I can’t get the word yes out through the shudder of my orgasm and so I end up nodding. I must look ridiculous but I can’t do it less enthusiastically than I am. Mateo takes me from the wall, takes me to my bed, and strips off my clothes while I stand at the side.

Then he bends me over it and unzips his pants.

I’m panting with need for him. Actually panting. It’s not like me. It could be what I’m like if Mateo was always here, but we can’t get into that.

This is about sex. Not about tomorrow or the next day. Not about forever.

He pushes into me. Firm. Unyielding.

I understand, in a distant sort of way, that he’s being as patient as he can. He’s taking as much as he can for himself without hurting me. Much, anyway. There’s still an element of pain. There’s still an element of stretch.

It’s hot.

I’d forgotten how good it could be. I’d forgotten how breathtaking and filthy it could feel to give my body to another person. I’d forgotten that a man could move this way. It’s rough, but it’s not violent. And I’m so wet for him. I wanted him. I wanted this.

Mateo’s body comes down over mine, holding me at different points. Pinning me, like he said he would. But I can still breathe. It’s not a fight to the death the way it was with Rhys. It’s not a fight for anything. He’s taking, and I’m getting.

“You feel so goddamn good,” he says, and it shocks me that he could sound breathless and surprised. “You’re going to make me come. Hold on tight. Can’t stop.”

He can’t stop. The force of his body increases until I really do have to hold on for dear life. Until he’s coming so hard he’s speechless except for a few words. Yes and Emily and so good.

It’s the closest we’ve ever been. It’s the most I’ve ever seen him lose control. He pulls out of me and picks me up, taking us both to the bed. Mateo’s breathing hard. I’m breathing harder. He leans down to kiss my collarbone. “Damn it, Emily. I love you.”

It’s like ice injected directly into my muscles. Retreat, that alarm in my head says. Get away. Get away. Get away. Love leads to things like a bad marriage.

Like broken promises. Like black eyes. No. I can’t. No.

Mateo reaches for me, and I flinch. It’s an instinctive reaction. I’m an animal cowering in that moment. My heart pounds. Fear doesn’t let me distinguish between good men and bad men. There are only men, and their power over me.

Concern flashes into his eyes. Regret. “Emily—”