He worried that she’d use him to scratch an itch and go back to her normal life in the morning, where he would be nothing but a memory. In his normal state, that part would have a louder voice and be more effective to stop him. But logic wasn’t the part of him ruling right now. His cock was throbbing so hard that no other signal in his body could possibly override it.

One night and you can get her out of your system. Then you can both walk away tomorrow, no strings. No emotions.

“I didn’t come here for a drink,” she said, removing her jacket. She slipped it off slowly and draped it over the coffee table. “I came for orgasms.”

Des’s blood simmered anew. Though she smiled and moved slowly, her hand trembled as she undid the buttons of her shirt.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants.”

“I’m not feeling ashamed for being turned on,” she said, parroting his words from earlier, as though convincing herself.

“And how turned on are you?”

She un-zipped her jeans and let them puddle at her feet, her shirt following. In the soft lighting of his lounge room she looked like an angel, the glow of the lamp picked up the burnished tones of her hair and her cream lace underwear was a striking contrast to her olive skin.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Before he had time to think he was in front of her, sweeping her up against him while his lips found hers. She was like liquid pleasure—pliable, fluid. He backed her against the wall, his mouth searing a trail down the slender length of her neck, tasting her honeyed skin. He pushed down the straps of her bra, bending to suck a beaded nipple through the lace cup.

He wanted to know exactly how excited she was. His fingertips danced down her side, skimming the scalloped edge of her underwear. Hooking a finger under the waistband, he traced the sensitive flesh there.

She jumped, stifling a cry by pressing her lips together. His free hand skirted around her waist, supporting her while he delved deeper. She was hot, wet.

“Please.” The plea was murmured against his neck. “More.”

His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves at her center, stroking slow and steady while she writhed against him. Her body sagged forward as she gasped, her forehead pressed against his chest, her breath hot through his T-shirt.

Pleasure manifested itself in her breathless whimpers as she jerked her hips, increasing the friction between them. Enjoying her frustration far too much, Des held her tight with his other arm to prevent her from taking control. She was completely at his mercy, a groaning, wriggling, firecracker of feminine goodness. His cock pulsed harder. He wanted her badly but the sensation of bringing her to orgasm in his arms was too good to pass up.

“Des.” She stretched out his name until it dissolved into a cry against his chest. “You’re killing me.”

“What do you want, Gracie?” He nuzzled her hair, keeping his thumb flicking a steady rhythm against her clit.

“I want to come,” she panted. “Please, I need it.”

He increased the pressure of his hand, rubbing and giving her the purchase she craved. When she broke apart it was like his whole world tilted. Her knees gave out and he held her up while she spasmed against his hand. The weight of her body in his arms and the total control he’d had over her pleasure made Des’s head spin.

Drinking her in with his eyes, he watched as she floated back down. Dark hair tangled around her neck, the soft strands brushing his chest as she flopped forward against him. Her breath filled his ears, the gentle scent of her perfume mingling with the earthy scent of sex. He could have stayed like that—holding her—for days on end.

In that moment he knew he was walking into an ambush.

He needed her in his bed for now. But he wanted her to stay for tomorrow.

…

Were her feet even touching the ground? Or had she lifted off and floated into space? That was the power of one incredible, mind-numbing, bone-melting, earth-shaking orgasm. Goddamn, the man was good with his hands.

On second thought, her feet weren’t touching the ground. Gracie’s eyes snapped open and met a solid wall of black. Craning her neck, she realized her face had been buried into Des’s chest and he was carrying her through his house.

“Where are we going?” The words came out fuzzy, slurred with lust and the aftershocks of climax.

“I’m taking you to bed.” His lips pressed against her forehead. “I got the impression your legs weren’t going to be much good for standing after that.”

She hid her face into the soft cotton of his T-shirt again. She had to let go. It wasn’t like she’d never had an orgasm before, but it was safe to say she’d never had one like that. Pinwheels of colored light had danced before her eyes, exploding and twirling, fractured rainbow shades. Her body had taken on a mind of its own, giving in so completely and utterly that for a moment afterwards she’d had no idea where she was…or even who she was.

“Good call.” A giggle bubbled up inside her. She was drunk on pleasure. Giddy with lust. Unbalanced by his touch.

“One down, two to go.” His voice was like sandpaper, thick and rough and a little dirty. “I always keep my promises, Gracie.”

She tilted her head and nipped at the tanned skin along his collarbone with her teeth. “That’s another rule of mine: three orgasm minimum.”

“Is that so?” He placed her down, making sure she was steady before releasing her, his hands lingering at her hips.

She nodded, peering up at him through her lashes. “It is now.”

“I’m glad I’ve had a positive impact on your life.” He stroked her arm. “You deserve more than the bare minimum.”

“So four orgasms it is?” She laughed, delighting in the roguish smile that crossed his face.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Speaking of hard…” Her hand hovered at his waist, her fingertips dancing over the chunky silver buckle that kept his jeans in place.

She skimmed her fingertips down over the hard ridge of his erection, which was perfectly outlined beneath faded denim. His sharp intake of breath emboldened her and she traced the tip with her finger, swirling it over the most sensitive part of him. It was as if some force controlled her, filled her with the confidence to do what she normally shied away from.

“This is payback isn’t it?” His dark eyes were shielded by thick lashes, his voice strained.

“You bet it is.”

She gave him a light squeeze before working her way back up. Tugging on the leather belt, she undressed him slowly, taking her time with the buckle, button, and zip until there was enough space for her to slip her hand into his pants. She closed her fingers around him, the throb of his need strong against her palm.

“Sweet mother of G–” He stood stock still, allowing her to move her hand inch by inch along the length of him.

Supressing an evil laugh, she withdrew her hand and reached for the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it upwards to reveal the flat, muscular plane of his stomach. He was built, more so than she’d ever realized at the bar. The intricate designs of his tattoos ran over one shoulder and down both arms. Color swirled, and the black outlines made each shape pop against his olive skin. A lion’s head with a date scribed in its mane covered his left pec.

Gracie traced the design, following the curved black lines of the lion’s nose with her fingertip. “What’s this date?”

“It’s the date I got out of prison.”

Her hand retracted and she looked up at him, her eyes wide. He laughed and shook his head.

“You really do think I’m from the wrong side of tracks, don’t you?” He captured her hand and brought it back to his chest. “It’s the date my mother went into remission after having breast cancer. Her name is Leone. It means lion in Italian.”

Heat flared in her cheeks. He could read her more easily than anyone she’d ever known. It wasn’t the first time she’d shown how naïve she was, though with a mother like hers it was a miracle she could even function in modern society.