He kicked off his shoes, slid down his pants and black boxer briefs and stood before me, naked, rippling, hard.

“Now, tell me, Lily. Does this look like the cock of a man who doesn’t find you attractive?”

I gulped. “No.”

“Good.” He pushed me back on the soft light gray comforter, covering me with his body, and began kissing me. What I couldn’t understand was how two entirely conflicting sets of emotions occupied this one man’s body.

He wanted me and yet he didn’t?

Maybe it’s the same way you want him, but he terrifies the hell out of you.

That thought was an epiphany.

Remember when I said that sometimes there were two sides? Love and Lust. Rational and irrational. The two sides sometimes existed together, but in a state of tug-o-war until one side won or dominated. So just like I could want him, despite my fears, he could want me despite his own. His desire superseded his fear—no different than me.

He pulled up my tank and slid it over my head, diving straight for my breasts with that sensual mouth of his. The tip of his tongue swirled over my nipple, the suction tugging those erotic pulses right out of me, making me moan. Meanwhile, his other hand massaged and cupped and caressed the other breast. “I’m going to fuck those beautiful breasts of yours one day, Lily. But not today.”

He then ran his tongue over every inch of my breast until I was slick with his kisses. He then began trailing his mouth down my stomach until he reached the waistband of my yoga pants. He gave them a tug, and I lifted my hips, watching as his powerful arms peeled away the last remaining barrier between us.

“You haven’t been with anyone else, have you?” He looked up at me from between my thighs.

“God no. Have you?”

“No. And I’m always careful. Do you want me to use a condom?”

He hadn’t asked the first time. I guessed he realized that was not the smartest move.

“I’m still on the pill,” I replied to put the question behind us.

“Good.” He pulled apart my thighs and stared at the sensitive flesh between my legs. “God, I’ve been fantasizing about this for over a month.” He lightly floated his hand over my throbbing, aching bud. “I can’t believe no one’s ever touched you before, Lily.”

Panting with hard anticipation, I threw back my head and grabbed fistfuls of sheets. “Just you, Mr. Cole.”

He chuckled, and I felt his breath on my entrance. “I’ve got my face two inches from your pussy. Can’t you call me Max?”

“Sorry. Old habits, Mr. Co—”

He thrust his finger inside me, and I reacted with a wince. I still wasn’t used to anything going inside me, but it felt so, so good.

“Max.” He pulled his finger out and thrust it in again, causing me to moan. “You’ll call me Max.” He thrust another finger into my slick entrance.

“Even when we’re at work?” The sensation of his sensual strokes was making me lose my mind.

“Yes.” He placed his mouth over my c-spot and slid his tongue over the tip. “Especially at work.”

Oh, God. He’d barely touched me, and I was already so close.

“Max…” I panted. “I really want…”

“Yes?” He pumped his hand and fingers between my legs, igniting every nerve. “Tell me what you want.”

“You…I want you…” Forever. Like this. Him and me, our bodies touching, and no one else.

He moved over me and settled between my legs, every inch of bare naked skin-to-skin contact igniting every inch of desire contained inside my body.

And then he kissed me.

It wasn’t like any of the other times—those rough hot kisses in Milan that only touched my lips for passing moments before vacating to my neck or breasts, or how he kissed me softly earlier in his study. This was the kind of kiss I’d dreamed of my entire life—filled with the sort of passion that only exists when two people pour themselves into one another. It was the open, sensual expression of a desire that could never be articulated with words. There was no premeditation or thinking involved—just feeling and giving and absorbing and wanting. It was everything, fulfilling and euphoric at the cellular level, and nothing all at once, because it left me with a hollowness, knowing it couldn’t last forever. The best I could do was try to remember it, and hope I wouldn’t go insane once it left me.

For the moment, however, that kiss was my world—free of negative emotions or impending scandals. And when he thrust his cock deep inside me, I fought hard not to come instantly from the overwhelming sensations and emotions. His lips were the emotional connection, his cock the physical one. As he pumped, I moaned into his mouth, holding his lips to mine with my hands on his cheeks. I didn’t want one side to win—emotion versus physical. I wanted them both. I wanted all of him.

He fucked me hard, and I kissed him harder. Our bodies writhed in a sexual dance while our hearts pounded in unison.

His hands slid under my body, cupping my ass to increase the thrusting power. My hips slammed into him, my lips sucked and kissed and pushed to his.

The friction of his large cock sliding in and out, filling me over and over again, felt so different this time. There was only the intimate sensation of him deep inside my body and the delicious pressure I didn’t want to end. I just wanted to get him deeper.

I tipped my hips, allowing him to angle the head of his cock toward that spot inside me I instinctively craved. When he hit it, I exploded with a hard orgasm that radiated outward in a blinding sinful light that sent my body somewhere else.

I moaned into his mouth, and he broke the kiss. Then our eyes met as he thrust hard and came, his gravelly groans mixing with my sounds. I felt his hard flesh twitch inside me, pouring his cum, the walls of my core milking him for every drop of pleasure.

Still, he never looked away.

People say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And in that moment, I knew—with every drop of blood flowing through my heart—that what we were together was so much more. It wasn’t subjective or up for debate. It was the purest form of beauty that existed in the world.

Still inside me, Max relaxed into my body, resting his mouth on that little spot between my neck and shoulder. His hot breath tickled my neck, and the lazy kisses he applied were better than any dessert I’d ever tasted, any song I’d ever heard.

I stopped breathing for a second. Maybe two. How in the world could he make me feel like this? So wanted, so beautiful.

I was definitely falling in love with this man. We were two perfect halves who’d found each other and made something more.

But what would we do with the ugly halves?

I’d soon come to realize that they’d come after us with a vengeance, looking to destroy us.

“Tell me, Lily, when did you realize you wanted to be a goddess?”

I laughed, gazing into his hazel eyes, the dim light from the hallway casting light over one wall.

“A goddess?” Now separated, but our bodies still touching, Max looked at me—really looked at me—and his expression was full of affection. It humbled me.

“Yes. A goddess in my bed. In my life,” he said.

“Don’t be so corny, Max. It undermines your alpha-male mystique.”

He smiled, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. “I can’t help it. I’ve been struggling for so fucking long, and now I have to wonder if it wasn’t all for you.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re some closet romantic.”

“Closet romantic, no. But I believe in manifest destiny—you being the occupier, of course.”

I smiled. “Oh, Mr. Cole, do talk historical terms to me. It makes me feel so dirty,” I said jokingly.