They slept until noon the next day. Although more than once Damon had woken up, found her soft body curled next to his, and ended up inside her, moving slow and deep, until finally he would come, then drift back into slumber.

“What’s on our agenda for today?” Brenna asked over a late lunch at the California Pizza Kitchen at the Mirage.

“Not much,” he replied across the table. “Just one club to hit tonight and that’s it.”

“Good, ’cause I’m pooped,” she said on a laugh.

And he agreed. As much as he’d enjoyed their wild week together, little miss Brenna had worn him out.

Of course, even as exhausted as he was, he still wanted more of her. Couldn’t seem to quit wanting more. Even now, just sitting across from him in a plain, fitted turquoise T-shirt and jeans, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she looked as delectable as the pizza he ate.

Would he have thought that a week ago? If they’d been eating pizza, if she’d been dressed like this, plain and casual?

The truth was—no, he wouldn’t have.

Of course, he’d known from early on that none of this was just about the way she looked. It was about all of her. And now that the week was drawing to a close and they were going home tomorrow…he just wasn’t sure he was ready to say good-bye to having Brenna in his bed.

And maybe, just maybe, the idea of not saying good-bye was slowly becoming a little less scary to him—and a little more viable, real. Just like Brenna herself. Real.