“What else about me disgusts you?”

“How long have you got?”

“Ten good inches.”

She snorted. “See? Dirty mouth.”

Covering her body with his, he nuzzled his raggedy jaw against her cheek and absorbed her shiver into his own. “You used to like my dirty mouth and all the magical things I could do with it.”

“Teenage hormones have a lot to answer for.”

“Adult ones, too.” Though it killed him a little, he put a few painful inches between them and trailed a finger along her jaw, noting with satisfaction that she trembled under his touch. “It was good to see you again. Have a nice holiday.”

Her expressive brow told him she liked what he’d done there. “When did you get funny, Beck Rivera?”

“Around about the time you got a sense of humor, querida.”

There it was, that fire-bright smile. He felt like he’d swallowed the sun.

“Your shtick needs work.”

“Then show me how it’s done. Bésame.” Kiss me.

She laughed, right in his face. “Bésame el culo.”

Kiss my ass? Oh, it was on. Leaning in, he caged her with palms on the wall. The air around them shook with sex and need. Her lush body damn near vibrated with it.

“So demanding, princesa. How about I start with your mouth, then work down to your breasts, your belly, your thighs? Plenty of country to rediscover before I get to your sweet culo.”

But before he could kiss her, she kissed him. Unexpectedly, like the Darcy of old, and expertly, like this new Darcy he liked very, very much. Her lips claimed one corner of his mouth, then the other, and he parted to let her in. An invitation she accepted with joy. He’d always loved how she approached kissing, like she approached everything—with a single-mindedness that bordered on pathological. Over the years, she had probably honed her technique with a ton of guys. He hated every fucking one of them.

His arms snaked around her involuntarily; his body had always known what it wanted where she was concerned. By the time his mind caught up, he was a goner. He gathered her closer, perversely pleased that she didn’t soften immediately. He deserved to suffer. As their tongues tangled, realization shocked him stupid: no one else affected him like this, sent his heart soaring into the stratosphere and his cock punching against his zipper. A kiss, that’s all it took with Darcy who had once been his fantasy girl, and was fast becoming his fantasy woman. It was like someone had opened a bottle of good lovin’ wine. Vintage, seven years ago.

She had closed her eyes and the fact that she still did that during a kiss made his heart ache so sweetly. Slowly, she opened them as if waking from a dream.

“Te necesito, Darcy,” he murmured. So strange, only with her did his first language—one he barely spoke anymore—come out. She unlocked that primal part of him.

Their lips met again in a rush of heat and desire, and this time he abandoned his misguided attempt at coolness. It had never been a game with her. She clutched his shoulders, digging into his skin, and he couldn’t get enough of the bite of her. Her soft mouth, her clawing fingers, the fight in her body. She let loose a groan he felt all the way to his balls.

Crowd noise filtered through from the bar, reminding him that they were in far too public a place. Lifting her, he headed a few short feet to the back office and pushed his way through, kicking the door shut behind him. Too small for anything, it was perfect for this. He sat her on the desk, on top of a pile of invoices. Her purse hit the floor. She was breathing heavily, the swells of her breasts lifting her pearls.

“Is there someone else?” he asked, needing to know for a million reasons, none of them good for his sanity.

“Not at the moment.” She reached for his belt and undid the buckle while he pushed her skirt up her thighs. Thick woolen tights covered her legs, and the memory of her peaches-and-cream skin made his mouth water.

“Hurry,” she said, her eyes wild. “Please.”

This was moving at lightning speed, but she’d get no complaints from him. Next time—and yes, there would be a next time—he’d take it slow. Right now, he needed to be inside her, feel the clutch of her silken folds around his cock, find the pleasure he craved after a shitty couple of months. After far too long without her.

Quickly, he produced a condom and rolled it on while she watched approvingly. His hands shot up her skirt, seeking out the top of her tights so he could yank them south, but the snugness of the fabric over her hips made it difficult to get purchase.

“I think we need to—”

“Rip it, Beck,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Rip it.” She dragged his hand between her thighs, and he could feel her pulsing with want right there. A throaty moan escaped her lips as he applied more pressure. “Please. Now.”

Rip it. Get inside her. No waiting, no seduction, no fucking games. Just Darcy with that hot brew of pleading and ordering that destroyed him every time. He pulled the thick wool away from her body and, after a couple of tries, tore it down the seam. Slipping his fingers inside, he pushed aside her panties and found her soaked.

“Jesus, Darcy. You’re—”

“Yes, yes, I am,” she said, grinding her pliant heat on his hand. She hooked a finger in his jeans pocket and drew him toward her. “Do something about it.”

Yes, ma’am.

His mouth crushed hers, and then it was all hot hands and slick tongues. His on her, hers on him. Stroking with velvet licks inside her demanding mouth. Taking timeouts to watch as her pale hands pumped his cock, dark and pulsing even while sheathed. Memories he’d locked down broke through and added an indescribably sweet edge. Darcy giving her body to him the night he buried the two men he loved the most. Darcy making it better before he made it worse.

She felt it, too, he could tell. Remembrance flickered through her green eyes and he entered her just then, like that one action could seal the bond between past and present. He held still for untold heartbeats, ostensibly letting her adjust to his expanding size, but really because he needed to grasp onto this for a few seconds longer before the tethers of his waning control snapped.

One, two, ah . . . He cupped her jaw, enjoying immensely the delicate feel of her bones and how the softness of her skin churned something inside him. He plundered her mouth and mapped it with his tongue, giving her what she wanted, taking what he needed. A wave of clenching pleasure slammed into his midsection. Only then did he withdraw and plunge deep.

So damn good.

With his hands on her wool-covered ass, he urged her closer, tighter, the claustrophobic binding of their clothing adding another layer to the pleasure. It wasn’t enough. He jerked at the hem of her sweater, anxious to see the changes time had wrought on her body, only to be met with resistance. She pushed his hand away.

“No—no—we don’t have time.” A shocking vulnerability shone from her eyes. Was she unsure of being naked? Because he would not allow it. “Just take me there, Beck.”

Take me there. The same words she would beg when they were too young to even know their significance. It might have meant simple pleasure or outright oblivion. He had hoped it meant forever.

He did as he was told. Fucked her harder, got lost in the feel of her, took her to that place. Slick suction where their bodies joined fell into a hot rhythm with their fevered pants. Desperate thrusts and pulls ramped up his desire so fast he had to actively slow it down to make sure he lasted. This woman was so hot. And Christ, he wanted to burn.

Her moans got louder, the clench of her silken muscles tighter.

“Come for me, Darcy. Sé mía.” Be mine.

“Beck,” she whispered. Her tight channel clamped around his cock, and in every cell he felt the shatter of her orgasm as it unraveled through her body. It triggered his own release, and he let go with a roar, pumping every last ounce of tension and need into her.