Goldie sat with her legs crisscrossed just like the stack of firewood, and I sat opposite her. She handed me my wine glass, and I tilted it toward hers.

“To mistaken homes, mismanaged meals, and mishaps at midnight,” I said.

She threw her head back and laughed. Her beautiful, swollen lips curved into a smile. “To better endings.” Our glasses briefly chimed against one another.

When she drank, wine dripped down her chin. I leaned over and gently dabbed the streak from her face. “Should I take you to the ER?”

She shook her head. “Trauma.”

“The trauma unit?” My voice sounded as hysterical as I suddenly felt.

She grinned and sucked in her bottom lip. “Swollen lips are typically caused by trauma to the mouth.”

“I didn't mean to, you know, punch you. I was aiming for the door.”

“Well, if you can’t share a concussion with your loved one, what can you share?”

“I caused a concussion?” My tone had moved from hysterical to frenzied.

Goldie erupted into laughter. She held her side and started to sway again. Her honey-colored wine sloshed back and forth in her goblet like liquid gold.

“Are you all right?” I said and nervously laughed, which only made her laugh harder. “You don’t really have a concussion, do you?”

She held her glass toward me. I quickly placed my glass on the ledge of the fireplace and grabbed hers. As soon as she was free of her wineglass, she leaned over and broke out into, what could only be described as a fit of giggles.

“Yeah, okay, I get it.” I placed her glass on the fire place beside mine. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny. Make fun of the guy who punched you. Nice.”

At that comment, she only laughed harder. She stopped momentarily to point her finger at me and widen her beautiful green eyes. “You did! You punched me!”

I shook my head. “It was an accident.”

But more laughter ensued. She barely came up for air when she looked at me with her purple, bruised lips, and then I began laughing. “I’m sorry,” I said. “But those lips. Not so sexy.”

She leaned over and looked at her reflection in the glass fireplace screen and howled. “Oh, my gosh! I look awful!”

“I know! You do!”

She leaned into me, and I leaned against her until we were laughing so hard we collapsed back on the blanket. We could barely breathe. With our hands on our stomachs, trying to catch our breath the fire warmed my feet and Goldie’s laughter still seemed to echo in my ears.

“Well, this was probably the worst date night of my life,” I said staring at the high ceiling in her house that looked like pixie dust had been scattered across it. It sparkled and shone like stars in the evening sky. Everything in Goldie’s house was magical.

Goldie elbowed me. “Ah, get over it, Bear. This was a great night. How many times do you get to hit on your brother’s date?” She elbowed me again—only harder. “I mean, literally.”

“Ah, thanks, Locks.” I turned my head to her. “Didn’t think I could feel any worse about my night.” But she was grinning so wildly it was devastatingly cute. I shook my head and rolled my eyes for good measure.

She leaned over and kissed me quickly.

I playfully wiped my mouth with the sleeve of my shirt. “Ew, get those big lips off me.”

She attempted to swat my arm, but I grabbed her wrist before she made contact. I raised an eyebrow. “Gotta be faster than that, Goldie. Us Bears are quick when we smell honey.” I leaned toward her and started flirtatiously sniffing her neck. Her head turned toward my nose.

“Oh, that tickles.” She wiggled beside me.

“This?” I said coyly panting and snorting like a big bear. She twisted and giggled, but couldn’t get away because I still held her wrist. I continued to huff and puff like a hungry bear, but the smell of nectar on her neck, the warmth of her skin against mine, and the fire crackling and snapping before us was like a hot command for passion. All the elements were in place including my desire that drove my mouth to nibble her delicate earlobe.

She stopped squirming beside me and started turning into me. “Oh, Hayden.”

My tongue trailed her earlobe down her neck. I softly kissed the hollow of her collarbone and gently buried my nose in the warmth richness of her hair that awakened my senses and my appetite. Goldie’s hair smelled like raspberries and champagne.

“I don’t know what you bathe in,” I said with my mouth pressed against the tender nape of her neck and my hand still wrapped around her wrist, pinning her to the blanket. “But I want to immerse myself in you.”

I didn’t even think before I spoke, and suddenly I wished I hadn’t. I closed my eyes tightly. But then she stirred beside me.

“If you like how I smell, imagine how I taste.”

I think I stopped breathing. Game on.

I slowly made my way to the opening of her silky pajamas. She arched toward me, and her cleavage sprang my cock to life. My mouth didn’t wait to see if it could unbutton the top button. I held her wrist with one hand and tried to unbutton her top with the other, but the buttons were small and my coordination with one hand wasn’t that great. I started to let go of her wrist when she shook her head.

“No,” she said. “Rip it.”