And though I don't want to stop, my toes are growing a little numb and I'm so cold that it's getting hard to move my lips without feeling somewhat like a fish.

"Ollie," I whisper.

"Hmm," he sighs against my mouth.

"I'm not wearing shoes," I murmur and he breaks away, eyes wide as they focus on the ground. "And, I'm sort of not wearing a coat either."

Ollie just shakes his head, lifting the corner of his lip. "So this is what I signed up for?"

I shrug, biting back a smile. "Guess so."

And before I can move, Ollie sweeps me quite literally off my feet, lifting me effortlessly into his arms. And you know what? It's not too shabby of a place to be. I curl into his chest as he walks us back inside. I don't even protest when he makes no move to put me down as we make our way into the elevator. Because his chest is warm and his muscles are firm beneath me, and my hands are too busy tracing lines across his chest, up his neck, across his face. I can't concentrate on anything else.

He doesn't put me down until we're back in the warmth of the apartment. We don't speak. Ollie slips his coat to the ground, and then his lips are back on mine and I don't want to think about anything else.

But because I'm crazy, obviously that doesn't happen.

A nagging sensation paws at the back of my mind and I can't help but notice how precariously close his coat landed to a candle. It isn't long before visions of a fire fill my brain, and really, that's the last thing I want to be thinking about right now.

Ollie stops moving. "Skye?" he groans.

"I'm good, I'm good." I shake my head.

He pulls back, eyebrows raised. "What?"

I bite my lip. "Nothing, it’s just…" My eyes flick to the coat. He follows, expression growing more amused. "It's just, it's close to the flames and really the candles are a fire hazard and—"

Ollie puts his finger over my lips. "You're probably the only girl in the world who doesn’t find this romantic."

"I do," I mutter against his skin, voice muffled. "It's super romantic. It's just super dangerous too."

He shakes his head. "That's just part of why I love you."

And then he steps away, circling the room to blow out each and every candle in the space. The space grows darker around me until only a sliver of silvery light remains—moonlight trickling in from the window. Somehow, it seems even more romantic to me.

"Anything else on your mind?" he whispers, stepping closer.

I shake my head, pursing my lips.

"Are the rose petals a tripping hazard?"

"No," I murmur.

"Is the room too hot?"

"No…"

"Too cold?"

"No…"

"Are you at all hungry?"

And now I know he's just completely making fun of me. So I don't give him the satisfaction of a response. I just reach out, grab a fistful of his shirt, and tug. It's a pretty effective way of getting him to shut up, and I smile against his lips, knowing this is probably the first time of many that I'll use the move against him.

But really, we're both winners here.

And the longer the kiss lasts, the more my mind finally shuts off. The passion that's always burned between us is still there, but for the first time, I don’t feel swept away and out of control. I ride it. And all that does is make the fire beneath my skin flare hotter.

Ollie's lips slip from mine, kissing their way across my cheek, down my neck. His fingers trail the path of my spine, slipping lower and lower, pausing at my hips to hold me closer, and then sinking to the edge of my dress. Mine slip beneath the folds of his T-shirt, finding the smooth skin of his abdomen, tracing the contours of his muscles, enjoying the way they constrict as I feel my way up his chest.

Both of our breaths turn ragged. But we don't speed up, if anything we just move slower, enjoying the fact that we have all the time in the world. Our hands explore first, then our lips. Ollie sighs and whispers my name. His love is a physical force, washing over me, cocooning me. And I realize, I've spent my entire life waiting. I don't want to wait any longer.

He senses the change. An electric snap heats the air around us. Suddenly his hands grip my waist, lifting me, and my legs wrap around him. And we’re moving, but I don't break the kiss to see where. Because I know. And there's no part of my heart or my body that has the will or the desire to say no.

Okay, so…you probably already guessed it, but, well—eek!—I'm not a virgin anymore. And you know what? The wait was totally worth it. Definitely. Sigh. Ollie is all mine. Please excuse me while I go melt into a puddle on the floor…

Soft yellow light is just starting to seep through Ollie's window, casting a soft glow across the bed. I trace the lines of his chest, watching the shadow of my hand flutter over his skin, marveling at how our bodies mold together. We're like two puzzle pieces that had to get ripped apart before we could see how perfectly we fit together. I almost want to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming, but I know I'm not, because you know, you actually have to go to sleep to be dreaming.

And well, Ollie and I had better things to do than sleep.

Trust me.

"What are you thinking?" he whispers.

I glance up, finding his twinkling turquoise eyes, still a little unable to believe they’re shining for me. "Nothing."

He just looks at me pointedly. "You know, Skye, that might have worked with other guys you've dated but I've known you long enough to know there's always something going on inside your head. Spill."

Hmm, it would probably be easier to say what’s not going on inside my head, because right now my thoughts are zipping from one extreme to the other. We've got visions of a white picket fence and children playing in the front yard on one side. And on the other, the look of rage that will cross Bridge's face as soon as she finds out. Throw in the fact that I'm now a sex columnist with a sex life—which you think would be a good thing, but really it just makes everything I'll be writing more real somehow, less like pretend fiction and more like, oh god what does everyone think about me?—and you've got a small idea of the turmoil stirring my brain.

"I could always guess…" Ollie suggests.

"True," I comment lightly, "but what if you guess something that's not on my mind, and then you put it there, and it's all your fault when I fall into hysterics."

Ollie frowns. "Good point."

"Let's just lie here in peace while we still can, okay?"

But before Ollie can answer, a knock shatters the silence of the morning. Someone's at the door. Someone—

"Oh my god." I sit up, hugging the sheet to my chest, searching for something to throw over my shoulders.

Ollie watches me with a grin. "Here we go…"

But I'm ignoring him. I've already moved on to the rambling portion of the morning. "Oh my god, what if that's Bridge? What if she forgot her keys and needs me to open the door? What will she think about the roses, and oh crap, the candles everywhere? What are we going to tell her? Oh my god, she's going to freak out."

"She's going to freak out?" he mutters. And then he opens the drawer next to his bed, handing me a T-shirt. I shrug it on and stand. But then—

"I can't wear this," I shriek, ripping it off. "She'll know it's yours and then she'll ask why I'm wearing it and then she'll see the flowers and the candles. You, you have to go out and clean them up now. You put them there."