God, the man can kiss.

He’s kissing me like it’s the only thing he needs—like I’m all he needs. There’s no aphrodisiac like it. He presses into my hip and the feeling of how much I turn him on does all kinds of crazy things to me. I slide my hands up his arms and wind them around his neck. He makes a deep sound of pleasure into my mouth. It ripples through me, hardening my already erect nipples and teasing my clit like a featherlight touch of his fingers.

His hands leave my hair and slide down my back, grabbing my ass through my pencil skirt. His mouth leaves mine, and the sensation leaves me panting, and then he kisses down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin and making me shiver. “I want you so bad,” he rasps against my skin.

I’m sure I mumble something incoherent back. All rational thought has left my mind and I’m a mess of hormones. But more than that—I’m his completely. In this moment, he can do whatever he wishes to me.

His fingers find the hem of my skirt and pull it up, over my hips. Then his hands are back on my ass and he’s lifting me, then placing me down on the table.

He stares down into my eyes as his large hands cup my face. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you, Mel. You make me crazy—seriously, it’s unbelievable how it feels so good and so right when I’m with you. I can’t even sleep because I’m always thinking about you.”

“I…” I swallow. “I feel the same—and…I want you. I want you, too.” As I speak, I’m pretty sure my face is the color of a tomato because for some reason, I can barely get the words out. I might be falling for him.

His lips break into a smile that could dissolve the panties I’m wearing and his eyes darken with lust. Then his mouth crashes back down on mine, kissing me, taking greedy pulls on my tongue as he sucks it into his mouth.

Jesus, that feels good—amazing. He feels amazing. And I need more of him. All of him. Reaching my hands down, I fumble for the button on his jeans. I pop it, then slide the zipper down and slip my hand inside. I barely get my fingers inside his pants when he catches hold of my wrist, stopping me.

I blink up at him in surprise.

He lowers his forehead to mine, his breath gusting over my mouth as he speaks. “I want to make love to you in my bed. But if you touch me here, it’s game over, Mel. I will take you right on this table.”

Sweet baby Jesus.

“Maybe I want you to give it to me on the table,” I say, hardly sounding like myself at all. I sound kind of…husky and sexy.

“Christ,” he breathes, and I take it as an invitation. I slide my hand inside his jeans, and he doesn’t stop me. My fingertips make contact with skin. The fact that he isn’t wearing boxer shorts sends me over the edge.