“Good.” He rose and strode forward to meet her, stopping shy of pulling her into an embrace. With one hand, he traced the edge of her face, then down over her shoulder, to the place where the towel gapped over the center of her chest. He didn’t pull at it, though. Didn’t move to reveal her any further. “You look edible.”

A full-body shudder moved through her. “You look good, too.” He always did.

And there was that smirk. “Go.” He gestured to the bed. “Lie down.”

He stroked her cheek again, then moved toward the chair near the entryway to pick up the bag from the sex store. Her face heated, but she didn’t comment. As he took their purchases with him to the bathroom, she turned to face the bed, ignoring that he was washing them up and probably filling them with batteries.

She still wasn’t exactly sure what he planned to do with those things. She hadn’t been lying when she’d said she had some experience with them. Her roommate her junior year of college had spoken about her vibrators rhapsodically and had been shocked when Kate had confessed to not knowing anything about them. At the time, she’d been involved with Aaron, so she hadn’t really thought much of it. He hadn’t ever succeeded in getting her off, but they only spent the night together a few times a week. She’d been able to find time to . . . attend to her needs when he hadn’t been around. But the idea of actually going so far as to procure sex toys had felt a little too much like admitting defeat.

After he’d fessed up to everything—after she’d walked away—defeat had pretty much been the order of the day.

Her first attempt at ordering a vibrator would probably have been comical if it hadn’t been so mortifying. After going back and forth on it a hundred times, though, she’d finally settled on one and clicked “buy” before she could stop herself. The thing had come in a plain brown package a few days later, and when her roommate had been gone, she’d locked the doors and turned on some music. And proceeded to have the best orgasm of her life.

Until last night.

Combining Rylan’s unnatural understanding of her body and the power of a couple of double A’s very well might kill her. Still, it was with reluctance that she clambered onto the bed. Her small, carefully chosen collection of little mechanical friends wasn’t something she talked about, much less shared with anyone else. She kept them hidden in pouches, tucked under pajamas and respectable novels and anything else she could toss into her nightstand drawer to make sure no one would ever find them. Rylan might act like they were no big deal, but to her, they’d always been a shameful secret—like the idea that she ever touched herself at all.

In the other room, the sound of the water running cut off. Showtime. Keeping the towel wrapped around her, she settled herself gingerly on the bed, pulling the sheet up to her waist. Was it too awkward to lie back against the mound of pillows he’d created? Should she have dried her hair?

Before she could obsess too much or work herself up, Rylan reemerged from the bathroom. “Comfy?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

No. “Yup.”

The corner of his mouth crept upward, showing just how little he believed her, but he didn’t call her on it. Instead, he crossed the room to her. Pushing the covers down partway, he spread a towel on the mattress beside her, then laid out the things he’d decided they should buy. Everything about his demeanor was practical and casual, as if this were something normal people did every day.

Her breathing sped a hair faster. Maybe this was something he did every day.

“Hey.”

She looked up at him. Felt the warmth of his touch against her bare arm, and it helped relax her, pulling her down from the edge of neuroticism she’d been in danger of going over. The best she could, she pushed her worries and fears aside. Yes, this kind of stuff made her nervous and embarrassed. Yes, Rylan had a lot more experience than she did. But that was okay. He knew what he was getting into. And through everything they’d done together, he’d never seemed to mind having to take the lead before.

Letting out a long, deep sigh, she put her hand over his and gave him a weak smile. “Sorry. Just nervous.”

He leaned in to kiss the point of her shoulder. “Don’t be. Only good things are going to happen here.”

Right. It was hard to believe after all the ways she’d been beaten down, but Rylan hadn’t given her any reason not to trust him yet. “Okay.”

“Here.” He nudged at her. “Scoot forward a bit.”

She rearranged herself at his direction, only realizing as he climbed onto the bed that he was maneuvering to sit behind her.

“Aren’t you going to—?” She cut herself off.

“Hmm?”

He had taken off his socks and shoes, but other than that, he was still basically dressed.

“I—” God, why was this all so hard for her to talk about? “I don’t want to be the only one who’s naked.”

He laughed, but not in a mean way. He ran a fingertip along the edge of the towel where it stretched between her shoulder blades. “You’re not naked yet.”

“I might as well be.”

“Fine, fine.” He tugged his undershirt off and stood to take off his pants. He still had his boxers on, though, as he settled in behind her again.

“What about—?”

“In a minute.” Once he’d gotten himself arranged, he pulled her in against his chest. She sat in the V of his legs, awkwardly reclining with her spine to his front, unsure what she was safe to lean against. He made a little groan when she tried to relax into him, and heat seared through her. There he was—the hard line of him pressed against the small of her back. “See?” he said, rubbing his hands up and down her arms. “If I take everything off, I’m going to be right there.” He tilted his hips forward, dropping his voice. “And I don’t think either of us is ready for that.”

She certainly wasn’t, but feeling him there, knowing he was erect and so close—it made a fresh, new wave of heat roll through her body. His chest was broad and firm beneath her, his hands so sure in their strokes. He smelled good and sounded good, and she had him for only so long, but he was here for her. He wanted her.

With a quivering breath, she closed her eyes.

“That’s right,” he said as she relaxed. “That’s beautiful.”

Drawing his fingertips in expanding circles, over her arms and up her torso, across the naked swaths of skin above the cover of the towel, he leaned in. His mouth was hot and wet against her neck, and he had to know what this was doing to her. As she slowly lost the tension she’d been carrying, a new one settled in its place, but instead of nerves, it was all desire. Her skin felt like it was humming, unnaturally sensitive to every stroke of his hands and lips. Between her legs, a deep ache settled in, liquid flowing, making her feel warm and ripe and glowing.

“That’s perfect,” he murmured. “Let me make you feel good.”

She didn’t know how long she lay against him like that, letting him touch and trace. When it started to become too much, she shifted, pressing her thighs together, but it didn’t help. He made a sound low in his chest and, pausing for just a second, let his hands drift lower. Through the towel, he caressed her breasts and her sides, then down. Gliding warm hands over her hips and the tops of her thighs, but bypassing the needy center of her. After a few passes, her attention all seemed to be focusing there, the one place he refused to touch, and a worry flickered deep in her belly.

Would he make her say it out loud? Make her ask, or worse, beg?

A gasp of a whine escaped her lips, and it made him press harder, cupping her with more eager hands.

All at once, it struck her—he wasn’t the only one who could move here.

As if her arms had suddenly come unfrozen, she reached one up, tangling her fingers in his hair. She craned her head to the side as she pulled him down, and when their lips met, it was with a crush of heat and need. He parted for her, pressing forward with his tongue and letting hers in beside it. He tasted like sex, and he made her feel like sex, heady and powerful and reeling.