Without hesitation, he increased the pressure and pounded three fingers into her weeping channel.

She came apart.

The climax tore through her, stole her breath, and ripped her to pieces. She screamed and bucked beneath him, but he never stopped, dragging the pleasure on and on until she was a shivering, trembling mass of exposed nerves.

Riley collapsed, boneless. The hiss of a zipper cut to her ears. The rip of a wrapper. And then he was dragging her down the length of the table, her legs spread wide, feet propped high on his shoulders, completely open to anything he wanted to do.

His cock paused at her entrance. Pushed in an inch. Another. Slowly, he filled her completely, taking everything she had without apology. She stretched to accommodate him, relishing the tightness, and when he was buried deep within her, he interweaved his fingers with hers.

His voice broke. “It’s you. Why didn’t I realize? It’s always been you.”

She had no time to process the words or their meaning. He withdrew all the way, then slammed himself fully back, sheathing his throbbing dick to the hilt. Again. Again. Again.

The ride was wild, long, choppy, thrilling. The second climax shimmered just out of reach, the feeling of him taking over her body, his hips working in a primitive dance, sweat drenching their skin, over and over until—

Riley broke apart, dimly noting him following her over the edge. She gripped his hands as her only anchor, his weight pressing her against the table, until they collapsed.

She closed her eyes.

Her mind was completely and blissfully empty.

Had he died? Nope, his body ached a bit. He was getting older and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex on a table. Of course, he’d never be able to eat here again without thinking of her.

Her voice drifted to his ears. “That may have been worth the ten-year wait.”

Dylan chuckled and nibbled on her neck. So sweet. She was still shaking slightly from the string of orgasms, making him want to do the whole thing over again. And again. “Brat. Is sex back in the box?” He eased off of her and disposed of the condom.

“No. I told you it can’t be.”

“Foreplay? Oral?”

She gave him that adorable glare that always turned him on. “That’s included with sex.”

He turned to go stoke the fire. Curious, he wondered what else she thought she had to have in a husband. So far, her list was way off. She’d destroy a mild-mannered accountant who did anything she said. Dylan shuddered just at the thought. She bored without a challenge, and to him, love and marriage and kids was the ultimate goal to conquer.

“Tell me what else you see happening in this fictitious perfect future of yours?” he asked.

She eased to a sitting position, her naked body a gorgeous silhouette. “So you can make fun of me? Hell no.”

He threw up a hand in a Boy Scout gesture. “Promise not to make fun.”

Her lower lip jutted out in a hint of a sulk. He walked back over and kissed it off her, until her hands gripped his shoulders and her nails dug in hard. Damned if she wasn’t making him hard again.

“Fine. I’m going to sew all my children’s clothes. And knit. I’ll make the afghans and do little booties for the boy and two girls I’ll have.”

He stared at her and waited for the punch line. Never got one. A wild laugh scratched at his chest, dying to escape, but he battled it back. Barely. “You told me you flunked home economics in high school. You hated it, Riley. You’d go apeshit if you tried to sew.”

She gasped and pointed her finger at him. “See! I told you! I’m going to like it this time. Crochet is in my box. And my husband is going to do all the maintenance around the house. Mow the lawn, fix the plumbing, maybe help build an addition.”

He pressed his lips together. His eyes began to tear. “Don’t you make a crap load of money?”

Her brows knitted in a frown. “So?”

“Why the hell does he have to do that shit if you can hire out? Aren’t you going to be running Chic Publishing? You gonna take up yoga next?”

Her stony silence was answer enough.

No. Fucking. Way. With her temper? She used to tell him that sitting still with her own thoughts for too long made her want to jump off a cliff. Riley had boundless energy, was a classic multitasker, and craved multiple goals and projects going on simultaneously. This time he couldn’t help it. He burst into laughter. “You’re nuts. I’ll pay to see you try and sit cross-legged and be quiet for five minutes. Hell, one minute and you’ll be opening your mouth to speak.”

She jumped off the table and pushed him. “Yoga is in my box! I want to bring a measured, balanced energy into my life, and yoga is the key.”

Dylan wiped at his eyes. “Sure, darlin’. I just think it would be easier if you recognize your true personality and find someone who will fit, rather than try to change. Like me. I bet I’d fit in your box. That’s the reason Kinnections matched us.”

She sucked in her breath. “Not possible. Especially if you’re not on board with knitting, yoga, and friendship before sex.”

He couldn’t help it. She was so damn cute when she got riled up. He grabbed her hair and kissed her hard and deep and long, until she grew quiet and malleable. His blood sung and roared in victory. He was the only one able to tame Riley Fox. Now he had to prove it to her before the morning came.

“I’m going to turn on the generator so we can get the lights back on. Stay here. And don’t put on clothes.”

With one last kiss, he grabbed a candle and went out to the hallway. He took the staircase down to the control room, then after a few minutes got the generator running. The lights flicked on and he came back upstairs, ready to go for round two and three with the woman who had exploded back into his life.

She was wrapped in the dining room runner.

The gold and silver covering made her look like a yummy Christmas gift ready to open. Seeing her in full light—the rich texture of her hair spilling over her shoulders, the soft, flawless skin, the plump, swollen lips—took his breath away.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. A slight flush traveled over her cheeks and upper chest. “Why are you wearing a tablecloth?”

Those extraordinary eyes narrowed and sparked. She spoke with pure haughtiness. “Because I don’t do naked.”

He gave a wolfish grin. “Covering you up should be a crime. I’ll have to convince you.”

He came forward but she jumped back, her hands clasping the edge of the runner. “No! I mean it, Dylan, I refuse to be so uncivilized.”

Amusement cut through him. She was so much fun. “Is this also in the box? Civilization and covering up what I just touched and tasted?”

Her composure never faltered. “Correct. I should’ve never told you about my box.”

“Suit yourself, darlin’. Come on, I want to show you something.” He stalked over to French doors and pulled back the heavy curtain. He felt her glare at his bare back, but also knew she was staring at his ass and enjoying the view.

“What about you?” she practically squealed. “You need clothes.”

He arched a brow. “I’m comfortable being naked. Do you have a problem with that?”

He noted the high flush of her cheeks and the hungry stare. Oh yeah, he had her good. “Yes, I do,” she said primly. “I can’t concentrate.”

Dylan winked. “I don’t want you to concentrate. Now get your gorgeous behind over here.”

“Fine.” She huffed out an annoyed breath and stomped over in her bare feet. The elegant cloth trailed behind her like a queen’s robe. Dylan unlocked and pulled open the French doors. He tucked her into his chest, then she leaned forward and peered out over the balcony.

Then gasped.

It was sheer magic. A winter wonderland children dreamed of. His home sat on top of the mountain with the perfect view overlooking Rinker’s Park. Pine and evergreen trees flanked the entire skating rink and edged the park, encrusted with thick layers of ice. Fat flakes fell down slow upon the scene. The skating rink could be seen in the distance, safely covered by the roof, and the painted horses in the elaborate carousel looked frozen in time. White icicle lights wrapped around the park and twisted through the trees.