He walks past me and all I want to do is breathe in his scent. Well, that’s not all I want to do.

I shut the door behind him, resting my forehead briefly on it and gathering courage before turning around to face him.

He’s standing in the middle of the room, staring right at me. Jesus. He’s so beautiful to look at it almost hurts. It does hurt.

“I need to explain something.”

I cross my arms. “What?”

“I know what Stephanie told you,” he says. “About me and Justine.”

I shrug, trying to play it off. “Oh well, that’s cool.”

His frown deepens. “I heard you were upset.”

I give him a tight smile. “I don’t get upset,” I tell him and walk over to the kitchen to busy myself with something.

“Yes, you do,” he says, eyes following me. “I’ve seen you get upset. I know your voice when you’re upset.”

I want to challenge him, to tell him that he doesn’t know me at all. But I don’t want that. I want him to know me. I want him to think he does.

“And so I’m upset now?” I say. “Why?”

He chews on his lower lip for a second and finally looks away. “Because. You want me.”

I can’t help but let out a shocked laugh. Obviously it’s true, but I can’t believe he has the audacity to just say it so bluntly.

His eyes slide to me again, feverish and hard. “Don’t you?”

Suddenly it’s not so funny anymore. I lean against the counter, my hands gripping the edge while my mind tries to think of what to say, how to possibly answer that. Finally I tell the truth. “Yeah,” I say quietly. “So?”

“So,” he says, voice low, almost delicate, “last night was something I’ve needed…for a long time. It may have been just a walk in the park and a kiss to you, love, but to me…it was far more. And I want to know if it was more to you.”

I can only stare back at him, locked in the intensity of his gaze. He’s looking at me like he’s peeling back the layers, determined to get to the core.

My throat is dry and my heart pounds with excitement and anxiety. What is he doing? What am I doing? There is so much space between us, and I don’t know how to bridge the gap or if I want him to, because if it happens it’s going to be so much more than I can handle.

“You’re leaving on Sunday,” I tell him. “That’s less than a week.”

“So?” he says. “What does that have to do with anything?”

I cock my head. “It means…well, what can happen between now and then?”

“I can fuck your brains out,” he says gruffly. “That’s what can happen.”

Holy shit.

Did he seriously just say he could fuck my brains out? I stare at him with wide eyes, dumbfounded and turned on in an instant. It’s hard to swallow. It’s hard to think. “Uh…”

“But before I do,” he says, starting to loosen his tie. He takes a step forward. Oh god. “I need you to know that tonight I was helping Bram. Justine was never anything other than a favor, and no, I didn’t fuck her. Not even close. Whatever it was though, it’s done. And for the next week, the only thing on my radar is you.” He takes another step toward me, pulling off his tie and tossing it at my feet. “On this counter, in your bed, against the wall. Whatever way I can.”

Oh Jesus.

My legs start to tremble and I tightly grip the edge of the counter. I’ve wanted this more than anything, and now that it’s slowly walking toward me, like I’m the prey, I’ve turned into a mute chicken shit. It was so different when I was chasing him. Now that he wants me, he actually wants me…I’m terrified that I won’t survive it.

He’s only a foot away and I can feel the heat of his presence as he begins to eclipse me. He shrugs off his suit jacket and tosses it on the counter, his eyes never leaving my body. My skin smolders under his gaze as he slowly looks me up and down. “You’re wearing my shirt,” he says, his voice soft and rough at the same time.

He reaches out, grabbing the end of it, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. He’s so close now. I’m still a statue made of throbbing blood and a wildly beating heart, and I can’t move an inch. I can’t do anything but watch him, every movement, every breath, every look. He’s so physical, immense—he’s become my world.

His eyes drift lower. He leans down into me, his mouth at my ear, his hands moving down my thighs. “Another no pants party?” he murmurs. I shiver, goosebumps from his breath and the bass of his voice. His large, warm palms trail back up my bare skin, lifting up my shirt and skimming over the lace of my underwear.

“Depends what you mean by pants,” I manage to say.

His lips close gently around my earlobe, teeth razing my skin, the heat from his breath lighting firecrackers down the expanse of my neck. His fingers curl around the edge of my underwear, pulling them down my hips, lifting me forward slightly so he can get them over my ass. I’m between both of his hot hands and it makes me realize how damned small I am compared to him.

My underwear falls down to my knees, then down to the floor, and I’m naked except for the shirt. He licks his lips and I want to shove those fucking lips down between my legs and hold him there until I come. I swear it won’t take long.

His grip on my hips intensifies. He lifts me up effortlessly, placing my bare ass on the cold counter, and moves forward between my legs, my underwear dangling from one foot.

He places his beautiful hands on either side of my face, holding me in place, his nostrils flaring as he breathes in hard. It’s as if he’s trying to restrain himself, and I want him to let go and unleash it all on me, everything that he has. The furrow between his brows only deepens as he tries to drink me in with his eyes. I’m holding my breath, wanting so much, and he keeps searching me, trying to read me.

Just fucking take me, I want to say. Read this.

My mouth parts.

His eyes drop to my lips.

His gaze burns.

Carnal.

Predatory.

Unwavering.

It’s the flash of light before the bomb hits.

Then it hits.

He pulls my face forward and his lips crash against mine, fevered, crazed and wild. His hands sink into my hair and my hands fumble for the buttons on his shirt. Our mouths are lost to each other in a race, a battle, where both of us win. It’s breathless, desperate. This kiss is nothing like the other kiss—it’s pure molten heat, wet lips and hard pressure, like we’re creating a diamond.

My toes curl.

My heart somersaults.

I’m lost to him.

I’m drowning under the onslaught of his tongue, each hot, torrid stroke inside my mouth making me absolutely drenched.

I wrap my legs around his waist, greedy and eager, and I pull him to me. We both moan into each other’s mouths. He’s as hard as cement and pressing against me in all the right places. With just the slightest movement, the fabric of his pants brushes over my clit and I almost lose my mind.

One hand makes a fist in my hair, tugging at it and making me shiver, while his lips bruise me, our mouths messy and hard, teeth hitting teeth in our uncontrollable need to devour each another.

I’m absolutely rabid for this beautiful man. With his white shirt unbuttoned, I drag my nails over the hard planes of his chest, over the tuft of hair and the expanse of inked art. I reach down to the waistband of his pants and undo the button, while his mouth goes for my neck again, sucking, biting, and I throw my head back to give him better access.

I deftly undo the button and zip down his fly before sliding my hand over his hardness. Holy fuck. He does go commando. The long, heated length of him pulses beneath my palm and he lets out a low, rough growl that vibrates down my spine.

“Oh fuck,” he groans, breathing hard into my neck. “I’m already going to explode.”

“That makes two of us,” I tell him. He’s so fucking huge, and just touching his cock is bringing me to the edge. I don’t know how I’ll survive it inside of me but I’m dying to try.