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  It is, and that’s why it’s awesome.

  Once I’m in position, I look over my shoulder. Blake is standing at the foot of the bed, boxers discarded, staring me down as he leisurely strokes himself. The vision is almost too much to bear as the sharp stab of craving Blake Roman pierces my core and jars my spine. This man might kill me.

  “Your pussy is glistening, Kat,” he muses. “It’s perfection in every way.”

  His words ignite my need, devious and beautiful.

  “I want you to drop to your elbows and spread your knees wide.”

  I settle in, dropping my head in the space between my arms. I can see the splay of my legs, my piercing pressing outward against my engorged clit, Blake’s smooth movement toward me.

  “I want you to hold this position, doll. Okay?”

  I nod as he lays on his back, positioning his face directly under my pussy, his hands curling around my thighs, holding them tightly in place.

  “I want to hear you, Katya.” His breath against my sensitive flesh is too much, making me squirm in his hold. “You can scream. You can fuck my tongue. I want you to come all over my face, but don’t change this position.”

  “Yes, Blake…please.”

  The first heavy swipe of Blake’s tongue across my electrified skin sends blinding shockwaves through my body, making me scream into the mattress. The provocative act of eating my pussy is an art form, a task Mr. Roman has perfected. The sensation of his teeth pulling at the jeweled ends of my piercing and his tongue fucking my aching core forces my hips to buck, riding his mouth into an orgasm that numbs my legs and shakes my soul.

  He cleans my sensitive flesh with gentle laps, consuming the remnants of my orgasm before sitting up. I collapse on the bed, drugged from his dangerous mouth. Blake hovers over me, laying kisses up my spine and across my shoulders. His large hands massage my hips and make their way up my back.

  “Are you okay?” he asks, the gentleness of his voice catching me off guard. It reminds me of our first time in the hotel room.

  “Yes,” I mummer, loving the attention of his strong hands. I missed his gentle touches, too.

  “Good. That was so fucking hot, doll.” His praise makes me smile. He’s right, that was hot as hell, but I don’t have the strength to agree. “On your back,” he coaches, guiding me to my side. The instinct to roll over and splay my legs for him feels natural. Welcoming Blake into my body is an easy decision. I’ve missed him too much to deny myself access to him now.

  “Kat, you are just,” he sighs, “amazing.” He looks over my body, his fingers brushing my tight nipples, a wide smile taking over his face when my back bows against his touch. I take the liberty of his proximity, sliding my hands across his belly, my palm skating along the thick line of his erection. Blake inhales, his eyes rolling shut. “It’s been too long, Kat.”

  He presses a quick kiss to my forehead and rolls off the bed. From his overnight bag, he pulls a line of condoms, removes one, and sheaths himself.

  I want to sass him about being overly ambitious given the number of condoms. The silly, snarky remarks that hover on the tip of my tongue are swallowed down as Blake mounts the bed and aligns our bodies. He presses into me, our guttural cries of satisfaction filling the room. Blake seats himself deep inside, holding his position. He leans back to look at the place where our bodies connect. “So perfect,” he says, pushing deeper into me, the pressure of his entry registering in my throat. The wispy cries of my pleasure are caught by his powerful kisses.

  “Did you think about us?” he asks, the slow slide of his body moving in and out of mine stealing my breath.

  “Yes.” The word rushes forward, flooded by the memories of him.

  “I loved that skirt,” he grinds the words, pumping into me with measured, powerful strokes. “You knew you were going to tease me, didn’t you. Tell me you wanted my cock.”

  Dirty talk is something I’ve always loved. When shared between lovers, those seductive words can bind two people and allow an expression that might not be allowed in the clean outside world. “Yes, stud, I wanted your big cock.” Blake artfully nibbling at my neck makes me giggle. “I was so distracted, I forgot my panties.”

  His eyes roll back, groaning as he shuttles in and out of me. “Tell me, did you miss my dick? Did you touch yourself and think about me?”

  “Yes.” The truth tumbling out under the building pressure of my body tightening around his rhythmic intrusion.

  “Yes!” he cries, pounding harder. “I think about you all the time, Kat.” His growl is ferocious. “Holy shit… Come with me, doll. I can’t hold out.”

  The abyss of sensation flows over me. Blake gripping my hips, his body a piston of pleasure fighting against the pulsing walls of my sex. He wrings out every ounce of bone-numbing delight from my body and collapses against me, cock still twitching inside my body. I wrap my arms around him; the weight of his body is something I don’t want to forget. Blake nuzzles his face in the space between my breasts. I wonder if he can hear my heart pumping from the exertion of sex and the comfort of having him so close to me.

  He looks at me with sleepy eyes, a dazzling smile on his face. “Give me, like, five minutes,” he says with a gravelly voice. “We’re doing that again.”

  “Okay,” I acquiesce, feeling content for first time in almost a year.

  Chapter 5

  Kat

  Darkness and warmth surround me. The blackout curtains skew my ability to judge time. The cocoon of heat curled around my body prevents me from finding a clock. When my movement rousts him, Blake snuggles me closer, his powerful arms holding me tight.

  His mumbled decree is direct and made without any hesitation. “You aren’t going anywhere.”

  I don’t want to but the facts remain. “I need to go, Blake.”

  He looks at me with sleepy eyes, brilliant blue even in the gray lighting of the room. “Why? I think you’re fine here.”

  “I need to take care of some things.”

  The simple phrase holds so much meaning for me. I need to tell Dane I can’t see him anymore. Even if our dates have been random, I don’t think I have the ability to see anyone until I figure out my feelings. I tried to move past Blake Roman, but I can’t. I admit that I fell into Blake’s vicious seduction yet again. It’s difficult to explain, especially when it feels so natural. I consider myself passionate, loving, fiery, devout in my relationships, but when it comes to men, I falter. Those tendrils of passion creep along the ground and bind themselves to me when I’m in the presence of a gorgeous man and won’t let go.

  I love men. Name it whatever deadly sin you will, but I can’t help myself. The scent of a masculine body. A deep, rugged voice. The tight lines of a well-sculpted abdomen. If you think about it, men can be the epitome of anatomical perfection. Strong hands, deviously seductive mouths, thick muscles framing powerful legs. They are designed to infiltrate our minds and bodies. If we don’t keep a watchful eye on them, they can take over and sweep us into the comfort of their beefy arms and all common sense is obliterated. It happened last night. My most resolute plan was blown out of the water. Blake sunk my battleship with his torpedo…his super-fucking-awesome torpedo.

  Blake rolls to his stomach, sighing into the mattress. “I really want to have breakfast in bed. I have no desire to move.”

  “I can’t imagine why you’d be exhausted, Blake.” Our bodies tangled at least four times last night. It might have been five because I think we passed out from the loss of blood to the brain and then picked back up when we both came to. My own consciousness is a miracle. I can’t guarantee how functional my legs will be once they have to balance my weight. I should be grateful they’re still attached to my body.

  He curls an arm around my hips, pressing up to his knees to shift me under him. “Oh, look,” he eyes the treasure between my thighs he has happily plundered all night, “I think my morning snack just arrived.”

  “Oh no you don’t.” I shimmy out from under him,
his weight falling heavily on the mattress, a muffled, frustrated growl rumbling against the sheets. “I need to go.”

  We shield our eyes from the very painful introduction of light to our world when I flick on the bedside lamp. Once I locate my dress, I begin unfurling the fabric from the messy ball it sat in all night. Blake sits up in bed, his eyes looking over the room, thankfully, not at me. For a moment, I think I can walk out of the room and save us the awkward conversation, but he has other plans.

  “So,” he runs a rough hand through his dark hair before leaning back against the headboard, his gorgeous abs on full display, “let me guess. You are going to run out of here and we’re going to be right back where we were. Me calling you. You sending the call to voice mail.”

  I didn’t send all of them to voice mail, some of them I genuinely missed. Others I just looked at his name and contemplated what taking the call would mean until the opportunity fell silent. In my wrinkled dress, I look for my shoes and try to come up with something to say.

  “Blake…”

  “What is your issue?” he demands. “You can’t tell me that last night wasn’t explosive. Kat, people can only hope for that kind of heat.”

  “So what, Blake? We’re just supposed to be stellar fuck buddies?”

  “No,” he counters without hesitation, “we could be stellar fuck buddies that have conversations before and after. We could eat food and go places together. You know, like, two people getting to know each other.”

  “Blake,” I hedge, my fears about this conversation coming to a head. I can’t look at him, the anxiety of this discussion making me antsy. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “Say that you’ll try this,” he pleads. “There is nothing wrong with trying something new.”

  “I-I’m nervous.”

  “About what?”

  “You.”

  “What about me?” He holds his hands up. “This is me, doll.”

  “Were you really a stripper?” I don’t know why it’s an important question right now but I need to know.

  “I was. In college and for a little while after.” He smirks, his eyes narrowing with devious intent. “Who told you that? Ax? That fucker dressed up as Gaga last year for Halloween. Ask him to show you his poker face next time you see him.”

  “Really?” Juicy gossip about Ax is a fun little nugget to have.

  “Yeah, he lost a bet.”

  I ponder what Ax might have looked like in a crazy wig before getting back to business. “Look, last night was great—”

  “Just great?” he asks, brow quirked.

  I roll my eyes at his overt need for praise. “It was amazing, Blake, but I’m trying to make some changes in my life.”

  “And that doesn’t involve men?”

  “Yes…well, no.” I run my hands through my hair, now down and soft around my shoulders. “When did I take my hair out?”

  “You were passed out and I took your hair down,” he issues unapologetically. “If you would have slept on those pins, your head would be killing you.”

  For a moment, I just stare at him. My reasons for trying to avoid Blake are slipping away. Last night was fun and he is so sexy. He took the time to take a million bobby pins out of my hair so I wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Well…

  “The sex scares me,” I blurt out.

  “You didn’t seem scared last night, or this morning.”

  “You know what I mean.” I’m embarrassed to say the words, but they need to be free. “The BDSM stuff freaks me out a little.”

  He sighs, leaning against the headboard, his knee bent, tenting the thin sheet hiding his glorious body. “Can we at least have a conversation about it? Don’t shut me out before we have a chance to talk and get to know each other. We are good together, Kat, and not just in the sack. We’ve talked and laughed and even when things were really shitty we were able to find some pieces that didn’t suck.” He snorts before leveling a stare that makes me believe he won’t leave this conversation without a fight. “Don’t make me beg. I’m persistent and I can be a total asshole.”

  “You don’t say,” I muse. My goal to try a new way of life, one that involves less risk and more stability fades. In its place shimmers the want for the sexy slab of man consuming the bed, his olive skin creating a beautiful contrast to the bright white sheets. “You don’t tie me up, you don’t hit me, and you keep your dick to yourself unless it’s with me. I’m trying to get away from bad boys but you clearly won’t take no for an answer.” And I think I like you more than I can admit.

  My demands flip a switch, his blue eyes widen, inflamed with irritation and offense. “I would never abuse you or our relationship, Kat. You are sorely misled with whatever ideas you have concocted in your head.”

  I falter for a minute, my mouth going dry at the knowledge that Blake is mad at me, my heart crumbling because I made him feel that way. As if he was something other than what he appeared. Why can’t I stop offending everyone on a regular basis? It was bad enough to be an ass with his friends. With him, my ignorance is downright shameful.

  “And, for the record,” he snarls, “bad boys, as you’ve apparently categorized me, are not always jerks.”

  “I don’t think you’re a jerk, Blake.” My soft tone conveys my embarrassment.

  “But you don’t think I’m a good guy?” he asks, obviously bothered by my assumptions.

  “I didn’t say that.” My fingers twist around each other, his agitation sparking my anxiety. I just need two minutes away from him to clear my head and think.

  “So, you just think I’m not good for you?” he questions.

  “I didn’t say that, either.”

  Frustrated with me, Blake looks around the room, examining the furniture with more intensity than a chair deserves. “Can we spend time together, Kat? Maybe once I get to know you, the fascination with you will die.”

  You reverse psychology motherfucker.

  I step forward and fall directly into his trap. “Here’s the deal, Blake. I’m smart, independent, have a rockin’ job, and I own my own condo. Your fascination with me will never die because I’m the package deal, stud. You’d be lucky to have me.”

  “You seem quite confident for someone who’s taken extreme efforts to avoid showing me how fantastic she is.” His smirk sets me off, reaching for a throw pillow and launching it at his head.

  How can I want to simultaneously choke and kiss this man to death?

  “I have my reasons, Blake.”

  “Until you’ve explained those reasons to me, I don’t see how you are doing anything but tucking your tail between your legs and running. I think you might be losing your balls-to-the-wall edge, Kat.”

  His words hit too close to home, fanning the glowing embers of hurt and pain. Fight fire with fire…

  “Well, then you can go fuck yourself…” The harsh words fall from my lips without any firm intention. They seem too vicious to levy at Blake.

  I’m scared. I’m curious. I ache for him.

  “Please don’t make me fuck myself, Kat.” He issues a light laugh. “I’d so much rather fuck you.”

  “You had me, like, a million times!” I yell, frustrated and yet grateful for my own laughter.

  “I don’t know that it will ever be enough, do you?” He gives me that look, the one where words could never capture the feeling. It’s the sense of connectedness, rightness that infuses the moments when we’re together.

  “No.” The admission is a whisper I hope he doesn’t hear.

  “Come here, doll. I want to spend some time with you before you scamper out of here.”

  Drawn to him, moth to flame, I climb onto the bed and settle into his arms.

  “Please, Kat,” he says, gentle fingers moving strands of my hair away from my face. “Just give us a chance.”

  Before I can respond, his lips capture mine. Our tongues tangle and rob my ability to fight the advances I have fantasized about for months.

  Chapter 6


  Blake

  I love making grown men cry.

  “Baron, how’s that treating you?”

  “You’re a bastard,” he chokes through the painful sting of freshly cut onion. “You’re lucky you’re a good cook. I wouldn’t put up with this shit from just anyone.”

  I grin; the satisfaction of making that tank of a man weep like a baby rolls through me. “You’ll thank me when I’m done. I make the best chili in this place.”

  “You might make killer chili but I didn’t sign up to be your kitchen bitch.”

  “Baron,” Gwen huffs from her perch on the station’s kitchen counter, “you’ve been his kitchen bitch from the instant you knew he made mile-high nachos with guac from scratch. I’m surprised you haven’t proposed yet.”

  Her dig is enough to shut Baron up temporarily. You can never get him to stay quiet for an extended amount of time. I turn back to the browning meat and onions. The aroma of the cast-iron skillet mingling with the savory spices flavoring the beef fill the social room of the firehouse. It’s a warm comfort on a cool Boston day.

  Another warm comfort I have the pleasure of enjoying? Kat’s body. The thought of her lean legs tangled with mine brings a smile to my face. It’s pure satisfaction.

  She fights so hard, calculates her moves so well. The way Kat tried to resist my advances was comical and endearing. I understand her fear and hesitation, but forcing her off her game was the only way to make this work. She might get what she wants, but so do I.

  I wanted Kat. Now I have her.

  “Hey,” Gwen lobs an unused jalapeño pepper at my head, “what are you grinning about?” A brief pause fills the room before her eyes flash with giddy excitement. “Or should I say who are you grinning about?”

  “A babe from the bash?” Baron’s gruff voice questions, now dried out from his earlier waterworks.

  “Who is she?” Gwen chirps before she grabs a bag of popcorn from the counter beside her and settles in for story time. “You had a good time, I presume?”

  “I had a great time,” I reply, keeping the truth at bay. I had a your-team-just-won-the-World-Series time. I loved watching her graceful movements during the wedding. Her forced distance outside the church. The way she fumed when I left her with Dudley. The fascination in her eyes when I danced with Chloe. The fluid movement of her body when it was just the two of us…