“You know what?” Setting his own bottle aside, he pushed away from the counter, and I straightened, my hands slipping off the counter. “I didn’t come here to play twenty questions.”

My head tilted to the side. “Well, no shit.” I smiled sweetly, even as a heaviness settled in my breasts and my blood felt like it thickened.

He was grinning that half smile again. “And you don’t want me here to answer questions either.”

I met his stare as he stepped forward, stopping right in front of me. Every cell in my body became super aware of his proximity. “If I say no shit again does that make me repetitive?”

“Only a little,” he murmured, leaning in and placing his hands on my hips. “So let’s say fuck the questions and answers and get down to what we both are anticipating.”

The flutter moved from my chest and then down, low in my belly. “You’re not the kind of guy to beat around the bush, are you?”

“Nope.” His hands settled on my hips and my eyes flew to his. He held my stare. “And neither are you. You’re done with these questions, too.”

“I am?” My breath caught as his grip on my hips tightened.

“Yeah, you are.” He lowered his head so that his mouth was near my ear. “Want to know how I know that? You started to get hot from the moment I said fucking was my hobby.” He lifted one hand and without breaking eye contact brushed his thumb over the tip of my breast, unerringly finding and grazing my nipple. “And these have been getting harder by the second.”

Oh, sweet Jesus. The bolt of pleasure shot out from my breast and scattered, lighting up every nerve. I was struck speechless, which was a new thing for me.

“And I just want to thank you for wearing this top.” Both hands were at my hips again. “I like it almost as much as I liked those shorts.”

I placed my hands on his chest and slid them down the length of his stomach, the tips of my fingers following the hard planes of his abs. “Then I think you might like what I have on under these jeans.”

A deep sound rumbled out from him as his hands slipped around to my lower back and then down, cupping my ass. “I cannot wait to find out.”

“Then don’t.” I tugged on his shirt, and his answering chuckle was rough. Glancing up, I let go of his shirt. “This is only about tonight.”

“Then we’re on the same page, aren’t we?” He stepped back and reached around to his back pocket. He pulled out his wallet, flipping it open. Out came a silver foil, and I had to laugh.

“A condom in a wallet?” I said. “So damn cliché.”

“And so damn prepared,” he replied with a wink. He tossed his wallet and the condom on the counter. Grabbing the hem of his shirt, he tugged it up and off. Muscles along his shoulders and upper arms flexed and rolled as he threw the shirt to where he laid his jacket.

Good God, all I could do was stare. Boy took care of himself. His chest was well-defined and his waist was trim. His stomach was a work of art. His abs were tightly rolled but not overdone. He reminded me of a runner or swimmer, and I wanted to touch him.

“Your turn.”

My breath shuttled out of me. I wasn’t necessarily a self-conscious person, but my fingers trembled nonetheless as I wrapped them around the hem of the cami I wore. In a weird way I didn’t understand, the fact we really didn’t know each other made it easy to take the top off. Maybe it was because there were absolutely no expectations between us or because this was only about tonight.

Nick’s gaze slowly left mine, and I stopped thinking in general. The taut set to his lips and jaw was like stepping too close to an open flame, but the heat and intensity in his gaze was what started the fire. The look was hungry, and it was a punch to the chest, stealing the air right out of my lungs.

Silently, he lifted one hand and cupped my breast. The gasp that came out of me sounded strangled. He ran his thumb over the hardened tip and then he caught it between his fingers. My back arched and a smug half smile graced his lips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, voice gruff. “I bet the rest is just as fucking stunning.”

My heart was pounding and my voice was throaty when I spoke. “You want to find out?”

“Do you even need to ask that question?”

I smiled as I reached up, wrapping my hand around his wrist. I drew his fingers down my stomach, to the button on my jeans. He needed no further explanation. Nick broke records when it came to how fast he had me out of my jeans.

“You were right.” His fingers skimmed along the thin strap over my hip as he turned me around, his hand following his movements, slipping under the lace along the center. “I really do like this, too.”

The thong was nothing more than a scrap of flimsy material, no barrier against his heat as he slipped his hand between my thighs. “God,” he said, his voice a thick whisper. “You’re already ready.”

I was.

I’d been ready from the moment he’d made his intentions clear. With his hand between my legs, he drew me against him, and I could feel him through his jeans, heavy and hard, pressing against me. My back arched and a breathy moan escaped me as his fingers went to work, slipping inside the material and through the wetness gathering there. I grabbed his arm, holding him to me, and the other slammed onto the counter. I braced myself as he curved his body into mine, his chest sealed to my back. Tension simmered to life as I moved my hips against his hand, building on top of itself as his warm breath fanned my temple.

“We can do it here if that’s what you want. I can lift you up, get that sweet ass on the counter. Or against the fridge,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Or I can take you on the table or the couch, fuck you right there.” One hand slid up my side, sending a shiver through me as it closed around my breast. “Or I can just turn you right around, right here, and fuck you from behind.” His lips skated over my neck, stopping over my wildly beating pulse. He nipped at the same moment he added another finger, causing me to gasp. “You tell me what you want.”

Good God . . .

Those words almost sent me over the edge, and I was close, so close. The guy had magic fingers, and if he kept going like this, it would be over before we got started. “Like this,” I gasped out.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunted.

My undies were at my ankles and then, over the thunder of my slamming heart, I heard the tinny sound of his zipper going down. The condom was off the counter and on him before I had a chance to grow impatient.

Nick gripped my hips and lifted me up on the tips of my toes, then one hand disappeared and a second later I felt him between my legs. I didn’t have to see to know that he was large. Then I felt it. He eased himself into me, inch by inch, and so slowly that every nerve ending felt raw as he seated himself fully. The pinch of pain faded and the pressure was almost overwhelming.

One arm circled my waist, drawing me up against him. His groan was deliciously harsh in my ear, mindlessly drugging. He started moving his hips, rocking in and out of me. There was nothing slow about this. Each thrust was deep and fast, wholly precise. This was . . . this was about fucking, and that’s what he did—that’s what I did. Pushing back, meeting each stroke just as fiercely.

I didn’t get a chance to even aid the release along. Both my hands were flattened on the counter and the space between us grew until he curved his body over mine, pushing my upper body down on the counter. The coolness of the laminate was a shock against my heated skin.

The sounds of our bodies coming together, of my gasps and moans and his rough grunts filled the kitchen. The tension built and built, tightening up until my toes started to tingle. One hand slid up the center of my back, balling in my hair as he pinned me there, his hips slamming into mine.