THEY STUMBLED INTO his apartment in a rush of messy, urgent kisses and rough, greedy gropes. Tobias had never been this gluttonous for anything in his life. Every time they were together, he wanted more of her. His hands moved over her leather fuck-me outfit, knocking her bag from her shoulder to the floor, their mouths fused together.

She pushed out of his arms, cheeks flushed, lips alluringly pink and swollen from the force of their kisses. “Wait.” She spun around, bending at the waist to fish in her bag. Her miniskirt rode up, and he ran his hands up the creamy expanse of her legs, teasing between them. She swatted at him, giggling. “Hold on a sec.”

“You want me to hold on, baby?” He reached around her, running one hand up the front of her thigh and between her legs, his other palming her breast, as he rocked his stone-hard cock against her ass.

She giggled, trying to push his hands away, and turned with handcuffs dangling from her fingers. “I could handcuff you to the bed.”

His entire body tensed. “No fucking way. No cuffs.”

“Then we’ll save these to use on me.” She turned, rooting around in the bag again, and spun around with a whip in one hand and a feather tickler in the other, the sexiest temptress he’d ever seen. “I’ll just…” She flicked her wrist, and the whip snapped. She yelped, dropping it like she’d been burned. “That’s out. Nope. No way. Too scary.”

He laughed.

“We’ll stick with this.” She looked at the tickler with the cutest curious expression. “It looks like a feather duster.” She stuck her ass out, waving the tickler, sexy and playful. “Maybe we should save it for the French maid costume.”

“Fuck the toys. I just want you,” he growled, hauling her into his arms and crushing his mouth to hers.

Chapter Eight

IF MADIGAN SNUGGLED any closer to Tobias, making those sweet little noises in her sleep, he was going to lose his mind. He liked this too damn much. All of it. Fucking her senseless, holding her as they drifted off to sleep, naked and sated, and waking before dawn to the feel of her trying to burrow beneath his skin. He hadn’t slept through the night in three years, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever slept as hard as he had last night.

What was it about last night?

He’d thought, or had convinced himself, he’d just wanted more sex with Madigan, but now he realized he’d been wrong. Holding her like this struck a chord he hadn’t wanted, much less known was missing. As dawn rolled in, he was consumed by an inescapable desire for more of her. More of her sexy mischief, sweet giggles, and alluring glimpses into a life he could never be part of.

He’d fucked up last night.