Chapter Four

After Riley paid for dinner, Mirjam stood from the table, her legs shaky—and not from the drinks. She’d had only two. And, uh—holy cow! Had she really been so bold as to imply sex? What the hell. Fuck it.

Well, fuck him, which was the new plan all right. Her sister’s plan? Emphatically on board with it now. Adrenaline and excitement pumped through her, causing her stomach to get all jittery. She smoothed her hands over her hips. Calm yourself.

Thankfully, before panic seized her and she did something stupid like run, Riley stepped toward her. She inhaled his outdoor, woodsy, male scent; so masculine and at the same time, a safe, sheltering blanket.

“Wait. Before we leave.” He gently squeezed her shoulder and brushed her cheek, settling his fingers around the back of her neck. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “May I kiss you?” His hot breath sent shivers up and down her skin.

Her heart reacted like a Mexican jumping bean. She turned her head, the stubble on his face tickling her cheek. “Yes,” she breathed.

A hand at her waist pulled her toward him. Their cheeks separated, and his warm lips met hers in a feathery, light touch—gentle and ripe with sensual promise. The restraint caused heat to pool below.

Too soon, he rested his forehead against hers, their breath mingling. “I wanted to punctuate this moment here, with you, in our little spot, before we leave.”

Oh, man, how sweet could he be? If he were this attentive after sharing dinner, what would he be like in bed? She smiled and gave him a quick peck. She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The evening had gone way beyond her imaginings. Actually, she hadn’t allowed herself to picture much of anything. How had one dinner completely overturned her intentions? Was she really going to sleep with him? A man she hardly knew?

Yes. She wanted this. She needed this. Wanted one night to let loose and have fun before delving back into work.

He pulled her hand up and tucked it under his elbow, the old-fashioned gesture making her melt. In companionable silence, they descended from their aerie and walked around the softly lit pool, bypassing a group sitting along the edge wearing fairy wings.

She remembered him as the cute boy in French class but figured him for a jock. Not someone who’d be into a girl like her. Apparently, she’d been wrong. Although her makeover boosted her confidence, she’d still been a tad anxious to eat dinner with a total stranger. The instant Riley appeared, however, she’d felt at ease, as if she’d known him all her life, not just as the kid across the room in high school. He’d been in her class freshmen and sophomore year, but he’d never returned for junior year. She’d always wondered what had happened to him.

Hard to see that lanky kid now under all the male hunkiness before her—wide shoulders filled out his dark blue dress shirt. Black hair and high cheekbones hinted at perhaps a touch of Native American blood.

His khakis had the perfect fit—snug enough to hint at a fantastic bod, but not nerdy-tight. And definitely not the baggy style so many guys sported today. Not too tight, not too loose, but just right. Just call her Goldilocks of the Khaki Admirers. After all, a girl enjoyed a glimpse of firm butt. Speaking of which, she’d need to peek later.

But what attracted her most were his warm, intelligent, bourbon-brown eyes. She’d had a hard time looking into them during dinner, like she’d overexpose or singe herself, or worse, like they’d penetrate to the stark loneliness she buried so deep within.

At the bank of elevators inside the hotel, he pushed the Up arrow. Soon, a melodic ding chimed and the door opened on the ornate brass and marble interior. She crossed the threshold, her heel snagging in the gap, and she stumbled forward. Heat shot up her neck, up her face—he was going to think she was sloshed.

His arm gripped hers tighter, steadying her. “Whoa, there. I got you.” He led them inside. “I can’t imagine what it’s like walking around on those pointy things.”

“You should try it some time.”

He shuddered. “No, thank you.”

The doors closed, and Mirjam thumbed the button for her floor. His eyes turned serious, and he twirled her around so she pressed against him. Her heart stuttered at the feel of his strong body flush against hers for the first time. His heat. His scent. Oh God, his eyes.

“Mirjam. I feel like tonight is all about honesty. And just, well, being in the moment.”

Her breath caught. “I think I know what you mean,” she whispered.

He smiled. The warmth and sincerity of that smile touched her deep inside, reaching to that well-protected loneliness. “I’ll be honest then. I want you.” His hands stayed at her hips, holding her to him. “I’d love to be with you tonight.” His voice deepened, its tones joining his smile to melt her defenses. Fresh chills raced down her spine. “But at the same time, I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” he continued. “Do we agree that we’ll be honest with each other? You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable at any time?” He cupped her face, his hands so gentle. She leaned into one and her legs wobbled, feeling like so much goo.

“I want this, Riley.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Hell yes, she wanted this. Tapping into a seldom-used, inner streak of boldness, she moved her head and kissed his palm. Her tongue darted out, tracing his lifeline. His breath hitched, and she swore his rich, brown eyes darkened.

Wham. She glommed onto him like white plastic on a Stormtrooper, shamelessly pressing against his body, groping and kissing. He groaned, a good groan, cinched his arms around her waist, and spun them until her back hit the elevator wall. His tongue teased hers, probing gently at first and then with increasing heat. His arousal pressed against her stomach and a thrill tore through her. She’d caused this reaction!

She nibbled his bottom lip. Mmm. What would it feel like to—

The elevator’s sharp ding startled them apart. His eyes were wide, dark. They both panted as if they’d run laps.

A throat cleared, and a deep voice said, “Oh my!”

Several people stood waiting to board the elevator. An elderly lady sported an “Obey Gravity. It’s the Law” T-shirt and winked at her. Her husband had on cargo shorts and sandles, with v1.0 printed on his black T-shirt. Next to them stood George Takei, with a big smile on his face.

Well, that one goes in the books. Mr. Sulu himself witnessing them sucking face!

Riley threw Mirjam a sheepish grin, kissed her nose, and grabbed her hand. “What’s your room number?”

“1516,” she croaked. Oh shit, her clothes littered the floor.

“Wait! Let me go in first.” She shoved the key card into the slot. “You wait here.”

A puzzled look crossed his face, but he held the door open. She slipped through and stopped, her mouth agape. Candles covered every flat surface, the wavering light casting mysterious shadows around the room, her clothes—gone. She stared down at the key card then at the room number. Yep, right room.

“Oh, never mind. Come in. It’s safe.”

He poked his head through the door, one eyebrow cocked. “Safe? Did I take the red pill downstairs and not know it?”

“No.” She laughed. “I, well, left kind of a mess getting ready. They must’ve cleaned up. And lit the candles. I didn’t do that.”

He gave her a quirky smile, straightened, and stepped into the room. He whistled. “Nice suite.”

Mirjam looked around. Yes, it was; very elegant. She’d been too distracted to notice before. She skimmed her hand along the burl wood secretary by the door. Other discreet pieces of antique furniture filled the sitting room.

In the center, a silver bucket packed with ice and long neck bottles sat atop a claw-foot, mahogany table, a folded towel protecting the surface. She lifted a bottle and peered at the label. “Oh, it’s your beer.” She frowned. “How’d you know we’d end up here?”

“What? I didn’t.”

“Well, your beer’s here, chilling in a cooler.”

He stood beside her and took the bottle from her hand. The cold of the bottle and the fleeting heat of his fingers made her breath hitch.

“I’ll be damned. Jim’s quite the miracle worker. It’s available only in Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee.” He pulled another one out, the ice resettling with a tinkling thunk. “Want one?”

“Sure. Who’s Jim?”

“Hmm?” He opened the beers with the nearby silver opener. “Oh, the guy who arranged our blind date, apparently.”

“You mean Jenn.”

“No, Jim, J-I-M.” He handed her one of the beers.

“Weird, my invite said ‘Jenn’.”

“Did yours come from a magic slot machine too?”

“Yes, but only after a pink-haired girl named Jenn told me to play that particular machine.”

He paused, beer bottle poised by his mouth. “Strange. A pink-haired dude stood near my slot machine.”

“Fake gold antennae?”

He nodded. “I’m not going to question it too much. After all, it brought us together.” He took a swig of beer. “Let’s go out on the balcony. Should be nice now that the sun’s down.”

Fine by her. Things had heated up fast. She’d follow his lead, though.

He stared at her, eyes expectant. Oh! She sipped his beer, letting the liquid sit on her tongue a moment, then swallowed. “Mmm, I like. Not too hoppy. Smooth.” She licked her lips. His gaze tracked with rapt attention to her mouth—surprise, delight, and power surged through her. “It’s got a nice, delicate aftertaste too.”

He cleared his throat and said with more than a little awe, “You like beer?”

She swatted him playfully on the shoulder. “Girls can like beer, Riley.”

He looked appropriately chastened. He clasped her hand and led her to the balcony. Like before when he’d touched her, a spark shot straight through her. For the first time in years, she was going to have damn good sex. She just knew it. The dry spell—okay, plague, lasting all of five years—would finally be over. And before that, Brian hadn’t been much to write home about. Well, you know, if you wrote home about such stuff.

Her skin and all her nerve endings danced with the possibilities tonight offered. Oh, and so nice knowing Riley was a sure thing. No games. No strings. No fuss. One night. Not something she usually sought, of course, but still. It gave her a delicious sense of freedom.

They walked hand in hand across the room. The light from the candles played across his profile, sending a thrill clear down to her tippy toes. His dark hair was a tad mussed from their elevator session and lent him a roguish air, like he’d always be able to surprise her with something, accompanied by a playful wink. He opened the French doors.

She gasped. “Oh, there are candles out here too. How did they know we’d be up here, now?”

He gently squeezed her hand. “I’ve ceased speculating. Jim-Jenn appears all knowing, all seeing.” He pulled her beside him, tapped her bottle with his, and hit her with his smile. “Cheers! Here’s to reuniting with an old acquaintance.”

They clinked bottles again. “And to trying new things.” She took a sip; it really was a good beer. Usually, she preferred stouts and dark ales, but this had a unique, smooth taste.

He seemed a little nervous about the night though, definitely having put on the brakes.

“So when did you start your brewery? And how?” She listened with interest as he told her about coming up with the combination of ingredients constituting the formula and then finding investors. No wonder he’d been too busy to date.

They gravitated to the railing. Spread below them lay the sparkling city of Las Vegas, its glitter and glitz adding to the surreal evening. As he talked, the tension left his shoulders. By degrees, he edged closer. It tickled her to think this hunk, this Sex on a Stick was nervous around her, the Computer Nerd. Maybe she wasn’t giving the right signals? But jeez, she’d practically jumped him in the elevator.

He faced her. “Another beer?”

“Love one.”

He took her empty, giving her a wink as he did so, and stepped inside.

Sigh. Yes, nice butt.

Wonder of wonders, too, was how comfortable, so at ease, she felt with him. Sure, she’d had a couple twinges of self-doubt but nothing compared to her regular jitters. Normally, she’d be all twisted and frozen with indecision.

She soaked in the city’s multicolored lights, let the crisp night air wash over her, and reveled in being in this moment and feeling it. Lord, how numb she’d let herself become. Like a ghost limb that had fallen asleep and suddenly tingled with awareness.

The sound of the French doors closing and his footsteps signaled this moment’s next phase. She smiled. Anticipating his body beside hers again, a thrill shot up her spine when his hard, masculine presence hovered behind her instead. His warm breath sighed in her ear. “God, you look so beautiful.”

He leaned onto the railing, his strong arms framing her, the glass bottles in his hands dinging against the metal. He nuzzled her neck, his nose pushing her hair aside, fresh shivers zinging over her. His lips grazed the sensitive skin behind her ear, the only point of contact between them.

The heat and tension bloomed in the space between their bodies, acting like a magnetic force. She leaned back, barely brushing against him. A low moan rumbled in her ear. He grabbed the bottle in his right hand with his left, holding both by their necks, and pulled her against him. His erection, warm and hard, pressed against her butt. She closed her eyes, gripped the balcony rail, and gloried in how he made her feel.

His strong hand moved up her stomach while he feathered light kisses along her neck and shoulder. She tilted her head back until it rested against his shoulder, giving him better access. Relinquishing. Relishing. His fingers lightly brushed her now-hard nipple then gave it a gentle pinch through her shirt. She couldn’t help it, she moaned. His other arm wrapped around and held her tighter, pressing the cold beer bottles against her belly. She jolted and slumped against him, shaking from the cool sensation. He groaned again, gently nibbling her earlobe and lowering the closest bottle, stroking it against her core.

Oh God, she was going to combust right there on the spot. Yep.

Obviously running with her response, he grabbed the other bottle, trailed it along her neck and slowly down to her breast, circling. Impossibly, her nipples tightened more.

“Riley.” Was that her voice? It came out all sultry.

“God, Mirjam, I want you so bad I can’t stand it.” His hot breath along her neck made her shudder again.

“What are we waiting for, then?” she asked, her voice, a shaky whisper.

His body left her for a moment and hers felt like crying out in protest, but then a soft clink sounded as he set the beer bottles on the balcony floor. His strong arms wrapped around her again and her body hummed. He pulled her up hard against him and stroked her breasts. When he spun her around, her heart nearly stopped at the vulnerable and loving look in his eyes. Oh, man.

She vaulted into his arms and twined her legs around his waist. He stumbled back and gripped her butt, pressing her tight against his erection. She moved her hips. Yes, right…there. He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue skillfully stroking hers, mimicking the rhythm she couldn’t wait to do with him soon.

He backed up until they hit the French doors with a thud. He tore his mouth from hers. “Could you?”

“Huh?” She freed herself from the lust fog. His head tilted to the door handle. She pushed down with her heel, and he bumped it open with his back, stumbling inside backward. She fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, jerked the shirttails out of his khakis, and pushed his shirt off his shoulders.

Wow, was he ripped! His arm muscles bunched from holding her. Hoo boy, there might even be an ab or two peeking out. She slid her hands up his smooth chest as he backed her to the king-size bed. He tumbled with her onto the fluffy comforter, and they both laughed.

He framed her face with his hands and leaned in for another kiss, pressing his body against hers. Mmm. His weight, so masculine and yummy. It’d been too long.

He broke the kiss, glanced down, and pulled the string tying her top at her hip. He eased the fabric away and his gaze roamed her stomach and breasts, cinched up nice and perky in the Victoria’s Secret, red lace bra. Along with matching panties.

Thank you, Jenn.

He gave a low rumble and licked her collarbone, peppering hot kisses down to the swell of her breasts.

She reached behind to unsnap her bra, eager for his mouth to be on her in a big way. He stopped her. “Let me.” He slipped a finger under one strap and, fingers grazing her skin, eased it over her shoulder. And then the other. Hot sparks shot through her with each touch. He tugged the fabric down over one nipple, leaned forward, and stopped.

“Hang on a sec.” He scrambled from the bed.

Huh? Wait—what? Oh God, what was he doing? Did he have to choose this moment to go to the bathroom or something? But no, he headed for the sitting area. Curious, she leaned up on her elbows.

He strode back into the room, his movements confident and liquid and oh-so-male. This is really happening. His eyes sparkled with mischief, one arm hidden behind his back. “Close your eyes.”

Totally trusting him, she did so. She giggled, a thread of excitement bubbling through her. The bed dipped with his weight. Something chilly and wet moved up her belly. She gasped and her eyes flew open. He held a fresh bottle of his beer and circled its base slowly around her stomach. He inched it upward and gently blew on the trail of moisture left behind. She shivered and an ache built within, making her legs restless. He used the bottle to ease the fabric off her other breast, her nipple afire. Her arms no longer able to support her, she fell back against the pillows with a groan. She jerked when his hot mouth gently sucked the same nipple, a stark contrast to the cold of a moment before.

“Oh, God, Riley, you’re killing me.”

He chuckled and flicked her nipple with his tongue, grazing it with his teeth. Liquid heat pooled in her core, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, the silky feel teasing her fingers.

“You like this?” His sexy voice blended erotically with the sensations he aroused inside her.

She thrust her chest up, wanting more. “Oh, yes!”

Jeez, he was wickedly talented with that tongue of his. He played with the other breast in the same way, and she thrashed on the bed, needing more; impatient for more. He tugged the bra down farther, the fabric’s tension making her breasts thrust higher. He suckled hard on one nipple, tweaked the other, and all while he eased her silk skirt up her leg with the cold bottle.

When it reached the apex of her thighs, he slowly pressed it against her mound. Shudders coursed through her. She gripped the bottle tight with her thighs, loving the cool contrast against her now-molten flesh. It was so intense, even through her panties she almost couldn’t stand it but gripped it tighter all the same and rocked against it. Pleasure built in waves, bringing her closer and closer to the pinnacle. But before she could shatter, he pulled it away with a mischievous smile.

“Riley!”

He winked and trickled dollops of the cold beer into her belly button then lapped it up. She bucked and cool trails speared down her sides. He chased them with his tongue, the sensual glide causing goose bumps to erupt all over.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She trembled and clutched the sheets tightly in her fists. He kissed, sucked, and licked his wicked way back to her now-aching breasts, neglected for far too long by his talented mouth, and circled each nipple with his tongue. She gasped, grabbed his face, and dragged him up for a kiss, needing him too badly to worry about finesse.

He responded to her hunger with deep strokes of his tongue, his muscled body settling above her, crushing her breasts against his chest. She cinched her arms around his back, under his shirt. Needing him closer still, she threw a leg around one of his and pressed her hips against his rock-hard erection.

“Too many clothes,” she gasped. She pushed him away, grabbed his buckle, and yanked it open, her hands shaking like crazy, her arm movements restricted by the fallen bra straps.

Now his zipper. She shoved him onto his back and jerked on the waistband. His eyes held hers as he lifted his hips and helped kick his legs clear. She broke free from his gaze and looked down, eager to finish unwrapping him.

“Marvin the Martian boxers? You came to a blind date wearing these?” But she was giggling because she thought it absolutely adorable. An impressive bulge tented the front. Ooh!

He plunked the beer bottle onto the nightstand. “Where’s the kaboom? There was supposed to be an earth shattering kaboom,” he said in a poor imitation of the character’s voice.

She kept giggling and straddled him, her skirt billowing around him. “I’ll give you a kaboom.”

Slowly, she pressed against his hard length. His eyes darkened, her breath caught. She swiveled her hips back and forth, up and back, the pressure and friction driving her mad despite the barrier of their underwear.

“Mirjam!” he choked out, his head hitting the pillow, his eyes screwed shut. She brushed her hands up his stomach to his nipples. Would he be sensitive here? She circled each with a light touch, and delicately scraped her nails over them. He sucked his breath through his teeth, grabbed her shoulders, and flipped her onto her back. Yep, he liked it.

He kissed her hard, reached under her skirt and panties, and found her already wet folds, cupping her.

“You’re so wet,” he rasped in her ear and that just turned her on even more. He could probably talk her into an orgasm, his voice hit all the right notes. “Hold on a minute.”

“Again?” which came out pathetically like a whine.

He chuckled, his eyes taunting. “Patience, patience,” and he dared wiggle a finger at her. She made a grab for it with her teeth.

He dashed for the sitting room again and returned, gloriously buck-naked, rolling on a condom, his biceps rippling with his movements. He tossed the box onto the bed and stared at her, desire radiating from him. She almost imploded in a puff of smoke right then and there. An outline in smoldering ash on the 1500-thread-count, Egyptian cotton sheets marking her demise:

 

Here lies Mirjam Linna. Undone by lust.

 

Her heart thudded. Her hands moved. She was still here. She lifted her hips and slid her panties down, kicking them away, his gaze following every movement. Now her skirt. But he grinned, took a flying leap onto the bed, and landed beside her, bouncing them both.

“Riley!” she laughed. Oh, yes. She was alive. She’d savor this one night and store the memory away like a forbidden and unexpected gift, to pull out later when dead cold from work, and remember and glow from its heat.

He pushed her skirt up and gently nudged her legs apart with his knees. His dancing eyes dilated. He fell forward and his hands thunked into the mattress on either side of her head. Shifting his weight to one arm, he held her face with his other hand and forced her to look into his eyes. “Are you sure you want this?”

His question, said with such earnest sincerity, coupled with the passion blazing in his eyes, cracked her heart open a little more. She knew he’d stop if she said so, and he wouldn’t be a jerk about it. He really wanted what was best for her.

“Oh, God, yes!” she breathed, pushing her hips up at the same time.

Heat flared in his eyes. “Thank God.”

Without looking away, he guided himself inside her in one full, hard thrust.

She moaned and arched, taking more of him. His hot length filled her so completely it stunned her. He held exquisitely still for a moment. Time suspended. Their gazes locked, their breathing quickened. It was as if this moment marked a division—that was then, this is now. A pulsing heat grew between them, urging her to move, urging them both to move.

He eased out and drove into her again, and she clutched his butt, holding tight. So close. So close. On each thrust, her black silk skirt, caught between their stomachs, rubbed against her with a deliciously smooth friction. Her breasts still pushed up and out by her pulled-down bra. The fact she was partially dressed upped the erotic quotient big time.

Overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, she rubbed her hands up his back as he drove in again, his muscles flexing under her palms. She tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked him down for a kiss, their tongues sparring until they matched the rhythm he set.

Too much. Too much. She whipped her legs around his hips, changing the angle and allowing him to thrust deeper, allowing an exquisite pressure on her clit each time they came together.

He broke the kiss. “So tight, Mirjam.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Oh, God, so wet.” His pace became more urgent. “Come for me. Come, now.”

His voice, gravelly with passion, acted on her body like a command. She shattered in that moment, her release convulsing her hips, her bliss seeming to explode and fill the space around them. He arched back and drove in two more times before he cried out, shuddered, and collapsed on top of her.

She squeezed him tight with her arms and legs and fought to catch her breath. Holy shit. Holy shit.

His heart thudded loudly against hers. He eased away and tossed the used condom into the trash bin by the bed, giving her a delicious glimpse of his firm backside. Wow. Naked man. They’d just…  Oh, wow. He rolled over and pulled her with him. She snuggled against him, her head resting on his shoulder, and her mind still trying to process what they’d just shared. His hands moved slowly up and down her back, soothing her. Oh God, she hoped she didn’t have to move any time soon, because she felt fuzzy and boneless.

“That was un-fucking-believable,” he breathed hoarsely.

She smiled against his skin. “I’ll second that.”

He pulled her tighter against him and kissed the top of her head.

“Mirjam?” His hand smoothed the hair on her head, playing with it while his other hand continued caressing her back.

“Hmm?”

“Why this? Why did you agree to do this blind date?”

She groaned. He wanted to talk? When blissful sleep beckoned?

Especially knowing what would come next: ‘why are you still single?’ The connection they’d forged unraveled and snapped. No! She’d wanted it to last for the rest of the night.

“I told you earlier. Too busy.”

“I just…”

Here it comes. Why did her single state have to puzzle guys? They always asked. They seemed to equate singlehood with having no value to guys—you must not be much if you’re still single.

Several long seconds passed. In her mind, she waved goodbye. It wouldn’t have lasted past tonight anyway. Brian, a geek, had left her for a blonde, country-club chick. She realized her moratorium on guys had been a way to shield herself from hurt again. She’d had no wish to be the girlfriend of the moment again, until the guy could “trade up.”

Riley took a deep breath. “Well, men really are stupid, aren’t they? No wonder you’d rather stay single.”

Huh? She looked up and met his sincere gaze. He smiled lopsidedly.

“Don’t look so surprised. You had to be single for a reason and I know it’s not because you aren’t attractive.” He ran a finger down her nose. “You’d rather be alone than deal with us idiots.”

The connection with him snapped back into place, unbalancing her. The rest of the wall she’d built around her five years ago disintegrated. She leaned up and answered him with a hungry kiss.

* * * *

Riley gradually became aware of a delicious friction. Soft fingers trailed around his chest and abdomen.

Mirjam! The fog of sleep evaporated in an instant. It scared him how deeply he’d felt a connection with her already.

His cock stirred, ever eager for more, the predictable thing. He smiled and tightened his arms around her. She felt so good, so right, against him. He inhaled. Her scent, mingled with their arousal, a drug shooting through his veins.

He opened his eyes. Oh, what a sight. Her tousled head rested on his shoulder while her delicate fingers sent tingles all over him. His erection jerked in a blatant ploy to gain her attention. He winked at its antics. As if she’d noticed, her fingers trailed lower. He held his breath.

She stopped short. “What’s this?” She traced the outline of his small hip tattoo.

“It’s Mandarin for ‘serenity’.” The inevitable follow-up question and answer usually provided the first clue to previous girls that he could be a bit of a geek, but this time, he wasn’t too worried—she’d passed the test with the boxers, after all.

“Don’t tell me.” Her head moved against his arm as she tilted up. “You a Browncoat?”

Ah, shiny. The fact she knew the nickname for the fandom of his all-time favorite TV show Firefly, marked her as one, as well. He smiled in answer, knowing it would be confirmation enough for her.

Her hand crept lower and she held his gaze. Desire thrummed through him seeing the sensual hunger and promise in her eyes. Shit, she was beautiful. The blood in his veins stopped everything and made a mad dash to all points south.

He bucked when her warm fingers gripped him, but he kept his gaze locked with hers. A slow smile played across her face. She caressed his length and rubbed a finger over the tip, spreading the bead of moisture. He closed his eyes and groaned, fighting the urgency pounding through him, not wanting to push her into anything.

She stroked him and her warm breath tickled his ear. He shuddered.

“I’m glad to feel Miss Anne Elk couldn’t have applied her theory to this.”

Huh? Then her reference to the Monty Python joke from earlier hit him and he laughed, causing his cock to move deliciously in her hand. He levered up and swung a leg over her. “Oh, God, Mirjam, I…” Oh, shit. “…I think you’re so sexy.”

He scrunched his eyes closed and inhaled a tremulous breath.

Dear God, had he really almost said he loved her? Where the fuck had that come from? To cover his confusion, he fumbled with her skirt, which inexplicably she still wore. “You need to be naked.” He found the zipper on the side and pulled it down, yanked on the cloth, and tossed it behind him. “Take your bra off.”

She slowly shrugged it off.

“Much better.” He straddled her hips. “Now, where were we?”

She smiled mischievously and her hands reached down, her gaze holding his. One hand delicately cupped his balls while the other slowly stroked him. Intense pleasure condensed instantly into his groin. “Oh, God, that’s right,” he choked.

He gently pulled her hands away, afraid he’d blow his load in two seconds flat, he was that close.

She grabbed the condoms and rolled one slowly down his cock. “I want you inside me, Riley.”

Not yet! He felt like a fucking schoolboy and he needed to calm his ass down. “I have to taste you.” He loved the surprise and desire that flared in her eyes at his words. Ah, she likes dirty talk.

He inched back and settled on his stomach between her thighs. He brushed his hands down her legs and lifted them over his shoulders. Her breathing hitched then came a little faster. Her amazing scent wafted over him and drove him wild, like he was a crazy dog wanting to roll in it, legs twitching in the air.

“Mirjam.” He inhaled. “You smell like heaven.”

He gently parted her folds with his thumbs and licked a single long stroke along the inside. She tasted fucking amazing. Her hips bucked and he smiled.

“Do you like this?” He craved more. With one hand, he seized her hip and with the other, he reached up and massaged her breast, holding her in place.

“You didn’t answer.” Another slow, patient lick.

“Y-Yes.”

He circled her swollen clit with his tongue and sucked. She wiggled, giving a breathless mewl. Oh, yes.

Watching her closely, he worked his tongue in, out, and around, with sucking and nibbling, establishing a rhythm she liked, if her thrashing and inarticulate sounds were any indication.

Christ, this had been a bad idea—he was harder now, imagining it was his cock, not his tongue, thrusting and teasing her. He thought he’d been close to coming earlier? Now the pressure was painful. Her nails dug into his scalp, but she wasn’t directing him, more like holding on for the ride, which he was only too happy to provide, however much it killed him.

She was close too. He could feel it. He sucked hard on her clit, drove a finger inside her, and pinched her nipple. She reared against him with a great half-cry, half-moan. And came. God, what a sight. He flexed his fingers tighter on her breast and eagerly milked her with his mouth, extending her pleasure until her last shudders faded.

Watching her come apart from his actions felt like a fucking gift. Can’t wait any longer. He checked the condom was still in place, rose, and, even as her tingles were subsiding, thrust his aching cock deep into her hot, wet channel. Into her. Into Mirjam.

Oh sweet baby Jesus, she felt so good, so tight. This new angle, with her legs over his shoulders, allowed him deeper than before. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation, the moment. Instinct soon invaded and he pulled out and drove into her again and again, eyes open now and watching her the whole time, not able to get enough of her.

She didn’t look away. The sense this person was the one he could completely be himself with, be open, be honest, be his best self, gripped him hard as he moved within her. Each stroke seemed to tie the bond tighter and the reflection in her eyes convinced him she felt it too. Each stroke a caress. Each stroke a promise. Each stroke he prayed would be enough to show her they were right for each other.

Oh, but Christ, he was so close to bursting. Never breaking eye contact, he reached around her thigh and rubbed her still engorged clit with his thumb. She cried out, her walls squeezing his cock. He pumped harder, pinched her clit, and she spasmed with another orgasm. She felt so fucking good, his balls contracted and he exploded into her.

With deep ragged breaths, he slipped her legs off his shoulders and collapsed on top of her. After a few seconds, he pulled out and tossed the condom away. He gathered her tight against him, her body still shivering from the aftershocks. He draped a leg over hers and relished feeling her body return to normal in his arms.

When her heartbeat slowed, he kissed each eyelid, then her nose, and turned her around to spoon. He nestled against her neck and inhaled her scent. Soon, her breathing took on the rhythm of sleep. He had to convince her to give them a chance. More than one night, that was for damn sure.