I pull out of his embrace without a word, and he lets me. I go to the window, desperate to gather my racing thoughts while I stare at the city spread out before me. Pressing my fingers against the cool glass, I gaze down and watch the bright lights of Times Square flash, the seemingly millions of people that fill the sidewalks, the cars, the streets.

“Your view is familiar,” I tell him from over my shoulder, smiling when I feel him stop just behind me, just like he did when we were in the elevator. But this time he doesn’t touch my shoulders.

He settles his big hands at my hips, giving them a firm squeeze before he lets them wander down across my backside. “Nervous?”

I close my eyes, losing myself in his assured touch, the way he squeezes and massages my skin. Everything inside me melts when he slowly tugs my skirt up, until the fabric is bunched just below my butt, my legs, my thighs completely exposed. “Yes,” I admit on a whisper.

“Don’t be. I’ll go slow,” he promises, and I believe him. “Christ, you’ve got the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen.” He grips my hips and pulls me toward him slightly, so I’m bent at the waist, my butt thrust out.

It’s overtly sexual, the way he has me positioned. And when he steps closer, my backside brushing against the front of his jeans, I bite my lip to keep a moan from spilling out.

“Move closer to the window,” he commands, and I do so keeping in position as best I can. His hands slip beneath the bunched fabric, touching my hips, and his fingers curl around the skimpy waistband of my panties. He pulls them down, over my butt, down my thighs and then I’m helping him, kicking them off while they get tangled around my shoes. I go to pull those off as well but his dark command stops me.

“Keep the shoes on.”

Oh. My.

Matt

HER PANTIES ARE solid white lace, a scrap of fabric that probably barely covered her, not that I’ll ever know now, since we tugged them off and they’re now lying discarded on the floor nearby.

Not that I’m protesting.

She’s a contradiction. Innocent yet sexy, with the face of an angel and a body made for sin. One minute she’s shy and acts inexperienced, the next she’s a laughing, sultry mistress who looks like she wants to devour me in one swallow.

I like it. I fucking love it and want to discover more about her, everything that she holds within, everything that makes her who she is. But she holds out on me. She told me bits and pieces of her past earlier at dinner. She’s a woman who’s run from her problems. She acts like she might run from me.

But I won’t let her. After tonight, she’ll know who she belongs to.

Me.

I’ve waited for this moment for far too long to prolong it further, so I grip her by her hips and grind against her, let her feel my hard cock against her lush ass. She hangs her head down and moans, the agonized sound going straight to my dick and hell, I want to thrust in her now. Just fill her with my cock and know what it’s like to finally be a part of her.

That’s what I seek. That connection—the union of our bodies and minds and souls. I want it, I fucking need it, and I grasp hold of the ends of her thick, dark hair, pulling gently until she lifts up, turns her head so I can kiss her with everything I have inside of me.

She gasps against my mouth, her arm curving around my head, keeping me close as our tongues thrust against one another, our bodies doing the same. I want to take her just like this. I know it’s not the most romantic position in the world, but at the moment, I’m not feeling very romantic.

I feel possessive. Like I want to mark her and let her know she’s mine. I break our kiss, help her tear off her dress and then she’s standing before me in a matching white lace bra, those sexy black heels and nothing else.

Damn, she’s gorgeous. I can see her pink nipples, hard and thrusting against the innocent white lace, her breasts so full they threaten to spill out over her bra. “Take it off,” I say gruffly, pointing at her chest.

She does so without hesitation, her hands going behind her to undo the clasp and then the bra is gone, fluttering to the floor to join her panties. She’s standing before me completely naked save for the shoes while I’m still fully dressed.

Fuck me, that it. I’m done for.

The million dollar bet be damned. I could give a shit if Archer or Gage find out I’ve been with Bryn. What’s done is done.

I have to have her.

Reaching behind me, I grab my wallet and flip it open, pulling out the single condom I keep nestled inside. I haven’t been with a woman in months. I’m fucking afraid I’ll come the moment I slide inside Bryn’s body but I close my eyes, breathe deep to try and keep my libido in check.

But it’s going to be so fucking hard.

“I want to fuck you right here,” I whisper as I step into her space, her naked body pressed against the cool glass, my body pressed close to hers. “From behind, with you looking down at the view. Wondering if anyone can see us.”

She releases a trembling breath. “A-all right.”

“Does that bother you? Us having sex like this for the first time?” I kiss the top of her ear, the spot just behind it. Push her heavy hair aside so I can brush my mouth against her nape, along her shoulder. Her skin is soft, fragrant with the unique scent that drives me fucking wild, and I lean into her for a long, lingering moment, overwhelmed at what she does to me, how she makes me feel.

“No,” she says softly as she circles her hips, her ass brushing against my denim-covered erection. “I-I think I like it.”

I close my eyes, relieved that she’s given her permission. I don’t want to push, she’s fragile, I can tell, and no way am I going to screw up tonight.

I grasp her face with one hand and she turns toward me, our mouths colliding, tongues sliding against each other. With my other hand I fumble with my belt buckle, desperate to get it undone so I can unsnap my jeans and pull my cock out. Roll the condom on and thrust inside her nice and slow, watching as I enter her body for the first time.

A full shiver moves through me and I break the kiss, trying to gain some control. “Brace your hands on the window,” I tell her and she does, spreading her legs, and I step back checking out the view of her pretty pink depths.

Groaning, I touch her there, sliding two fingers between her legs. She’s drenched, soaking wet, and I finish undoing my belt buckle, then tear open the button fly of my jeans. She’s thrusting against my fingers, subtle lifts of her hips, and I brush against her clit, hear her gasp and moan.

My quest to get out of my jeans momentarily forgotten, I stroke her deeper, thrusting my fingers inside her velvety hot channel, driving us both crazy with lust. I want to get her off with my fingers, want to watch her fall apart by my hand, and I start whispering dirty words in her ear. How much I want to fuck her, how wet she is, how good she feels. She tilts her head back, her eyes closed, her mouth open as she pants frantic little breaths and then she’s coming all over my fingers, her inner walls trembling, her entire body wracked with shudders.

I have to get inside her. Now.

Within seconds I have the condom on, and I slowly enter her still-trembling body, sliding deep, groaning as I fill her completely. She relaxes into me as I hold myself still, letting her get used to me being inside her, around her, holding her. Her back is covered in a light sheen of sweat, her fragrance even stronger as it fills my senses, and I slowly start to move.

In and out, my movements are shallow, teasing as I draw the moment out. Her hips start to move with my every thrust, and soon I’m increasing my pace, Bryn keeping up with me as she pushes back every time I push forward, taking me deep, deeper, until I can go no farther. I’m completely embedded in her.