I reached for her, tossing her ball cap to the floor.

I felt like that John Mayer song they played to death on the radio a few years back. “Slow Dancing in a Burning Room.” Everything was urgent, yet agonizingly slow.

We were toe-to-toe now. She didn’t back away. I clasped her chin between my thumb and index, tilting her head up.

“Trust me?”

She nodded, her throat bobbing. I caught her lips in a blistering kiss. It was deep and slow and methodical and different from every kiss I’d ever had. I curled my fingers over the hem of her shirt, jerking her close, until we were flush against each other.

Grace kissed me back, gasping, trying to catch her breath. When her fingers fumbled for my zipper, I raised her shirt, one inch at a time. I wasn’t nervous about what was waiting under it. But I knew she didn’t feel the same.

When I hiked her shirt up to her ribs, Texas stopped my hands from climbing upward, slapping one of my hands away. I raised both my palms up in surrender. She broke the kiss off, taking a step back.

“Sorry.” She chuckled. “Maybe …” She hugged her midriff, tucking her left cheek shyly to her shoulder. “Maybe we can just do it with our clothes on? I mean, you can take yours off. And I’ll take off my pants, obviously …” She closed her eyes, turning beet-red under her makeup. “You won’t mind, right? I guess you hardly have time to undress your hookups at the Plaza …”

“Don’t,” I barked, feeling my nostrils flaring. “Apples and oranges.”

She winced.

Deciding to change tactics, I toed my boots off, then my socks. I pulled down my jeans and briefs in one go, standing in her room completely naked from the waist down. Just me and my raging hard-on, both of us staring pointedly at her.

Her eyes widened.

“Umm, okay? This was sudden …”

“Shirt off, baby,” I ordered in a low growl. A tone I was familiar with, that was all me. She narrowed her eyes at me.

“I told you it made me uncomfortable. Why do you insist on it?”

“Because you’re under the impression whatever I’m going to see is going to be a turn-off for me, and what better way of proving how mistaken you are than by showing you.” I pointed at my throbbing cock. It was purple and swollen. So erect, I doubted I had blood left in other parts of my body. Hell, if I cut my wrist open, I’d probably bleed bone.

“That’s not an experiment I’d like to take part in.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to flick the bean to get off.” I crouched—yes, without my goddamn pants on—making a show of picking up my jeans.

“Wait!”

I froze mid-action, smiling to myself with my head bowed down.

“You won’t … we won’t do it if I don’t show you my scars?”

I straightened my spine, licking my lips as I took off my shirt, now standing butt naked. That was better. Nothing felt quite as emasculating as standing partly naked in front of someone (though buying one midday showing ticket to a Kate Hudson flick came in close).

The things this chick makes me do.

“That’s right. Tit for tat. I’m naked. You’re naked. That’s the equation.”

She stared up at the ceiling, shaking her head. “It ain’t pretty. The left side of me anyway.”

“Every part of you is lickable. Nothing is going to change it. Especially your battle scars. Now get naked before I faint from lack of blood.”

She hesitated before removing her shirt in one rapid flick. She unclasped her bra then squeezed her eyes shut, wincing as she awaited my verdict, standing very still in front of me.

I stroked my cock, drinking in every inch of her torso. Her stomach was flat, her tits pear-shaped and bouncy. Her nipples were tiny, perfect for my mouth, and pebbled. The left side of her body was marred from the fire. Uneven, angry stains of red and purple wove across her skin like a painting.

Everything about her was honeyed and smooth and fuckable to a fault.

I advanced toward her while her eyes were closed. With every step I took, her breathing became shallower, until I was standing beside her.

She stopped breathing.

So did I.

I bent down, taking the nipple of her left, marred breast between my lips and sucking it deep into my mouth. She moaned, her hands shooting to clasp my head. I dropped my forehead against her collarbone, my cock pulsating between us, begging to get in on the action.

Down, boy. Not yet.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’m goin’ to kill you.” She drew me closer to her uneven nipple. A shade darker than her right, healthy one and a few inches larger due to scar tissue. I gave it the royal treatment. Kissed and licked and tugged softly with my teeth, running the tip of my tongue around the areola and blowing on it. She shuddered, thrusting her breasts in my face. Her entire body was arched and ready.

“About what? Your scar, or sucking your tits?” I moved to her other, “normal” nipple. I was half-crouching, and my quads were on fire. But I wanted her to see just how much she turned me on. Which reminded me …

I took her free hand, the one that didn’t try to yank out my hair, and circled it around my cock.

Still hard as a rock and just as intelligent, considering I made you a fucking promise I’m definitely going to break.

“Both,” she croaked. “Lord, you’re so hard.”

“You’re so beautiful. And so fucking insane,” I murmured to her flesh, now alternating between her tits, kissing and massaging, getting acquainted with them.

We’re going to become the best of friends, ladies, my kisses said. And spend a whole lot of time together.

I hoisted her up so her legs wrapped around my waist and carried her by the ass to her twin bed. I eased her down to the mattress, not breaking the kiss as I unbuttoned her jeans. She stroked my dick, up and down, her hands unsure but eager. I wondered how much experience she had in the sack. The fact she wasn’t a virgin didn’t mean jack shit. I didn’t know anything about her ex-boyfriend, other than the unpromising fact he hadn’t stuck around after the fire.

He was—you guessed it—on my growing list of people to kill if I ever went berserk.

Grace kicked her jeans down her ankles. I stroked the outline of her pussy over her white cotton undies, a violent shudder racking through my body.

So this was what being horny felt like. I must’ve mistaken bored and restless for desire until now, because nothing I’d ever experienced came close to this moment.