The air in the kitchen turns electric as my lips meet Dylan’s, a charge passing through us as if a circuit finally connected. His hands are huge and heavy on my hips, almost burningly hot, and they feel incredible.

I wonder if my touch on his cheek feels as searing to him.

His tongue grazes my lips, then withdraws, and I bite back a moan at the denial as I fight to get some of my sanity back. He makes me feel safe, and I’m acting on pure instinct right now.

I never do that.

“Dylan,” I whisper. My mouth is dry, and I lick my lips. What am I going to say? I have no idea, but my body seems to have a will of its own, and it knows exactly what it wants.

My hips press back against him, feeling the thick hardness of him against my bottom, the comforting wall of his muscular body at my back and a thrill goes through me, wild and new, intertwined with a thread of apprehension. I’ve never been this bold with anyone, never skipped past the careful three-date rule, never been the one to make the first move toward getting physical.

Never felt wanton.

I can feel Dylan tense up when I say his name. His hands tighten on my hips, and I know his mind must be warring with his body, just like mine is.

This is shameless.

This is so… not me. So totally beyond anything I’ve ever dreamed about doing, even when I imagine myself as a better and stronger and more confident version of me. I hadn’t known he’d be downstairs when I’d stormed after Jack, I’d just been so mad that I’d barely been able to see straight… which is also not like me.

I don’t rock the boat or make waves.

I’m definitely not the type to flounce around in lingerie and seduce a guy at the drop of a hat.

I’m definitely not the type to get so turned on that it’s an effort to think straight. Hell, usually, thinking too much is one of my biggest problems in bed.

A naughty thrill goes through me. There’s no bed in sight, and this isn’t just any guy, either. This is Dylan, my very best friend growing up and the one guy I’ve always felt safe with. The one person my age that I’ve always been able to relax with, even at my most insecure. Even now, half-naked in the kitchen and feeling bolder than I ever have in my life.

“We don’t have to,” Dylan says, even though I can feel how much a certain part of him wants to. Wants me. “This is fast, I know… I’m sorry, I won’t push if you don’t want.”

His voice is rough, ragged with desire, but there’s concern in it, too. That concern makes me smile, makes the last bit of worry unknot from around my heart.

If I had any doubts, Dylan has made it crystal clear that I’m the one in the driver’s seat. It’s the last piece of the puzzle, confirmation that the kind, gentle boy I remember has transformed into this incredibly sexy, considerate man.

Dylan won’t hurt me. Dylan would never hurt me.

I look up into his eyes—a warm hazel that I could get lost in—and the expression in his gaze fills me with both an intoxicating sweetness and a wild hunger, all at the same time.

“I want this, Dylan,” I murmur, even now amazed at what I’m about to do. I gently guide one of his hands up my body, covering my breast. “I want you.”

Honestly, I’m a little shocked by just how true it is. Just saying it out loud sends a hot, damp rush between my legs, and I moan—not the practiced, deliberate version I’ve used with other men, but one that slips out of me unbidden.

I want him.

The effect is immediate, like I’ve unleashed him. Dylan takes charge of my body, spinning me to face him and leaning down to capture my mouth with his. The kiss is both gentle and ravenous.

It’s exactly what I need.

I can’t help but moan against his mouth again—aching at the taste of him and desperate for more—and when the sound makes his cock jerk against me, I feel powerful. Hot. Wanted.

Dylan’s hands roam my body like he wants to touch every bit of me at once, and every place he caresses feels like just the right spot, driving me wild. I’m panting, my heart racing out of control as he teases me with his fingertips, testing and pausing to see how I react.

For the first time in my life, I’m getting what I’ve always fantasized about: a man who takes the time to get to know my body instead of just using it for his own brief pleasure. Despite the throbbing length of his erection pressed against me, Dylan is taking the time to learn my body—discovering me—and I feel like I’m going to go out of my mind with how intense it feels to be touched with such desire and care.

I don’t know if it’s a few seconds or endless, delicious minutes. I only know that his mouth is on my throat… on my shoulder… that I’m leaning into his touch and making desperate little noises and aching, trembling for more. My whole body feels like someone struck a tuning fork and now all of me is vibrating with the need for this man.

He slides his thigh between my legs, strong with muscle, and I grind myself against him shamelessly. I’m probably soaking through my slacks right now, dripping wet with need for him, and I don’t even care. There’s no space in me for shame or self-consciousness with Dylan, there’s only this growing, greedy hunger beating a rhythm through my blood that I couldn’t deny even if I wanted to.

And God, I don’t.

I can feel the hardness of him through our clothes, and even that brief contact is almost too much for me to take. It makes me crazy. It’s not enough. I tug at his shirt a little desperately, fumbling at the buttons with fingers that feel like they belong to someone else.

“Off, off,” I beg him, my voice raw with how badly I need him.

Far, far in the back of my mind, there’s a part of me that wants to blush at my own audacity, but that part is quickly overruled as the cotton of Dylan’s button-down finally slides away to reveal the strong, smooth, cut chest I had just now felt against me. My mouth literally waters as he draws me close against him again, pulling me into another hungry kiss as his hands seek the clasp of my bra.

There’s a split second of cold air on my breasts before the heat of Dylan’s touch envelops them, his thumbs teasing my tight nipples in a way that makes me whimper against his mouth, that makes more heat shoot down to my core, pushing between my legs as I cling to him and rock against his hard thigh.

I need more, I need everything, and I need it now.

I reach for Dylan’s belt, but he catches my hands, pulling away from the kiss and grinning down at me. I catch my breath for a second. That look, it’s so sexy I want to bottle it. It makes me want to melt. Or beg. But I don’t have to do either.

This is Dylan. He knows me.

He gently holds my wrists and my knees go weak at the strength I can feel in his hands. It grounds me. Frees me. I want to be in his hands. I trust him.

And oh God, I’m so turned on by him right now.

“Please,” I say, nodding down toward the belt he stopped me from opening. I don’t want to wait.

“You first,” Dylan says, humor and wicked desire sparkling in his eyes. He pops open the button of my slacks and tugs them off my hips with quick, deft motions of his fingers, the soft wool slipping deliciously down my bare legs in a way that makes me shiver. My whole body is sensitized; everything feels erotic.

Dylan moves his hands up to my sides, gently caressing my curves as he kisses a line down my chest, over my stomach, his mouth like a brand against my skin.

“You’re so gorgeous, Cate,” he rumbles, and butterflies of pleasure and delight flutter through me. For once—from him—I believe the words. The desire and worship in his voice are unmistakable.

My hips tilt forward on their own as Dylan hooks his big thumbs under the creamy lace of my panties, every atom of me eager to help him, eager to be closer to him. His hands slide slowly downward—his touch both firm and delicate as he frees me from my lingerie—then he rocks back on his heels and looks up at me from the kitchen floor.

Dylan is enormous, even kneeling in front of me, and his height and strength make me feel delicate. Cherished. Especially with him staring up at me like I’m some kind of goddess.

“You’re perfect, Cate,” he says, his voice rough and low.

The sexy sound sends a full-body shiver through me, and I reach out my hands to him, too full of feeling and need to form any words of my own.

I don’t need them. Not with him.

Dylan gives me a slow, hot smile, then rises to his feet so fast it makes me dizzy. Before I know what hits me, he’s scooped me up like I weigh nothing at all and set me down on the kitchen counter. My legs open wide in an instinctive invitation, and he traces his fingers over my skin, trailing them down my chest and stomach to graze the tops of my thighs. A low, needy sound comes out of my mouth without any thought, and I arch into his touch, trying to get the most sensation out of each feather-light, unbearable caress.

When his fingertips finally make their way to the cleft between my thighs, I practically sob with relief.

The cool air of the kitchen is sharp on my wet skin, and every inch of me is buzzing with a kind of arousal I didn’t even know was possible. I’m wetter than I think I’ve ever been in my entire life. My indulgence in the bath already feels a million years away. Did it prime me for this?

I don’t know.

I can’t think.

I’m sure, though, that I’d be soaking wet for Dylan—for this gorgeous, perfect man—no matter what the circumstances. I’ve never felt this way before. Not like this.

Dylan’s eyes lock onto mine as his fingers stroke my entrance, easing into me confidently. Smooth and slow and exactly like I like it, as if he really does know my body, even though this is the first time for us.

I can’t contain a whimper of pleasure; I’m a slave to the way he’s making me feel, to the incredible intensity racing through me, threatening to overwhelm me entirely.

“Do you know how sexy that sounds?” he whispers, using his free hand to push my thighs open even wider.

I whimper again, trembling as it turns into a long, drawn-out moan of pleasure. I’m shameless. If he keeps teasing me like this, I’m going to go completely insane.

I reach up with both hands, cupping Dylan’s face and yanking him toward me for a kiss that tastes like heaven. I twine my legs around his hips, and I can feel the power coiled in his body. It makes me tremble, every nerve in me screaming to get as close to him as humanly possible.

Now.

I try to tug him forward, digging my heels into the small of his back like spurs, desperate to make him feel the same primal urgency that’s overwriting my reason. How can he be so patient?

“Dylan, please,” I groan. No… I beg. “Please.”

My breath hitches as his fingers move deeper inside me, stroking that perfect spot while his thumb grazes over my clit in slow arcs that make me feel like I’m going to come undone. The idea of him stopping is almost physically painful, but I need more.

“I need you, Dylan,” I pant desperately. His pupils are blown wide with desire, the heat in his eyes almost enough to send me over the edge right then and there. “I need all of you, Dylan. Please.”

His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, his throat working, before he looks at me and nods sharply.

“One second.” It comes out as a low growl, at odds with his carefully controlled movements as he withdraws his hand—making me whimper again at the feeling of loss, the void inside me a torturous ache—and then unhooks my legs from around his hips. He gently settles them against the counter, taking a step back, and I start to tremble.

Does he… does he not want me?

Dylan rubs a hand over his jaw, his eyes raking over my body with unmistakable longing, and the heat in his eyes reassures me.

I stare at the bulge in his jeans. Why did he stop?

“I’ll… fuck, Cate, you’re gorgeous.” He swallows hard, tries again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Dylan,” I protest, pressing a hand against my mound. I don’t want my own touch again, though. I want him. Inside me.

He stares at me hungrily for a second, then groans and sprints out of the room. I hear him rummaging around in the bathroom and some muffled swearing, and then he’s back, holding a gold foil packet between forefinger and thumb.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, capturing my mouth in a quick, hot kiss that tells me he really is feeling everything I am before pulling back with another one of those sexy, slow smiles. “I got carried away, Cate. Almost forgot to take care of you.”

I stare at him, uncomprehending, and then my heart seems to skip a beat with mingled horror and relief. I’ve spent my whole life following the rules, being so careful, and Dylan’s got me so worked up that I was going to throw that all out the window.

I completely forgot protection. I wasn’t thinking at all, just feeling.

Needing.

“I’m, uh, I’m on the pill,” I manage to stammer out as Dylan carefully opens the little packet. I know that’s not enough, though. Normally, I’m almost religious about safety.

Dylan really is taking care of me.

I give him a smile that feels sheepish and weak… but it’s still all I can do not to grab him.

“Thank you. For keeping a clear head.”

Dylan laughs, setting the condom down on the counter beside me and pulling me in for another kiss.

“Barely,” he admits. “Just… I want to do everything right by you, Cate. Always.”

My cheeks are warm and a lovely, soft heat is springing to life in my heart; a counterpoint to the throbbing inferno still raging inside me.

Dylan steps back between my thighs, nudging them wide with his hips. He looks at me for a long moment, and his hands return to settle on my hips.

“Look at you,” he says softly, then groans as I let my fingers splay over his broad chest. “Cate, my God. You’re perfect—completely perfect.”

I thought I was past blushing, but the praise hits me somewhere deep and I feel heat radiating out through my skin. It mingles with the dizzying burn of my own lust, amplifying something I thought couldn’t get any more intense and making me moan. I can’t form the words—I’m too overwhelmed by need—and I press my nails into Dylan’s skin, pulling him forward with my legs.

This time, mercifully, he grants my unspoken wish; his hands go to his belt, undoing it and letting his jeans fall to the kitchen floor. His cock springs free, finally allowing me a look at the steel-hard thickness I’ve been feeling against me, and I almost gasp. The size of him, the way it twitches as he looks at me, the drop of pre-cum glistening at the fat head of him…

Mine.

The thought comes unbidden, and my mouth waters as I watch him wrap himself up.

Dylan looks up and meets my gaze, and his smile nearly destroys me. He leans in and kisses me, his huge hands sinking into my hair and pulling me in tight in a way that sends a jolt of delight sparking through me. He plunders my mouth with his tongue, and still it’s not enough. I’m trembling, the taste of him making my blood sing. I wrap my arms around his neck and draw him closer, and Dylan reaches between our bodies, his cock pressing against my slick entrance.

Finally.

I gasp as he presses into me slowly, and even as drenched and ready as I am, my eyes go wide. There’s just so much of him, impossibly hard and searing hot inside of me, and the feeling of my body stretching around him is so profound that I cry out and clutch at his neck.

I’ve never felt so full in my life, never felt so completely connected to someone as I do right now with Dylan finally inside me and his strong arms cradling me and his sweet, worshipful words filling my ears.

His hands clutch at my hips as he waits for me to adjust to his size, and I can feel him quivering with the effort of holding himself back.

I breathe out. Breathe in. Throb for him.

“Please,” I whisper, more breath than word.

Dylan groans, and begins to move.

My head lolls back as he pulls back and thrusts into me again, my eyes fluttering closed from the sheer overload of pleasure. I can feel my body already beginning to tighten around him with his first few strokes, the ache in me twisting like hot wire wound taut almost to breaking. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I feel like I’m going to explode, and I know when I do, it’s going to undo me.

Dylan is still panting hot, sweet, soft things into my ears, but I’m up in the clouds, up in the stars, far away from anywhere where words have meaning. I’m made entirely out of pure sensation, all nerves and energy and sweet, sharp impact, rocking together with this man in waves that have me feeling like I’m flying. It’s unbearable, it’s divine, it’s everything I’ve ever needed and been unable to ask for.

And for the first time, for the first time ever, it’s perfect.

I’m shaking in Dylan’s arms, my bucking hips meeting his every driving thrust; it’s too much, he’s too much, but at the same time I can’t get enough.

I moan, clutching him even tighter as it hits me: I’ll never have enough of what Dylan’s doing to me, of what he’s making me feel.

My nails are clawing into his back as I desperately try to hold on, but I might as well try and stop the tide with my hands. There’s no withstanding this, even if I wanted to. And oh God, I don’t. As good as it is, as much as I want it to last forever, I need a release.

I need to let go.

I need exactly what he’s giving me.

“Cate,” he groans, everything in his voice.

I cry out, a wordless sound of pure bliss as it pushes me over the edge. My nerves explode in a riot of fireworks, pleasure blindingly intense, and I feel like I’m shattering into a billion glittering fragments. I seem to come forever, my body quaking around him, over and over until there’s nothing left of me but slick, aching muscles and the echo of that wailing scream I can barely believe came from me.

Perfect ecstasy.

“Cate,” Dylan says again, raw and desperate. His hips snap forward, driving into me with hard, fast strokes that send aftershocks rolling through my body.

It’s so good.

So… good.

His movements grow wild, his breath ragged, and then his arms tighten around me like a vise. I feel him go tense, his muscles flexing against me as his entire body shudders. He groans my name again through gritted teeth as he comes, and then—finally—he presses a kiss to my hair, his arms loosening a bit without letting me go.

I lean against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart as it starts to slow. I don’t want to think yet. I just want this.

I feel perfect.

Dylan rests his head on top of mine. “Cate…” he says after a minute, his huge hands stroking lightly up and down my back.

Heaven.

I feel him swallow hard, and I smile against the warm skin of his hard chest, realizing it’s the only word I’ve heard from him in a while.

“Cate,” he repeats, and my name sounds like an answer to something he’s been asking for a long time.

Maybe to something I have, too.

Dylan holds me like this for a while—gentle and close—and our racing heartbeats seem to mingle together as we float back down to Earth.

I feel liquid, boneless, truly satisfied for the first time in my life. I’ve never come twice in one day, didn’t even know that it was physically possible for me, let alone that I could orgasm back-to-back like this. And so… intensely.

My lips curve up.

First, from the erotic shock of Jack walking in on me, and now, from what has been hands-down the most incredible, mind-blowingly perfect sex I’ve ever had in my life.

Warm drowsiness spreads through my aching muscles, and my mind feels pleasantly foggy. This must be what it feels like to have no stress, I realize. All the tension, all the worry has been utterly wiped away.

Wow.

Dylan’s saying something—I more feel the rumble of his voice through his chest than hear it—and I force myself out of my hazy reverie.

“What?” I ask, yawning.

Not moving ever again would be a nice option.

He laughs softly. “I said, it seems like you really needed that.” He kisses me gently, adding, “... as badly as I did.”

Dylan steps away and my eyes drift shut. I hear the rustle of latex being shed, tied off, then the lid of the garbage opening and closing. There’s the soft noise of him putting his jeans back on, of the kitchen faucet, and then Dylan is back.

“Mm.” I smile up at him, my eyelids heavy. “Did I ever.” He grins as he gently runs a warm, wet towel along my dripping thighs, between them, cleaning me up with delicate care. “And now I need—” I yawn again, interrupting myself.

“Naptime?” Dylan teases as he tucks the towel into his belt loop, and I nod. “Got you covered, gorgeous.”

He effortlessly gathers me up into his arms, and I’m nearly purring. It all feels a bit surreal—this isn’t my life—but for once, all the anxieties in my head are quiet, and I’m more than happy to go with it.

Dylan carries me gently up the stairs, nestled against the hard planes of his chest, and I must doze, because the next thing I feel is the sense of floating downward as he places me gently onto a soft surface.

I open my eyes to see I’m in Grandpa Sully’s old room, resting on the massive, burled walnut bed with its towering carved posts. The sheets are new—a soft cotton, like t-shirt material—and I can’t resist nuzzling against the pillow. I reach for one of the thick, plush blankets, but instead Dylan catches my hand, running his thumb lightly over my knuckles before placing my hand back down on the pillow.

To my delighted surprise, he proceeds to tuck me in, folding me into the kind of blanket burrow I always loved as a kid growing up. Still do. The layers of blankets are a comforting weight, a safe haven, and of course Dylan would remember that.

He’s almost too good to be true, but I’m too satisfied and dreamy right now for even my legendary anxiety to gain even the slightest foothold.

I smile at him sleepily, my heart almost overflowing with peace and contentment. I’ve always despised it when someone takes charge of my life, making decisions for me without a single care for what I actually want. But this is different. It’s not anything like that, not by a long shot.

Dylan isn’t taking over, deciding what’s best for me without consulting me. He’s paying attention, listening to all my needs, and truly—the echo of pleasure rolls through me—fulfilling them.

“How are you real?” I murmur, my eyelids heavy.

Dylan leans down, brushing my hair from my face before placing a gentle, warm kiss on my lips. It’s a sweet kiss, a satisfied kiss that still somehow carries the promise of a world of pleasure in the future. I groan, languid as a cat in a sunbeam, and Dylan laughs softly.

“You get some rest, Wildcat,” he says. The warmth and desire in his eyes makes me feel safe.

Cherished.

I let myself float off into sleep, content not to worry about any of the events of this dizzying day, despite the fact that I haven’t been acting like myself… at all.

There will be time to sort everything out tomorrow, and besides, I think I like this Cate.

I really, really do.