He had to pull away, to gulp in a needed breath that would summon control once more. But that attempt was shattered as she cupped his face in her smooth palms, ran a light finger across his mouth.

“So serious.” A sad little smile curved her lips. “Everything doesn’t have to be so serious, does it, Joe?”

The question was its own kind of invitation. If she was offering to keep sex casual between them he could have told her it was too late for that. He hadn’t felt casual about her since they’d met. Now was the time to walk away. To justify the decision that had brought him here when every instinct had screamed at him that he’d been making a mistake.

But it was getting increasingly difficult to touch her and recall all the reasons this was wrong. She didn’t feel wrong. She felt satiny smooth where the curve of her shoulder met the base of her throat; soft where her breasts flattened against his chest; sleek where waist curved to hip; firm in the long length of thigh pressed against his own.

Her fingers slipped beneath his shirt and his blood slowed in his veins, thickened. She pushed up the fabric and leaned to kiss the flesh she’d bared.

Sparks detonated beneath her lips, and he hissed in a breath, his decision, such as it was, made. After Heather left, it hadn’t been difficult to find females willing to help burn off pent-up lust if he’d chosen it. But this was the first he’d wanted, with a savage sort of hunger that had alarms shrilling in the back of his mind. That sort of power made this woman dangerous.

He released her to find the hem of her top, drag it upward. She raised her arms so he could tug it over her head in one continuous movement, then shed his T-shirt. That first sensation of flesh against flesh had a low satisfied growl escaping him.

The initial sense of satisfaction was short-lived. He stepped back far enough to cup her breasts, to learn the shape and weight and texture of her. To stroke her velvety nipples, coaxing them into taut sensitive peaks before lowering his head to take one of them in his mouth.

The taste of her was a kick to the system, a sinful flavor that pumped straight to his blood. He gathered her closer and sucked strongly, gratified by her gasp of pleasure.

Her hands streaked over his biceps and shoulders, lingering to test muscle and sinew with clever, teasing fingers. He scraped her nipple lightly with his teeth and it beaded more tightly in his mouth. Her nails bit into his skin in response and something primal inside him exulted at the hint of savagery.

Impatience surged through him. He wanted to touch her everywhere, now, at once. He wanted to find the places that made her shake and sigh, to discover the scent of her in every sweet, secret place. He wanted, more than was comfortable, to take her outside herself, to free her from the past that wove its iron net around her and in the process lose himself in her, just for a little while.

He scraped his thumb over her other nipple, as his tongue tormented its twin. He felt her hands at the waistband of his jeans, and he shifted his hips away from her frantic fingers. She was becoming a fever in his blood, scorching away any thought of restraint. But he didn’t want this to be over. Not yet. There was too much he hadn’t touched. Tasted. Experienced. There would be plenty of time when his blood had cooled and reason had returned to consider the ramifications of these moments. There would be time then for regrets. He didn’t want one of them to be that it had been over too quickly.

Her breasts were high sweet mounds whose firmness drove him a little crazy. He slid a hand to her thigh, swept down its length and back up again. Felt the whisper of muscle beneath the silky skin and that excited him, too.

She managed to get his jeans unbuttoned so he caught both of her hands in one of his and held them above her head, out of the way. “No,” he muttered against her mouth before pausing for another long deep wet kiss. “Wait.”

His voice sounded strange to his own ears, hoarse, almost guttural. Nothing about his reaction to her was normal. He didn’t recall ever wanting to steep himself in a woman before, to press so close that it was hard to tell where her sensations stopped and where his began.

She twisted in his grasp and panted, “Dammit, Joe.”

Primitive satisfaction had him smiling at the frustrated desire in those two words. “Soon,” he promised, sliding his hand down the outside of her leg. He reversed course and she caught her breath as his fingers grazed the sensitive skin inside her shorts, traced the crease where thigh met pelvis. He drew his head back to watch her, and something clenched hard in his chest.

Delaney’s eyes were heavy-lidded, the gold expanded around the iris like twin jewels. Her lips were swollen from his, her hair tangled from his fingers and he felt a primordial surge of pleasure at the sight. With one deliberate finger he stroked her, damp heat beneath lace, and she jerked helplessly in response.

There was a roaring in his system, like thunder crashing atop a butte, and watching her pleasure magnified his own. He cupped and stroked her, coaxing her hips to match the rhythm of his movements. Her throat arched and he was driven to test the delicate cord of her neck with his teeth in a primitive taste for flesh.

He slipped his fingers inside the elastic of her panties and covered her mound. His fingertips were moistened with her desire and he slid them over her in a motion meant to torment. Something like a sob escaped her and he increased the pressure, bending to take a nipple in his mouth.

The dual assault had her twisting against him, in a sensual struggle that honed the keen edge of passion, sharp as a blade. And when he stroked one finger inside her dampness, and watched her shatter, the greedy hunger rocketed through him, demanding a release.

He freed her for the moment it took to shed his clothes and had her back in his arms before her eyes had fluttered all the way open. The look in them was dazed, drugged, and his touch was a shade rough as he pushed her shorts over the curve of her hips, down the silky length of thigh and kicked them away.

He cupped her bottom and lifted her, stepping between her open thighs and barely managed to restrain himself from entering her with one urgent thrust. The passion was pounding in his veins, careening through his blood until his every sense was focused on the burning need to bury himself in her. He pressed her back against the wall, and positioned her legs, growling when she locked her ankles around his hips.

Her fingers found him then, in one lingering firm stroke that had his vision hazing and his senses fogging. He pressed against her sweet yielding flesh and buried himself to the hilt. There was a stunning moment of clarity where he was aware of every individual heightened sensation. The trickle of perspiration on his back, the blood hammering in his veins, the bite of Delaney’s nails on his shoulders, the sweet clutch and release of her inner muscles working against his hardness.

And then clarity exploded in a wash of savage hunger and he surged against her, control lost, over and over, trying to get closer. Deeper. His vision narrowed until she was the only point in it as flesh slapped against flesh and she strained and shuddered against him.

He heard her cry out and he pounded into her faster, frantic now. Then pleasure abruptly slammed into him, spun him up and over the edge into a vortex of sensation.

Fingers of sunlight were slanting through the blinds and across Delaney’s face, creating enough heat that she awakened, uncomfortably warm. She opened one eye to glare balefully at the offending blind, before dragging open the other eyelid. As always upon awakening, her brain was sluggish. The first thing she was going to buy, she vowed, was some room-darkening shades. She sat up, kicked at the sheet twisted around her ankles and yawned. Maybe even a small window air conditioner. One that would keep her cool enough that she wouldn’t haven’t to sleep nude.