His tone when low and intimate. “Should I ask if it was good for you?”

It was the best sex she’d ever had. Hands down.

Without waiting for an answer, he shifted, taking more of his own weight. “You want that wine now, or are you ready for breakfast?”

Abigail glanced to the digital clock glowing on the nightstand. It was four-thirty in the morning. She blinked against grainy exhaustion. “It’s pretty much a toss-up between night and morning, isn’t it?”

He eased onto his side, propping himself on his elbow, one thigh staying angled across her legs. He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. “I’d like it to still be night.”

She drank in the sensation of that intimate touch. “I’d like it to still be dinner.”

He eased closer. “So we can start our evening all over again?”

She pretended he might have it wrong. “Yeah. Sure. Well, that and the mountain burger.”

Closer still, he brought his teeth gently down on her earlobe. “Liar.”

“Egomaniac.”

“Am I wrong?”

She played dumb. “About what?”

He glanced at the clock. “About us wanting to stop time.”

She sobered. Then she shook her head. He wasn’t wrong. But that didn’t change anything. “It’s a stolen night,” she reminded him. They both had places to go and things to do.

“When do you have to leave?”

“Early.” She was meeting her brother at the campaign office to close things up before she drove back to the ranch.

Lucky cradled her cheek, placing a long, tender kiss on her swollen lips. When it ended, his arm eased around the small of her back. “But not yet?”

“Not yet,” she agreed, desire rising inside her.

He kissed her again, and again, longer and sweeter each time.

“Tell me your name,” he demanded.

She shook her head.

“I need to know.” He drew back, obviously determined to withhold more kisses until she answered.