Mia looked pleased. Proud. In charge. With her on top, she might as well strap a block of C4 to his chest. It wasn’t going to take much of an ignition to make him dissolve into a million fragments.

“I’ve been dying to kiss you,” she paused, as he helped her shuck down his pants and boxer briefs, “just like this.”

Her tongue traced to the top of his shaft. Smooth, soft, and supple. Her mouth encircled him. A snug, deep heat overtook him, and a groan ripped from the depths of his gut. Profound, harsh, more and more familiar.

“Are you okay?”

“Hell, yes. Do. Not. Stop.”

Like a desperate man, he was ready to beg for her torment, borrow sweet nothings, and steal her mind, her soul, her anything that would bring another caress.

Hotness enveloped him again. Sweet Jesus. He buried his hands in her hair and watched as his length disappeared into her mouth, her eyes trained on him.

Damn her snug mouth and whipping tongue. Damn the springs of electricity that raced through him. Mia hummed, and he vibrated like piano strings struck by a virtuoso. She massaged him, fondled him, and straight drove him to the edge of a vicious cliff. He teetered on the threshold but would swan dive face first if it meant his climax.

“Mia, doll.” He panted. He pleaded. He needed her on so many levels. What was left of his control was seconds away from dissipating.

He should pull away. An old drill instructor barked in his head: five second fuses only last three seconds.

Words wouldn’t come out. Reluctant, he tried his best to slide from her. But she wouldn’t let him, her intentions clear, and he didn’t fight her. Winters fisted a pillow and crushed it onto his face, choking on her name as flames ripped through him.

“Good fucking God, Mia,” he shouted, as he pulsed. She didn’t loosen, forcing him to stay with her until he was done.

Unbelievable. She knew some tricks, and then some.

Mia pulled the pillow from him. And, oh, was she a foxy knockout. Lips slightly swelled. Cheeks very flushed. Her smile captivated his heart. How did he get so lucky?

“I can’t compete with—”

She cut him off with a blistering kiss. Her tongue delved into his mouth, and he pulled her into a possessive hold, sparking him hot and bothered for an encore performance. He craved her. Bad.

The spicy aroma of sex filled the room. He savored Mia, then made quick work of losing her clothes. With her naked body lying beside him, their skin clinging together, Winters ached. In a perfect way. In an “every nerve tingled, screaming for him to do something about it” way.

“Mia. Mia. Mia.”

His throat constricted. An invisible hand crushed the air from his lungs. He needed to make love until he was devoid of those desires, those affections and afflictions that clouded his mind and made his heart pound like he’d been eight-ballin’ lines of coke.