“With pockets of bad. It is downtown.”

“I’ll be fine.” I take a step away from him, decidedly not looking at his taut muscles.

“Hmm, aren’t you forgetting something?” He gives me a heavy-lidded look.

I lick my lips. “No, all my stuff is on the desk. Thank you.”

His body moves closer, his hand reaching out to brush against my mouth. “You owe me a kiss, Elena. For the song.”

My chest rises.

“Give it to me.”

Shivers wash over me at that tinge of authority in his voice. I like it so much, that heat in his tone.

You got this, Elena. Just kiss the man, and be done with it—maybe on the cheek just to irk him—and that’s totally what I plan to do, but as soon as I ease closer to him and feel the heat of his chest under my hands, my body takes over. I slide my fingers up and wrap them around his nape, my eyes holding his. I have no self-control apparently when it comes to him, and no matter what my head says, that I shouldn’t get lost in his lips, I already know I want to. I’m dying for his mouth on mine again.

Just one, just one, just one.

I tug his head down and lick at his lips, and he parts them, letting me in as I kiss him softly. He sighs against me, his arms wrapping around my waist to pull me tightly against him. He lets me lead, and I do, exploring him, tasting him, groaning at the smell of his skin, at the brush of his chest against his shirt I’m still wearing.

He takes over, his fingers digging into my ass, his lips slanting across mine, harder, more insistent.

“Elena . . . ,” he murmurs. “I’ve never loved kissing this much.” His mouth takes mine again, and I melt into him, my leg hitching against his hips. My fingers tug on his hair as he runs his hand down my thigh, stroking and kneading. “Can’t resist this,” he rumbles against my neck. “I put you in bed and wanted to get in there with you so goddamn bad.”

Desire fires off inside every part of my body, and I tremble. It’s so fucking hot with us, an electric wire from me to him.

And I know, I know what this is. Sex. Just sex, but when will I ever feel like this again? This connection. This feeling as if I might die if I don’t have him. I should stop, I should.

Because he’s going to hurt me.

He’s going to—

He’s the one to break us apart, holding me, staring down at me, his throat working. His chest moves rapidly. “One kiss . . . shit . . . Elena. If you don’t go . . .”

“I don’t want to go.” I close my eyes. What am I doing? This is his fuck palace! “You once said you wanted me bent over this couch. I haven’t stopped wondering what I missed.”

He inhales a sharp breath. “Elena . . .”

“You actually said, ‘I’m going to fuck you from behind.’ I think. Maybe I’m missing the exact wording, but it was hot, that image you painted in my head.”

I remove his shirt I’m wearing, feeling nervous.

But I’m brave. And I hang on to that with tenacity.

This is what I want.

“Elena . . .” He bites his lip and meets my gaze. “Please don’t stop whatever you’re doing. Please.”

My fingers push down my shorts. I unsnap my bra, and my breasts sway as I tuck my thumbs in the waistband of my thong, teasing it down a little, then pulling it back up, enjoying that flare in his gaze. His chest heaves, and his eyes glitter.

Gah, I’m a madwoman. Crazy. I don’t know who I am right now—maybe my real self—it seems so easy with him. The freedom. This want.

“You gonna make good on that promise, Jack?”

He groans, watching me. “Yes, fuck yes. Leave the panties on. I want to take them off.”

My lower body clenches at his words. “Take your shorts off, Jack.”

He palms his cock. “You do it.” He pauses. “But no sucking me off. This is about you.”

“Hmm,” I say, stepping into him, sighing when my nipples press against his skin. I shove down his shorts, using my toes to push the fabric down. His arousal is hard and long, thick with veins that throb as I brush my fingers over his mushroom-shaped head.

He shudders and wraps his hands around me, our skin finally pressed together. “God. Elena . . .”

“No one’s ever said my name like you do.”

He pauses and cups my face. “Good.”

I smile at how breathless he is, the stillness of him, that hint of anxiousness on his face, as if he’s afraid I might disappear.

He stares down at me, an unsure look on his face.

“I’m not disappearing.”

His eyes close briefly. “I’d die if you leave.”

He kisses me, his fingers brushing at my nipples, then his mouth following, his tongue flicking across my breasts, sucking. Pushing them together, he massages me, his tongue and teeth wreaking havoc.

“Are you wet for me, Elena?” he says in my ear.

“Since the moment you walked in the bakery. What are you going to do about it? Maybe you should tell me all about it.”

He huffs out a laugh and slides his hand inside my panties, his thumb rotating against my nub. I sway on my feet, arching into his fingers as one slips inside me before coming back out.

Another deep kiss. More groans from him as he maps out my body.

“You’re being mean, and you’re not talking dirty,” I gasp after a few moments.

“Saving up for something good.” Another finger goes inside me, rotating and tantalizing my sweet spot.

I grasp his length, dancing over the wetness from his tip, stroking it down and back up.

He hisses and shoves my underwear down. “Do you have any clue how many times I’ve pictured you here with me?”

“How many?” I suck on his neck hard, wanting to leave my imprint on him so that when this is over, he’ll see my mark and want me all over again.

“A hundred at least. You spread out, me behind you . . . shit . . . you in my lap . . . you on the floor . . . you against the wall. You won’t get out of my head.”

He turns me to the back of the couch, placing my hands on the edge of the high back, and my body knows what to do, bending over, ready for him.

I gasp when his hands run down the curves of my back, his lips brushing over my shoulder blades, skimming down my spine, his mouth biting my ass.

I look over at the window at our reflection, and he’s on his knees behind me, hands palming me as he spreads me apart and licks down my body. His fingers seesaw inside me, stroking me, teasing me as I wiggle to get him back to that bundle of nerves.

“Jack,” I cry out as he flicks his tongue against my core, still not where I want him, his fingers and mouth dancing over me, spreading me and drifting over every inch, even those secret places no man has ever tread. My legs scissor, arching into him, moving closer, desire making me dizzy as I clutch the back of the couch.

“I like you like this,” he murmurs. “Weak. I don’t want you to come until I’m inside you.”

“Jack,” I grind out, pushing my body back against him. “I need . . .”

“Shhh, just a minute.” He stands and grips my hip with one hand, the other on his hard length as he slides his swollen cock along my cleft, teasing me, not quite entering me. Over and over, he grinds against me. “Baby, I want to fuck you without a condom so bad. Never done that in my life. Not once.” He reaches around and barely touches my clit, just a soft flick. Heat flashes over me, that spiral of need tightening. “Can I, Elena? Please . . .” His cock teases my entrance, then disappears, making me shudder.

He’s begging me, and I can’t breathe. And it’s him, all him, driving me insane. He’s never done this without protection. I don’t have time to ponder it, but it feels like an important moment. My words are ragged. “On pill. Recent gyn. Clean—”

He doesn’t wait for me to finish and slides inside me all the way to the hilt and holds still for two seconds before letting out a primal growl, pulling all the way out and then back, his thrusts slow and deep, swiveling his hips when he reaches the end, grinding against my ass. “Fuck,” he says. “Your pussy is so tight. So wet, baby, so wet.”

I mumble nonsense, lost in this feeling, his silky hard length thrusting inside me. I lay my head on the couch, keeping my eyes on the reflection of us in the glass, the need on his face, the concentration as he looks down at us joined together.

I lose myself in watching us, my body pliant and soft against his hard one. It’s beautiful, the way he wants me. And the beauty of it is that it’s not just about the sex between us; it’s about him, his awkwardness, how he gets me, how he carried me in the rain. Emotion tugs at my heart; it’s more than sex for me, and maybe I knew it from that first time with him on his knees in the kitchen, which is crazy and insane, but there it is. This, this, this is worth any anguish later. It is. What if I never meet anyone like him again? What if I never feel this feeling again in my lifetime? I’ll take it. I’ll take it a million times to have him. A zillion.

His fingers circle my clit, in tune to his thrusts, his breathing ragged. “Elena, harder?” There’s a plea in his voice.