My breath wheezed in and out of my lungs, and my heart slammed against my breastbone. I heard the distinctive rasp of a zipper being lowered, and the equally distinctive sound of a condom wrapper being torn open. I was breathing so fast I almost hyperventilated.

Brian had never taken me from behind. Never. I didn’t much care for the position, and Brian was too nice—and too good a lover—to press the issue. But it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that’s what he was about to do.

Actually, it wasn’t just that I didn’t care for the position: I hated it. It felt too. . submissive. The part of my brain that cared about such things told me that no matter how strange Brian was acting, if I told him to stop, he would. I tried to force myself to say something, to stand up, to close my legs. But just now, my body’s demands overrode my brain, and I stayed right where he’d put me.

The sensation of him sliding into me was somewhere between Heaven and Hell. On the one hand, he always felt so right inside me, as if his cock had been specifically engineered to fit me. Every sexual nerve in my body sang with that pleasure. On the other hand, I was ignominiously bent over the kitchen table staring at a cooling plate of eggplant parmigiana as my sweet, gentle Brian fucked me brutally from behind.

Emotions rioted within me, bumping into and tangling with each other so wildly that I couldn’t have named a single one of them. I tried not to lock my knees and elbows as I braced myself against Brian’s thrusts—I was dizzy and unbalanced enough without setting myself up to pass out.

A trickle of sweat ran down the side of my face, but I barely felt it as my concentration narrowed and focused on the place where Brian and I were joined. Every other sensation became inconsequential as I felt the tension building there, coiling tighter and tighter, until I thought I couldn’t stand on the edge of that cliff for another moment. And yet still I stood there, waiting for the fall, desperate for the fall, hardly able to breathe with the intensity of my need.

When the coil finally released, I screamed, the pleasure too much to contain—wave after wave of it weakening my knees until I could barely hold myself up. Dimly, I was aware of Brian reaching his own release, his cry seeming but a shadow of mine.

It wasn’t until the last wave of pleasure faded that I became aware of the rest of my body. I was drenched with sweat, shivering in a chill that was only partly physical. My arms and shoulders ached with the strain of bracing myself, and the elastic of my still-closed bra was digging painfully into the flesh at the top of my breasts.

After Brian pulled out, I tried to stand up, but my knees wobbled. If he hadn’t steadied me with one hand, I swear I might have fallen down.

I couldn’t even begin to absorb what had just happened between us, could hardly believe this was real. I struggled to find words, but before I could form a coherent thought, Brian had scooped me into his arms and carried me to the bedroom. There, he undressed me and tucked me into his bed, climbing in beside me and cradling me in his arms, once more the gentle, sweet lover I knew. And while I still reeled with confusion, Brian—typical male—fell fast asleep.

I lay beside him until his snores told me how deeply gone he was. He must have been exhausted by the intensity of what we’d done. I know I was, but I was far too unnerved to fall asleep. Instead, I slid out from under his arm, cleaned myself up a little, and got dressed.

My body was sore and achy as I slipped out of the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind myself. Our supposed dinner still sat on the dining room table, the mingled scents of sex and Italian food an unusual combination, to say the least. Numbly, I dropped onto Brian’s couch and tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

Brian had never been anything like that before. Oh, every once in a while, we had a good, hard fuck instead of our usual tender lovemaking. The last time we’d made love, he’d left bruises on my wrists. But that time, it had been unintentional, a product of the passion of the moment and of our sexual frustration. What he’d done tonight had felt very much intentional—and premeditated. Was it because he was angry at me for being angry at him?

But no, no matter how dominant and rough he had been, I knew that there had been no anger in it. So what had motivated him to take me like that? And how could he possibly have guessed that a control freak like me would actually let him get away with it?

I gasped as an awful suspicion crept into my head.

Who was the one person who knew and understood me well enough, despite all my layers of camouflage, to guess I might get off on a little show of dominance? But no. He wouldn’t dare stick his nose into my love life like that! Brian must have figured it out for himself. He was, after all, a fantastic lover.

My hand shaking because I didn’t believe my own logic, I moved over on the sofa until I could reach Brian’s phone, then began scrolling through his caller ID log. It didn’t take me long to find what I was looking for: a call from my number, made at three this morning, when I’d been fast asleep.

“Goddamn you, Lugh,” I muttered under my breath as good, old-fashioned rage flooded my system. Right that moment, if I could have exorcized him and sent him back to the Demon Realm, I think I would have done it, no matter what the consequences to the human race.

I left Brian’s house without waking him up. Maybe I should have confronted him, asked him what the hell Lugh had told him when he hijacked my body during my sleep, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. Besides, I’d had enough confrontation for one night. Brian would be disappointed to wake up and find me gone, but he knew me far too well to be surprised.

I picked up some Chinese takeout on my way home so that I’d be prepared in the unlikely event my appetite came out of hiding, but it went straight into the fridge and stayed there. I tried to watch TV for a while, tried to keep myself from endlessly replaying the night’s events. It didn’t work, but my brooding didn’t exactly help me make sense of things, either.

I went to bed at ten, exhausted in body and mind. I wasn’t sure whether I was hoping to see Lugh, or hoping not to see Lugh, but whatever my hopes, he failed to put in an appearance. I slept until eight, and awoke feeling almost refreshed. Still confused, but refreshed.

I was sipping coffee, working my way through the Sunday paper, when the front desk called to let me know I had a visitor. Before I had a chance to work up a healthy head of paranoia, the clerk identified my visitor as Adam White. I can’t say the news relaxed me, but surprisingly enough, there were people I was even less eager to see. Go figure.

Naturally, I checked through the peephole when Adam knocked on my door, just to make sure there’d been no mistaken identity. When I confirmed it was just him, I opened the door and let him in. He was carrying a tattered nylon backpack over one shoulder, and after the most perfunctory greeting, he slung the backpack onto one of my dining room chairs and unzipped it, pulling out a manila folder bursting at the seams with papers.

“I thought I’d fill you in on what I found out about the Brewster kid,” he said, dropping the folder onto the table.

I was never at my best in the morning, and I was also never at my best when Adam was around. “You couldn’t have just called?”

He gave me a dirty look. “I thought you might actually want to see what I’d found rather than hear it over the phone,” he said with a nod at the folder. “If you’d rather I pack up my toys and go home. .”

I huffed out a sigh. “No, please, sit down. Would you like some coffee?” Far be it from me to actually apologize, but I could at least make a peace offering.