She had never understood the tyranny of physical passion before, how the need for another person could drive someone to disregard every sensible instinct they owned, until now.

He was going to hurt her, maybe even badly. The light of real life would be pitiless on them both, and if he made one more attempt to manipulate her, she knew she would take a wrecking ball to every bridge they had managed to build between them.

They probably wouldn’t make it past the second or third date.

Once you accepted the inevitability of impending disaster, things usually got a bit easier. This time they grew crystal clear. Resting her cheek against the zipper of his jeans, she savored the thick bulge of his erection through the material. He couldn’t hide his need for her either.

He bent over her kneeling form, stroking her hair, her jaw, running his hands over the curve of her shoulders. “What do you need?”

“I don’t understand how we got to this place,” she murmured, almost dreamily. “I didn’t even like you when I first met you.”

Laughter shuddered through him. “As I recall, I wasn’t being very likable, but I loved everything about you. I knew you were going to be a colossal inconvenience.”

“You were right. I was, wasn’t I?” She unbuttoned his jeans and drew the zipper down.

“You don’t even know the half of it, but I wouldn’t trade away a minute with you for anything.” Long gentle fingers hooked underneath her chin. He lifted her face until she looked at him. His amber gaze was intent. “You still haven’t told me what you need.”

“I need to take what I want.”

Reaching inside the opening of his pants, she pulled his cock out. She knew his body just as he knew hers. She knew the pattern of veins along the side of his shaft, the velvety, sensitive skin over the hardened muscle, his scent, the way his sac tightened underneath when she cupped him.

He hissed as she stroked and fisted him, spreading his legs apart to brace himself, the muscles of his thighs rigid. She had grown obsessed with him too. The way his skin tasted. The sounds he made when he lost control.

When he wasn’t saying sexy things to her, he liked to make love quietly, in near silence. It made her zero in on every moment, like a series of flash photographs. This. This. This. Until he couldn’t stay silent any longer. God, she loved when that happened.