ABBY practically crawled in through her apartment front door, wariness in her stiff legs after their run. She collapsed on the sofa before Andrew could get in the doorway. He stood hulking over her, the top of his chest glistening with sweat under the open front of his light windbreaker. It was well-earned sweat, for both of them. She had run with him through her regular route, and doubled back a few times to make it challenging for them both.

Needless to say, he had let her win. She would have pushed extra hard to win as well—she loved the idea of going back to Lake Tahoe, this time of her own volition, and with just her and Andrew. He stood over her now. He looked like he could go another five miles. His hands sat at his waistband, just daring her to say the words.

“So, what is it? Come back to my place, or do we stay here for a bit?” His crooked smile made him appear even more boyish. In a totally sexy way.

“Stay.”

“Excellent.”

They had made a stop at the farthest point of the boardwalk. It was her favorite place to stop. When they did, she had laced her arms around his neck and whispered how much she wanted him. Right there and then. She was kidding—well, she was kidding a little. Luckily, Andrew was more reserved than she was.

She grabbed his hand and pulled him to her bedroom. Still a little sore in the legs, she sat on the side of the bed, letting her fingers work fast on the inconvenient drawstring of his running pants. Then, the zipper of his windbreaker. She heard the angels sing Gloria as that zipper slipped all the way down, and his sexy, slightly tanned chest revealed itself more fully above the tank top he wore underneath. The undoing of the zipper—Abby was beginning to believe it was the most erotic manufactured sound ever created.

She gasped. Literally. And imagined where that slim line of skin was heading. Active imagination, be damned. She had seen him time and time again, and he still had that effect on her. Her mind could never accurately recreate the sheer awesomeness that waited for her under his layers of clothes. She shifted onto her elbows to get a better look as the fabric of his track pants lowered and revealed his plain black silk boxers.

“No kidding,” she blurted out, laughing loud.

“What?”

“Black silk boxers? They are so…” She waved her hand in the air for effect, encompassing her and him and the whole of her pale blue bedroom. “So hot.”

He ducked his head down to peer at them. “You think?” He winked as he asked.

She laughed again.

“I’ve only seen you in those cute cotton ones at the cottage. I can’t remember what you wore last night, or when you were here the night before. Sorry.” She furrowed her brow. “Don’t tell me you have a different wardrobe when you travel?” She paused, catching his gaze.

“Well, don’t you?” he teased.

“Nope,” she said with a smile. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it, now that I have a hundred new outfits to choose from.”

He had a look like he was processing what she had said, and then shoved his sweat pants to the floor. He leaned over to untie his sneakers and pull them off, followed by his socks, and then the pants. Now, clad in nothing but those spectacular boxers, he placed his hands on his hips and widened his stance. Tilting his chin up, he squared his shoulders.

“What do you think of them now?”

She whistled low. Reverting back to her previous inner dialogue, she reached her arms out and asked him to apologize for being so much of a tease. This man was designed by God for reverence. Eye candy, brilliance and a kind heart? Any sane girl would want him.

“Take me, Andrew.”

She scooted to the edge of the bed, and spread her arms and legs wide. His grin stretched from ear to ear. His full set of straight white teeth—and that soul-shaking smile around his eyes—captured her in its sensual trap. She just sighed as he slunk onto the bed and proceeded to strip her with said teeth.

Sexiest move of the century, she decided. He got her down to her bra and panties in record time. Hands or no hands.

“You are going to have to help me here, Abby. Roll over, or lift your hips.” His warm breath caressed her stomach, and she could swear she saw stars.

“How about I just toss these off and we get down to business?” she joked. Her voice was tight, strung a little shrill. She could admit it, she was hot and bothered—bothered because no man should be able to get her this turned on, this quickly. It was unhealthy. And troublesome. And perfect.

“Please,” he answered. Oh, and he was a gentleman. Excellent!

She sat up. Reaching behind her back, she unclasped her sports bra and stripped the cotton straps down one shoulder, then the other. This time, Andrew whistled.

“You like?”

She shimmied her shoulder and thrust out her chest. She preened under the widening of his pupils and the way his fingers flexed on the sheets. Her breasts were small, but she was perky and so ready for him.

“Very much,” he answered. “Sorry, my hands and eyes can’t take it any longer.”

He placed his palms over her breasts and massaged them. Abby swooned. Whimpering, she collapsed back onto her elbows and let her head flop. She closed her eyes. She wanted to savor the feel of his large, warm hands on her flesh.

Soon, his mouth replaced his hands and he was on top of her, pinning her to the sheets. She didn’t complain. She loved being under his hot chest, tight abs and strong legs. She writhed underneath him, silently begging him for more with every nonverbal wish her body could conjure.

His hand stroked down her stomach and under the elastic waistband of her panties. His fingers moved over her mound, pressing on her clit, and finally slipping along her slit. She was so wet; so ready. Andrew made her soaking wet with need every time without fail. She spread her legs wider under his exploration, and lifted her hips as he eased his digits within her core. She ground her pelvis into his hand. She had needed this so much more than she was ready to admit to anyone, including herself. She couldn’t imagine before Andrew anymore. Her body must have been in stasis, waiting for him to make her sensuality come alive and fly up to the stratosphere.

He groaned, “God, Abby. You’re so wet; so willing. I can’t be without you anymore.” In seconds, after echoing her thoughts out loud, he had them both naked; their underwear tangled in a ball on the floor somewhere.

He braced his weight on extended arms locked beside her head, then slid forward and entered her. His thick, hard cock promised every sort of wicked deed as it went.

“Harder,” she begged.

She thought about being on top of him, but as he picked up the pace and rammed her into the bed—the springs protesting his strength—she didn’t dare argue for position. He took her to places, and touched her in places in her mind she had never been before. She let her head dip back as she rode the waves his touch created.

Her body shuddered as she came; first, as he got into the powerful rhythm that would cause them both to come apart into a million sharp-edged pieces of shattered ecstasy. And then again, as she felt his warmth coat her inner walls and claim her as his again. As he collapsed on top of her, she felt the L-word at the tip of her tongue. She loved him. She could barely wait for him to say it to her one day soon—and wished he would open up to her about his pain. Whatever it was, it ran deep.