His hands went to her hips. “And you talk too much.”

“What else is there to do?”

His eyes darkened. He nudged closer, wedging his body between her thighs.

Oh. Oh my. She tightened her fingers in his hair. “No more talking then.”

“Yeah. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

He was right. She’d never been able to keep her mouth shut. She was going to try to do so now. In a minute. “The other night…you wouldn’t. You didn’t want to even talk to me.”

“You hadn’t just almost died.”

“So this is what, just adrenaline?”

He sighed. “What happened to the no more talking thing?”

“Right.” She pressed her face to the crook of his shoulder. “Then make me feel alive, Joe. Hurry.”

A gravelly sound of understanding tore from his throat. His arms came around her, and she braced for the delicious, quick, hot, fast assault like the week before.

But he went for another tactic this time, sliding his fingers in her hair, tugging her face up, leaning in slowly, nibbling first one side of her mouth, then the other, until her lips trembled open and a moan escaped. Nudging her back into the mirror, he pressed her between that cool surface and his warm, hard body and kissed her. When his tongue touched hers, she nearly cried in relief but he kept at the unbearably leisurely pace until she wanted to scream.

She wanted hot. She wanted hard and fast, and her fingers bit into his biceps as she moaned, opening her legs further, doing everything she could to urge him on and still he didn’t rush. She could feel him hard against her stomach, through his jeans, and she pressed closer still, melting under the palm he stroked languidly up and down her back.

She shivered and tried to deepen the connection but he held back. Impatient, she bit his lower lip. He inhaled sharply as his arms tightened on her. “I’m trying to warm you up here,” he said.

“I’m warm. I’m hot. I’m burning up.”

“I knew you couldn’t do it.”

“Do what? I’ll do anything—”

“Not shut up you won’t—” He caught her laughing protest with his mouth, swallowed it whole and worked on capturing her tongue, whipping it into submission with long, wet, hot strokes that had her whimpering, aching, dying…all while his hands kept up that maddening slow perusal of her body, up and down her back, her sides, her ribs, and finally, finally, palming her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her aching nipples until she wrenched free to gasp in air.

“You feel alive now?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you.” Head back, she closed her eyes to let the mindlessness of it close over her, but then he did the worst thing possible.

He stopped.

She cracked an eye open to find him watching her, eyes hot, body tense. “What?”