He dropped his gaze to the floor, looking like he wanted to throw up. It was not the reaction I was hoping for, to be perfectly honest. “Oh, Zoe,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry, that was a mistake. I mean, I didn’t mean it that way, for it to come out that way. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” My words were like a wet bar of soap in the shower—slippery and eluding capture, dangerously slickening the ground I stood on. Bad enough that I’d let it out; worse if he didn’t say it back.

When he reached for me I went into his arms willingly, but was afraid to meet his gaze as he slanted his mouth over mine. His kiss was hard, ruthless, chastening me while stoking the fire inside me that was always banked there for him. I’d put enough of myself out there now; I was dangling from the edge, and I wanted him to catch me.

My eyes closed as I reached under his t-shirt, compelled to feel his skin. I needed Nathan without the costume of sarcasm or success. I needed the man, not the millionaire. With my mouth and lips and tongue and hands I tried to show him that he was all I needed, and he was very much loved.

After I pulled his shirt off, there was no thought of going back. He groaned into my mouth, steering me to the bedroom while shoving the blue cardigan off my shoulders. My feet tangled in it at the same time that he unzipped my dress, both making me unsteady.

His grip was tight enough on my upper arms that I worried they would bruise. The thought flew from my head as he stripped me of my dress and pushed me down on the bed. The newspapers still on the bed rustled. I pushed them off and into a pile on the floor like autumn leaves.

With little ceremony, he shoved his shorts and briefs down and kicked them off his lean legs. His gaze raked over me, from my damp panties to my neck flushing pink with arousal.

“I need you,” he warned, stroking his cock up and down. “I want you all the fucking time, but I need you even more than that.”

“You have me,” I promised. “I’m yours to do what you want with—haven’t I proven that to you?”

Nathan was my reward, not my punishment, and I wanted to be his.

There were so many ways in which we were not equals. Couldn’t the intensity of our feelings even things out? I didn’t love him any less because I had less money or experience. If anything I loved him in spite of those things, not because of them.

I swallowed hard as I watched him fist his erection. My nipples tingled, and the low, squirming sensation in the pit of my belly intensified. I wanted and needed him, too. My fingers clawed at the bed in an effort not to reach for my own throbbing clit. I had to wait for him.

I didn’t have to wait long. He kneeled on the bed, my legs parting for him automatically. There was pure, shimmering heat in his gaze, and it singed me as though I was too close to a roaring fire. Sparks flew, our own doubts serving as a screen between us.

He looked stricken. “I’m so sorry about my father. Zoe, you have to know that I—”

“I know, Nathan, I know.” Unable to stop myself, I reached for him.

But before I could pull him onto me, he held me back with one hard hand, guiding himself to the folds of my entrance. My toes curled against the mattress, my knees instinctively going up for my thighs to cradle him in welcome. He rubbed the hot, swollen head of his cock against me, painting me with his pre-cum and teasing my sensitive clit.

“Oh god, please!” The ripples of a shallow orgasm threatened my already tenuous grasp on my self-control.

“Beg me,” he growled.

“I am!” My neck arched back, my need swallowing any hesitation or self-protection. “Fuck me, please!”

He paused before pressing in an inch or so, stretching me deliciously. Then stopped. My fingers plucked at his body—his biceps, abs, hips, cheeks. I couldn’t get a grip on him, and he held himself just out of reach but for the tip of his erection opening me up. Why won’t he just—

“Aaahhh!” A cry whooshed out of me as he pierced me without further warning.

He never withdrew or retreated, only surged onward until he was buried deep within me and his pelvis rocked against mine. He literally couldn’t get any closer. The determined look on his face was one a warrior takes into battle, a soldier on a suicide mission.

Relentlessly, he drove me higher and higher, faster than I thought possible to a shattering climax. It was not equal in any way; I was helpless under the onslaught of sensation and emotion he ransomed from me. He didn’t need a flogger or a crop to beat me into submission, or even the open palm of his hand.

I was his, completely. If it was a mistake, I would own it. Someday. Today was all I could think about.

“Fuck, Zoe, I love you!”

My throat was dry, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth as I tried to swallow. I knew better than I trust words spoken with such passion, but he’d never lied to me before. My heart, along with the rest of my body, exploded.

Fireworks.