Pure pleasure rocked me, intense, consuming. I wrapped myself around him. He began to move deep, deeper still, lifting me up, pulling me down. Little by little, his rhythm began to quicken.

"I had no idea you'd be this wild once I got your clothes off." His breath stroked my ear. "Thank you."

I couldn't help a grin as I rotated my hips, taking more of him inside. Oh, yeah. I gasped. "Well, I knew you'd be this good."

His hand reached down between us and pressed. His fingers moved in a circular motion; his body slipped in and out of me, increasing in speed, increasing in urgency. Yes, faster and faster. Sure enough, my sensitized body responded, dampening, aching for another orgasm.

I clawed at his back, bit the cord of his shoulder and tugged at his hair. I was an animal, a Tigress, my true, wild nature suddenly released. He surged once more, hard, and I propelled over the edge. As my body spasmed for the third time, he growled low in his throat and surged deep, so deep. Deeper than I'd thought possible. His body stiffened and he roared my name. "Damn, Naomi," he panted. "I think you almost killed me." With what little energy I had left, I sighed happily. Take that, Richard the Bastard.

When engaged in a wild, no-strings fling, how many times in one night was the couple in question allowed to make-uh, have sex? Once? Twice? Three times or more?

Hopefully the latter because Royce and I had just finished round three. On the bed, this time. I lay limp as a rag. Royce was beside me, the heat of his body like a warm blanket. A dewy sheen of sweat caused our bodies to cling and stick to the other.

I was naked, not an inch of covering over my body, and I realized I might never regain the strength to do anything about it. I knew my hair was a tangled mess, knew that my lips were slightly swollen. Knew, too, that pink scratches lined my breasts from his beard stubble. I probably resembled a beat-up prostitute. And there was no better way to look, to my way of thinking. A satisfied smile curled my lips.

I don't smoke, hate cigarettes actually, but I would have liked one right then.

Royce anchored his weight on one elbow, hovering above me, his eyes heavy-lidded and seductive. Silver moonlight surrounded his tousled hair. I smoothed several strands from his face and stared up at him.

"Thank you for tonight," I said.

His turquoise gaze suddenly glowed like the clearest ocean. "I'm the one who should be doing the thanking."

I grinned. "You're probably right."

Chuckling, he rose from the bed. "Cocky girl." His chuckle became a grimace, and he rotated his shoulders. As he padded into the bathroom, he said, "I think you did major damage when you threw your legs around my neck."

"Big baby." A cool blast of air wafted around me, and I forced my jelly-like arms to grab onto the sheet and pull it up to my chin. I heard a splash of water. Then silence.

He exited the bathroom with a wet washrag in his hand, saw me, and paused. "Now you're shy?" he teased.

"Now I'm cold," I said. If I were honest, I was beginning to feel a little self-conscious. This man had slept with some of the most beautiful women in the world. Models. Surgically enhanced heiresses. And now imperfect me.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, as if reading my mind. He grunted with pleasure as he settled beside me, then spent the next several minutes cleaning both of our bodies. Once the towel was discarded, he cuddled me to him, his body half covering mine.

I'd never been a cuddler. Hated it, in fact. I always felt pinned down, shackled-and not in a good way. But… I found that I loved it with Royce. The tenderness. The illusion of caring. I didn't want to move, could have stayed in his arms forever.

And that suddenly scared the living shit out of me.

My heart kicked into overtime, pounding sporadically in my chest. Being here with him like this felt too good, too… right. Was I…could I be- No. No! I absolutely refused to believe I was falling in love with him. This was a fling. Only a fling.

Emotions were not allowed.

Emotions meant a relationship. A relationship meant marriage. Marriage meant trusting, giving my heart totally and completely. And giving my heart eventually meant hurt, pain and perhaps betrayal. Not even my mom's marriage was going to survive, and I'd thought their union unbreakable.

A cold sweat broke out all over my body; my breathing became shallow, ragged. I began to feel claustrophobic. A wave of dizziness assaulted me. A deafening ring filled my ears and my stomach cramped. I had to get out of here. Had to get away from Royce. Right. Now.

"I have to use the bathroom," I blurted.

He untangled his limbs from mine. "Hurry back."

I raced away. When the door locked behind me, I sucked in a panicked gulp of air. What was I going to do? I couldn't stay here all night, but I couldn't pick up my clothes from the floor and take a cab home, either.

I collapsed onto the toilet lid and hunched over, putting my head between my legs. Breathe. Just breathe. There was no reason to panic. I'd think of something.

How long I stayed like that, I don't know.

"Are you okay in there?" he called.

"Fine," I croaked.

When the ringing and dizziness subsided, I forced myself to stand and splash cold water over my too-pale face. "You don't seem to worry when he's inside you," I told my reflection. "So get him inside you again and your worries will melt away. He's your sex toy. Nothing more."

With a deep breath, I stepped out of the bathroom and sashayed toward the bed. Royce was splayed out, rumpled and sexy, looking satisfied but concerned. My chest constricted at the sight of him. His torso was lined with scratches and bite marks.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked, his tone dripping with worry.

"Yeah." He's my sex toy. Nothing more.

"Come here." My sex toy patted the empty space beside him.

"Do you want me again?" I asked hopefully.

"I want to hold you."

Well, crap. I dragged my feet. Slipped in next to him. Wanted to snuggle up to him-what the hell was wrong with me-but remained a short distance away. He's my sex toy. I frowned and turned my back to him. My stomach began to churn again. My palms began to sweat again. He's my sex toy.

"Naomi?"

Please don't ask me if I want to spoon. "What?"

"Is this about the condom?"

I paused. "What do you mean?"

"It broke that last time."

My mouth went dry. My blood mutated into ice. Total and complete silence surrounded us as my world crumbled. Ohmygod. Oh. My. Freaking. God. My lungs quit working and another rush of dizziness slammed into me. "Tell me you're joking. Please, tell me you're joking."

"I wish I could."

I twisted to face him, meeting his gaze. "How the hell. Could that. Have happened?"

"Hey, I'm healthy. No reason for so much worry."

"I'm glad to hear it, but what about the other thing, huh?" At the moment, I couldn't say the B word. Couldn't even think it.

He ran a hand down his face. "Aren't you on the Pill?"

"No, damn it!" A horrible thought raced into my mind and my nostrils flared. "Is this your way of trapping me in a relationship? Because if so-"

"Hell, no." He jolted upright, pinning me to the bed with the fierceness of his gaze. "I don't have to resort to that kind of tactic to keep a woman."

I believed him. I'd even known it, deep down, before the words had rushed out of my mouth. Some of my anger and panic eased, and I was able to identify another emotion, the barest glimmer, underneath the surface of everything else. An emotion I didn't yet want to name.

My hand fluttered over my mouth, then dropped to my heart. "I'm sorry," I told him. "I shouldn't have said that."