Or breathe, when his head descended to her chest and his tongue traced above the rim of her overburdened bra. Back and forth it went, as if it was on a leisurely stroll in the park, and Mandy shivered, appreciating fully how much more sensitive her breasts were now. Torn between wanting to just enjoy his teasing tongue and urging him to dispense with her bra and head south to her nipple, Mandy gripped his wrists and squeezed.

Damien lifted his head, and Mandy expected him to shove her dress down, strip himself, and slide right into her standing up.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

But she had expected Damien to be urgent, to take charge, to rush through to the release they were both seeking.

He was taking charge, yes, but he wasn’t interested in rushing. Which had its pros and cons.

As she tugged his shirt off and dropped it to the floor, Damien pulled the clip out of her hair. He stroked in it and smiled. “I love your hair. It’s just like you. Sort of free, with a mind of its own, but always in control.”

Was that the way he saw her? Mandy thought that was just a lovely way to describe her, even if she felt control was the last thing she possessed. Unable to resist touching him, she smoothed out his dark eyebrows, traced his cheeks, brushed along his lips in a caress that was too intimate, but felt so, so right here with Damien. His lips pressed in a kiss over her fingers and she smiled, knowing she felt as raw and vulnerable as he looked.

“If you think I’m in control, you’re a sandwich short of a picnic,” she whispered to him. “But thank you for that.”

He drew her fingertip into his mouth and sucked, sending a rush of heat through her body. Her nipples pushed painfully against her bra, and Mandy leaned closer to him, pulling his scent of night breeze, sand, and male muskiness into her nostrils.

“Of course you’re in control. You’re an awesome assistant.”

When she pulled her finger back, he followed it, until his mouth was brushing along her jaw. Mandy’s eyes fluttered closed. “Should that be my title? Awesome Assistant? I can post a sign on my cubicle.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth, such a light teasing touch that she shivered. “How about Asshole’s Awesome Assistant? Or ASS for short?”

She laughed, their breath mingling together as his lips hovered above hers, his nose alongside hers, forehead brushing hers. “You’re not an asshole at all, but you’re a very funny man when you want to be.”

If anyone would have told her two months ago that Damien was a man she could banter with, be relaxed and completely abandoned with, she would have laughed herself sick. And goodness knew, she hadn’t needed any more of that.