“Who’s there?!” I want Ozzie to know I would at least check before trusting just a voice. I’m practically a security specialist already.

“It’s me, Ozzie. I need the code, or they’re going to send the cops.”

“Are you alone or are you being held at gunpoint?”

“Open the door and see for yourself.”

Ozzie would never tell me to do that if there was a real bad guy out there. I don’t know him very well, but I know this. I honestly could picture him taking a bullet for anyone on his team, me included. I get out of the tub and crack open the door. “It’s Sahara,” I say as quietly as I can and still be heard over the sirens.

Ozzie is talking into my cell. “Sahara.” He glances down at me, his eyes full of meaning, but one I cannot discern. It could be stress at dealing with whatever happened or something else. I don’t know him well enough to read him, and now I’m not sure that I could ever know him that well.

He’s like no man I’ve ever met before. Just now, when he thought an intruder was here, he didn’t hesitate; he threw me in the bathroom and headed out to take care of it. I’ve never felt so safe in my entire life, so cared for. I thought I had the maximum-level hots for him before, but I was wrong. I’d have sex with him on the bathroom floor right this second if he asked.

“Okay, thanks,” he says to the person on the phone. “I’m resetting now. Don’t assume it’s not a real call if you get another one tonight.” He nods a few times. “Thanks. Later.”

He shuts the call down and hands me my phone.

“What the hell was that?” I emerge from my hideout on shaky legs. Felix wants to get down, but I’m not letting him do that yet. Sahara is there at my feet, sniffing his legs from below.

“Someone came onto your property, but the alarm that I tripped scared them off.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No, but I’m going to assume it was the man who saw you in the bar.”

“Why would you do that? It could have been a cat or dog or a raccoon.” I don’t want it to be a bad guy; I want it to be a false alarm. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for that stupid alert to go off.

“You have raccoons that stand four feet tall in this neighborhood? Because that’s the minimum height that’ll set off the device.”

We’re standing in the middle of the living room now. My outrage has turned to fear. “No.”

“The alarm only triggers when a person-sized object crosses over the edge of your property. Unfortunately, whoever it was—assuming they know anything about security systems—now knows that you have a perimeter warning system up.”

“And that’s bad because . . .?”

“Because now they can disable it, and it won’t help you anymore.”

“But I thought this system is state of the art.” I’m whining. I can’t help it.

“Nothing is state of the art for someone knowledgeable and determined enough.”

My face falls. “Oh. That sucks.”

“I’d really like it if you would come stay at my place.”

I chew my lip, considering my options.

Plan A: Stay here and fear for my life and possibly put Ozzie’s life in danger too . . . or

Plan B: Go to his place and have that giant warehouse around us for protection. And the guns. And the swords. And the singlesticks. And that bed with the black satin sheets . . .

“Fine. I’ll stay at your place.” Yeah, that was an easy one.

“Thank you.” He steps closer and puts his arms around my waist.

“On one condition,” I say, putting my finger on his chest to stop him from getting any closer.

“What’s that?”

I can’t even think of a condition. I want to say that he can’t trick me into sleeping with him, but then I’d be putting myself in sexual purgatory. Seeing Ozzie every day, but not being able to touch him? No thanks. Besides, it’s not like he needs to trick me to sleep with him. I already propositioned him, as he so indelicately pointed out earlier.

“You have to cook,” I say, quickly rescuing myself from being a total fool. “I can’t cook worth anything, and you’re great at it.”

“Done.”

“And . . . !” I hold up my finger near his chin.

His eyes are sparkling. “And?”

“And . . . you have to teach me how to use that singlestick.”

“Dev could show you.”

“But I want you to do it.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll show you how to use the singlestick.”

“And . . . !” I place my hand gently on his cheek.

His voice is barely above a whisper. “And?” He’s smiling.

“And I don’t want you to get your hopes up.” There. I said it. My worst fear is now out there in the air between us. I suck in bed. I’ve been told that by three different guys, so I believe it. And I never get those sensations that women describe in magazines and on sexy blogs, so I have all the self-confirmation I need. Some women are tigers in bed, but I’m more like a small, weak kitten. It’s not that I don’t try; it’s just that I fail regardless.

The truth is that the scariest thing in my life is not a potential murderer who might be out there looking to gun me down; it’s that I’m doomed to mediocre sex for the rest of my life, and I’ll have to find a man who’s okay with that for the rest of his life. Yes, it’s possible I might have my priorities a little screwed up, but being bad at sex can be pretty devastating.

I continue with my confession. “I’m not good in bed, and I don’t want you to be disappointed in me later, so I’m telling you now. Full disclosure.”

He’s still smiling.

“It’s not a joke, Ozzie. I’m serious. I suck in bed.”

“That’s good.”

My face gets hot as the double meaning sinks in. “I don’t mean I suck, like literally . . .”

He play-pouts.

I giggle and it sounds crazy leaving my lips, so I cut it off immediately. “Of course I do that . . . I suck literally . . .” As soon as the words are out, I hate myself. Stupid much, May?!

Recover! Quick! “Ha-ha! I mean, that in bed, I’m not talented. Skilled. I’m lame in bed. But I try. I do try.” My face falls as I realize that I’ve pretty much just guaranteed myself an empty bed whenever he’s in town. No way will he want to be with someone as goofy as I am.

He leans down without saying anything and kisses me.

Slowly at first, and then with more urgency, his lips move against mine. Somehow we fit together perfectly. When he moves right to deepen the connection, I tilt my head left, and it works like magic. His tongue comes out to touch mine. It’s big, just like the rest of him. Hot. Wet. Slippery. Oh my . . .

Little shivers zing around inside me like they’re electrified. I kind of melt into him, wanting to be closer. He pulls me against him, and I love how his hard muscles press into my softer parts. This was meant to be. It has to be. It feels too good to be anything else.

His hands drop to my waist and rest there for a few moments while we play with each other’s tongues. He grabs mine gently with his teeth and I giggle, taking it back. Then he presses his hips into mine, and I can feel his hard length again. He pulls his head back and smiles down at me. “Anyone who can kiss like you can’t possibly suck in bed. And when I say suck, I mean not be good.”

I smile shyly, practically drowning in the kindness and promises I see in his eyes. “You’re just being nice.”

“No, I’m just being turned on as hell and really looking forward to being inside you.” He smacks me hard on the butt and steps away. “Not now, though. Business before pleasure.”

I stand there in the middle of my living room, stunned. My panties are damp, my body is ringing with unspent passion, and my brain is spinning circles around itself. What just happened? He wants to be inside me? Hallelujah, baby, I’m gonna get laid tonight!

Just the thought has me panicking all over again.

He, of course, is oblivious to my mental anguish, probably never suffering a single nanosecond of self-doubt in his life.