Shirt. Skirt. Borderline tears.

But tears weren’t sexy. Never had a guy asked her to strip for him. She wanted to be sexy, confident, and worthy of that look in his eyes.

“Keep going.”

Even her lips quivered as she bit them together and nodded once.

Thong. Knees ready to give out.

Bra. Eyes cast downward, blinking back tears of fear.

His feet came into view as she held her breath.

“Look at me.”

One agonizing inch at a time she lifted her chin. That look, that something, met her gaze.

“That desire in my eyes … it’s you.”

It was a dream. One she hoped to believe someday.

“Now take off my clothes.”

Standing, even just breathing, proved to be difficult. Undressing him felt impossible.

“Why me?” she whispered with raw honesty.

He tipped her chin up with his finger then brushed his thumb along her lower lip. “Because you matter.”

What did that mean? Had no one mattered before her? Impossible.

His hand dropped back to his side and he waited.

Her.

He wanted her to undress him. He wanted to be with her … inside her. Only in a dream. It had to be a dream. She wanted to close her eyes and not wake up.

He helped her remove his shirt. She took a moment to stare then her shaky hands unfastened his jeans. His erection strained against his briefs.

Ryn swallowed hard before easing down his pants. He toed off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans. Kneeling at his feet, she stole another breath of courage and reached up to remove his briefs. He threaded his fingers through her hair. It was a simple yet sensual gesture that sent a heavy pulsing sensation to settle between her legs.

Resting her palms on his hard quad muscles, she rose up on her knees. His grip on her hair tightened. It had been a long time since she’d trusted a man with every piece of her vulnerability.

“Open.” He let go of her hair with one hand while gently tugging her head back with the other.

She opened, but only from the shock that he said that to her. It wasn’t a question or even request. It was a demand. He looked down at her with dark, hooded eyes as he fisted the base of his cock, guiding it into her mouth. He teased it against her tongue until she took over. Bringing both hands back into her hair, he held it back to see her face as he made gentle thrusts.

“Touch yourself.”

It was official. She was in over her head and sinking deeper with every word that fell from his lips. Kneeling in front of him with his cock in her mouth, it was a little late to turn back. The most surprising part: she didn’t want to stop.

“Ryn.” It came out with an edge of warning, a side to Jackson she hadn’t seen. She liked it. A lot.

The uncontrolled moan she released while sliding two fingers over her clitoris, drew a painful “fuck” from him. With a groan, he pushed a little deeper toward her throat. The tightening grip on her hair revealed his teetering control. He grabbed her arms and pulled her up. The wild look in his eyes showed more than a slip of control.

He shoved her down onto the bed, plunging her heart into her throat. Who was this guy and why was she so turned on by his Jekyll and Hyde transformation?

“Spread your legs.”

Please didn’t seem to be in his vocabulary and no wasn’t in hers. After retrieving a condom from his pants, he rolled it on, his eyes giving her a challenging look that dared her to do anything but what he asked.

Pushing her knees back until they nearly touched her ears, he buried his face between her legs, eliciting a scream from someone. It couldn’t have been her. Ryn Middleton did not scream during sex … not ever.

Jackson became the ultimate sex toy, crawling up her body, sinking into her, and taking her to a whole new world. The woman beneath him, moaning, begging, and digging her nails into the flesh of his toned ass, was one lucky, lucky girl. After seeing stars, she sucked her lower lip into her mouth as he collapsed on top of her.

Breathing was overrated.

“Fuck forty.” He teased his teeth along her shoulder.

She chuckled between labored breaths. “I think you just did.”

*

Jude Day wasn’t used to fucking women in a bed. He wasn’t familiar with words beyond “goodnight” after zipping his fly and walking away from a random act of selfish pleasure. Taking Ryn against her refrigerator felt familiar to Jackson. It had a spontaneous feel to it, even though he stayed for dinner and he did see her again—very un-Jude. However, lying next to Ryn in her bed with the entire night ahead of them left Jackson in uncharted territory.

“I should go.” He kissed his way down her neck, palming her ass with one hand and squeezing her breast with his other.

“Okay,” she answered in a breathy voice.

An out. She gave him an easy out.

No begging. No pouting. No clinging.

The woman proved to be nothing short of a dream. The perfect mixture of maturity and vulnerability. She gave him the option to leave without a guilt trip, and the sultry way her eyes moved over his body felt like an open invitation to come back and do it again and again. The perfect situation. So why didn’t he want to leave? What the hell was wrong with him?

“Or … I could stay.” Sucking her nipple into his mouth, he tugged at it with his teeth until her back arched off the bed.

“Oh God …”

Ryn’s soft moan had him hard again. His bout of celibacy left him uncharacteristically needy for sex, or maybe it was her. No woman had ever made him feel so insatiable. Every inch of her tasted divine. He couldn’t stop sucking and lapping his tongue over her breasts as two of his fingers slid between her slick folds.

A distant voice from his past reprimanded him for being such a pussy as he fingered her to another orgasm, aiming only to pleasure her. She clawed at his back then tugged his hair, another foreign sensation. Jude sported a shaved head. He never knew a woman’s death grip on his hair could make his dick pulse. Jackson would keep his pain-in-the-ass hair because his dick rather liked the connection.

Ryn’s body writhed beneath his. “Jackson!”

After he removed his fingers, her eyes fluttered open and he released her nipple. She looked down at the teeth marks he left as a souvenir. “That’s a first.”

“Yeah?” He kissed the bite marks and grinned. “Well it won’t be the last.”

Ryn pulled the sheet up over her chest and bit her lips together. “So … I’ll see you Tuesday?”

That old voice told him to get his pathetic ass up and say something to ensure he’d leave with both balls intact.

“Tuesday.” He nodded then rolled out of bed and dressed without making eye contact. Tuesday, next week, next month … it should not have mattered. Yet, it did matter. It mattered like a sucker punch to his junk.

*

Ryn made it to her 6:00 a.m. barre class the next morning. The sexiest man alive groping her body—her soft parts that needed to be firmed up—served as the greatest incentive ever to feel the burn. Being with Jackson flooded her brain with a mind-fuck of emotions. Every time he touched her it brought on a war between unfathomable desire—the incredible feeling of being desired—and the insecurities that had been ingrained in her about her body, her age, her ability to please a man. Did he think she needed to lose weight, exercise more, get that boob job she’d thought about for years?

After class she went for coffee with her instructor, Val. She was a year older than Ryn, recently divorced. Val was the closest thing Ryn had to a female friend, who also qualified as a confidant.

“You seemed possessed during class today.” Val gave her a Cheshire cat grin over the rim of her coffee cup.

Ryn couldn’t hide her guilty smile. “I’ve been seeing a guy.”

“Go on.” Val rested her arms on the table and leaned in giving Ryn her full attention.