The rest of the party is a test in endurance. Sebastian doesn’t speak to me again, but his eyes follow me as I mingle. Undress me. Possess me. I forget names as soon as I learn them, laugh at jokes I don’t hear, and give a toast that brings tears to Thea’s eyes.

Inside, I’m a hot mess.

At just after ten, I tell Alex I have a headache and am going to head home. He offers me a guest room for the night, which I decline. As my first glass of wine was also my last, he thankfully doesn’t press the issue. I hug him and Thea, and the three of us make a date for lunch in L.A. next weekend. All while Sebastian watches me from across the room, dark eyes smoldering.

It’s a miracle I don’t get a speeding ticket driving home.

The garage door is still closing when I unlock the front door and run for the shower. I wash fast, shaving my legs and accidentally nicking myself on the ankle. Bleeding and panting, I dash out of the shower and into the closet for lingerie.

“This isn’t what I meant when I said naked and wet.”

I yelp and jump, knocking into hangers and losing my balance. The stage is set for a slow-motion mortification scene. The director yells Action! My arms pinwheel and I sprawl on my ass on the closet floor.

I stare up at a laughing Sebastian.

“Need a hand?”

I scramble to my feet. Not until I rub my sore backside do I realize I’m stark naked. With few options and no towel in reach, I finally settle on crossing my arms over my chest.

Sebastian’s grin falters and dies. “You’re bleeding,” he says curtly. I look down at the blood dripping from my ankle onto the floorboards.

“It’s noth—” I gasp as he lunges toward me and sweeps me into his arms, then strides to the bathroom counter and sets me down. I wince at the contact between cold marble and highly sensitive bits.

“Sebastian, it’s nothing. Just a little cut. They bleed a lot. You know, gravity.” Ignoring me, he runs water in the sink and sticks my foot under the faucet.

“Do you have any Band-Aids?” he asks, already rummaging through my medicine cabinet. “Never mind, found them.”

With gentle hands, he tends to the minuscule cut, dabbing it dry and applying a thick Band-Aid. Not once does his gaze veer to my naked self. By the time he’s done playing nurse, I’m annoyed.

I swing my feet to the ground, almost kicking him in the face. “Sebastian,” I snap. “Quit dissembling.”

He straightens, eyes narrowing. “Dissembling? You think I’m faking caring about you bleeding all over the floor?”

I move into his personal space, my nipples grazing the leather of his jacket. They harden to tight points; he notices and goes still. Sucking in his unique fragrance, I palm his crotch and look up through my lashes.

“What I think is that we’re wasting time.”

His eyes flash, the only warning I have before he bends, grabs the backs of my thighs, and yanks me from the floor. My legs instinctively wrap around him. Large hands cup my ass and grind me against the fly of his jeans. I moan unabashedly at the heat of him straining against the denim.

“My little spinner,” he breathes, eyes on where our bodies connect.

I point behind him. “Bedroom’s that way.”

“I don’t care,” he growls, and then his mouth is on mine.

There’s no soft seduction necessary for us, just heat and teeth and tongues. The passage of years hasn’t dimmed the chemistry between us. The opposite, in fact. He tastes the same and different. Darker. Better. I yank at his jacket, wanting to find out what else about him has changed.

“Are you still a screamer, my sweet Candy?” he growls into my mouth.

I don’t bother replying—the question’s rhetorical, anyway. He hikes me up higher, breaking the seal of our kiss to fasten his mouth on a nipple. My head falls back, my throat opening on a savage moan. White noise crowds my ears as my heart pumps furiously; I undulate against him like the wanton I am.

“Why are you still wearing clothes?” I whine, and redouble my efforts to get him out of his jacket. But it’s an impossible task with me wrapped around him.

His teeth close hard around my nipple, bringing another cry from me. God, he remembers. I’m pretty sure the front of his pants is now soaking wet.

“Sebastian,” I moan, and almost sob in relief as he walks fast from the bathroom.

He throws me onto the bed, the force making me bounce. I watch him tear off his motorcycle jacket and whip his light sweater over his head. He’s not wearing an undershirt. I feast on the sight of all his glorious, naturally bronzed skin. Broad, muscled shoulders, chiseled abs, and a delicious downward trail of black hair.

At twenty-four, Sebastian Bellizzi was lithe and sleek. At thirty-two, he’s a fucking god. His pupils are so blown it’s like staring into an abyss. An abyss I want to jump into.

“Touch yourself, Candace.”

I’m whimpering even before my fingers dip between my legs. I find a nipple with my other hand and pinch it hard. A current of heat shoots straight to my core.

“Fucking hell, look at you,” he rasps.

My eyes are closed as I give myself to sensation. Dimly, I hear his shoes coming off, followed by his jeans. When a foil rips, I open my eyes to watch him roll a condom down his considerable length. It’s why I asked him to bring the condoms—we both know he’s in a unique category.

“If you have a problem with being fucked hard, tell me now.”

The savage lust on his face is a teeny bit scary. I whip my head back and forth. “No complaints here.”

He’s on his knees and across the bed between one breath and the next. I’m boneless, yanked up by my arms, but there’s no guessing. No awkwardness. My body knows on a cellular level exactly what he wants; his body knows what I want. Him sitting on his heels, me wrapped around him—it’s my favorite position. The friction is incredible. He remembers.

My hands sink into his hair, my legs coiling around him. One of his arms locks hard around my back as his other hand angles my lower body. The head of him, thick and blunt, probes me. Yes. So close. I rock my hips restlessly, torturing myself with the barest penetration.

“Last chance,” he breathes.

“Tease,” I snarl.

Two thrusts and he’s inside me to the hilt. Holy shit. Molten heat runs from my core through my limbs, tingling in my fingers and toes. I throw my head back and hang on because he wasn’t kidding—he’s not holding back, the hand on my hip effortlessly pumping my body in time with his fast, hard thrusts.

Deep, electric pulses zing through me, building in power and frequency. Sebastian’s teeth sink into my neck. I scream in rapture as the sensation catapults me toward the glimmering edge. He bites me again, then licks the buzzing skin.

“I can feel you getting tighter. God, so sweet. That’s it. You’re right there…” His voice fades on a guttural groan as I come apart, jerking and clenching around him.

I chant his name. Or scream it. I’m not really sure. I can’t see straight, much less hear.

He drops forward, pinning me beneath him. One hand cupping my head, he angles my face for his kiss. Deep and sweeping, he tastes every crevasse of my mouth as his hips roll slowly, leisurely. He’s still hard as a rock, feeling like velvet with the slightest burn of sandpaper. This is what I’ve been looking for all these years. Him.

The realization isn’t a welcome one. It’s too sobering, forcing me to confront how perfectly and naturally my body responds to his. How rare my orgasms normally are. I wrench my mouth away from his, and it’s like fighting against a rip current.

“Bast,” I gasp, digging my fingers into his sides. I wiggle my hips. “Hard and fast, remember?”

He pushes the hair off my face, long fingers running across my cheekbones, my brow. A thumb angles into my mouth, hooking lightly onto my lower teeth. His eyes are drowning dark, burning. He never stops the slow roll of his hips.

“I changed my mind. I want you to come again.”

“I’m good, really,” I pant. “Just, uh, feel free to…”

He grins, a slash of white teeth in the semi-darkness. “Oh, I will. But not yet.”

Lifting my left leg, he passes it between our bodies and effortlessly spins me around and up to all fours. All while staying firmly inside me.

He growls approval. “Mmm. Missed that.”

A hand flattens on my stomach and slides to where our bodies join. Knowing fingers find my tight bundle of nerves. And I instantly quicken, my blood fluttering readily to his call. Traitorous body. Applying perfect pressure, he draws back and slams into me. And does it again. And again.

I shout his name, and keep shouting it until my voice is hoarse. Until I shatter, and sob, and he whispers, “So sweet.”

He spins me again, back beneath him. Hands on my shins, he pushes my legs up until my knees press into my shoulders. I gasp at the angle, the feeling of being so totally possessed. Sebastian is the only man who’s ever done this—frankly, he pretty much ruined me for anyone else.

He groans in a certain way that tells me he’s near his own jumping-off point. The tempo of his thrusts increase, become slightly erratic. His arms snake beneath my back, holding me open for him, trapped and close. So close. His nose nuzzles mine. A bead of sweat drips from his forehead and slides across my cheek.

“Candace,” he whispers.

I shake my head helplessly. “Kiss me.”

He does, feeding from my mouth like he’s starving. I offer him everything I can—everything I’m willing to give. He grows even harder, larger. I wait… Yes. He whispers my name over and over as he throbs inside me.