Before he could act on those desires, however, his attention was drawn to a nipping at his toes. Puppy.

“Oh, no.” He bent to scoop up the dog in one hand. “You are not staying in here.”

“Blake, he’s fine,” Andrea called behind him as he escorted the creature to the doors.

“No. He’s not.” This was a private party Blake had planned. No Puppy invited.

He set his dog on the floor and shooed him away. Before shutting him out, though, he said quietly, “I promise to give you one of those treats you love in the morning.”

“I heard that,” Andrea teased, confirming again that she knew he had an affinity for the animal.

With a wicked grin, he turned back to the woman he’d left on his bed. “And I’ll give you the treat you love right now.”

“So full of yourself.”

“No, but you’ll be.” He sauntered over to her, enjoying the blush that sparked from his naughty words and ran down her neck to the tips of her breasts. “Now, where were we?”

“You were taking off your shirt.” She pulled again at his T-shirt until he took her hands, lacing her fingers with his.

“That’s not where we were.” Hands locked in hers, he bent down to lick along one of her perfect nipples. “This is where we were.”

She wriggled under his attention. “Come on, I want to see you.”

“You will. But I want to see you first.” And suck you. And taste you.

“It’s supposed to be ladies first, Blake.” But she moaned, thrusting out her breasts so that he could take her more fully in his mouth.

He tugged until her nipple was standing erect. “And ladies will come first. I promise.” Again, she blushed. “Now stop talking.”

“But—”

He let go of a hand and placed his finger at her lips. “Stop.” Turning his attention in full to her bosom, he distracted her from any thoughts of conversation. He adored her breasts completely, sucking and biting at one while kneading the other. Then switching his hand with his mouth until Andrea was gasping.

When he had his fill, he moved down, his tongue swirling along the rim of her belly button before his hands worked the button of her jeans. Gently, he pushed her back to lie on the bed so that he could remove her sandals. Then her pants. Then her panties.

Holy mother of God, he’d died and gone to heaven.

He had to stand back and admire her—her hair spilling around her shoulders, her nipples still puckered from his ardor, her thighs spread to showcase her pretty little pussy. “Andrea Dawson.” His voice was thick with desire. “You are so damn beautiful.”

She whimpered at his words. Or maybe from his touch as he moved in, trailing a hand down each of her inner thighs, his fingers meeting at her core. He skidded across her clit, and her hips bucked. That’s when he lost all his reserve. He’d wanted to go slower, take his time teasing her with his hands. But he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to have his mouth on her and now.

He fell to his knees and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

“What are you—”

He answered with his tongue on her flesh.

“Oh, my God,” she cried, sitting up.

With a smile, he urged her back down and returned to his feast. He licked up her crease, dragged his mouth across her folds, skated his teeth along her sensitive nub. She whimpered and moaned as he pleasured her, her sexy sounds telling him just what she liked and how she liked it. Then he moved a hand to tickle along her opening, and she nearly screamed.

Damn if that didn’t make him harder.

He was desperate now to make her come, eager to watch her fall apart from this new viewpoint. He plunged two fingers inside her, bending his knuckles to hit the spot against her wall that he knew was particularly sensitive. She was almost there. He could sense her getting near. Could hear it in the way her breathy gasps were coming closer and closer.

With his mouth and hands, he worked her until her legs were tensing and shaking, and her whimpers had turned into cries. His tongue drew letters on her clit, a trick he’d learned in college.

Then he found himself straying from the alphabet and wrote a sentence instead. “I heart Andrea Dawson.” Because he did. He hearted her hard. Not just because his face was buried between her thighs, but because of everything else that had transpired between the two of them. Because she laughed at him when he was pompous. Because she didn’t slap him any of the times he’d deserved it. Because she got dolled up and arrived on his doorstep in an attempt to seduce him when she was never sexier than when she was herself. Because she was feisty and outspoken. Because she gave him Puppy and could hold her own in pinball.

Mostly, though, because she was just the most incredible woman he’d ever met, and she owned him wholly—body, soul, and definitely heart.

*   *   *

Andy screamed and wrapped her fingers in the bedspread as she came. And came. And came. Blake Donovan was a god, she decided. A one hundred percent freaking sex god.

He was more than a sex god, though, she thought as she began to wind down from her dizzying orgasm. He was also more extraordinary than she’d ever imagined a man like him could be. He was funny and even sweet. And he kept the dog. And he had a fully loaded pinball playroom, for crying out loud. How much cooler could a person get? It was overwhelming and also really amazing in ways that she couldn’t comprehend when she was still half blind from her release.

When she’d settled down enough that she could form a more coherent thought, she was no longer interested in analyzing her emotions. She was interested in the god before her—more specifically, getting the god naked.

She scrambled to her knees and pulled at his shirt. “No excuses, now. This has to go.”

Thankfully, he didn’t fight her.

His chest bare in front of her for the first time, she scanned every part of him, tracing along his contours with her fingers. He was gorgeous. Though not completely ripped, he had muscles. Well-defined muscles. Hard muscles, and not just the one bulging in his pants. And those sexy ridges that some men had at their hips? He had those. She had to trace those with her tongue.

Except his stupid jeans were in the way of her path. Too anxious to work at removing them herself, she simply commanded, “Off,” and sat back on her knees to wait.

Blake had them shucked in no time, his briefs as well. Oh, she loved it when he responded to her like that. Almost as much as she loved the sight in front of her—his beautiful, thick cock. While she’d spent a good amount of time in the last week with it inside her, Andy had never actually taken much time to admire it. Now it was standing boldly in her face and she could no longer resist.

“I want this,” she murmured. And so she intended to have it. Circling her hand around him, she pumped his length from top to bottom. Blake’s low mmm pushed her to do it again. He leaped in her hands and she couldn’t help smiling. She brushed her fingertips over his crown and he moaned again. She loved this, too—loved torturing him. Loved having the power to make such a strong, composed man twitch at her touch.

Letting her stroke fall back down his rigid flesh, she realized that this was the component she’d been missing in her matches for Blake—she hadn’t found the woman who could get to him. The woman whom he could expose himself to without fear. Not just clothes-off exposure, but everything-about-him exposure. The kind of exposure he’d shown to her tonight.

Wait. Did that mean that she was that woman? Was she Blake Donovan’s match? She’d been into him, consumed with him, but she’d never quite believed that they were actually good together. Not long-term. But maybe they were.

Wouldn’t that be something?

She ignored the tingle of hope that ran through her at the thought and tucked it away to deal with later. There would be plenty of time to analyze it further when she didn’t have her mouth full.