She wore a beige trench coat, cinched tightly around her waist. But peeking out from beneath it he could see the dress from last night. The one she’d worn the first night he’d met her. She wore ridiculously high heeled shoes that made her legs look incredible. He lifted his eyes back to her face, hoping he was reading the right words between the lines, because on her head she wore a fedora, the brim pulled low.

“Can I come in?” she asked. He stepped aside and she entered, her eyes drawn to the table. She looked up, her mouth slightly curved. “Just like last night.”

“I was hoping…” The words trailed away, his thought unfinished. She stood before him, looking good enough to eat and every muscle in his body clenched. He shoved his hands in his pockets lest he reach out and touch. “I’d take your coat,” he said roughly, “but once I touch you, I won’t be able to stop.”

Her eyes heated and he could see her pulse fluttering at the hollow of her throat. She tugged at her belt, then pulled the buttons free, shrugging out of the coat on her own. She laid her coat across the arm of the sofa, carefully placed her hat on top of it, and looked back up at him. Deliberately she extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Olivia Sutherland. It’s nice to meet you.”

His eyes dropped to her hand and he swallowed. Hard. She was offering him the chance to start over. To get it right this time. Slowly he watched his hand take hers, his large and dark, hers small and pale. Nearly fragile. But he knew she was anything but. She was strong and kind and beautiful and he was shaking like a teenager.

“I’m David Hunter.” He leaned closer until he could see every eyelash framing her blue eyes. Until his mouth was a whisper from hers. “And I want you more than I want to breathe.”

“Oh.” It was more an exhale than a word. Her eyes slid closed, her chest barely moving with the shallow breaths she drew, as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. He didn’t know who moved first, and then he didn’t care. Her arms were locked around his neck and his mouth was on hers, savage and bruising, but she met him full force, openmouthed and so damn hot.

His hands were everywhere, her back, her breasts, her round butt that filled his palms like she was made for him. “What do you want?” he managed.

“You.” She punctuated her words with hard kisses. “Now. Please.”

He should stop this. She’d wanted to talk. Needed her answers. But he didn’t think he could stop this if his life depended on it. He lifted her dress, running his hands up her legs and then he groaned when his fingers went from silk to bare skin. She wore real stockings. “Where’s the zipper on this thing?” he rasped, searching her back.

“No zipper.” Her hands were busy on the buttons of his shirt. “Just… take it off.”

He yanked the dress over her head and let it land where it would. And then he stared. Silk and lace covered very little. His eyes dropped to a miniscule thong. Very, very little. He thought his heart might explode. He was sure other parts of him would. He cast his eyes at the sofa, tempted, but she tapped her finger against his mouth.

“You said,” she said in a husky murmur that sent every drop of blood rushing out of his head, “you needed more space for what you wanted to do to me.” She pushed the shirt from his shoulders and brushed his mouth with hers while his hands cruised the skin she’d bared. “For me. In me. No sofa, David.”

He was going to die. “Fine,” he ground out, and lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist. He took two steps toward the bedroom when his mouth found her breast through the lace and she arched against him, her body lithe and beautiful. He stopped where he stood, sucking hard and making her whimper, loving the sound. He shifted her, claiming the other breast so he could hear it again.

“Hurry,” she urged. “Please. Please.”

It was a desperate chant as he obeyed, laying her on the bed, then ripping the tiny panties down her legs, pushing her shoes off her feet in one motion. Before she could draw another breath his mouth was on her and she moaned, just like he remembered.

She tasted… just like he remembered. And her hands dug into his hair, pulling him closer, just like he remembered. “Please, please.” She was chanting it again, begging for more, begging him to take her there, as if she wasn’t certain he would.

So he sucked and nipped and licked, finally stabbing his tongue deep and her body went taut, her head flung back and a strangled cry ripped from her arched throat as she came with a force that stunned him.

But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop, and she shuddered again, his name on her lips.

He pushed to his knees, staring at her, his body throbbing. “Olivia, look at me.”

She blinked, finally lifting her eyelids. She was beautifully dazed.

He placed his hands on either side of her face, leaning close. “I am thinking of you. Just you. Only you. Olivia.”

She stared at him for a long moment. Then her lips curved. “You’re still dressed.”

Her hands reached for him, but he grabbed her wrists, twining his fingers through hers. “If you touch me, I’ll come.”

“I want you to. I need you to.”

“I need to, too, but I want it to last more than thirty seconds. So give me a minute.” He dropped his brow to hers. “I dreamed of your taste. You’re better than I dreamed.”

She twisted up into him. “David, please.”

He let her go, backing up before she could touch him. He peeled the stockings from her legs slowly, one then the other, then stood next to the bed and shrugged out of his shirt. “Take off the bra.”

She sat up and unhooked the frothy lace that hardly covered enough to earn the term. She let the straps slide down her arms and quite suddenly, took his breath away.

“You’re beautiful.”

She dropped her eyes to her hands as she worked his belt free. “So are you.”

David’s hands stilled. She knelt on the edge of the bed, her gaze dropping as she reached for the button on his trousers. He covered her hands with his, stopping her. “No. Look at me, Olivia.”

She looked up until she met his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything.” He cupped her face tenderly. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“Because you want me more than you want to breathe.”

“And that’s because you’re beautiful. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, Olivia. I tried. For months and years I tried and nothing worked. Nobody worked. I kept seeing your eyes when we talked and your face when you smiled.”

Something shifted behind her eyes and he knew he’d never convince her with words alone. He let his trousers drop to the floor and pushed his boxers down with them and felt a wave of satisfaction when her eyes widened, heating again.

She ran a fingertip down his length, then ran her hands down his sides, grasping his hips. He knew what was coming, but still nothing prepared him for how utterly incredible it felt when her mouth slid over him, wet and warm. His head fell back, his eyes closed and a guttural groan escaped his chest.

It was heaven. But he didn’t want to come like this. Not tonight.

“Stop.” Summoning every ounce of strength, he dug his fingers through her hair and pulled her away so that he could see her face. “To you, for you.” He dragged her up, ground his mouth on hers, fiercely satisfied when her arms came around his neck and she pressed her breasts into his chest, kissing him back. “In you.” Blindly he reached into the bedside drawer for a condom. “I want to be inside you.”

“Then hurry,” she whispered, yanking him down to the bed with her. Fragile she certainly was not. She snatched the packet from his hand and he had to clench his teeth to hold back when she slid it over him, her hands like little licks of fire.

He rolled her to her back, determined to do all the things he should have done before, praying he had the strength to hold back, to give her what she deserved. But when he pushed into her she was hot and wet and so damn tight. He stopped midway and shuddered, holding to his control by a thread. “I don’t want to hurt you.”