I slide my hand down his chest, his stomach, his waist, his hips, until I can caress his erection through the rich denim fabric. I raise my eyebrows suggestively.

He may not know what I want for my life . . .

. . . but he knows what I want right now.

For a moment neither one of us moves as we taste this moment, testing its potential.

And then the gates of our passion are blown wide open with an exhilarating smash.

I tear at his shirt, yanking it off him, and for the second time today I see buttons fly. But the last time it was purely playful. This time it’s more complicated, and more delicious.

His teeth graze my nipples through the fabric of my bra. His hands are rough against my skin as he presses me to him.

He knows my body so well . . . but he doesn’t know me at all.

I bite down on his shoulder, almost breaking the skin. He rolls us over and together we tumble onto the soft area rug, into that narrow space between the coffee table and the sofa. I’m on top now, my skirt bunched around my waist as I pull off his belt, and, tugging off his pants and boxers, I tear away my panties and straddle his waist. My sex is pressed against his stomach and he reaches for me, but I slap away his hands as I take off my bra, exposing myself to him. With one hand I grab his jaw, making sure he doesn’t turn away from me.

“Look at me now, Lander,” I say, my voice hoarse with emotion. “See who I am. Know who I am.”

Again he reaches for me, but this time I don’t stop him. His hand caresses my breast; his fingers pinch my nipple just enough to make me jump. “I know you, Bell.”

Bell. For the first time the sound of that name stings. What the hell had I been worried about before? Lander doesn’t know my identity. He can’t.

I no longer have an identity.

I raise myself up on my knees and then lower myself onto him, feeling the friction of his cock as he fills me. I ride him slowly at first, my hand on his chest, keeping him in his place as I take control.

“This is who I am, Lander,” I say as I increase my pace. “This time it’s you who needs to see me.”

I feel myself getting wetter, feel him growing even harder inside me as I continue to move, rotating my hips to a rhythm that I desperately want him to hear.