Oh my God, his tongue is like velvet.

And his body was granite. Everywhere they touched, Crystal felt the power of his muscular frame—a frame she recalled quite well from the other night. Incredible biceps, outrageously defined abs, and an ass that just wouldn’t quit. Whatever the hell that meant.

She clutched at his back, pulling him against her as the intensity of the kiss pulsed through her. His hands squeezed her waist as his hips rotated into hers. She felt the hard length of his cock through their annoying layers of clothes. Moaning, she lifted her right leg and wrapped it around his hips.

He cupped her ass, lifting her while leaning into her at the same time. The pressure of him between her legs sent sparks shooting through her. She closed her eyes and saw white light behind her lids.

The elevator chimed, and Jamie pulled away. His lips were wet, his cheeks flushed, and his pupils dilated with sultry arousal.

He took her hand and tugged her forward. Her legs were like jelly but managed to propel her from the car. He turned and hurried along the hallway. Once they reached his door, she fumbled in his coat pocket for a set of keys. They jangled as he found the right one and slid it into the lock.

Still holding her hand, he pushed the door open with his free hand. “After you.”

She didn’t let go but walked over the threshold. As soon as she was inside, she turned. He barely had the door closed before she shoved him up against it and kissed him, her mouth open and hungry.

He dropped the keys to the floor and cupped her head, spearing his tongue into her mouth. She pushed his coat from his shoulders. He shimmied his body to help her, then slipped her coat off.

He wore a V-neck wool sweater with a T-shirt underneath. She pushed both garments up to expose his abs and ran her hands along the ridges of his flesh. Damn, he was ripped.

He groaned but didn’t break the kiss. He pushed his hands up the back of her cashmere sweater and found the clasp of her bra. It came free almost immediately, and he skimmed his palms over her flesh, traveling beneath her arms and finding the curve of her breasts. Coming up under her bra, he cupped her. He dragged his thumbs over her nipples, drawing them to stiff points. She arched into his touch, moaning again.

Desire swirled through her. She unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. Thrusting her hand inside his boxer briefs, she found his cock, hot and already wet at the tip.

She abruptly pulled her mouth from his and dropped to her knees. She tugged his jeans and underwear down over his hips. Cupping his balls and encircling the base of his cock with her thumb and forefinger, she guided him into her eager mouth. She wrapped her other hand around his hip, her fingers digging into his flesh.

He said her name, a hoarse whisper, over and over as she sucked him. His hips moved with her, his cock gliding over her tongue. She tightened her grip on him—not too hard, but enough to make him groan and clasp the back of her head.

“Oh my God, Crystal. I am going to come.”

She pulled her mouth off him with a pop. “No, you’re not. I remember the other night. You’re a marathoner.”

He laughed. “That was after a lot of alcohol. I don’t usually last quite that long.”

She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. “Wimp.”

He arched a brow. “I’ll show you wimpy.” He kicked off his shoes and wriggled the rest of the way out of his jeans and boxer briefs, then swept her into his arms as if she were a pile of laundry.

She squealed. “That’s a nice look. The naked lower half with the socks.”

“Thank you.” He carried her into the kitchen and paused.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to decide. Counter, table, sofa, floor, or the boring bed.”

“We’ve already done counter and sofa.” The wine cellar counter and one of the leather couches in the game room.

“We also did the bed.” His eyes locked with hers. “Did you forget?”

How could she? “Definitely not.” That portion had been particularly fantastic, but then it had been the culmination of their endeavors. In retrospect, she wasn’t sure how he’d managed to last that long. Her gaze dipped to his unfortunately covered chest. “Are you chemically enhanced?”

His laughter curled around her again. “No. But I guess that settles whether you think I’m a wimp.”

“God, no.” She wasn’t light—she had a lot of muscle on her frame—and yet he held her without effort. “So where are we going?”

“Bed.” He carried her into the bedroom. “You want to strip for me, or do you trust me to take your clothes off?”

She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. “Trust you?”

“I’m pretty worked up. I might rip something.”

Wetness flooded her core. “I don’t care. I just want you inside me. Now.”

He grinned as he set her on her feet next to his bed. He swept her sweater over her head and pulled her bra off in a pair of fluid movements. Then he squatted down to unzip her boots. “These are really hot. Maybe after I get the rest of your clothes off, I’ll have you put them on again. Just them.”

Damn, he was sexy. She couldn’t remember the last time a guy had turned her on like this with just words. Maybe never.

“Then what would you do?”

He removed the first boot and set it aside, then moved to the other. “I’d lay you spread eagle on the bed, then slide inside you.” He slid the second boot from her foot. “I’d wrap your legs around my waist so I could feel the leather against my hips and ass as I fucked you senseless.”

Oh my God, yes.

Her entire body was on fire as he undid her jeans and tugged them down her thighs.

He licked his lips as he stared at her. “Now that is a sexy pair of panties.”

She loved underwear. “I have about two hundred pairs. True story.”

He looked up at her, his eyes widening. “Seriously? Are they all that hot?”

She shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I think I’m going to make it my mission to find out. I don’t ever want to see you in the same pair of panties twice.”

“You’re a bit bossy.” She kind of liked that, but then she liked to be bossy too.

He pulled her jeans off and she lifted her feet to help him. “Good or bad bossy?”

“Good,” she stretched the word out a bit. “But you’re assuming you’ll see more of my underwear.”

He rose to his full height, which was a solid five inches over hers. “You plan on going commando?”

She’d done that on occasion, but that wasn’t her point. “Who says we’ll be doing this again?”

He looped his fingers around her panties and tugged them down over her hips, the wide lace edges skimming across her flesh and heightening her desire. “You really want to say no to this?”

Not right now. But she made no promises. “What do you say we take it one sex act at a time?”

“Just one sex act?” He left her panties around her thighs so that she couldn’t spread her legs, then slipped his finger inside her. “This right here is a sex act.” He gave her a thoroughly seductive stare as he pumped into her slowly. “So I guess when I’m finished, you’ll have to let me know if you want to continue.”

“I meant tonight.” She closed her eyes and moaned as he stroked into her. “Tonight, I’m yours.”

“Well, fuck me.”

She heard the glee in his voice and smiled as his mouth claimed hers. The kiss was deeply arousing, his tongue mimicking the thrust of his finger. She wanted to open her legs, but couldn’t. Screw this. She pushed her panties down lower and wiggled them over her knees.

When she kicked them free, he tore his mouth from hers with a tsking sound. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

She’d opened her eyes when he broke the kiss. “You are bossy.”

He picked her up and sat her on the edge of the bed. “I’m having fun.” With both hands, he cupped her breasts, his fingers stroking her flesh and then tweaking her nipples. He pressed her back but didn’t come with her. Instead, his hands moved to her thighs, shoving them apart just before his lips and tongue descended on her sex.

She recalled New Year’s Eve with blistering clarity, but for some reason didn’t remember him being this talented. His mouth sucked and licked at her eager flesh while his fingers—two of them now, she thought—pressed into her. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the rest of her senses.

He drove her to the brink of release then eased back. She clutched wildly at his head, his shoulders, anything she could reach. Her keening cries filled the room as he pushed her back up the mountain. But this time, he let her reach the summit. Her orgasm crashed into her, sending streaks of mind-melting pleasure shooting through her.

The sound of him opening a drawer pierced her sexual haze. She heard him tear open a condom wrapper—she hoped it was a condom wrapper—then he repositioned her lengthwise on the bed.

She opened her eyes as his weight depressed the mattress and realized his bed was only half-made. Or had she pulled the covers back somehow while he’d been between her legs. She wasn’t sure. She had thrashed a bit.

Heat crept into her face as she smiled.

He moved between her thighs, drawing her legs up so that she could plant her feet on the mattress. “What?”

“Just feeling good.”

“Excellent. Let’s keep it going.” He teased her clit for a moment, reawakening her lust, then his cock was there, sinking into her with a long, sure stroke.

The smile slid from her face, and her eyes nearly closed. “Oh my God, Jamie.”

“Mmm.” He leaned over her and took her nipple into his mouth, teasing her with his tongue.

She clasped his hips, digging her fingers into his ass, and thrust up, urging him to move faster. “Don’t tease me,” she growled.

He pulled up from her breast. “Wouldn’t dream of it. You want it fast?”

“And hard. Please.”

He curved his hands around her head, spearing his fingers into her hair. “Look at me.”

She forced her eyes to remain open and fixed them on his face. The muscles of his jaw were tight, his lips thinned with exertion as his hips snapped into hers. But his gaze was dark and steady, as relentless as his cock thrusting into her. He went fast. And hard. And Crystal curled her legs around him, pressing her heels into his ass. She clutched at his back, holding him to anchor herself for the coming storm.

Another orgasm slammed into her. She couldn’t keep her eyes open another moment as the sensations overwhelmed her. She felt him stiffen, then cry out, a low, guttural sound that echoed inside her with deep satisfaction.

Several minutes later, he rolled to the side, his chest heaving. He let out a heavy breath. “Holy shit.”

Crystal opened her eyes, blinking as she looked around his bedroom for the first time. They lay tangled in his duvet cover and sheets. There was a TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed and a dresser beneath it. Stacks of papers and a random collection of items such as coins, golf tees, and ticket stubs littered the top of the dresser.

He jumped up from the bed. “Be right back.” Flashing her a smile, he walked nude into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

She went to the dresser and opened a few drawers. Each was stuffed with clothing that wasn’t neatly put away. The T-shirts were sort of folded, but not well. She pulled one out with a Portland Timbers logo and drew it over her head. The hem reached her midthigh. She found her underwear and put them back on.

The toilet flushed, and he came out a moment later. His gaze raked over her. “Nice choice. You want that coffee?”

“Sure.”

He went to the dresser and extracted a shirt and a pair of athletic shorts.

“Going commando?” she asked.

“Why not?” He quirked a smile, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Never know what might come up later.”

Crystal rolled her eyes with a laugh. “I can well imagine.” He left the bedroom, and she followed. Now she got her first look at the main area of his loft. There was a living room, a dining area, and a kitchen with a wide island. At least she thought it was an island. It was as cluttered as the dresser in his room.

He went to the island and moved a few things. As he stacked some papers, he shot her a nervous glance. “I’m a little messy, sorry.”

“I can see that.” She joined him, sitting on a stool across the island from him. “You need a housekeeper.”

“You sound like my mother.” He opened a cupboard over the fridge and pulled down three bottles of liquor, which he set on the island. “Can’t afford one, though.”

Crystal had a housekeeper. And a chef who prepped meals and stocked them in her pantry and fridge. She also had a gardener and a pool maintenance crew. She didn’t mention any of that.

He opened his Keurig and popped in a coffee pod, then grabbed a couple of large mugs from another cupboard.

“It’s decaf, right?” she asked.”

“Yep. Does the mess bug you?”

“Not really.” She’d grown up with man clutter. “I have three older brothers.”

“Same here.”

Right—Cam, Luke, and his half-brother, Dylan. “No wonder your mom suggests a housekeeper.”

“Actually, Luke is almost painfully neat. And Cam’s not far behind.” Jamie brushed his hair back from his forehead, then set about pouring rum in the mugs. “I, uh, have executive function issues. Not quite ADD, but similar. I don’t even really see a mess or clutter or whatever. But some people think I’m a slob—Luke for one.” He screwed the top back on the liquor bottle and looked over at her, gauging her reaction, which was just her staring at him. “I also lack a proper filter. Hence my word-vomiting all that.” He moved on to the next liquor—Kahlúa—and averted his gaze, but not before she saw his eye twitch with what she would call a wince.

She didn’t want him to feel awkward. “Yeah, well, filtering is overrated. Remember when I blurted to you earlier that I wanted to talk to you about sex?”

He chuckled, his eyes finding hers before he poured the Kahlúa into the mugs. “Good point.” He moved on to adding the third liquor, triple sec.

“I don’t think I’ve had that in Spanish coffee,” she said.

He gaped at her. “Are you kidding? You haven’t been to Huber’s in Portland? It’s a landmark.”

“Um, no?”

“For a history buff, you are woefully uneducated. Huber’s was founded in 1879—same year as your brick.”

It wasn’t her brick. “Really? That’s so cool.”

“They make the best Spanish coffee anywhere. It’s a huge production. The waiter rolls out a cart with all the ingredients. Then he—or she—puts on a show with all the liquor bottles and mugs—their arms moving almost like a dance. It’s kind of mesmerizing, actually. But the best part is when they light it on fire and then keep up the act. I’ve seen a guy drop a glass before. Luckily, nothing caught on fire.” He laughed again.

“Wow, that sounds incredible. I’d love to see it.”

“I’d love to take you, but that depends on if you plan to ignore me again. You did make a comment earlier about me not seeing any more of your underwear. Which would be really sad, by the way.” He pivoted and grabbed the pitcher from beneath the Keurig spout. As he poured the coffee into the mugs, he said, “I just want to be on the same page.”

She felt like an ass all over again. “I’m sorry about that. Really. I feel terrible.” Especially given their repeat performance tonight. She liked him.

“Don’t feel bad—none of that allowed. We don’t have any strings here, and that’s fine by me. I just want to set my expectations accordingly. We weren’t in much shape to do that New Year’s morning.”

Right. They’d been tired, a bit hungover probably, and eager to get home before they were spotted by any of the Archers.

He opened a drawer and drew out a spoon, then stirred the drinks. “Anyway, I just want to know if I should expect sex after you have dinner at my parents’ house.”

A laugh burst out of her. “Uh, maybe? Like I said, let’s take one sex act at a time. I will say I’m not opposed to that.”

He grinned. “Awesome. I feel the same.” He turned and went to the fridge, opening the door. He peered inside for a moment before reaching in and pulling out a can of whipped cream. “Yes! I was pretty sure I had some.” He checked the date. “Still good. Whew.”

She really liked him. He was honest and funny and didn’t take himself too seriously, something so many guys in LA were guilty of. “Wait! Aren’t you going to set it on fire?”

He arched a brow at her, and she noticed he did it somewhat often. It was incredibly charming and only added to his appeal. “I could, but I’m not an expert.”

“Then maybe we better stick to the whipped cream.” She gave him a saucy smile. “Just on the coffee?”

He sprayed it into the mugs and winked at her. “I like the way you think.” He handed her a mug and tapped his against it. “Cheers.”

“Can you say that with a British accent? I bet you can.”

“Cheers, mate.” He waited a beat. “Is that better?”

She curled her bare toes around the rung of the stool and sipped her coffee. “It’s fabulous.”

“Me or the drink?”

“All of it.” Heat and alcohol curled through her belly, mingling with a persistent flush of arousal. This guy was like sex crack. She giggled.

He sipped his drink and got a mustache of whipped cream for his trouble. “What’s so funny?”

She giggled again. “You have a whipped cream mustache.”

His brow climbed his forehead again. “Do I? Maybe you should lick it off.”

“Oh, don’t challenge me.” She scooted her mug to the side and did the same with the other detritus in her way. Then she pushed up from the stool and put a knee on the counter. The granite was cold and hard. She placed her palms facedown and leaned across. He held perfectly still as she licked her tongue along his upper lip. “Mmm. Delicious,” she murmured.

His mouth captured hers in a brief but searing kiss. “Very.”

She retreated across the island and plucked up the mug taking another drink. “You’re dangerous, I think.”

“I can live with that description. You’re a temptress.”

“And I can live with that.” Because she was sorely tempted. Which was why he was dangerous. She didn’t do relationships, especially with guys in small towns. But wait! That was what made him so perfect. He’d already said they had no strings—perfect. And he was into her the same way she was into him—also perfect. Best of all, he lived here and she lived in LA. So perfect.

He picked up the whipped cream can and came around the bar. She turned on the barstool until her back hit the counter behind her.

“What do you have in mind with that?”

He looked at the can and then raked his gaze over her from head to toe. “So many things.”

She whipped his shirt off over her head. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Perfect indeed.

Until it wasn’t. Which would happen sooner or later. For now, she’d enjoy the ride.