“And we have a winner,” Colin declared, smacking his glass lightly on the counter.

Winner. She felt like one tonight. Holy hell, did she ever.

She’d passed a big test.

* * *

“I told you they’d adore you. Every single one of them already texted to tell me how awesome you are. I’m going to keep you around,” he said, raining kisses on her cheeks, her shoulders, and her lips as they walked through the Cosmopolitan, his arm wrapped around her.

“You better,” she said with a murmur caused by him running a finger through her hair. “Because I think we’re already beyond our seventh date. And yes, I’m counting the weekend as more than one date.”

“I lost track of how many it is. I’m glad I lost track,” he said, as they left the hotel.

When the first blast of hot summer night air pelted them, she turned to him. “Where do you want to go now?”

“You’re five minutes away. I’m twenty minutes away. I took the initiative and already asked Colin to go let my dog out,” he answered with a wry smile.

“Ah, so you’re assuming I want you to come over?”

“I’m not assuming anything,” he said, gripping her shoulder. “It’s a fact. You want me over because you want what I’m going to give you.”

“What’s that?”

He stopped in his tracks there on the Strip. She stopped, too. Summer crowds of tourists thronged past them, cameras around necks, sneakers on feet, towering plastic drink holders in hand.

“My thank you for being so amazing with my family,” he said.

“It was easy. They’re wonderful.”

“You were nervous, but you did great. I want to show you how much it means to me that you met them.”

“You have a gift for me?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I have something I think you’ll like.”

She could hardly wait.

When they reached her home, he pushed her against the wall, fell to his knees, and wrapped her hands in his hair. She gasped, half surprised but all thrilled that he gave her free rein to touch his hair, to hold on hard, to dig her nails into his head the entire time he licked and kissed her until she came apart in his mouth.

It was one of the rare times he’d done that without binding her up at some point. She loved the momentary taste of freedom, the gift as he’d called it, but she also loved being bound to him.

When he stood up, she was still seeing stars, her body dizzy and drunk on his touch. She looped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “Let me do that to you,” she whispered. “Let me taste you. But I want you on top of me. I want to be under you.”

He ran his finger over her lips. “Fucking your mouth,” he murmured. His eyes blazed darkly, shining with intense desire as he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom. He set her down and unzipped her dress, then freed her breasts from her bra, leaving on only her shoes.

“Undress me now,” he told her.

Her skin sizzled with anticipation, with the thrill of having access to his body like this. She’d touched him before, plenty of times, but when it was all said and done, she’d spent more time with her hands tied than not, so having the chance to savor him was not one she wanted to miss. She unbuttoned his shirt, spreading her hands over the smooth, hard skin of his chest, then his arms. She moved to his belt buckle, heat tearing through her as she undid it. There was something so erotic about undoing a man’s leather belt. It was the moment before. It was the last second until his cock made its appearance, and so she savored the unfastening, knowing what was coming next.

Kneeling, she pushed his pants down over his hard ass, then his boxers, and drew a deep sigh of appreciation as his hard shaft greeted her, the head nearly bonking her nose.

He laughed lightly, as she flicked out her tongue to lick the head. She moaned instantly, savoring the taste of him.

“You said you wanted to be under me, Sophie,” he said firmly, reminding her.

“I know, but I just want to touch you for a minute. I hardly ever get to. Let me worship you,” she said, tugging his pants off the rest of the way as he quickly removed his shoes and socks. Starting at his calves, she kissed her way up his legs. Fingers, hands, tongue, lips. She traced him, brushed him, as she traveled along his strong body. She kissed his hipbone then rose up on her feet, crouching to press her lips to his belly. His stomach was so toned she could run the tip of her tongue through the grooves in his abs.

He groaned as she mapped his body with her mouth, grasping the back of her head, guiding her over him. She rose and licked his nipples, then bit each one. His cock jumped against her.

“Sophie,” he said, like a warning. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I want to drive you crazy, Ryan,” she said as she returned to her knees, kissing his stomach as she whispered, “I want you to be mine.”

He gripped her head tighter. “I am yours. I swear.” He lifted her face so she looked up at him, meeting his eyes from the floor. His voice was barren, stripped down to pure need. “I can’t belong to anyone else now.”

She shook her head. “I can’t either,” she said, then wrapped her hand around his throbbing cock, loving the silken feel of his steely length in her palm. Heat bloomed between her legs, and she felt a bead of her own wetness slide along her inner thigh. His eyes drifted down her body, settling on that slim strand of her own liquid arousal.

His voice sounded like thunder. “Get on your back now.”

She scrambled to the bed.

Chapter Thirty

Her neck was so long and inviting, like a swan, delicate yet strong as she stretched herself across the wine-red bedcover, inching herself along the sheets until she reached the top of the bed, resting her head on a pillow. She lifted her hands over her head, and wrapped her fingers around the white metal slats on her headboard.

Such a perfect pose for locking herself to the bed.

He followed her, stalking her. She was his prey. She wanted to be hunted. The notion that both of them craved the same things so fiercely set his blood on fire. He straddled her, moving up her body.

Until he reached that lovely neck. Such a vulnerable part of her, and yet she was allowing him to take control. Because she knew he’d never abuse it. Because she trusted him in bed, and she’d learned to trust him out of it, too.

She raised her arm, reaching for his dick. He shot out his hand, catching her wrist in his palm then moving her hand back to the post. He tsked her, placing his finger over her mouth.

“I’m going to feed you my cock.”

Her eyes widened with lust. His dick ached. He longed to shove his cock deep in her throat. “Open your mouth,” he said. She moaned and opened wide.

He jammed a palm against the wall, holding his dick in his other hand. He lowered the head between her lips. “Lick the tip. Lick it so I can see your tongue flick all over the head.”

She squirmed underneath him and did as told, her wicked tongue swirling in circles around the tip. He groaned, a deep, primal sound that seemed to come from the very depths of his body, of his desire, of his unabashed lust for this woman. For his woman. His gorgeous, sexy, brilliant, willing woman who would do anything. He wanted to give her everything. More pleasure than she’d ever had. More intensity than they’d ever experienced. He wanted to take her to new heights, to explore every inch of her body, to introduce her to extraordinary bliss. Unmitigated ecstasy.

She deserved it.

Because, fuck. Look at her. Look at those red, ripe lips waiting, eager, to take him in.

“More,” he said, low and husky, as he gave her his shaft. “I want to watch my dick disappear into your mouth.”

She sucked him in, wrapping those lips tight around his dick, and he moaned so loudly he was sure he just set a personal best.