“Oh fuck, Naledi. Hold on. Hold on, hold on.” His forehead rested against hers and he gripped both of her wrists in one hand. She gazed at him, eyes wide and reflecting lust back at him.

“Oh, sorry. I kind of tackled you.”

Her brows drew and she moved to roll away from him, but he leaned and caught her lips with his. He kissed her slowly, sipping at her like a butterfly savoring the sweetest nectar. She arched up beneath him, pressing the V where the seams of her jeans met right up against the hard length of him, undulating her hips as she kissed him back with abandon.

“I need to tell you,” he said between kisses. “Who I am.”

“I know who you are,” she said. She pushed away from him and pulled off the screenprinted T-shirt she was wearing, revealing a soft, worn-looking gray bra cupping her silky brown breasts. “You’re the guy who learned to cook for me. The guy who’s made me laugh harder than I have maybe ever. Who made me come so hard I thought I’d peed myself.”

That shouldn’t have made him harder, but it did. Oh, praise the goddess for American oversharing, it did. He ran a fingertip over the frayed faux lace that edged her bra. She shuddered at the merest accidental brush against her skin, and he chuckled.

“I love that you speak so freely,” he said. Her hand came to cover his, and when he looked up at her, she was shaking her head.

“I usually don’t, to be honest. I feel like my entire life has been me trying to keep everything together, but right now I want to fall apart. And I want you to be the guy that makes me.” She was gazing at him hard, and he could see the want in her eyes and the loneliness that he’d caught glimpses of. One of the things he’d grown to adore about her was how in control she was, but now she’d bared herself to him.

“You’re leaving soon,” she said, and those were the words that broke him.

“We still have to talk,” he said, but he was on his knees on the futon now, pulling her toward him. He unhooked her bra with one deft flick of his thumb, and then eased her bra down her arms. He’d been draped in the smoothest silks, the softest wools, as a matter of course, but her skin was the finest texture to ever grace his sense of touch.

“Okay. I know you’re some kind of runaway trust fund baby. But you have me here saying corny things that will kill me from mortification in the morning.” She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. “Ugh. Make sure my last night is a good one, okay?”

Thabiso ran his hands up her torso and cupped the weight of her breasts in his hands. “I can do that.”

And he did.

He pushed her breasts together and licked and sucked at her nipples, wasting no time with soft caresses. He licked at her with his tongue rigid and flat, circled and teased her peaks with its tip, then caught a nipple between his teeth and pulled, ever so slightly.

“Ooookay,” she said, her voice going breathy. “You might kill me before my embarrassment does. That works, too.”

Her hands went to his jeans, tugged at the button fly until she had enough room to work her hand inside and grip him. Thabiso paused midnibble as the heat of her hand registered, and then the clumsy stroke as she tried to work over the length of him in such a restricted space.

He leaned back and pulled his shirt over his head, stood and shucked his jeans, moving with efficient motions that meant his mouth and his hands wouldn’t be away from her for long. On the bed, she was pulling off her pajama pants, revealing underwear that were a different color and material from her bra but hugged her curves and accented her hips so perfectly he wondered at the appeal of matching sets.

“You’re gorgeous.” He dropped back down into the bed, pinning the hot, soft length of her beneath him. She giggled, but looked away.

“Naledi, you have no idea . . .” He didn’t think it respectful to compare her to other women, or other women to her. She was beautiful, just as other women he’d been with had been beautiful, but they hadn’t made him feel like this. “You are lovely, yes, but you make me feel . . . you make me feel like I can be anything.”

And it was true. Everyone else had been taught to treat him like a future king, but Ledi released him from that confinement, showed him that he was more than the Moshoeshoe lineage he’d been born into.

She smiled and her arms went around him, banding him in something that felt like much more than lust. “And you make me feel like I’m already something.”

He kissed her then, and all the words left them. Her hands rubbed over his back, sending tiny, electric thrills coursing through him. He worked his hand between them, to the juncture between her thighs where she was wet and hot. His fingers teased along her slit, and then rubbed hard, and when he could see she preferred his touch rough he kept at it, kissing her all the while.

“Oh god, yes.” She writhed under him, her soft body going stiff as the climax claimed her, bit by bit. First her toes pointing, then her legs pressing into him, and then she arched up and broke with a cry that almost dragged him along with her. She was suddenly pliant beneath him, breathing heavily.

“Do you have condoms?” he asked.

“I’m a public health student,” she replied with a sharp look. She pulled off the top of a small footstool beside her bed and fished lazily around, until she came up with a catch—a silvery sleeve of condoms.

He took it, carefully tore open a packet and sheathed himself before resettling himself between her legs and slowly pushing his way in. Her muscles clenched at him, immediately, and the squeeze of her against his cock was excruciating.