“Were you?”

“I’ve told myself it’s not going to happen with you, yes.”

Her heart withered. “Why not?”

“Because you’re you. I can’t explain it any better than that. I think about you all the time, but whenever I do, I feel like a scumbag.”

“What do you think about?”

His sensual lips twisted. “Are you really going to make me answer that?”

“Oh.” She forced her lungs to expand with air. “It’s okay. I…think about you too. A lot. And I always wonder what Michelle would think, which makes me feel guilty, but I can’t stop myself. She’s with someone else now and seems really happy, so I don’t feel so bad anymore.” Another deep breath. “I’ve missed you. I don’t want to go back to missing you so much.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. Then he did what she had been fantasizing about from the moment he’d touched her: he slid his hand farther along her cheek, into her hair. Past her ear. Until his fingers threaded deep and tight into her locks and he palmed the back of her head, bringing her closer until their lips hovered a breath away from each other.

She made a whimpering sound she hated herself for, and his other hand came up to smooth her hair away from her face. Trapped against him like this, she was powerless. Consumed by him. His breath on her lips, his scent filling her nostrils. The warmth of his hands and his lean body against her. But it was the hard column of his erection pressing into her abdomen that left her in ashes.

He wanted her. It was all the evidence she needed, all the encouragement. She transferred all her weight to her tiptoes, the subtle movement all it took to fit her lips against his. Her heart leapt for joy with the simple, soft contact, and she reveled in the silky scratch of his goatee. The brush of his warm, dry lips opening against hers. But it felt too tentative, too cautious. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to-hell-with-the-world passion. She wanted him to feel all the things she was feeling, the delight and the terror. How could she break the dam?

She meant to lift her arms to put them around his neck, but where they went was under his shirt, to the hot, hard flesh beneath. His muscles tensed beneath her touch and, taking that as a good sign, she didn’t retreat but explored further. Tracing the ridges of a six-pack and well-defined pecs. He stiffened and moaned as her fingers passed delicately over the circlets of his nipple rings, and that was all it took.

The hand at the back of her head fisted in her hair and she had the crazy thought that this was a Jekyll and Hyde kiss. Demure and passive one minute. Monstrous the next. His mouth claimed hers in a burning rush, and she bent back beneath the onslaught, buffeted by sensations that had her gasping against him every time she could come up for air. His tongue invaded her mouth and coaxed hers into a sinuous dance behind her teeth.

She pulled her hands away to clutch fistfuls of his T-shirt and wrenched it upward, desperate to finally bare his flesh to her sight. “Take this off,” she pleaded against his mouth. He broke the kiss to peel off his shirt in one fluid motion, tossing it on the couch as she marveled at the TV-lit expanse of skin he revealed. It would take hours to lie down and inspect the detailed markings on his arms. She would love to have that kind of time with him.

Smoothing her hands over his skin, she wondered if he noticed how they trembled. When she dared a glance at his face, his eyes were closed, his head tilted back. The star on his left pectoral was a beacon for her lips, and she leaned forward and brushed it delicately.

His hand clenched again in her hair and the hard line of his jaw rubbed over the top of her head. She flickered her tongue across his skin, savoring his answering groan. The rush of power was heady and intoxicating, and she gasped when he pulled her head back by her hair to brand her lips again with his.

Oh…Jesus. She’d been kissed before, but never like this. There had been the guy who tried to swab her tonsils and the guy who seemed to be trying to draw blood with his teeth and the guy who did it just right, but didn’t make her feel…this. Brian’s taste invaded her mouth, sensuous and dark and everything she had ever imagined. No, it was more. His tongue touched and teased hers until she melted away and leaned her knees into his in an effort to remain standing. The liquid ache between her thighs had drained all strength from the waist down. She needed him to catch her before she fell. She was sliding…

His arms swept down around her waist, strong and solid. “I got you,” he murmured, one hand sweeping down to cup her ass and lift her against him. She took the welcome opportunity to wrap her legs around him, grinding her crotch against his erection. It felt huge. Oh, holy hell.

“Where?” he whispered, still sliding his lips over hers, scrambling her thoughts, and her trembling redoubled.

She managed to nod toward her bedroom door. He carried her through it, and she suddenly, frantically worried that it was a mess in there: bed unmade, clothes flung over chairs, books stacked precariously on her nightstand. At least it was dark, the only light filtering in from the living room. Why in the hell hadn’t she had the foresight to tidy up?

Because she hadn’t expected this. Still, surely it had always been somewhat within the realm of possibility. Here he was now, about to make love to her.

Her heart twisted up as she realized she was romanticizing this. Brian wasn’t a “make love” kind of guy. Brian was going to f**k her, and then he would be gone. It was evident in the way he flung her down, causing her waterbed to slosh, evident in the almost feral glint the distant light cast in his eyes.

She couldn’t keep her breath steady. It was as erratic as her thundering heart rate. Desperate to match him, she swept her shirt off over her head and reached for him, craving the feel of his bare flesh against hers. He dropped to the bed and went into her arms, pausing only to grab her battered old teddy bear from underneath him and give it a fling across the room. She could imagine him doing the same thing to her heart.

Sliding her arms around his back, she arched against him as his lips trailed down her throat to her breast. She wanted his mouth there, where she felt so hot and heavy, straining against her white cotton bra. Dammit, couldn’t she have at least worn something sexy? Something silky and lacy? She was no freaking good at this. She could’ve taken the damn thing off after her shirt, but she hadn’t had the courage.

Brian hooked one finger under the fabric and tugged it slowly down, her nipple slipping free and immediately into his mouth. A moan ripped itself from her throat at the shocking sensation, warm and wet and drawing contractions from between her legs. His knee slid between hers, and she gripped it tight with her thighs.

“Oh, God,” she whispered shakily as he sucked her, gently tugging her nipple between his teeth. The weight of her breast trapped the fabric of her bra beneath it and he moved his hand, caressing her bare belly with the back of his knuckles. Her muscles pulled so tight they trembled beneath the feather-light brush.

His dark head lifted, and his gaze roamed her face. “Okay?” he asked, and she nodded and tilted her hips toward him, wanting those fingers to go where she needed them, where she’d wanted them ever since she was stretched out on that table under his needle. Down, down…

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip as he unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, resuming those delectable ministrations at her breast until she was ready to shed bra, jeans, panties, wrap herself around him and not let go. The tips of his fingers slid over the silk of her panties, and her legs fell apart, allowing him, needing him, to go wherever he wanted.