“Well, from what I hear, I’m the only single female in a twenty-mile radius you haven’t put your dick into. That makes me a unicorn. Maybe that makes me the one woman you can’t have.”

He stood and took two steps in my direction, snagging the bottle of beer from my hand and drinking the rest of it in one shot. “If I wanted you, I could have you, and we both know it.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You can’t have me. Not now. Not ever. I don’t want you anymore.”

“You do.” He handed the empty bottle back to me.

“I don’t!” I stood, chin up, shoulders back, teeth clenched.

With a smug expression, he eyed me like he used to do, but I didn’t fall for it. “It’s almost too easy.”

“What’s too—”

He kissed me. Hard. Harder than he had ever kissed me. And I fought him, but I lost because I did want him to kiss me. It’s all I wanted. But it didn’t mean I was going to give myself to him. No matter how much I wanted his kiss, it didn’t change what had happened between us.

My hand dropping the empty bottle to the floor so my fingers could dive into his hair didn’t change anything either.

His hands grabbed my ass and lifted me off my feet. Fisher kissed me and carried me up the stairs like a drunk man on a mission.

Through the door.

Down the hallway.

Onto his bed.

His demanding mouth made it impossible to protest, not that I had one ready to go, not yet. We’d been there before, done that. It wasn’t sex. I was still in control.

He discarded my shirt. I still had control.

When he ripped down the cups to my bra and did things to my breasts that made me moan and claw at his back, I still had control. I could play his game.

Fisher sat up, kneeling between my spread legs, eyes hooded, lips parted as he unbuttoned my jeans and peeled them from my legs.

I … I had control.

He kissed his way down one leg, pressing his lips to the inside of my thigh as his finger slipped beneath the crotch of my panties, circling my clit once before sliding lower. Keeping his mouth on my leg, that finger pushed inside of me.

I sucked in a breath. It was a finger, larger than a tampon but not his dick.

In. Out. In. Out.

Agonizingly slow, my vision began to blur. Fisher removed his finger and slid off my panties. After tossing them aside, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper.