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I wake up to a new sensation. I’m enveloped by a warm strong body. It’s heavenly. Henry is wrapped around me, in the same position we fell asleep in. It feels so good to be swallowed up by his big frame. But something else occurs to me. He’s poking me in the back… and it dawns on me what part of him is doing the poking.

I giggle nervously. “Are we starting now?” I ask.

“What are you talking about?” Henry grumbles, waking fully at my words.

“You’re poking me in the back,” I point out with a breathy laugh.

Henry rolls away quickly. “Shit, sorry.”

“I’m not complaining,” I inform him. The truth is, my interest is very much piqued. It seemed like I was never going to find anyone I felt comfortable enough with to do anything physical. But then here he is. In bed with me. Holding me. I could squeal I’m so happy.

Rolling over close to him, I rapid blink with a big smile on my face, hands clasped together.

“You’re serious?” he questions.

Henry turns to me and cups my face in his hands. “You’ll have to tell me what you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to do anything to make you regret trusting me.”

My brows pinch in the center. What on earth might he try that I wouldn’t like? I’m not sure. I mean, I know how things work. I have seen videos. I’ve read articles. Anyway, I don’t expect him to try something kinky or advanced.

“I want to touch... uh... it,” I squeak, my eyes glancing quickly down between us.

He clears his throat. “Okay.”

You’d think I’m about to swim through a pond of hungry alligators the way my heart starts beating. But I muster the courage, because, heck yes, I want to touch him. After feeling him against me this morning, that’s all I can think about. Our eyes stay locked as I move my hand under the blanket and reach down between us. Then I’m on him... his hard length... Holy. Smokes.

In response to my touch, I presume, it twitches. I didn’t realize they can do that. I try my best not to react with a giddy squeal. Taking a breath to steady myself, I hold him in my palm_the way I’ve seen it done in videos.

“How’s this?” I ask on an exhale.

He smiles lightly. “Absolutely fine. You can go under my clothes too, if you want.”

I hold back a smirk as my heart gallops around my chest. “Oh. Right.” I release him, and my hand starts to shake with nerves as I fumble blindly to pull up his shirt. My fingers brush his firm stomach as I find the tight thick waistband of his boxers and slip my hand behind it.

There is a patch of soft hair that guides me to him, and when I grip him this time, I gasp. “It’s so hot to the touch,” I whisper in shock. I wonder what it will feel like inside of me? A shiver runs through me at that thought.

The look on his face at my words is intense. I can’t tell whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing I’ve said.

“Yeah,” he croaks, voice hoarse.

Taking my time, I trace my fingers slowly up and down the shaft. Since we’re under the covers, I can’t see it of course, but I can definitely size him up. Thankfully, he seems just right, not too enormous, and not too small. From what I’ve read, women seem to like it to be a certain size.

As I stroke him with my fingertips, his eyes flutter shut, then his breathing increases. I know this isn’t how I’m supposed to do it to get him off, but I just want to get the feel for it for a minute. And he doesn’t seem to be complaining.

Still, I check in. “Is this okay?” I whisper. My voice sounds oddly throaty.

“Very,” he rasps on an exhale.

I let my fingers trail further down then, to where his shaft connects to his sack, and I lightly trace that skin too. In response to my touch, things seem to shift and tighten down there, and his hips slowly push forward, like he’s encouraging me.

The whole thing is oddly more erotic than I expected, and I feel a tight heat between my legs.

Finally, I wrap my hands around him and start to stroke it. He moves suddenly, his hand wraps around mine, and he tightens my grip. He moves us toward the tip and then gets us going at a faster pace.

“Just like that,” he rasps.

I am hyper aware of every little detail of this moment. The way his breathing is picking up. The way he sucks in his bottom lip. The way his hips start to rock, so that he’s pushing himself into my palm. Wowza. It’s incredible. And I want to see it. But I also don’t want to stop, because he feels so warm and good in my hand, and I love what this seems to be doing to him.

At just the wrong time then, the alarm clock wails out in an earsplitting tone from his side of the bed.

“No,” I groan as his eyes snap open.

He rolls away from me and turns it off. When he faces me again, he looks as disappointed as I am. “That means we need to get ready now.”

“But… but, we just got started,” I protest.

Henry looks like he’s working out a complicated math problem.

“Please? I just want to do it to the finish line, you know?” I plead.

His whole face scrunches.

“Was that a lame thing to say?” I question.

He looks at me thoughtfully. “It was a very very sexy thing to say.”

“Oh.” I gasp, truly surprised. “So, is that a yes?”

Henry takes my mouth again in a gentle kiss that quickly deepens into hungry fast kisses.

I guess I’ll take that as a yes.

Without further invitation, I snake my hand back between the sheets. This time, he pulls his pajama bottoms down to his thighs, and I have much more room to continue stroking him.

I must be doing it right, because he groans into my mouth as we kiss. His hips are already moving again in time with my pumps. The movement gives me all sorts of ideas… I’m especially focused on what it would be like to be under him while he’s doing that. Ungh.

The tingling feeling in my belly is becoming so strong that even my hips start moving. The heat inside me is almost unbearable. I want him to touch me. Badly. Can I ask him to do that?

If I wasn’t so focused on stroking him just right, maybe I’d pause to pull his hand toward me, but I don’t have much time to think about it, because his breathing is getting ragged, and he’s making these soft little moaning sounds that are drying my throat completely. I think this means he’s close.

Then, on a strangled groan, I’m proven right. Henry throbs in my hand, and I feel the heat of his orgasm gathering in my palm as I stroke his tip.

He grabs my hand suddenly and pulls it away. “Okay. Okay. That’s good, sunshine.”

“Are you, uh, good?” I question dumbly. I think the mess on my hand should be answer enough. And what did he call me?

He breathes heavily for a minute, apparently recovering.

“Yes. It’s just too sensitive right after to touch it anymore.”

I make note. “That was really, really sexy,” I inform him.

“No regrets still?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. Other than wishing there was time to do more.” Not that I tell him what more I want… like him putting his hands in my pants for starters.

The aching between my legs is fierce. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through today.

If I thought it was bad this morning being left aroused with no relief from Henry, this meet-and-greet is making it a lot harder.

We’re filming Henry at a local military base, meeting some of the marines who are fans of the show. I am just wholly unprepared for the reality of seeing Henry’s fine ass… get this… in a military uniform. Dress blues. Holy. Hotness.

When Henry walks out after changing into it, I basically melt into a puddle of swooning hormones. The uniform is completed by a cap that makes him look so damn official. Do I have a thing for military men? I never got the hype before, but now? Hell yes, now. Maybe it’s because I had my hand wrapped around him this morning… nope. Can’t let my mind wander there. Need to stay focused and professional as I film.

A few dozen men in uniform file into the room_none as handsome as Henry_and then a small man calls out in a loud booming voice, “Special Operations Officer, Marine Raider Regiment, First Lieutenant, Henry Benson.”

All the men in the room snap to attention and salute Henry. A feeling of pride blooms in my chest. I knew Henry was a marine, but it didn’t really hit me just what that meant. Seeing the respect displayed in this room, though… it’s apparent that Henry is someone to marvel at.

The small announcer man reads off some of the achievements of Henry’s squad, plus details on his years of service, awards, and honors. The room applauds loudly and hollers in appreciation.

Then the small man starts to talk about the docuseries and how much it’s meant to the soldiers to see so many of the former marines sticking together as a found family after discharge.

When the introductory speech is complete, Henry addresses the room. “It is such an honor to be back among the fine women and men in this room. This was the very base I first attended when I enlisted. It was because of the support of my sisters and brothers in training that I was able to complete my college degree and join the Raiders. I am honored to have served eight years in active war duty for this country. And I thank each and every one of you for your eternal commitment to our success, to the progress of our country, and to your loyalty to each other. Semper Fi.”

The room parrots Henry, giving an earsplitting chant of “Semper Fi” in reply.

They usher Henry to a table, and he patiently meets one marine after another. Each wants his autograph and a photo. He spends time asking each of them questions, shaking their hands, and patting them on the back. I haven’t seen anything so emotional and heartwarming in a long time. It is clear these people have immense respect for Henry, and he holds the same respect for each of them too.

I’ve always known Henry is a stand-up man, there for his found family through thick and thin. Seeing this scene today just solidifies it even more to me. If I ever get the chance to be with a man like Henry, I’m going to take it. Consider him my new bar.

“I’m lucky I joined the marines after graduation. I needed to know there were still people on this earth who served a greater good, who honored their commitments. Everything I thought my mom wasn’t back then.” A look of guilt crosses his face for a beat.

“Absolutely. And I learned one other thing too,” I tell him.

“What’s that?”

“You look hot in a uniform.” I waggle my eyebrows dramatically as he peeks over at me.

He shakes his head. “What have I done to you?” he teases.

“Showed me the light?” I suggest.

He belts out a laugh. “Gosh. That’s a horrifying way to put it.”

I reach over and pat his thigh. “I pity any men who now have to live up to the standard you’ve set this week as my fake boyfriend.”

His jaw clenches at my words, but he agrees, “Don’t take anything less.”

If only I could keep him. As if that was possible. I shake away the thought.

“I meant to ask you sooner, I just took for granted that you might have other plans,” he says suddenly. I look at him in question, and he continues, “Can you come with me to a dinner tonight?”

“Definitely. Don’t be offended, but I guess I just assumed we’d be having dinner together anyway.”

He shakes his head. “Well then, I’m doubly glad I’m asking you. This is a dinner party I am being forced to attend, and it’ll be loads more fun if you’re there, since I don’t know any of the other guests.”

My brow creases. “How can you attend a party where you don’t know anyone? This isn’t for the studio, right?”