Come the weekend, I’m starting to feel semi-normal again, figuring it’s okay to stop rushing straight to my room as soon as I get home (or as soon as I hear Tanner’s car in the drive) to avoid ripping my roomie’s clothes off with my teeth, when Tanner texts from the backyard.

Hey. Can you take a break and come down to the pool for a few minutes? I wanted to try one of those pig discipline techniques I’ve been reading about.

Frowning first at my phone, then at the closed curtains blocking my view of the pool and the man out there in a chest-revealing swimsuit, I text back, I’m in the middle of color correcting a bunch of wedding photos I need to get back to my friend by tomorrow morning. Rain check until later?

“Preferably at a time when you’re wearing a shirt,” I mutter, tossing the phone back onto my desk and squinting at the tiny photos of Pepto-Bismol-pink bridesmaids I’m batch editing in an attempt to correct the bride’s poor taste in wedding party attire. The color is truly horrendous, and the puffed sleeves on the dresses only add insult to injury.

God, these poor women…

I’m considering adding a filter to the entire shoot and hoping I can find one that will compliment the skin tones of the many ethnicities represented in the bridal party, when my phone dings again—

I’m not sure conditions will be optimal later. Just pop down for a second? It shouldn’t take long, and I’ll make you a latte after, as a reward for helping with pig training.

A latte. Damn, that sounds good.

The ghosting-while-Tanner-is-home policy has led to a marked drop in caffeine consumption, since the coffee machine lives in the kitchen and I’ve been hiding out upstairs. Surely I’ll be able to resist the siren’s call of my roommate’s lickable chest if I focus on the equally tempting lure of caffeine waiting for me as soon as I’ve completed my pig wrangling duties.

A latte is every bit as delicious as an eight-pack belonging to an excessively fit man who has made it clear he wants nothing more in life than to fuck me until I come my brains out.

Right?

“You’re an idiot. Don’t go down there,” I mutter, even as I put my computer screen to sleep and text Tanner a quick: be right down.

I have to prove that I can resist temptation sooner or later, and there’s always the chance that Wanda will bite me again and I’ll be bleeding too much to care about Tanner’s chest. Or his thick, bitable biceps. Or all his other parts that I’m not going to think about because thinking about them is a bad, bad idea.

After a quick glance around the living room to be sure Wanda isn’t lying in wait, I breeze into the kitchen and out into the backyard, where the late afternoon air is filled with the smell of roses, chlorine, and grilled hot dogs from a barbeque somewhere farther down the block.

Distant laughter, softly competing soundtracks from various Sunday afternoon parties, and the squeals of kids running through the sprinkler across the street add to the idyllic summer day vibe. As I pad barefoot down the stone path to the pool, I find myself thinking about long days at the beach as a kid, when my sisters and I would spend hours climbing the tree that stretched out over the water near Hidden Beach and hurling ourselves into the frigid ocean below. Sometimes it was so cold that for a split second, right as your head plunged beneath the waves, the shock of the chill would trigger an out-of-body experience.

For a moment, I would forget who I was, where I was, what I was, hovering frozen in a place beyond body or identity, where there is only friendly darkness and the soft surprise of encountering that primal, eternal spark that remains when everything else is gone. I tried to explain that spark to Brendan once, but at ten I didn’t have the words to describe it in a way that made sense. I only knew that I lived for that scary, beautiful moment when a force of nature beyond my control made me forget everything but my essential me-ness.

I round the corner to spy the stunning man standing in the shade at the far end of the pool, and my heart does a leap-flicker in my chest that I will myself to ignore. This force of nature is firmly within my control, and there’s no way I’m jumping into the deep end with Tanner.

I’m staying on dry land, where a woman who is incapable of navigating the stormy waters of relationships belongs.

Tanner spots me as I step off the path and motions me over, pressing a finger to his lips. When I’m close enough, he points to the pig asleep in the grass behind his now-empty lounge chair and whispers, “She’s asleep so this is the perfect time.”

“The perfect time for what?” I whisper back.

“To play move the pig,” he says, smiling.

“Move the pig…” I cast a wary look Wanda’s way. “That sounds like a game that ends in lost fingers. Or an arm. Maybe a spleen.”

“Not if we start when she’s calm and relaxed.” Tanner places a warm hand at the small of my back, urging me closer to the sleeping menace. “Moving other pigs around is what dominant pigs do to show that they’re in charge of the herd. So when Wanda wakes up to find you moving her from one spot to another, she’ll instinctively realize that you’re dominant and that it’s not okay to bite you or rush you or ambush you in the bathroom.”

My eyebrows creep higher. “Or, instead, she realizes that I touched her while she was sleeping and decides to gnaw my face off.”

“No, she won’t.” Tanner pats my hip in what I assume is supposed to be an encouraging fashion, but it only makes me feel inappropriately tingly. “You’re going to move her with your legs. She won’t be anywhere near your face.”

“Oh, well, that’s comforting,” I huff, but I can’t help returning his grin.

Ugh, he’s so pretty when he’s smiling and half-naked, with his golden skin glistening with a mixture of sweat and sunscreen and his black swim trunks sitting so low on his hips I can almost see a hint of—

Look away from the happy trail, Diana! Look away!

With a concentrated act of will, I force my gaze back to Tanner’s eyes. “You really think this will work?”

“Probably not the first time, but everything I’ve read says that continuing to move her regularly—always when she’s relaxed—will shift her perception of you and eventually transform the relationship. She’ll realize that you’re in charge and that she’s not top dog anymore.”

“Or top hog,” I quip.

He smiles again, rewarding me way too easily and sending my heart into flutter-flicker mode all over again. “Exactly. You’ll be top hog, which will make Wanda feel safe and secure and lead to reduced aggression.”

I shake my head. “Why is that?”

“Pigs like to know whose boss, I guess,” he says with a shrug. “No matter how tough they play it, they secretly enjoy giving up control to someone bigger, stronger, and better able to protect the herd.”

My eyes narrow and Tanner smiles, a grin wicked enough to assure me I wasn’t imagining the teasing lilt in his voice.

“Don’t get any ideas.” I point a warning finger at his chest.

His grin widens. “Like what?”

“I don’t need anyone bigger and stronger to protect me or my herd.”

“I never said you did,” he insists before adding in a silkier voice, “But giving up control can be nice, don’t you think? Every once in a while?”

I swallow hard and debate running back to the house. On the one hand, that would leave no doubt in Tanner’s mind that I’m still tempted by all the yumminess he has to offer. On the other hand, it would remove me from the source of temptation before I confess how many times I’ve daydreamed about riding him like a rodeo cowboy the past three days.

I’m turning to make a break for it when Tanner steps in, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t be scared. I’ll be right beside you. You can do this. I won’t let her hurt you again. I promise.”

It’s not her I’m worried about, I think. Aloud I say, “Okay. Fine. What do I do?”

It would be nice to not be afraid of at least one of my roommates. If I can make peace with Wanda, then there will only be one threat lurking in the house, tempting me to forget what’s best for me and drown my new-to-the-city blues with sex, sex, and more sex that I have no doubt won’t remain casual. Tanner isn’t a casual guy. He’s a get-under-your-skin, invade-your-dreams, tempt-your-heart-into-the-emotion-ocean kind of guy.

“You’re going to nudge your feet under her rump and then shuffle forward,” he says, guiding me closer to Wanda’s slumbering form, “moving her along the grass with your shins.”

“You’re sure this isn’t going to piss her off?” I ask, palms beginning to sweat even though Wanda is adorable when she’s sleeping. Looking at her now, with her gently closed eyes and softly smiling mouth, you would never guess she’s a domestic terrorist with a rabid hunger for the blood of her rivals.

“Not according to what I’ve read,” Tanner says. “You just want to keep applying firm, insistent pressure in a friendly way.”

I shake my hands at my sides, trying to loosen up. “And exactly how do I make friendly with my shins?”

“Not with your shins, with your voice. Talk to her, tell her she’s a good little pig but it’s time to move along because you’re the boss.”

“Right. Okay.” I fight a burst of hysterical laughter as I wiggle my bare toes under Wanda’s bottom, wishing I were wearing shoes. She’s a clean pig, but having something covering my toes in case she wakes up and decides to lunge at my exposed flesh would be nice.

“Once you start, keep moving until she backs away from you,” Tanner whispers from too close behind me, making me feel pinned between a pig and a hard place. A rock-hard place that smells of coconut sunscreen, chlorine, and warm, sexy man.

Why does he have to be so fucking delicious in every way?

Why, why, why?

“If she turns and goes to sit down somewhere else, that’s even better,” he continues in a deep, husky voice. “That means she’s fully accepted your dominance.”

“I’ve always wanted someone to fully accept my dominance,” I murmur.

“Really?” He sounds intrigued.

I glance over my shoulder, my breath catching when I see how close his lips are to mine. “No, not really, Tanner. But I do have a question.”

“Yes?” His gaze drifts from my eyes to my mouth, making me tingle in places I shouldn’t.

My tongue slips out to dampen my lips, and my pulse leaps. “If Wanda decides I’m dominant, where does that leave you?”

“I’ll be another submissive member of the herd,” he says. “But I’m okay with that. She loves me too much to bite me, even if I’m submissive to the lady of the house.”

I shake my head, torn between laughter and the urge to press up onto my toes and kiss him for being an adorable weirdo. “This may be the strangest conversation I’ve ever had.”

“Doubtful. I was there for the killer mermaids, remember.”

My breath rushes out in a soft laugh. “True. You were. I’m glad they didn’t get you.”

“Me, too. Now quit stalling and start shuffling, Daniels.”

“Yes, sir.” I catch a flash of heat in his eyes before I shift my focus back to Wanda, enough to make me wonder if Tanner would like someone to accept his dominance. And for the first time in my life, the idea isn’t a complete turn off. I could see myself calling him “sir,” as long as he promised to pin me to my mattress and bang my brains out after.

Dangerous thoughts, girl. So many dangerous thoughts…

Struggling valiantly to focus on the task at hand instead of the tempting mountain of a man behind me, I move forward, nudging Wanda along the grass with my shins. After only a moment, she snuffles in her sleep and gives a full body shudder, making me freeze and my hands curl into panicked fists at my sides.

“Keep going,” Tanner whispers. “Slow, steady, and friendly. Don’t forget to be friendly.”

“Friendly. Right,” I mutter through clenched teeth before adding in an upbeat voice, “Good pig, Wanda! You’re a good little pig.”

“And keep moving,” Tanner urges. “Moving and friendly at the same time.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I growl, pulse skipping a beat as Wanda grunts in irritation. “You and your pig. Both of you. And then I’m going to make bacon, invite everyone over for a BBQ, and take a poll on which of you tastes better.”

Tanner’s hands settle on my hips. “It’ll be Wanda. My percentage of body fat is too low for me to make decent bacon.”

“Is that a humble brag?”

“Just follow my lead.” His arm slips around my waist. “I’ve got you.”

Before I can protest, Tanner shuffles forward behind me, and I’m propelled into motion once more, a now wakeful Wanda grunt-grumbling in surprise as she’s pushed onto her feet.

“Good little pig.” Tanner moves us along faster, sending my shins bumping into Wanda’s backside. “Good pig, but it’s time to move along. Move on pig. Move on.”

“Move on, pig,” I echo, gaining confidence as Wanda plods across the grass without turning to tear a hole in my knee. “Move on, little pig.”

“Such a good pig.” Tanner’s hands are on my hips again, guiding me away from the warmth of his body.

“So good, but don’t look back, because I’m the boss,” I say sweetly. “I’m the big bad pig boss and it’s time for you to move on and find another place to be, Miss Thing.”

Tanner laughs as he releases me, sending me wobbling along like a kid riding a bike without training wheels for the first time.

For a moment, my heart jumps into my throat and my fear returns, but I push through the rush of anxiety, remaining focused on my shuffling and cooing until Wanda finally picks up speed, scampering away to root in the raised planter bed where Tanner buries carrots for her every morning. She simply trots quietly away, without biting or lunging or showing the slightest sign of shifty-eyed, sneaky, pig evil.

Chest swelling with pride, I turn back to Tanner with a grin and whisper excitedly, “I did it! I moved the pig!”

“You did,” he says, his smile as big as mine.

“She accepted my dominance!” I crow softly, thrusting my arms overhead in a V for victory.

“She totally did. You are the dominant pig in this herd, woman. How does it feel?”

I press my lips together, fighting a giggle and losing. “Good.” I bring my hands up to cover my goofy grin as I add, “Really good, actually. Is that weird?”

“Not weird at all.” Tanner steps in until he’s standing so close I have to tip my head back to hold his gaze. “It’s sexy.”

“You get off on watching me relocate your pig?”

“No, it’s your smile.” The mixture of heat and vulnerability in his eyes makes it impossible to look away. “It’s one of the best smiles I’ve ever seen. Bright and beautiful and fearless.”

“I’m not fearless,” I confess, swaying closer. “Not even close.”

“But you could—” His words end in a soft humph of surprise as a warm, solid body shoves between our legs.

We look down and Wanda looks up, grunting as she backs away only to rush forward again, ramming between our legs a second time.

I arch a brow. “I think Wanda wants us to make room for the Holy Spirit.”

“Wanda can go away.” Tanner reaches down, shoving Wanda’s shoulder gently, but firmly. “Go away, Wanda.” She advances and he pushes her again, sending her stumbling back on startled hooves. “Go away! Bad pig.”

Wanda stands trembling at the edge of the pool, clearly shocked, and emits a plaintive oink.

“Go away.” Tanner points to the rooting garden, muttering to me, “Shoulder shoving is for when they show aggression. You’re not supposed to talk nice after the shoulder shoving.”

Wanda takes a tentative step forward, but Tanner stops her with another no-nonsense command. “Go away! Right now. Bad pig.”

After a long searching look that clearly communicates “How could you do this to me? How could you let that worthless blond human come between us and our perfect love?” Wanda hangs her head and waddles away to a patch of shade on the far side of the pool.

“Poor thing,” I whisper, fighting a laugh as she dramatically flops into a patch of dust beneath the tree. “I would feel sorry for her if she weren’t such a butt-biting bully.”

Tanner turns back to me. “Don’t feel sorry for her. This is her karma. She deserves every bit of what’s coming to her.”

My smile vanishes, dropping away like a wild child leaping from the safety of the trees into the churning surf below.

“Did I say something wrong?” Tanner asks, reading me with an accuracy that’s unnerving, considering we’ve only known each other a week.

I shake my head. “I just don’t like the idea of karma. It makes those of us with lousy luck think we must have done something to deserve it. And I really don’t think I did.” I shrug uncomfortably, trying to force lightness into my tone and failing. “But maybe I was Genghis Kahn in my last life.”

“You weren’t Genghis Kahn.” Tanner lifts a hand, capturing a rogue curl that escaped from my messy bun and looping it around his finger. “I didn’t mean karma in that way. I’m not one of those ‘everything happens for a reason’ people.”

“Good. I hate those people.”

His lips curve. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I did,” I say, wishing I had the strength to untangle his hand from my hair and step away. “But you won’t listen.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Daniels,” he says, a challenge in his voice. “You say we can’t get close, but you’re still standing here feeling up my chest.”

My eyes widen, but before I can protest that I’m doing no such thing, I realize that my hands have indeed found their way to Tanner’s chest, where my fingers are sensuously tracing the rise and fall of his muscles and growing increasingly slippery with sunscreen.

I curse, Tanner grins, and before I have time to remind myself—or him—what a bad idea this is, I’m in his arms, kissing him like the world’s about to end. My fingers dig into his shoulders, my legs wrap tight around his hips as he lifts me into the air, and I put up exactly zero fight as he crosses the lawn, opens the door to the detached garage, and steps into the dim cool of a shadowy place where we are free to get as naked as we please.

And so we do.

Before I quite know what’s happened, Tanner is lifting me up to sit on something smooth with a hint of an incline. I turn to see what I’m perched on, but Tanner chooses that moment to rip open the Velcro close on his swim trunks. And then he’s as naked as I am, and I have eyes for nothing but the golden god moving between my legs, his erection so thick and delicious I can’t resist the urge to reach down and stroke him, up and down, relishing the thick, burning, clearly-wild-for-me length pulsing beneath my fingers.

“Your cock is a beautiful little bastard.” My words become a gasp as he cups my breasts in his sun-warmed hands and pinches my nipples, sending electric shocks of need coursing between my legs.

“Rethink your adjectives, Daniels.”

“I think cocks can be beautiful, don’t you?” I ask innocently, deliberately misunderstanding him.

He hums as he kisses his way down my throat, the rumble vibrating across my skin. “That wasn’t the adjective I was talking about, but that’s all right. I have ways of proving you wrong, little girl.”

I shiver, threading my fingers into his hair as he sucks my nipple into his mouth and sticky waves of desire throb through my bloodstream. “Is that supposed to scare me?”

“Never,” he says, making my belly flutter as his fingers replace his mouth, continuing to pluck and caress my charged skin. “I don’t want to scare you, Beach Pixie. I just want to make you come. That’s all I’ve wanted since the night I first kissed you.”

I reach for him again, already as desperate for him as I was the last time we were naked together. “Birth control is covered, and I’m clean. You?”

He groans as I wrap my fingers around his cock, squeezing tight. “Clean, but I don’t want to rush. I want this to last.”

“Make it last next time,” I say, breath coming faster as I scoot forward.

“But I—”

“It’s been a long time for me,” I confess, fitting the swollen head of him to where I’m so wet and ready. “A really long time. Please don’t make me wait. I need this. I need you.”

The last word turns out to be the magic one.

A moment later, Tanner pushes inside me, filling me with his thick, hot, not-little-at-all cock, and we proceed to take each other with an intensity that is anything but restrained. We gasp and cling and strain closer, deeper, faster, harder, until I’m floating, falling, exploding like the firework that fell behind the shelf and was lost in the dark for so long it feared it would never join the rest of its brothers and sisters in the sky.

But now I’m there, bursting open in the dark, dizzy and sparkling and biting Tanner’s full bottom lip as I soar. Catching fire.

And God, it’s so good. It’s so right and sweet and hot that for a long time I can’t think about anything but Tanner and his taste, his touch, and all the crazy wonderful things he’s making me feel.

By the time I realize the dings and pings filling the air are coming from the pinball machine I’m sitting on—not from orgasm-induced auditory hallucinations—I’ve come twice and am greedily reaching, climbing, praying for number three.

“I think we’re going to get a high score,” I gasp against Tanner’s lips.

“Hell yes, we are,” he says, groaning as he adds, “Fuck, I’m going to come, baby. I’m going to come so fucking hard.”

“Inside me, inside me,” I demand, digging my nails into the thick muscles of his ass as he pumps deeper, faster, building the swelling tension until I spiral out a third time just as his cock begins to jerk and twitch.

We kiss and moan and make happy, humming celebration sounds for several minutes after the main event, until we both suddenly start laughing for reasons that defy explanation.

But it doesn’t matter why we’re giggly. All that matters is that this was good. So good. So good that we already know we’re going to do it again.

And again.

And again…

First on a blanket we spread on the floor of the garage, then on the pinball machine again before we sneak out to jump naked into the pool as the sun is setting. We christen the shallow end—being sure to stay hidden from the neighbor’s view beneath the benevolent trees—before heading back into the garage to pillage beer from the beer fridge and play pinball naked.

Tanner wins two out of three games and rewards himself by decreeing that he gets to go down on me first, which he does, with great skill and enthusiasm while I writhe beneath him, watching the stars come out through the skylight while Tanner reminds me what I’ve been missing.

“So much,” I murmur after I’ve returned the favor and we’re lying sticky, sweaty, and happy as pigs in a pile of pink blankets on the floor of the garage. “I’ve missed sex so, so much.”

“Me, too,” he says with a blissed out sigh. “It had been a while for me, too. Especially since…”

I prop up on one arm, gazing down into his shadowed face. “Since what?”

His fingers skim up and down the valley of my spine, making me shiver. “Since it was this good. You’re amazing when you’re naked.”

I try to stop my grin by biting my lip and fail. “Thank you. You’re not bad yourself.”

He scowls. “Not bad?”

“Good, I meant,” I say, smile widening. “I mean, I think so. I find my memory is fuzzy for some reason. Maybe you could refresh it for me?”

So he does, and it’s so much better than good.

So much better that by the time we finally head to bed, I’m too exhausted to worry too much about the danger of making your roommate and your fuck buddy the same person, or to stress about the warm feeling that fills my chest as Tanner curls around me in my bed, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before we fall deeply, profoundly asleep.