“Phoko.”

“Sorry for . . . my eggplant emoji’s behavior, and thus mine.”

“It’s okay. I thought it was something both of us should be awake for. Which is why I woke you.” She looked up at him with a shyness that was almost brazen because she held his gaze in spite of it.

“You have my attention,” he said, flopping back down into the bed on his stomach, his arms around his pillow and his gaze on Nya.

“I was thinking . . .”

“Thoughts are magnificent,” he said in a low voice. “Share them. All of them.”

“I was thinking that maybe we could try some morning debauchery. Above-the-underwear debauchery, still. Are you interested?”

Heat flared in him, and that admiration he had for her. From what he’d discerned, Nya was a woman unused to asking for what she wanted, but here she was, asking for him of all things.

“Very much so.” He sat up, his back to his heavy wood headboard, and stretched his legs out before him.

“Come here,” he said, and she grinned so sweetly in anticipation of his touch that Johan groaned. She moved toward him on hands and knees, climbing onto his lap to straddle him, but he took her by the waist and guided her to turn so that her back was against his chest and her ass was pressed against his cock as she settled between his legs.

She turned her head back to meet his gaze, her eyes wide with uncertainty.

“One order of over-the-underwear debauchery coming up,” he said, then angled his head to kiss her. How had he ever even pretended to ignore this mouth? It was lush and warm and perfectly shaped, and now that he’d felt it pressed against his own without the slightest hint of hesitation he didn’t think he could ever settle for another.

He pulled his mouth away and nudged her cheek with his nose so that she was facing forward. “Look over there.”

“A mirror,” she whispered after turning her head. Johan dropped his mouth to her neck, licking and kissing at the same time his grip tightened on her hips and he ground his hips up.

“Is this your sex mirror?” she asked with just the slightest hitch in her voice.

Johan chuckled at the real curiosity in her voice. “No. You’re the only one who’s ever been in this bed, so the mirror has led a single-function existence until now.”

She looked back at him, tearing her eyes away from the sight of the two of them. “This is a new bed? No wonder it’s so comfortable.”

“Not new.” He nipped her ear, and his hands began sliding up her waist and taking her shirt with them. “Do you like the mirror?”

“It’s very nice,” she said uncertainly, facing forward again.

“Do you like watching us in it?” His hands cupped her breasts beneath her shirt, his knuckles pressing through the fabric.

“Oh. Well, right now there’s not much to see,” she replied, gyrating her hips so that she rubbed against him. “Ask me in a few minutes.”

Johan knew a challenge when he heard one. He kissed her earlobe, then the junction where her neck met her jaw, and when she exhaled hard he grazed her with his teeth.

Her breasts were smooth and warm and heavy, overflowing his hands, and he stroked them gently, watching her face from over her shoulder. He stroked under her breasts, avoiding the areola that had tickled her last time even though the hard peaks of her nipples poked through the fabric of her shirt.

She arched her back, pushing her chest forward.

“You can touch them,” she said, her gaze on his in the mirror. “Maybe I’ll like it this time.”

He nodded, lifting her shirt to expose her completely. She raised her arms and he lifted the shirt up and tossed it onto the bed, then cupped her breasts again. He ran his palms over her nipples, then his thumbs, brushing back and forth.

Her hands were on his thighs, and her fingers pressed into the muscles there as her hips rolled. She let out a shuddering sigh and a tight nod.

He took one hard peak between the thumb and forefinger of each hand, rolling gently, and watched her face in the mirror. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as her head knocked back into his shoulder with a sudden jerk.

“It feels good this time,” she said. She rolled her hips against him harder, then turned her head to the side to drop a kiss onto his bare shoulder. It was such a simple, innocent gesture, but Johan shuddered with need, his cock swelling against her.

“Good.” He kissed her hair, the side of her face, any part of her within reach of his mouth as he kept his gaze locked on them in the mirror. Then he pinched, gently.

“Oh goddess, yes.” Her voice was low with passion, and she reached up and back with both hands, gripping his hair and tugging so that she held him in place as inextricably as he held her. A hot surge of pleasure pulsed in him at the slight pain, and at the way she had opened herself to his touch.

He hardly recognized himself in the mirror, his flushed face and the dark, possessive focus in his eyes. And her . . .

Her gaze was soft with passion and her mouth slightly agape as she made sweet sounds of pleasure. He raised a hand to her mouth, running his thumb over her plump lower lip. Her tongue darted out and licked at the pad of his finger and Johan groaned, taking her chin with thumb and forefinger and tilting her head to the side.

She met his kiss with a moan and he greedily swallowed it. His tongue slid over hers, thrusting into her mouth in a hot, ungainly clash. She pulled away as she trembled against him and her hips worked in his lap, and then she clutched one of his hands.