inside me and his entire mouth covered my mound, forming a pressurized vacuum of pleasure.
    â€œOh God,” I breathed, grabbing his head as my insides clutched at his tongue, wanting more. There was not nearly enough of him inside me. My back arched up off the bed and, just as I was about to explode, the wretched man pulled away. “What? Why did you stop?” I shrieked.
    He positioned himself above me. “Because,” was all he said before he slammed into me and the orgasm raced through my body. He pulled out and slammed back to the hilt, giving me another wave to crest. I screamed the third time he pounded into me, the orgasm going on and on.
    He stilled then, his eyes closed and eyebrows drawn together, enjoying the sensation of my vaginal walls convulsing around him. “Elsie,” he said with a trembling voice. He withdrew slowly and entered even slower still, continuing the relentless torture at a pace that had me clutching at his butt, urging him to go faster, but he kept the unhurried pace, his arms on either side of my head as he kissed me tenderly.
    Henry was making love to me.
    The realization hit me like an avalanche and I was buried under the rubble. Tears pooled at the corners of my eyes as I gazed up at him, unable to believe that this man, who was once just a boy, was mine. At least for the moment.
    I wrapped my legs around his back and urged him deeper into me. He never picked up speed, never wavered in his steady thrusting, and I felt another orgasm building. With each drawn-out stroke, my muscles wound tighter and tighter, my body coiling into him until the final stroke that snapped me, made me scream his name as he shuddered his release.
    Afterward, he did the atypical and stayed in my room, sleeping on the bed that he’d deemed “too soft and girly smelling” forever ago, wrapped around me like my very own man-blanket. For the first time in a long time, since Jason’s death really, I fell into a deep and contented slumber.
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    You know that saying about taking a step back to get a fresh perspective? Well, I didn’t really need to step back to clear my mind; all I needed was six hours of sleep. When I woke the next morning to the sight of Henry’s calm face beside me, my heart just about burst with a feeling so acute, so fierce, that only a fool could have mistaken it for anything else.
    I had been deluding myself all of these years, thinking I could live my entire life as nothing but his roommate. I thought I’d successfully extinguished the torch that I carried for him, but in the space of a few days, the embers had been rekindled and the whole damn thing caught fire.
    I was madly in love with Henry: always had been, probably always would be.
    Admitting it exhilarated and scared the hell out of me. It was akin to leaning all the way back on a swing, feeling the rush and seeing the world at a new angle yet knowing there was a very real chance of crashing to the concrete below.
    Still, I knew, as I traced my finger gently down his forehead, along the bridge of his nose, that this was one risk I was willing to take. When I reached his lips, he opened his mouth and bit my finger.
    â€œGood morning,” he said with a sleepy smile. He touched my shoulder and ran a palm along the contours of my waist and hip. “I’m a little sad to wake up to you touching my nose instead of . . . other things.”
    I reached down to straighten out the situation when I spied the clock on my bedside table. I sat up with a heavy sigh. “I have to get ready for work.”
    He buried his face in the pillow and grumbled. “No, no, no.” He then waved a hand across my face and said, “You will take a sick day today.”
    â€œIf only I could, Henry-Wan Kenobi, but I have important clients coming in,” I said, giving him one last, lingering kiss. “To be continued.”
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    Work was excruciating. My meeting with
The