He kisses me again, so hard that my lips will be bruised tomorrow, but I can’t be worried about the future when the present requires my full attention. Then he’s kissing his way down the front of me, and I freeze, worried about the scars from my surgery and how he might react to them.

“Kristian, wait…” I try to cover my left breast, the site of the lumpectomy.

He nudges my hand out of his way. “I have scars, too. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Everything about you is beautiful to me, especially the part about you being alive and here with me.”

It’s the perfect thing for him to say, and I don’t resist when he moves my hands to my sides. I let him take a good long look at the part of me that I’d never let anyone see if it were up to me. He kisses a line from the bottom of the scar to the top, which is right below my nipple. I have another scar in my armpit where the node was removed.

“You said it’s been a long time for you. How long are we talking?”

“Since Rex.”

He draws in a deep breath, holds it, releases it. “We need a safe word, something that stops everything if you aren’t digging what’s going on.”

“Am I going to be unsafe with you?”

“Never,” he says fiercely. “You’ve never been safer than you are with me.”

I’ve seen him eight times in my life, and I already know that’s true. “Then why do I need a safe word?”

“Because that’s how this works. You have a way to stop it at any time. That’s the only way this works.”

“What will we do that I might want to stop?”

“We’ll do everything.”

“That’s too vague.” I drag my finger down his chest to his abdomen, outlining each muscle and loving the way they quiver under my touch. “Tell me what you like.”

He captures my hand and stretches it up and over my head. “I want to bind you to the bed so you can’t move and blindfold you so you can’t see. I want you totally defenseless against what I might do to you. I want you to wonder what’s coming next. I want you on the razor’s edge of desire so sharp, it hurts.”

Holy shit. I’m already there, from his words alone. But it’s more than the words. It’s the heat in his eyes and the gruff tone of his voice that put me there.

“Does any of that frighten you?”

“No,” I say, but the quiver in my voice gives me away. “Is there more?”

“So much more.” He cups my breast and pinches my nipple, lightly at first, but then with increasingly more pressure. “How would you feel about clamps?” His expression changes. “Ah, fuck. Forget that. I never should’ve asked you that.”

I’m having trouble keeping up. “Why?”

“You had breast cancer. Of course you don’t want nipple clamps. I was out of line asking you that.”

I cover his hand, which is now flat on my belly. “I like that you forgot, even for a moment, that I had cancer and treated me like any other woman.”

“You’re not like any other woman.”

His sweet words go straight to my heart. “I want to be normal again, Kristian. If you treat me like I’m still sick, that’ll hurt me.”

“So that’s a yes to nipple clamps?” he asks with a teasing smile.

“That’s a yes to everything.”

“You have no idea what everything entails.”

“I want to know, and I want you to teach me.”

Groaning, he drops his head to my chest. “I can’t talk about this anymore tonight, or I won’t be responsible for what happens with your kids across the hall.”

Knowing he wants me so badly is such a huge turn-on. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been more aroused in my life than I am right now. I shift my legs, seeking relief from the relentless ache.

“Is someone feeling needy?” he asks.

“Mmm.” I stroke his hair and back, wanting to touch him everywhere now that I’m allowed to indulge the many fantasies I’ve had about him since we first met.

“We can’t have that.” He kisses a path straight down the front of me, using his lips and tongue to set me on fire for him while he cups my breasts and gently runs his thumbs over my tight nipples.

I feel his teeth against my hip bone and nearly levitate off the bed.

“Easy, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

I’m a quivering, trembling mess of tingling nerve endings by the time he eases my panties down my legs, tossing them aside as he kneels on the bed between my legs, his hands flat against my thighs as he gazes down at what he’s uncovered. I wonder if he can see how wet I am and begin to feel embarrassed.

“Stop thinking I don’t like what I see. Look at me.”

I force my eyes to open and meet that intense gaze that’s becoming so familiar to me.

“Can you see how hard I am for you?”

I drop my eyes to his groin, where his huge, hard cock indicates that he likes what he sees. He likes it very much.

“Any questions?”

“No,” I say with a nervous laugh.

“I never again want you to think you’re anything other than perfect to me. Do you hear me?”

I nod.

“The proper response would be ‘Yes, Sir.’”

I hold his gaze, realizing the importance of this moment. If I give him that, I’ll be crossing a line that can’t be uncrossed.

“The choice is always yours, honey,” he says softly. “You have all the power here. Do you understand?”

I swallow hard and lick my lips, drawing his fierce gaze to my mouth. “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Good.” He bends over me. His lips skimming against my inner thigh make me want to beg for more, but I sense that begging will only prolong the agony.

His broad shoulders force my legs apart, until I’m spread before him like a sacrifice.

My pussy is still bare from the chemo. The hair never grew back, not that I’m complaining, and judging from the way Kristian stares at me, he has no complaints either.

“Tell me this pussy belongs to me—and only me.”

“It’s yours,” I say breathlessly. “It’s all yours.”

A low growl rumbles through him, and my hips jerk, wanting him closer. If he doesn’t do something—anything—soon, I’m going to lose it. “Is my baby feeling needy?”

“God, yes,” I say in a voice that doesn’t even sound like me. “Please, Kristian…”

“What’s my name here?”

“Sir. Please, Sir.”

“Tell me what you want.”

I want to cry from frustration and need and the clawing, craving desire that’s all new to me. I’m so wet and hot and achy. “I want your tongue. And your fingers.”

“Where?”

Realizing he’s going to make me say it is like dumping gas on the already out-of-control flame burning inside me. “My pussy. I want your tongue and fingers on my pussy. In me…”

“I always want you to tell me what you need. Will you do that?”

Though it doesn’t come naturally to say such things out loud, I bite my lip and nod. With each minute, I begin to get a better idea of what it’ll be like to be intimate with him, to be dominated by him. And though I’m uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed by the things he makes me say and do, I want more.

He strokes me first with his fingers, sliding them through the flood between my legs and then driving them into me, curling them to reach the spot deep inside that makes me cry out from the overload of sensation that hits me all at once.

“Shhhh,” he says. “Don’t wake the kids before I make you come at least twice.”

The noise that comes out of me is barely human. Then he adds his tongue, and I’m completely lost to him, ruined for any man who isn’t him. His tongue is everywhere, licking in long strokes that make me crazy. Then he sucks my clit into his mouth and runs his tongue back and forth, taking me right to the brink of release before backing off, leaving me panting and sweaty.

“So hot and sweet and tight,” he whispers, fucking me with his fingers while ruining me with his tongue.

“Please…” His arm across my hips ramps up the desperation because I can’t do anything to ease the ache.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, sucking on my clit as he drives his fingers into me again.

I detonate. That’s the only word I can think of to describe the explosion that rocks me, taking me right out of myself and into a realm I never knew existed. I come down slowly, and the first thing I’m aware of is Kristian kissing away my tears while his fingers continue to move in me, milking the last waves of the epic orgasm.

I’m blinded by the tears that keep coming.

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me you’re okay.”

My lips are dry, so I lick them and look up to find him watching me now with concern rather than desire. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Nodding, I reach for him and bring him down on top of me, even as his fingers are still lodged deep inside me.

“Did it feel good?”

I laugh, because how can he ask me that? “If it felt any better, I might not have survived it.”

“That’s just the beginning,” he says, nuzzling my neck and ear, which starts the slow burn all over again, as if my body didn’t just do something I would’ve thought impossible an hour ago.

“I’ve never felt anything like that. Ever.”

“I want to fuck you so bad. I’ve never wanted anyone like this.”

“Do it. Right now.” I’ve clearly lost my mind, but I can’t be bothered to think about any of the many reasons why we shouldn’t. Not when he’s big and strong and hard in my arms, his erection throbbing against my belly.

“Not here. When I fuck you for the first time, I want to be completely alone with you.”

I sob at the thought of having to wait days to feel him inside me, stretching me.

“We need to talk birth control. Are you on it?”

“I have an IUD to deal with my erratic periods.” I don’t mention the nonhormonal IUD also reduces my risk of cervical and endometrial cancer. Nothing kills a mood faster than the C word, and I’ve had enough of that word to last me a lifetime.

“Thank Christ, because I don’t want to have to use condoms. Not with you. I’ve never had sex with anyone without a condom. Ever. Tomorrow, I’ll get you proof that I’m clean.”

That he wants me to be the first woman he has sex with without a condom fills me with elation, especially knowing what I do about his sexual proclivities.

He curls his fingers inside me, reminding me he’s not finished with me yet. Just that quickly, I’m right back to the edge of release. “I want another one.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

His low rumble of laughter does wondrous things for his handsome face and lights up his eyes. I like that happy, joyful look on him and want to see it more often. He’s so serious and intense most of the time. “Is that a challenge?”

“I already know better than to challenge you.”

“Oh, but I so love a challenge. You wouldn’t want to deny me, would you?”

I would deny him nothing, but it’s probably too soon to say so. I just shake my head and let my legs fall open, inviting him to do whatever he wants to me. If the first time was about ravenous hunger, this time is all slow seduction. His fingers and tongue work in concert to keep me climbing, the orgasm growing and multiplying with every stroke. He keeps it up until I’m about to explode, and then, very subtly, he removes a finger from my pussy and presses it against my ass, demanding entry.

I explode. The second time is somehow greater than the first, if that’s even possible. Every muscle in my body—hell, every cell in my body—is fully engaged, and when I begin to recover my senses, I discover his finger is firmly planted in my ass. The discovery triggers a second wave that he fully exploits, leaving me a quivering mess in the aftermath.

“So fucking hot,” he whispers as he uses his free hand to stroke his cock until he comes all over my belly. “I can’t wait to be inside you when that happens.”

I can only whimper in response. He’s demolished me, and we haven’t even had sex yet.

He withdraws from me slowly, making me cry out again from the overwhelming sensations that rocket through me. He gets up and goes into the bathroom. I hear water running before he returns with a warm washcloth that he uses to clean me up. When he’s finished, he puts a hand on either side of my hips and stares down at me, as if trying to drink me in.

“I’ve had every kind of sex a person can have,” he says bluntly. “And this, with you, was the hottest sex I’ve had with anyone.”

His raw confession makes my heart ache with something that feels an awful lot like love. “And we haven’t even actually had sex yet.” I go for levity in a desperate effort to recover my equilibrium.

A pulse of tension in his cheek has me running my finger over it, wanting to ease him.

“Saturday night… Yes?”

“I’ll want to meet the sitter ahead of time.”

“I’ll have Lori set that up.”

“And I want to pay her.”

“You’re not paying her. I invited you. I’m paying her.”

“They’re my kids!”

“I’m paying.”

“Are you going to try to dominate me outside the bedroom, too?”

“Not at all, but some things are nonnegotiable. This is one of them.”

When I begin to protest, he lays a finger over my lips. “Let me do this. I need to be able to do things for you and the kids. It makes me happy to do things for you—and them.”

I sense that not a lot has made him truly happy in his life, so I’m loath to argue the point. “Within reason.”

He flashes a victorious smile that has me wondering if I just made a huge mistake.