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“Uh huh. Just…trying to remember how my legs work.”

He chuckles, and I swear, it’s the best fucking sound.

It happens so rarely. Even getting a smile out of him is an achievement, but a chuckle?

Knowing I’m the one who made it happen makes me feel all kinds of things I shouldn’t be.

Things like…I never want this to end.

His eyes remain on me, ensuring my blood is almost at boiling point as I pull my boxers on. It’s not until I have my jeans halfway up my legs that he speaks again.

“What are you doing?”

When I glance back over my shoulder, I find that he’s no longer lying down. He’s now sitting in the middle of the bed—still gloriously naked, and semi-hard—with an intense expression on his face.

“I’m getting dressed so I can leave you to eat.”

“I never said you had to leave.”

“But your meal plan,” I argue, although it’s weak at best.

He scoots to the edge of the bed, his feet hitting the incredibly soft carpet that covers his bedroom floor, and looks up at me from beneath his lashes.

Fuck. I’m in trouble.

“Take them off.”

Instantly, I drop my jeans, and they fall to my feet.

“Come here.”

I kick my feet out of the fabric and walk toward him.

His eyes eat up every inch of me as I get closer. And as soon as I’m in touching distance, he runs his palms up my thighs before gripping my hips.

My cock jerks happily, and as if he knows, his eyes run down the length of my torso to stare at it.

He releases one hip and lazily traces the outline of my quickly growing erection.

“Cooper,” I groan.

He looks up at me, and the second our eyes connect, my knees almost give out again.

There’s so much intensity burning in those green eyes, so much need. But there’s almost more than that. Things I can’t quite decipher yet. Fear, maybe. Desperation.

He swallows thickly, his throat rippling, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Have dinner with me,” he demands. The rasp of his voice sends goose bumps skittering over my skin.

“Y-yeah. Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

One side of his mouth curls up into a smile before he pushes to his full height. His palms cup my face, and his lips brush against mine.

It’s slow, unhurried, and reverent compared to the heated, frantic kisses we’ve indulged in since he let me in. It’s…mind-blowing. I’m not sure I’ve ever been kissed quite like it.

I’m used to hot and heavy hookups. Those kinds of kisses are normal to me: the hurried touches and the race toward the end.