Snatching it out of the drawer, she stormed into the bathroom just as he stepped out of the shower.

“Brick Callan! What’s this?” she demanded, waving the thong at him.

He took his time cinching a white towel around his waist. Droplets of water on his chest caught the light, temporarily dazzling her.

“It looks like a pair of underwear,” he drawled.

She wasn’t fooled. “These are mine! I thought I lost them!”

His hand darted out, almost fast enough to snatch them from her, but she was faster and clutched the prize to her chest. She spun around to run back into the bedroom, but he caught her and deftly wrestled the thong out of her grip.

“I took them the night you were hiding from me in the shower,” he said, walking her forward to the bed with both arms banded around her. He used his weight to bend her toward the mattress.

Her blood was electrified by his damp skin against hers. “You just got busted and you’re not giving them back?”

“They’re mine now.” He tugged her sweater off and bit her shoulder gently. She hissed out a breath. “I thought they were the only piece of you I’d ever get to keep.”

Her knees trembled from the weight of his words as he slid her pants down her legs. “Last night you got more than a pair of underwear.”

He nuzzled against her neck. “I want as many pieces of you as I can get.”

Her stupid heart was about to burst. But she couldn’t let it. It was dangerous enough that she’d opened her legs to the man. Handing him the keys to the heart he’d already broken was a terrible idea.

There was only one thing to do. One weapon she could deploy to protect herself.

“Stand up.”

He stilled against her. “Are you okay?”

She pushed him back and turned to face him. He looked concerned, but that spectacular cock was already reacting to the chemical changes happening inside her. His nostrils flared, a primitive part of him sensing both danger and pleasure.

She sank all the way down to the floor in front of him. The foot of the bed was at her back, a hard, desperate man at her front. “Baby.” There was so much tied up in that one word. Hope, brittle need, intoxicating desire.

“Lose the towel,” she whispered.

His eyes glittered, but he complied, reaching one big hand down to release his erection. She was lightheaded with want. With need. With the desire to give him another piece, another memory of her.

She watched in fascination as he fisted his shaft and gave it a long, rough stroke inches from her mouth.

He reached down and, with one swift yank, bared her breasts above the neckline of her tank top.

She cupped his balls in her hand and squeezed. He hissed in a breath through clenched teeth.

“Now, take my panties out,” she instructed.

He hesitated until she gave another harder squeeze. “I’m keeping them,” he reminded her. His tone left no room for argument.