Three hours later, I’m tanked.

I’ve also never laughed so hard in my life. Somewhere around my third shot and second glass of wine, Xavier stopped being an untouchable god and started being fun. The additional shots and wine we’d consumed after that were bonuses. We’ve traded funny stories about growing up, school, and friends.

He’d told me about his grandma raising him.

How he’s an only child.

About how he loved the rush of being a trauma surgeon.

How his dad died when he was ten and his mom couldn’t take it and left for parts unknown. He delivered the words with a casualness that had to be feigned, although I didn’t press him. Tonight was about carefree confession, not deep soul searching.

In return, I told him about my own uneventful childhood, a blessing after he’d described his tragedies.

I’d told him about growing up the middle child of two sisters.

My love of children.

The horrors of teaching second graders and dealing with crazy parents.

My argument as to why Jane Austen is the greatest author ever.

Together, we’ve debated books, movies and politics.

We’ve discussed the problems with the health care system and education.

We’ve gossiped about our friends. Made fun of lovesick Christopher and Ashley.

And we’ve laughed. Laughed and laughed until my stomach hurts.

I’ve only thought about him kissing me every other minute, so I consider that an accomplishment. But what surprised me most is that, despite my lust, I’ve somehow grown comfortable with him sitting on my couch across from me.

Totally goofy, I grin, not caring how silly I must look. I hold up the cards. “Another round?”

He frowns. “You keep beating me.”

We’ve been playing slapjack, turning it into a drinking game, maybe not the brightest idea, but it sure was fun. I giggle. “You know what’s really sad?”

“What?” he asks, grinning back at me.

We’re sitting cross-legged, facing each other. He’s taken off his dress shirt and his shoes, and in his white T-shirt his muscles flex oh so deliciously.

I point a card at him and laugh. “You’re a surgeon, aren’t you supposed to have quick reflexes and steady hands, or something?”

His brows slam together, and if he were standing, I swear he would have put his hands on his hips. “I don’t perform surgery on three bottles of wine and five shots of vodka.”

“Uh-huh.” I give him my most serious look. “That explains it.”

“Are you mocking me, woman?” He’s taken to calling me woman and it gives me a little thrill every time it comes out in his thick, rich voice.

I stop shuffling and meet his eyes, all straight-faced. “I am totally mocking you, Xavier.”

He huffs and it’s adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m excellent with my hands.”

“Except when it comes to slapping jacks.”

“But they’re all blurry.”

I shrug. “I see them just fine.”

“I’m sure you’re cheating.”

“I never cheat.” My voice is indignant. “I don’t have to cheat. I’m awesome.”

He meets my gaze and something dark flashes in them. “Yeah, you are.”

A flush heats my cheeks, but the alcohol has made me bold, and I don’t drop my gaze. “So you admit it?”

“Admit what?” His attention drops to my mouth.

He keeps doing that, and a few times I wonder if maybe he’s attracted to me too, but no, that can’t be. We’re having fun, and we’re drunk, but that still doesn’t change that I’m not the kind of girl he’d like. It’s okay, him liking me for me, and having a good time, is all I need.

Instinct tells me he needs a good time, and I’m making sure to give it to him.

It’s not a hardship, I’m benefiting, because this is the best date I’ve ever had. Even though it’s not a date. Maybe that’s sad, I don’t know, and presently don’t care. I’m enjoying this for what it is. I am soaking up my time and saving this for my memory bank. The night I had the gorgeous and untouchable Xavier all to myself and he showed me who he really is underneath the playboy.

I grin. “That I’m better with my hands than you.”

He shakes his head. “I admit no such thing.”

“The evidence speaks against you.” I hold up the deck of cards. “Do you want to play again?”

He’s silent for a bit before he tilts his head. “Tessa?”

I raise my brows. “Xavier?”

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

I stop shuffling and blow out a breath. I want to give some breezy answer, like I don’t need men, but I think I’m too intoxicated to filter. I put the cards down, pick up my glass and lean against the corner of the couch, and tell him the truth. “I guess it’s because the guys I like aren’t the ones that like me back.”

“What kind of guys do you like?”

I wrinkle my nose. “You don’t want to hear this.”

“Yeah I do. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.”

I glance around my small living room, before shrugging. “Do you promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“I promise.”

I bite my lower lip before admitting my secret. “I’m a romantic.”

He laughs as his hands swing widely around the room. “No? Really?”

I throw a napkin at him. “Shut up!”

“Go on.”

“I don’t know how to explain it. Maybe my expectations are too high. I like romance, but I like passion, I like nice, but I like…” I trail off, not sure how to articulate it and finally decide on, “Exciting. I like sweet, but with an edge. It’s hard to find that in one package. And the guys that are attracted to me are very nice and romantic and sweet, but… You know, boring.” I take another sip of my wine before putting it down on the table and picking up the deck of cards to keep my hands busy. “My parents are like that. They are very loving, very affectionate with each other, but they lack passion. The guys that like me, together we’d end up like my parents, and I guess I’d rather be alone than do that.”

His eyes narrow. “And the guys you like?”

I smile, and hope it doesn’t look too wistful. “They’re off with their exciting, adventurous women. I don’t blame them. I’m hardly the kind of woman that inspires grand passion, and maybe that’s okay. But for now, I don’t feel a need to settle. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why haven’t any of those supermodels constantly hanging off your arm caught you yet?”

He laughs, rolling his eyes at me. “That’s an exaggeration.”

“No it’s not.” I wink at him to let him know I’m not uncomfortable. Realism is an unfortunate side effect to practicality. “You have beautiful taste in women.”

Now it’s his turn to shrug. “I have no time or inclination for a girlfriend. I have weird hours, a hard schedule, and I prefer solitude. So I pick women that are up for a good time and know I’m probably not going to call them in the morning.”

“You men are the worst.” I throw the deck of cards at him and they scatter, flying all over the place, hitting him in his perfect face and chest.

From amidst the rubble he gives me a deadpanned expression. “You are going to pay for that.” And then he lunges, tackling me. Cards fall as he covers me, and I shriek as his fingers dig into my ribs.

I frantically try to push his hands away as I laugh hysterically and scream, “Xavier, stop. Oh my god, stop.”

“Never.” He pins me under him, his hands flying as he tortures me.

I buck up, my legs part and he slides between them.

As we are both laughing and panting for breath, our hips collide and he rubs up against me.

We both freeze.

I blink up at him.

He’s hard.

I lick my lips.

He groans and lifts one hand to rub his thumb across my lower lip. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry.” My voice is a whisper.

“I’m really drunk.” His hand slides up my stomach.

My muscles quiver under his touch. I nod. “Me too.”

His fingers work under my top, skimming over my flesh that’s burning up. “I should probably go before I do anything stupid.”

I gasp as he climbs up my ribs. “Yes, probably.”

He meets my eyes. “I want to kiss you again.”

Every rational part of my brain knows this is stupid and I just don’t care. “Yes.”

Everything flips on a dime and the whole atmosphere changes.

He murmurs, “I want to play with your tits and suck your nipples.”

Oh. My. God.

“I want to rub you to orgasm.” His voice is thick now, filled with the same desire burning through me.

I flush, shuddering a bit. I rock up to relieve some of the ache between my legs.

He presses back, growling in the back of his throat. “No sex. You don’t have to touch me back, I just want to feel you come.”

“Whatever you want, Xavier.” Are those breathy, needy words mine?

“Christ.” His knuckles brush the underside of my breasts. “I don’t want to make it awkward between us.”

I arch into his touch, encouraging him further, because it’s what I want. Just once. Because I know this is a one-shot deal. It’s the alcohol and the talking and laughing. That’s all. But just once I want to know how a man like him feels. So I can relive it on my deathbed. I won’t regret it. I’m sure I won’t.

I reach up and tangle my fingers into his hair. “It won’t. I don’t expect anything.”

He strokes over my nipple, and the peak buds under him. “You should.”

I shake my head. “I don’t. Just tonight. Whatever we do, stays with tonight.”

He gazes down at me, his expression searching. I see the hesitation and I tighten my hold in his hair. “Just once. I want to know what danger feels like. Just one time.”

“You’re killing me, you know that, right?” The cords of his neck strain and it occurs to me he’s having a hard time restraining himself.

I’m testing his control. Me. The ordinary nice girl is testing his resolve. It makes me feel…powerful. Bold. I like it. It’s thrilling. I test further. I lick my lips and his features darken. I circle my hips, gliding against his erection. I say words I’ve never spoken before. Dark, dirty words. “I’m so wet. Don’t you want to feel how wet I am?”

“Fuck yes.” The words are practically a snarl.

My memories deserve my deepest fantasies and I don’t hold back. Not even a little. I meet his eyes. “Will you come on my breasts? I’ve always wondered what that would feel like.”

He jerks, grips my hips with his hands and grinds his cock against me. “Is that what you want?”

I cry out as he thrusts against my clit. “Yes.”

“That’s very dirty.” He slips his fingers inside the cup of my bra.

I can’t believe this is happening, it’s like a dream, and I’m going to be ruthless in my pleasure and desires so I can remember every detail. “I want it dirty. I want to know what it’s like.”

“I’ll be the first?” His voice is all rough rasp against my skin.

“Yes.”

He moans, and his lips capture mine. Unlike the kiss before, his tongue immediately invades me, and I open, letting him swoop in and take me. I give it everything. I throw all my starving passion, all my yearning and secret desire, into the kiss. Surrendering to it completely.

Our mouths fuse, become demanding and insistent. Our bodies pressed together creates a kind of needy desperation I’ve never experienced before. Our hands fly, groping everywhere as the kind of passion I’ve only read about takes ahold of me.

It’s a hedonistic blur.

As intoxicating as the wine we’ve consumed.

“Fuck, Tessa,” he growls against my lips. “I want you so bad.”

“Want you too,” I answer, my nails digging into his back.

His mouth covers mine again and we kiss like we’re starving. All mad, lust-filled passion. We’re rocking against each other in earnest, grinding together in time with our questing tongues.

The air between us is thick with heat and desire.

He wants me as much as I want him. I can barely believe it but I don’t take it for granted, I just get sucked into it and let it drown me.

He suddenly rips away and kneels between my legs. He grips my top and yanks it over my head. His gaze roams over me, and he shakes his head, before reaching behind my back. I arch up and he unhooks my bra, stripping the lacy fabric from my skin and tossing it to the floor.

His jaw clenches.

I’ve always been modest, but tonight I don’t hide. My breasts probably aren’t what he’s used to, they dip and sway in their heaviness, but if he doesn’t like them, too bad.

My breath harsh, I wait.

He takes them in his hands, cups me and lifts them up, pushing them together before he flicks his thumbs over my hard nipples. The sensation crests over me and I gasp at the sharp pleasure.

He does it again, and again, until I helplessly begin to move. He leans down and licks first one and then the other. Pressing them higher and closer together. Alternating between licking and stroking.

He becomes harder, more aggressive.

Lick. Stroke. Lick. Stroke. Lick. Stroke.

Over and over again. My head rolls back, thrashing as he relentlessly plays. I cry out.

Something cuts through me, pleasure so keen it borders on pain. “Xavier. Oh god, Xavier.”

He laughs. It’s evil sounding and it makes me shudder.

He doesn’t stop. He keeps going. I have never in my life had my breasts feasted on, and that’s what it feels like he’s doing. Still stroking my nipples, he lifts his head and says, “I’m going to slide my cock between your tits, and then, when I’m about to come, I’m going to do it all over these fucking nipples.”

“Yes, do it.” My words are panting. I arch as he flicks his tongue over the hard peak.

I don’t understand what he’s doing but he’s building a rhythm that’s strumming through my body. So delicious. So wanton. I sink down onto the couch and into the pleasure. Not caring about the sounds coming from my throat, or the way my head is thrashing or the way my hips are pumping into thin air, desperate for contact.

He pinches, tugging on my nipples as he licks over the tips.

From out of nowhere, an orgasm crashes over me. I clutch his head, and hold him to me as I come like I’ve never come before. I call out, “Oh god!”

He doesn’t let up. He keeps going as the waves of ecstasy crest over me, relentless, until I finally collapse, releasing my hold on his head. He licks and strokes, and I jerk as aftershocks jolt through me.

He whispers against my skin, “You came.”

I throw my arm over my eyes to cover my face. “I did. I can’t believe I did.”

He chuckles and moves, gripping my wrist and pulling it away from my face. I squeeze my eyes shut.

He clasps my jaw. “Open your eyes, Tessa.”

My lashes flutter open. My cheeks heat a hundred degrees.

He kisses me. “I think that’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

I shake my head helplessly. “That’s never happened before.”

“Another first.”

“Yes.”

“I think I could get addicted to your firsts.” He bites my lower lip.

I hope so. But I don’t say the words out loud because I know they’re not really true. It’s a fantasy I’m giving into only for tonight.

He skims his hand down my chest, circling softly over my nipples. “You have the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen.”

The compliment warms me all over again, even though I’m sure he’s just saying that. Before I can respond, he slides lower, tracing my ribs, and then dipping down my belly. He slips into my lounging pants, and my legs part as he trails along the seam of my panties before dipping inside.

His gaze meets mine. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

My stomach gives a little jump. “That’s good.”

His fingers slide between my legs, and I’m so wet and swollen it’s almost embarrassing. I swallow hard. He circles over my slippery clit and shakes his head. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“I’m…” I was about to say I’m sorry, but why? For what? For wanting him? For being aroused? Instead of apologizing, I own it. I nod. “Yes. Because of you.”

He growls. “What do you like? This?” He continues slowly stroking over me and my eyes practically roll into the back of my head. “Or this?” He slips first one finger, then another inside.

I moan. My hips move.

“Or how about this?” He doesn’t stop his movements, but presses the heel of his palm against my clit, grinding into me as his fingers pump.

I jerk up. “Oh god.”

“We have a winner.” He claims my mouth.

And his torture starts again. He works me up. Bringing me right to the edge before pulling back.

I’ve never had a man take this much time with me. Seem so intent on my pleasure.

It’s the most glorious thing, and I throw myself into it.

Until I’m shameless.

A begging, wanton, needy creature.

And I love it.

* * *

I’m like a glutton for punishment. Addicted to her needy cries. Her throaty moans and the desperate way she moves her full hips. But mostly, I’m addicted to the way she begs.

When Tessa is consumed by passion her voice takes on a throaty rasp that makes me pulse with desire. I’ve brought her to the cusp of orgasm at least a dozen times.

She’s slick with sweat. And the truth is, I am too.

No matter how much I want her, I haven’t taken her pants off, because I don’t trust myself. Somehow, nice, sweet, little Tessa is testing every ounce of my control. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to slide my cock into a woman more. But I’d made a promise, so I’m going to settle for fucking her fantastic tits. Because, Christ, they are fantastic.

Full and malleable with nipples that are like ripe raspberries. I can’t keep my mouth off them. Insatiable and driven, I want to keep going, but I can barely touch her now without her going over the edge.

“Xavier, please,” she says in that voice that makes me harder.

And I’m so hard. Harder than I think I’ve ever been.

In response, I scrape my teeth over the stiff peak, and she cries out.

I’m not going to last much longer. My cock is an insistent ache against her hip.

I circle her clit, featherlight.

Her neck arches and she moans. “I want to come. I need to come.”

“No.” I have no idea where this is coming from, but I stopped fighting it a good hour ago. I flick my tongue over her nipple, loving the taste and feel of it in my mouth. I’d never seen a woman orgasm like that before. Just from getting her breasts played with, and I want to do it again, but I’m too greedy for her pussy to stop.

I want to put my mouth on her, lap up all that delicious wetness spilling like honey from her body. But I’m scared if I get her naked, I won’t be able to stop, and even in my alcohol-fueled lust I know I can’t have sex with her.

Dirty fooling around we can recover from. We can go back to being casual acquaintances after. Fucking will be too hard.

And I don’t want to risk it, because the truth is, I can’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun with a woman. When I’d laughed as hard, or talked as long, or played. Her dripping pussy, sensitive nipples and addictive mouth are merely a bonus.

A fan-fucking-tastic bonus.

But I’m nearing the end of my reserve. I bite her nipple and say against her soft skin, “I’m going to come on your tits now.”

I want her all desperate and greedy when I come on her, because I want to see her face.

Incoherent, abandoned sounds come from her throat.

I laugh, low and deep, flicking my finger over her clit. “Do you know why?”

She shakes her head.

“Because I want to watch you go over the edge, covered in cum.”

She sucks in her breath, practically starts to hyperventilate, and I finally understand why they say it’s always the quiet ones. Because I could not have predicted Tessa’s wanton greediness if my life depended on it. I whisper in her ear, “I want you to wear the evidence of what you’ve done.”

I have no idea where the words come from but I’m riding on instinct now. Her lids fly open, and she grinds her pussy into my hand and says, “Yes. Do it. Please do it.”

“Do what?”

“Come on me.”

“Come where?” I’m arrogant now. Demanding.

She swallows hard, and in answer she cups her breasts and pushes them together, and says, “Here. All over me.”

That’s it. I’m done.

I growl, and leave the haven of her body, rolling up between her legs and unbuttoning my pants. I grit my teeth. “Stay just like that. Don’t move.”

Glassy eyed, she licks her lips.

I’m dripping precum and I drag my hand over my aching shaft, coating my cock to ease my slide against her skin. I move up, straddling her rib cage and adjusting my body. My cock jerks at the contact of her heated flesh. Instead of sliding home, I rub the head over her nipples.

She stares transfixed as the tip abrades her.

She bites her lip then looks up at me with the most gorgeous expression on her face and says, “I could watch this all night.”

Teeth clenched, I practically growl. “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

She lifts her head, and when I pass over the tip of her nipple, her tongue sneaks out and licks my cock.

“Christ.” I shake my head and do it again, watching as she laps at me. I’ve done a lot of things in my time, but there’s something intimate and filthy about what we’re doing, and a part of me wants to stop it, but I can’t. I’m too far gone.

When I can stand it no more, I order, “Push those fantastic tits together for me.”

She doesn’t hesitate and I slide my cock between them. I grit my teeth as I glide between her fullness, along her warm skin, now slicked from me.

Her eyes lock on mine, and as much as I want to look away, I can’t.

I just thrust, fucking her breasts, my gaze transfixed on her needy blue eyes. Words start to spill from my lips and I get lost in the sensation of her. “So hot, Tessa. This is so fucking hot. I’m going to come all over you. Mark you.”

“Yes. Please yes.”

Her pleas all the more intense because we can’t look away.

“I want to fuck you. Feel your tight little pussy on my cock, Tessa.”

She nods. “Me too.”

The orgasm begins to swell and I realize I’m not even going to have to use my hand to get off. That’s how fucking turned on I am. There’s something raw and unnamed brewing between us, hanging in the air.

I growl in frustration. I want more. I rear up, grab her hand and wrap us both tight around my shaft. I pump once, twice and a third time before I’m coming my fucking brains out. Coating her, splashing across her breasts, over her stomach and ribs, on her neck. Emptying myself as I make guttural noises, and I orgasm harder than I ever have in my entire life.

When I’m finally done, I twist a little, reaching behind me, and slip my hands down her pants, never taking my eyes off her face. She’s fucking soaked. Swollen and hot. I glance down at her. “That’s right, you’re going to come while you’re covered in me.”

And just like that she goes over the edge, she moans and screams and writhes. As her pussy milks my fingers buried deep inside her. She collapses in a heap and I collapse right alongside her, unable to catch my breath.

A swell of panic washes over me.

Because shit.

She turns and blinks up at me, biting her lip and looking adorable and vulnerable. I can’t help but cuddle her close. We’re covered in sweat and cum but I can’t seem to care.

She turns into me and muffles against my neck, “I’m a mess.”

I stroke down her bare back. “Let’s worry about it later.”

“Okay.” She relaxes into me.

Yes, I’ll worry about that, and my escape later, but for now I’ll just hold her lush body against me and soak up all her delicious warmth.