I’m breathless, wanting him to get going, but he’s looking at my feet, dangling in front of him. He lifts one and inspects it. “These shoes,” he murmurs. “So many fantasies about these fucking shoes.”

“My shoes…you have a shoe fetish?”

His mouth quirks. “I have a Josie Klein fetish. You, wearing nothing but these shoes. Or pressed against a bookcase with my hand up your skirt. In bed with your hair loose. In the shower. Bent over my desk. All the time. Everywhere. I can’t stop thinking about you.” He presses a kiss to my ankle, then the inside of my knee, kissing his way up my thigh, spreading my legs wider and pushing my skirt out of the way as his mouth moves up up up until he’s right there, heat and softness pressing through the thin fabric of my panties.

“Ryan,” I gasp. I’m acutely aware of the front window twenty yards behind me. My back is to it, and I hope to god Ryan isn’t visible, because I’m physically incapable of stopping this.

“Tell me.” The words are a vibration. “Tell me what you want.”

“This.” My hands grip his hair as I move his mouth where I want it. I’m so wet it would be embarrassing—except it’s obvious that he wants me just as badly. His fingers are digging into my thighs, sliding up to squeeze my ass. “More. Harder. Yes.”

I hold his head and grind against him and he’s right there with me, allowing me to ride his face with wanton abandon. My vision goes hazy, and for a second I think I might actually die of pleasure, and wouldn’t that be a terrible shame when I still have my panties on?

I reach for my underwear, tugging it down, and again he’s right there, hungry and hot, tongue sliding and lips sucking, pulling me closer with one hand so he can slip two fingers inside me with the other. A sharp, sweet ache spreads through my body. My eyes roll back in my head and my legs tremble and I let out a sound I’ve never heard from my mouth, wild and unrestrained.

RJ was right: all the sex I’ve had has been mediocre. There really are men who love to do this, men who can’t get enough.

“I guess it’s not a myth,” I say, gasping.

Ryan freezes. “What?”

I shake my head, pulling him closer. “Nothing, sorry…”

But he rocks back on his heels. I look down at him, catching my breath. His hands are gripping my hips, and he’s gazing up at me with desperate eyes.

“I can’t do this,” he says. His lips are shiny, wet from me. “Not now. Not like this.”