The couch was not enough.

By midnight the breeze had thinned to nothing. The candle had burned to a puddle. Lena’s skin stuck to the leather every time she shifted. Jude’s hand was still between her legs, two fingers lazy now, not trying to make her come so much as reminding her he could.

She caught his wrist.

“Your bed,” she said. “Or the floor again. I don’t care. I can’t stay like this.”

He pulled his fingers out of her slow. She felt it. He put them in his mouth without looking away from her. Then he stood and walked down the short hall like he knew she would...