She sighed happily, then wriggled against him, as if she wanted to be closer. Not wanting to deny her a thing on this earth, he roped his arms around her.

“You’re amazing,” she whispered, her breathing still erratic as she floated down from her orgasm. Her praise sent a wicked thrill through him. Call it masculine pride. Call it ego. When a woman turns to you to teach her a new type of fucking, there’s nothing a man wants to hear more than amazing. Though, come to think of it, best orgasm of my life was just as good.

“So are you,” he said softly, stroking her hair. He couldn’t believe she thought she needed to learn anything.

“I can tell why women adore you,” she said, continuing her compliments.

He tensed at the reminder of his playboy status, then told himself not to bristle. He was what he was. She hadn’t asked him for help because he batted ninth. He was a clean-up hitter, and so far with Casey he’d been belting home runs.

“I’m just glad you enjoyed it. And, by the way, you take direction exceedingly well, so I don’t know why you’re fixated on this idea that you—” but then he stopped short before he finished the thought—can’t give up control. He wanted her to still need him, so he edited himself. “Need to change, but you’re doing a great job learning how to give up control. So we’ll just keep teaching you.”

She moved off him, grabbed her iPad, and returned to her list. “Hmm,” she said, as she studied it. “I’m not sure which of the items I’m supposed to be checking off. What do you consider what we just did?”

He gritted his teeth, annoyed with the idea of being an item on a list. But hell, he was the one who’d brought up the list a minute ago. “Ball gag. Consider that an impromptu ball gag, since you couldn’t speak,” he said, rising. He turned to face her. “Oh, and in case this helps you on your list, you can check that you liked it. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

After a quick restroom trip to wash his hands, he visited with the dogs, giving each a soft pat, then returned to Casey. She was scrolling through an email.

“There’s a note from Grant about getting together in a month,” she said, a happy look on her face as she read the message. He was ready to grab the iPad and smash the damn thing.

“That’s great,” he said, closing his eyes, willing himself to not be irritated that she was excited. Grant was a man she could have a future with. Nate was a man who lived for the present.

7

New York City, afternoon . . .

Casey ran her thumb over the LolaRing, absently flicking it on as she chatted in her office with one of her top executives, Nelle O’Connor.

The miniature vibrator buzzed against her thumb as Nelle shared the updates on the various partnerships Joy Delivered had struck in the last year—a deal with a high-class boutique in Stockholm, a partnership with a leading department store in Paris—courtesy of Jack’s new European contacts—and even a pair-up with an upscale pharmacy called Sofia’s in London that Casey had a meeting with in two weeks. Sofia’s was a first in England—not many high-end pharmacies carried pleasure toys, but Sofia’s took a chance, adding a few Joy Delivered products to its shelves, and the partnership had been a runaway success. Those retail outlets had also been carrying The Wild One, a twelve-speed vibrator introduced two years ago that had won legions of fans.