The thought drops into my chest like a stone hitting deep water, heavy and final. Tonight, I’ll be reckless. I can deal with the fallout when the sun comes up.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I lean in and close the space between us. My lips find his, the decision sealing itself in the heat of the contact.

His sharp inhale hits me harder than the kiss itself. A rush of power streaks through me, knowing I am the one causing his reaction.

He wants me. Not just any woman. Me.

It makes my knees weak, and my pulse climbs.

He recovers quickly, deepening the kiss, his mouth moving against mine with a hunger that leaves my thoughts scattered. He grips my waist and lifts me upward until I’m lifted onto my toes and pressed against him, gasping.

He towers over me, his enormous hands splaying from hip bone to ribs, and heat sinks into me from every point of contact until it feels like my bones are warming from the inside out. My skin tingles, hypersensitive under his touch, like every nerve is reaching for him.

He pulls back, and I follow him, lost in a daze. I take in his sharp jaw and clean angles that make him look carved from something stronger than stone.

His lips curl at my reaction, pupils blown wide, and for a second, I think he’ll kiss me again.

Instead, his hand swallows mine, warm and firm as he turns, tugging me after him like there is no question I’ll follow. His broad shoulders block my vision as his long, sure strides eat the space ahead of us. I have to take two steps for every one of his, my pulse keeping pace.

My toe catches on the carpet, and I stumble, bracing to connect with the floor. He catches me easily, a steadying grip on my waist, before continuing, but his pace slows without a word. The small adjustment does something strange to my chest, a twist of heat and relief all tangled together. He’s still leading me, but he’s paying attention to me too.

I keep moving with him, my fingers curling around his. They help me anchor myself to the moment. Anxious excitement surges in my veins, bright and dizzying. I have never done anything like this before. I have always been the girl who follows the rules, who thinks before she acts, who bends herself to fit what other people want.

Somehow, this stranger makes me want to be selfish. To take what I want and not apologize for it.

The knowledge that I am doing this, choosing this, makes my breath come faster. My heartbeat thuds in my ears. Every step with him is a step away from the person I was earlier tonight and a step closer to someone I’ve never allowed myself to be.

His movements are almost cold, yet there is a subtle, comforting warmth in the way his thumb brushes my hand. I barely register our surroundings as we leave the bar and enter the hotel, only snapping out of it when the elevator dings.

The second the doors close, he turns on me, hands pressed into the paneling on either side of my head. The tendons running along his neck are pulled taut, and a muscle ticks in his jaw with the effort to hold himself back. This is a man who can take whatever he wants, who knows he could kiss me into oblivion, and there’s no way I’d stop him. Still, his eyes scan mine, waiting.

He makes me feel powerful in a way I never have, and a thrill runs along my spine as I sink into it. At least for tonight, this man is mine.

I clutch his shirt, the fine fabric filling my palms as I drag him closer. It’s all the invitation he needs.

My back hits the wall as his mouth finds mine like he’s been starving for it. His hands are everywhere. Big, warm, sure. Sliding over my hips, up my sides, into my hair, the elastic long gone. I’m gasping between kisses, heat pooling low and sharp, my body already leaning into his, searching. Bradley has never made me feel anything like this.

At the thought of him, some part of me whispers that I should feel ashamed. That I’m moving too fast. That I don’t even know this man, but I can’t care. Not with the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman in the world. Not with the way his fingers tremble just a little when they run down my side, like even he can’t hold back.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open directly into a penthouse suite. My mouth drops open as I take it all in. The space is huge, sleek lines and rich textures, like something out of a movie, all polished marble and soft lighting. It even smells expensive.

For a second, my brain tries to catch up, tries to remind me where I am, who I’m with, what I’m about to do. The thought barely forms before he’s on me again, his mouth crushing mine while he lifts me, my skirt bunching around my hips when I wrap my legs around his waist.

The desperate need for pressure has me rolling my hips. The hard length of his cock hitting my clit draws out a loud moan. He stiffens, his hold tightening, so I do it again.

His growl rumbles through me, the only warning I have before his control snaps, and his grip on my ass is almost painful as he takes over the movement, dragging me over him again and again. All I can do is hold on, feeling the tremor run through him when I grip his hair hard enough to hurt.

His teeth graze my jaw, a gentle warning nip. “If you keep that up, I won’t be able to hold myself back, and I have so many things I want to do with you.”

As much as I want to lose myself in the way his cock is rubbing me in all the right places, I want what he promised even more.

I force myself to relax, going limp in his arms, trusting him to take my weight, and look at him through my lashes, waiting, eager.

His growl is primal as it rumbles through my chest. His mouth never leaves mine as he maneuvers us through the hotel room. In the back of my brain, I process just how long it takes us, noticing the size of the suite, but the thought is cut off as I’m tossed onto the bed, his weight following closely until I sink into the mattress.

I buck up into him, but he bites my lower lip just shy of being painful and shakes his head. His expression tells me if I want what he promised, I have to behave. So I fight against the need coursing through me, begging me to keep moving, and clutch the bedding on each side to hold myself in place.

I’m rewarded as his hands slide up my thighs, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. He leans back, eyes darkening, and that’s when I notice our position. I’m fully spread for him, my calves on either side of his quads as he kneels, leaving me completely exposed. Embarrassment floods through me, and I reach down to cover myself, but he catches my wrist before I can, pinning it to the bed.

Confusion clouds his eyes as he tries to read me before understanding sets in. His gaze doesn’t leave mine as his free hand catches the corner of my panties and snaps it with ease. I squirm as he peels the damp fabric off. Mortification sets in as I can feel how wet it is.

“Whoever made you embarrassed about your perfect pussy is a dead man.”

He runs his thumb through my slit, lifting it to his mouth and sucking the wetness off with a low hum in the back of his throat. “Don’t hide from me.”

I’m completely bare in front of him, my skirt all the way up to my waist, but this time, the way he’s looking at me like he’s starving creates a warmth stirring inside me.

He unbuttons his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders, and my breath catches in my throat. The audacity of this man to look that good. Large, firm pecs, lines cut deep between abs, leading down toward the trail of hair that disappears beneath his pants. My nails dig painfully into my palms as I stop myself from reaching out.

He grasps my wrist, pressing my hand into his firm stomach and dragging it down along his hot skin.

“I told you to take what you want.” His voice is a low rumble edged with command.

It’s all I needed to hear. I lift both hands to him, running along the hills and valleys of his muscles, over the smooth, burning skin pulled taut. I swallow hard, practically drooling, as I explore every inch of him. His look should be smug, but it’s more than that. Anyone else would be cocky at the way I’m reacting, but he’s watching me, tongue running along his bottom lip, enjoying every second.

His fingers hook into the hem of my shirt, and it’s gone in a single, fluid motion before hitting the floor. My bra’s next, the sudden cool air a sharp contrast to the heat rolling off him.

His mouth claims me without hesitation. Lips close over one nipple, sucking deep, drawing it against his tongue until I gasp. His hand is already on my other breast, kneading it and exploring like he’s testing the fit of me in his palm.

Then he switches. The one he was sucking is now cupped and squeezed, the other caught between his lips. He alternates without mercy, licking slow, sucking hard, and every so often grazing me with his teeth.

A helpless sound slips from me before I can swallow it down.

He’s barely touched me, and my whole body is already shaking. My thighs tremble where they press against him, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts. Every pull of his mouth makes my stomach tighten and my toes curl.

He told me he was good at this. I’d believed him in a vague, cocky-man kind of way, but nothing could have prepared me for how good this feels.

It’s overwhelming, the way he seems to know exactly what I need before I do. I don’t know if I can handle all of it, but I don’t want him to stop. My hands fist in the bedding, needing something to hold on to while he unravels me.

His mouth leaves my breasts, trailing heat down the center of my body. I feel his hands slide lower, firm and possessive on my hips.

Panic flares sharply in my chest. Heat rushes to my face, and I press my knees together on instinct, but his hands are already holding me open.

“You don’t have to do that.” I do my best to shove him back.

He doesn’t move away. Instead, he drags his nose along my slit, slow and deliberate, brushing over me like he’s savoring the contact. I hear the faint, unmistakable sound of him inhaling again, and my cheeks burn hotter.

“There is nothing I want to do more right now,” he says, and the rough certainty in his voice sends a pulse of heat through me that I can’t ignore.

“I haven’t showered,” I say, the words rushing out before I can stop them. It’s ridiculous, given everything he’s already done, but the thought still claws at me.

My protest doesn’t even slow him down. His mouth is on me a second later, warm and wet, the first slow stroke of his tongue pulling a gasp from my chest.

I squeeze my eyes tight, voice shaky and small as I admit, “I… I can’t come like that.”

The confession burns in my throat, but I force it out anyway, pushing back the memories of Bradley’s disappointment in me. He hated that I couldn’t come, said I was somehow defective. That normal women come instantly from it.

I ended up just faking it, moaning to make it sound real.

But I don’t want to do that tonight. I never want to have to pretend again. So I push him back. “I’ve…I’ve never come from that.”

His eyes darken, a slow, dangerous shift that makes my stomach clench. “You have no idea what you’re fucking doing to me.”

His grin turns feral as his fingers dig into my ass, lifting and tilting me until I’m exactly where he wants me. The change in position forces a sharp exhale from my lungs, my pulse kicking harder.

“Xander,” he says, his voice low and rough.

“What?” I rasp, caught in the heat of his stare.

“So you know what name to call when you’re coming all over my tongue.”

The words slam into me, raw and certain, leaving no space for doubt. My pulse hammers in my ears. Every nerve feels like it’s lit from within, straining for his next move.

Bradley always treated this like a chore, a box to check before getting to what he wanted.

Xander is nothing like that.

Every time his tongue slides over me, he lingers just long enough to make my thighs shake, his lips sealing around me like he’s trying to draw every drop of me into his mouth. A low, satisfied hum in his throat vibrates through me as his grip on my hips tightens. He’s not rushing. He’s here, devouring me like it’s his reward, like he’s getting drunk on the taste of me.

Each lick drags over me with deliberate care, his mouth creating a steady rhythm that coils heat tighter and tighter inside me. His groan deepens against my skin. He’s enjoying this. The taste. The control. The way I can’t stop moving for him.

When his eyes lift to mine, hooded, glazed over with lust, my chest tightens.

“You taste so fucking good,” he says, his voice low enough that I feel it more than I hear it.

The praise makes my toes curl, and any remaining embarrassment vanishes.

His tongue changes pace, the strokes coming quicker now, each one hitting the spot that makes my breath hitch. My hands find his hair without thinking, fingers tightening when he presses his mouth harder against me. The pull of his tongue and the slow suck of his lips send heat racing through me in quick, dizzying waves.

I can feel my control slipping, my body moving on its own, rocking up into him like I can’t get close enough. He doesn’t stop me. If anything, his grip on my hips urges me to give him more.

Every sound he makes feeds the fire inside me. The wet slide of his tongue. The deep, rough groan when my thighs clamp around his head. The quiet curse he groans into me like he can’t help himself.

It’s too much and not enough, all at once. My head tips back, a gasp tearing from my throat as another rush of heat coils tight and sharp in my belly. I’m close, closer than I’ve ever been like this, and I can’t decide if I want to hold on or let it take me under.

His mouth stays on me, tongue working in slow, deliberate strokes, when his hand slides between my thighs. The first brush of his fingertips has my hips twitching, my body greedy for more before I can think.

He presses two inside me, the stretch making my breath catch, and starts a steady rhythm that has my pulse pounding in my ears. His mouth never leaves me, his tongue circling in time with every thrust of his fingers. Then he curls them, finding a spot so deep and perfect my vision goes white at the edges.

A sound tears from my throat, half gasp, half cry, as he keeps hitting it again and again. The pressure builds fast, sharp and consuming, like I’m climbing without a way back down. My hands tangle in his hair, holding on as if that can anchor me.

“Right there,” I gasp, my voice breaking.

He groans into me, the vibration tightening everything inside me until I can’t hold back. The climax hits hard, a rush of heat and pleasure that has my body clenching. My hips jerk helplessly, chasing every last wave as he keeps moving, guiding me through it.

When I finally collapse into the mattress, shaking and breathless, he pulls back just enough to look up at me. His mouth is wet, his fingers glistening. His eyes are dark with something that makes my stomach clench all over again.

“You’re going to give me that again,” he says, voice low and certain, “and you’re going to beg for it.”

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