Tell me. Show me. She couldn’t have known what those words meant when it came to him. They’d barely scratched the surface, even if the memory of his hand connecting with her flesh alone could bring him to his knees. When he allowed himself to fantasize about Lucy, he imagined her bound to his bed, under his command. He imagined her on her knees, wearing nothing but a chaste pair of white panties, waiting for his instructions.

The image caused an uncomfortable swelling between his legs and Matt couldn’t resist granting his c**k a tight stroke through his uniform pants. It only made matters worse, his thoughts escalating from Lucy on her knees to Lucy asking for permission to suck him off. His flesh disappearing for the first time past her pink lips.

Like this, Matt?

Teeth gritted in agony, he shook his head. Being an adventurous girl, she might be excited by the promise of a new experience, but was most likely just experimenting. Curious about the unknown. But for how long? What if his nature dimmed her free spirit before she’d had enough? He’d never forgive himself. At this point, he’d stopped warning himself off with the reminder of her family name. She was a Mason. Brent’s little sister. If his best friend had an inkling of the thoughts plaguing him day and night, he’d have him in a pair of cement boots, sinking to the bottom of the Hudson. He’d deserve it, too.

Could she have meant it? Could she…accept me, just like this?

Another flashback projected itself in his mind, identical to the ones he’d been having all morning, whenever they’d managed to form a crack in his thoughts of Lucy. His ex-fiancée’s expression of distaste when he finally revealed his needs. Her panicked look when she realized she’d agreed to marry a man with what she referred to as a “sickness.”

Back then, he hadn’t yet explored his urge to dominate in bed. It had been hiding somewhere in the back of his consciousness for as long as he could remember, but when he’d finally gotten the courage to admit what he needed, he’d been shut down cold. After that, he’d tried so hard to keep it under the surface, until he’d finally gotten the nerve to explore it one night, taking it just a little too far with someone who clearly didn’t understand. He’d seen the emotional damage he could cause. The way she’d recoiled from him like he was a monster. That memory had been seared on his brain, only now it was Lucy’s face, looking appalled, repelled, by what he kept tied up inside. Lucy turning to another man for comfort. A man with normal needs.

Matt pounded the steering wheel so hard it shook.

He wouldn’t recover from that outcome. Not his time. Not with Lucy.

If he walked away now, it would be best for her. He knew that. It would ensure he didn’t continue to disrespect his best friend by going behind his back, too. The fact that he’d let it go on this long was inexcusable. If he walked away now, Lucy would meet someone else. A man without a truckload of baggage and an ugly past. One who had the ability to treat her right. Brent would rib the poor guy constantly, but he’d be at peace with Lucy’s choice in a way he would never be okay with Matt. His friend who’d taken advantage of his trust, pursuing his sister well past the point where he’d found out her identity.

Or he could take one more leap of faith. A shot in the dark that Lucy could allow him to explore his needs while he took unqualified care of hers. He could trust Lucy to know her own mind, giving him the chance to return the favor for the times she’d trusted him. He could…show her. Another surge of anticipation tore through him. To be with Lucy, guilt-free, no limits…

The light turned green. Instead of continuing down Second Avenue as his route dictated, Matt flipped a U-turn back toward the Upper East Side, where he knew Lucy and Brent were having lunch at Quincy’s in half an hour.

…

Lucy sat on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art sipping a Diet Coke through a straw and staring into space. Groups of students on field trips diverged around her, cabs honked, hot dog vendors yelled into their cell phones. The multitude of sounds swept along the warm summer breeze, barely registering. She hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind for a job interview but thought it had gone surprisingly well. The young woman who’d interviewed her had been a Syracuse alum and they’d talked for an hour before actually getting down to business. If she was offered the job, she might even have a lunch buddy on day one. Luck seemed to be on her side.

At the very least, the interview had distracted her for an hour, and reminded her of her objective to become employed as soon as possible. Now however, against her admittedly weak will, her thoughts returned to Matt. He hadn’t come to her last night. They’d made no plans to see each other. So why had she lain awake in bed, listening for the door? When it became obvious he wouldn’t come, she’d tossed and turned in the enormous bed, her body feeling hot and achy. Throughout college and grad school, she’d rarely felt the compulsion to touch herself. She’d been exhausted from studying, too focused on other things. Yet last night, she’d found her hand slipping down the front of her panties before she’d made a conscious decision.

Lying facedown, she’d taken off her shirt so her ni**les could rasp along the cool sheets. Her thighs had moved restlessly as she’d massaged herself in quick strokes, her moans muffled by the pillow. It had been taking too long—she’d been growing frustrated with the need for relief, her anger projected at Matt for not showing up. That’s what had finally sent her flying. She’d thought of arguing with him, trying to walk away. Him stopping her. Holding her against the wall, demanding that she stop fighting him…before he’d resorted to touching her. Replacing her anger with reluctant pleasure. It hadn’t been long before she submitted, in the fantasy and in reality. Before her climax had brought his name to her lips, over and over.

In the light of day, even she had to blush thinking about what her imagination had conjured up. His forcefulness in her fantasy had been the element that drove her to the brink. His refusal to relent. Matt’s tastes seemed to be lighting a fire inside her, kindling wants she’d never known existed. She wanted to explore them, badly, but based on their final exchange yesterday and his absence last night, she had no idea where they stood.

He hadn’t seemed comfortable sneaking around behind her brother’s back, so why did he keep pursuing her? Did he desire her so much that he couldn’t help it? A thrill moved through Lucy at the possibility that a man like Matt, usually in such ruthless control of his emotions, couldn’t keep them in check around her. Still, she didn’t like going behind Brent’s back either. She’d been stupid and impulsive the first time, but the longer it went on, the guiltier she would be. In her eyes and Brent’s.

If her brother ever found out. If there was something more than a physical attraction between her and Matt, he would have to be informed at some point. Otherwise, this would be chalked up to a forbidden affair with an end date, never to be acknowledged by anyone save her and Matt. The possibility of that outcome left her feeling more than a little empty.

She thought of her brother, of all he’d done for her. Helping raise her, paying for her college tuition, encouraging her in his own unique way. Her throat tightened with guilt. Next time she and Matt were alone, she would bite the bullet and ask him what he wanted to do. In the meantime, she had a lunch date with Brent at Quincy’s on the East Side, meaning she needed to be across town in half an hour.