Lucas opens his eyes and recounts his fight with Clément.

My hands start to shake as I listen to him, so I hide them behind my back.

“Please, Lucas, don’t do anything rash,” I say when he stops talking. “Give it a few days. Call your doctors. They’ll help you deal with all of that.”

He gives me a long stare. “I don’t know if I can. Too much rage.”

Panic descends upon me in an icy shower.

Must stop him.

I must keep him from leaving now, from going after Clément. At any price.

“He didn’t mean to attack you,” I say. “You were the one who started the fight.”

He nods slowly. “I’m not denying that. But he left me there to bleed out like an animal. Five more minutes, and I—” He looks away. “If it hadn’t been for a server who’d popped out for a smoke, I would’ve died.”

I march to the door, turn the key in the lock it, and drop it into my purse.

“You’re not leaving here until I’m one hundred percent sure it’s safe for you,” I say, planting myself in the middle of the room.

Suddenly, he smiles.

I frown, bewildered.

“You know you’re toothsome when you’re bossy?”

I cock my head. “Toothsome.”

“Yes,” he says. “Toothsome.”

“Are you trying to distract me with a compliment so you can steal the key?”

“No,” he says. “I’m trying to distract you with a compliment so I can steal a kiss.”

I shut up and stare into his eyes.

Lucas’s gaze is soft, all the anger having drained away.

How is it possible? Can a man go from fury to desire this fast? Do I want his desire?

With his memories coming back, what if he turns into the guy he was before? Sexy. Flirtatious. Mean. He’s going to remember how vulnerable I was to him. Despite my high heels and form-fitting clothes, I’m still who I was back then—the kind of woman a guy like him would have a beer with and maybe bang for kicks. Not the kind of woman he’d envision as his girlfriend.

“Now that you’ve locked us in,” Lucas says, taking a step toward me, “I’m starting to feel grateful for it.” He takes another step. “I’m starting to think I don’t want to go anywhere tonight.” One more step. “I want to be here with you.”

My breath catches.

He grabs my shoulders and draws me to him, encasing me between his strong arms and chest.

I gasp. My arms are the first to surrender. They go up and wrap around his neck, tight, hungry. My hands grip the back of his neck, my head tips back, and I part my lips.

I give up. There’s no fighting what’s coming.

I want it too much.

My entire body aches and clenches, craving it.

“Izz,” he rasps before his mouth descends on mine. With one hand flat on my back and the other on the nape of my neck, he holds me steady while his tongue pushes deep into my mouth—into my soul.

My knees give out.

Without breaking the kiss, he backs me to the wall. I lean against it. His hands are everywhere on my body. His tongue is everywhere inside my mouth. Oh, to be wanted like this by him! I don’t care if he gets back with Angie or some other model tomorrow.

Tonight, he’s mine.

Heat courses through my veins, pooling between my legs. Need his hand there. Want him to ease all the aching and pulling and emptiness.

Want him to fill me.

I lift my left leg and wrap it around his thigh. I would’ve pushed it higher, but my stupid skirt won’t let me.

Lucas’s lips pull away from mine. We catch our breaths.

“Baby. Isabelle. Sweetheart,” he murmurs and trails his tongue down my neck.

Your hand, Lucas, please!

I’m dying here.

Finally, his hand slides down my hip, pushes the hem of my skirt up and cups me between my legs.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

He presses the heel of his hand against my mound while his fingers get busy rubbing.

I whimper in response.

He pulls the lacy crotch of my panties to the side and delves one long finger into me. I’m so wet, it meets with zero resistance. I need more. He adds a second finger. As he pumps in and out, I move, too, riding his fingers, grinding my swollen bud against his palm, rocking my hips in a sultry, shameless dance.

He pulls back so he can stare at what his hand and my hips are doing. His gaze is dark with want.

“I want you so much,” he says, his voice so coarse it’s almost unrecognizable. “You have no idea.”

Oh, but I do.

I’m shaking with a wild mixture of arousal and anticipation. “I want you, too.”

I want you more than you could ever know.

My core pulses with a force I didn’t imagine possible.

When he withdraws his finger from me, I open my mouth to order him back until I realize what he’s up to. Lucas is unbuttoning his jeans. My eyes widen when he frees his hard, throbbing shaft. I’ve missed it. I’ve imagined it countless times, touched myself while picturing it. I glance up at his face.

He smiles. “Look familiar?”

“Toothsome,” I say, grinning giddily. “Positively toothsome.”

He takes my hand and places it at the base of his erection.

Wrapping my fingers around him, I stroke until his eyes grow hooded and start to roll in his head.

My lower abdomen clenches with my own need.

I’m soaked. I’m in pain.

Giving Lucas one last stroke, I pull my hand away.

He opens his eyes and looks at me, confused.

How do you ask a man in a dignified and ladylike fashion to fuck you already?

“Isabelle,” he says, “Have mercy. Finish me off, and I’ll lick you until you scream.”

“I need you inside.”

“Do you have protection?”

I shake my head.

“Neither do I.”

I release a long sigh.

“Are you on the pill?” he asks.

“Nope.”

I almost open my mouth to say, “I don’t need the pill, thanks to my hostile womb,” but the words stick in my throat as he squats in front of me, lifts my left thigh, and spreads my folds.

Before I lose myself to the sultry sweetness of his caress, part of me wonders what stopped him from taking me without protection. Because, God help me, I would’ve let him. And I believe he could sense it. But he resisted the temptation.

Was it because he has truly changed, grown into a mature, responsible man? Or was it to make sure he doesn’t knock me up because he doesn’t see me in his future?

Lucas gives me a long, hard lick of his tongue, and I forget everything else. His hands squeeze my derriere as his mouth sucks, nips, and licks me.

I begin to moan.

He quickens his rhythm. His fingers gloss my folds before pushing right where they were before. My moans grow louder, messier. I no longer care where we are, that there might be someone else in the building, someone who might hear me. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is my body getting the most exquisite pleasure it’s ever known.

I buck and push against Lucas’s face, sobbing his name. My legs start to quake, and I come, wailing my orgasm.

He carries on for another minute, forcing my inner muscles to spasm again and again. I pant and clutch his shoulders to stay upright. My fingers dig into his flesh, and my nails break his skin. My center gushes nonstop with joy and completion.

When he gives me one final lick and straightens, I’m a boneless, voiceless, thoughtless clump of warm fuzzies.

We remain like that for a long moment, until I remember one of us hasn’t had a release. I reach down and grip him. He gives me an approving smile. My intention is to caress him a few times before I go down on him. But he’s too hard, too full, too close.

He explodes on my second stroke, his face twisting in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

I remember that expression.

As we clean ourselves up in silence, my warm fuzzies begin to recede, making room for embarrassment and apprehension.

Apart from not wanting Lucas to be on his own until he’s talked to his therapist, I don’t have a plan. We can’t sleep here in this office. There are no couches, not even blankets to spread on the hard floor.

Would he come home with me?

Lucas grabs his phone, calls a cab, and gives the operator his address.

“What are you doing?” I mouth.

He hangs up and smiles. “Arranging for wheels to take us to my place where there’s a shower, lots of food in the fridge and a soft, roomy bed.”

“Yes, please,” I say, exhaling in relief.

He gives me a sly smile. “Did I mention the pack of condoms in the bedroom closet?”