The door to his room was wide open, and Tom was standing in front of her. His arms were crossed over his black knit Henley, which showed his perfection. She realized too that his five o’clock shadow was likely all she’d ever see, and the way he took her in had her heart kicking up, the beat loud and deep and thumping in her ears. She wondered whether Tom could hear how loud it was. He did nothing other than standing where he was, waiting for her to do what he’d said. His gaze was strong, intent, powerful. That was all she could think. She was positive he would wait all day.

She should leave. The image of the open door had her head screaming to get up off the bed and walk out, be a reasonable young woman, the perfect good daughter her parents would expect her to be. But as she rose up, standing there, feeling grounded for the first time in her life, her hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They reached up and touched the first button of her teal checked shirt. She took a breath, because if she undid the button, this would decide whether she continued down this path, which was heading in a direction where she didn’t know how it would end. One path was dark and unlit, holding everything terrifying and scary and unknown, but the other one was safe and predictable and bored her to tears.

She slipped the button through the hole and then another and another until her blouse fell open, showing her cream lacy bra. She peeled off her shirt and allowed it to fall to the floor.

Tom said nothing as he watched her reach back and unhook her bra, and he held himself still, his breathing even, though his eyes gave him away, the way they flared and took in her breasts, which were more than a handful. So he liked what he saw.

She unfastened her jeans, slid the zipper down, reached her thumbs inside, and slipped them down. She took off her socks with her pants and dropped them to the floor, leaving her in just her pink flowered underwear.

Tom flicked his gaze up her body as if it was his right before looking into her eyes and stepping closer. “Underwear, too. Take them off. Get on the bed.” He didn’t ask, and now was the time for her to wake up, get dressed, walk out the door, and never come back.

A little voice inside her was screaming to stop, and another was holding her where she was. Fear, excitement had her adrenaline pounding as she hooked her fingers in the elastic of the waistband of her underwear and slipped them down. She kicked them away with her clothes. She didn’t need to look over to know he was watching every move she made as she climbed onto the bed, lying on her back, both excited and freaking out at what she was doing.

Tom stepped into her line of sight, closer to the bed. He lifted the sweater over his head and dumped it on the floor. He undid his jeans and slid them down, and she took in all of him, his body hard and chiseled, perfect. Just the thought of feeling all that hardness pressed against her and running her hands over every inch of him to explore, feel, and get to know him, she should have been terrified, but she was excited and stoked, knowing she was playing with fire that could either burn her so badly she’d be scarred forever or warm her and provide her what she’d always been looking for.

She could see how ready he was for her. Just seeing him standing there and now kneeling on the bed, she knew what was going to happen, what she’d chosen to do and with whom. Would she have regrets? She wasn’t even going to consider it right now, because in this moment, as his hand slid over her stomach, touching her breasts, her chest, and skimming down over all of her, feeling her for the very first time, she knew that being with Tom right now was exactly what she wanted to do.

* * *

She couldn’t hide her reaction from him. There was excitement and bravado and something else he couldn’t put his finger on. He was seeing every emotion flicker in her expression, her body, but only one mattered as he rolled over onto his back, taking her with him. Her hands rested on his chest, flattened, and slid down as he cupped her face, her cheeks, and pulled her to him and kissed her. It was soft at first, contrary to his instinct to flip her over onto her back and spread her legs, driving into her. He forced himself to slow down as he tasted her, allowing her to take the kiss deeper.

He ran his hands over her thighs as she straddled him, feeling the tension, and he allowed his hands to skim over the backs of her legs and knees, holding her, before rolling again on the bed until she was under him. He could feel the way her chest heaved. Excitement and passion steeped the moment, and he didn’t want to finish too fast. There was something about her that made him need to listen, too, that had him dialing it back just a bit, not the same quick and dirty as he did with every woman he bedded. He might have been a guy with a guy’s needs, which were to satisfy him and only him, but feeling all of Becky and what made her different only added to his confusion, only added to his need to take his time and learn everything about her body, her reactions, and every spot he could touch that would send her over the edge.

He tasted every inch of her, listened to her gasps and shrieks, feeling her body heave and press up when she was spiralling close to the edge. He drew it out as long as he could, to the point he thought he would go out of his mind with need. It was blinding, and the entire room had blanked out to just him and her. He was having something far more than he’d asked for, far more than he’d expected.

He hadn’t expected her to be aggressive, to want his kiss and to touch and explore his body with such confidence and excitement. She was driving him quickly to a place where it would be over fast, and at the same time the thought that she’d been with someone else, learned about a man and a woman from someone else, made him crazy. It wasn’t logical, and it was expected, but part of him was still both happy and furious at the same time. As he pinned her down back where he wanted her, her legs wide, the passion burned and flickered in her eyes, her expression, her touch, and the welcoming of her body.

The way she was pulling at him had him guiding her legs around him with just a touch as if her body already knew what he wanted. That desire and fire drove him faster than he’d planned as he moved inside her to make her his. In another second, he registered her gasp, her fingers and hands gripping and pulling on his back as he was lost in the sensation and the building heart-stopping tension that had her responding to his every need, want, and thrust, taking them together to the edge, where everything right seemed to line up perfectly: the sounds in the room, their breath, her gasp. She was calling his name over and over as he took what he believed was now his all the way to the edge, where everything, for one moment in time, was absolutely perfect.