“I can’t,” I whisper, trying to loosen his grip on me. He doesn’t let up.

“You can,” he says, crossing his arms over my stomach. “Because I’m done fighting you. I’m done fighting this.” He turns me in his arms, holding my face in his hands. “I don’t want a relationship, but I want you. Be with me . . . just like this.”

I close my eyes. I don’t want a relationship, but I want you . . . what does that mean exactly? Is he making an exception? What if I don’t want to be his exception? The sensations he sent through my body just a couple minutes ago linger, making it hard to think.

“I don’t understand,” I finally say, my voice shaky.

His hands still cupping my face, he walks me back until I’m against the wall. His gaze is powerful, paralyzing me. No one’s ever looked at me like that. Not Derek, not anyone. “I want to fuck you so good that you’ll be begging me to fuck you again. Then tomorrow, I’ll do it all over so you don’t forget how good my cock feels buried inside of you.”

He slides his fingers down around the base of my neck, then down my arms, letting his thumbs brush against my breasts. “The way your body curves into mine, the way you shudder under my touch; I feel it, Lila. You want this. I know I want this.”

If I could orgasm from words alone, I’d be clenching around every single syllable that just fell from his lips. He grips my hips pulling me into him. So big. I’m like an alcoholic that’s been given a sip; there’s no going back.

Standing up on my tippy toes, I brush my lips against his, pulling his lower lip between my teeth. I savor him, not sure where this is going or what I’m doing exactly. When he pulls away from me, my heart shrinks.

“Before we do this, you have to agree to one thing.”

I nod nervously, anxious to just have his mouth on mine again.

“No feelings. No attachment. Just you and me, like this. Can you do that?”

Can I? I don’t want a relationship, but am I ready for this? He’d be a distraction—a welcome one . . . or maybe not. It’s a decision I’ll probably end up regretting either way.

My gaze travels between his eyes and lips. He has me so hot and full of want, or want to be full of him. I answer the only way I can, fisting his T-shirt while licking my lower lip. A sexy, half-smile highlights his mouth, then it’s on me, everywhere my skin has been exposed. He encircles me in his arms, tugging my skirt up from behind. Then he lifts me, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist. If it weren’t for his jeans and my thong and panty hose, he’d be inside me. God, I want him inside me.

“Do you know how sexy you are? Dressed all professionally and shit,” he mutters against my neck. “I’ve always wanted my own little secretary.”

I moan, arching my body into him. “What are you going to do to me then, boss?”

“Fuck,” he groans. His thumbs flick over my nipples, and I realize I’ve never needed someone so badly.

Snaking my arms over his shoulders, I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his usual scent. I nibble and suck while he walks toward his room, his arms holding me tightly against his strong body.

I have seconds to change my mind. The sane part of me is screaming to put an end to this madness, but the mind is a small part of the body as a whole.

He rests one knee on the bed, allowing me to fall back. He kisses me. Deeply. Desperately. My world is spinning so fast; it’s going to fall right off its axis. He expertly undoes all my buttons, exposing my lace bra. A low growl escapes his lips, as he sucks my nipples through the thin material. I pull his hair between my fingers, feeling the need to drive him as insane as he’s driving me.

His tongue trails a path down my stomach, tracing a circle around my belly button, and then going down to the top of my skirt. He rests his chin on my abdomen, looking up at me, eyes hooded. “You have way too many damn clothes on.”

I’m thinking the same about him. Finding the zipper along the side of my skirt, he slides it down and makes easy work of discarding it. My hose and panties follow.

I watch as he stands and pulls his shirt over his head, his eyes never leaving my naked form on the bed. This is the first time I’ve let myself be exposed in front of someone I didn’t love—someone I’m not even sure if I like most of the time. I thought it would be strange, but the way he looks at me makes me feel wanted. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this sexy.

I wiggle on the bed, squeezing my legs together to keep my body occupied. There’s a growing hunger; the longer I watch him, the more I feel it.

I stare as he pulls his zipper down and pushes his jeans and boxers down over his throbbing cock. It’s impressive, I have to give him that.

“Open your legs for me,” he demands, walking over to his nightstand. I don’t comply. I can’t because I’m too busy watching him. He pulls out a condom and glances over at me, shaking his head.

“Legs, Lila,” he says again, a little louder this time. I comply as he makes his way back to the end of the bed, carefully rolling on the condom along the way. His body could be a sculpture; it’s well proportioned—lean and muscular. He sets one knee between my legs and runs his fingers against my opening. Arching my back, all I can do is look at him.

A grin spreads across his face as he wipes his soaked fingers against the inside of my thigh. “Who are you wet for, Lila?”

Unable to form real words, I attempt to reach for him, to pull him down to me, but he presses against my chest to keep me away. This is not normal—the amount of desire I have for him.

His fingers brush against the top of my thighs, so close to where I actually want him, but far enough away to deny me what I need. “Who, Lila . . . who did this to you?”

“You,” I whimper, reaching my hands toward him.

He lifts his other leg up and holds his body above mine. “Tell me what you want.”

I lift my hips, but it’s no use. It doesn’t give me what I want. “You. I need you inside of me. Now.”

He lowers himself on top of me, his lips parting as he enters me. There’s nothing slow and sweet about it—he pushes in as far as my body will allow him. “Fuck,” he mutters, pulling back out. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

I moan, feeling the pressure build as he thrusts himself into me over and over. With Derek, it was all about him. He didn’t touch me like this. He didn’t wind my body like this. He wasn’t Blake.

Blake holds my hands above my head, kissing my lips and neck. I wither under him. Every time I think I’m going to scream, he captures my lips, swallowing my cries. The tingle between my legs intensifies. I’m going to lose it, and by the quickening of his movements, he’s going to come right along with me.

“Who are you going to dream about tonight in your sleep? Who’s going to be touching you?”

I pant, arching up to take in more of him. “You, Blake. I’m going to think about you.”

His lips curl up at one side. “Good girl.”

Without notice, he lets go of my hands and uses my leg as leverage to flip me over onto my stomach. I lift my ass, making it easier for him as he pounds into me. When he presses his hand against my lower back, my body falls over the edge clenching tightly around him.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, wrapping his arm around my stomach. He’s throbbing inside of me as my body grips him. When I come off the high, we both fall onto the bed. I’m sated, tired, and more relaxed than I’ve been in months. I’d do it all over again right now if he asked.

Blake rolls off me and lays at the edge of the bed. I hear him breathing heavily, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. What do two people who aren’t dating do after sex?

“Are you okay?” he finally asks, breaking my thoughts.

I turn to face him. He’s staring up at the ceiling, rubbing his hand along his jaw. “More than okay.”