I couldn’t remember twenty-four hours passing so slowly. Normally the holiday flew by but this year, exchanging well wishes with neighbors and answering emails had never felt as painful.

I’d just finished working out at the climbing gym—thankfully open for a few hours Boxing Day—when Sam’s text came through.

---

Sam: You around? Want to work on that auction?

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Riley: Yes

---

That was a lie.

I wanted to find her, strip every single piece of clothing that came between us, and lose myself in her until I couldn’t remember my birthday or social security number.

I took an Uber across town, my fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the door handle.

I leaped out of the car, the cold air stinging my throat as I sucked in a breath. The yard looked the same as it had when we were kids. Some shrubs, bare for the winter. Withered grass.

I briefly debated which door to use. Decided on the back.

This time I knocked.

The seconds ticked by.

I stared at the frost etching patterns on the glass of the screen door.

Finally it opened, and I looked up.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Sam’s hair fell in waves around her face, and I wondered if she’d done something different to it. Her face was flushed and hopeful and a little guilty.

She was an angel.

One I intended to thoroughly corrupt.

Her green sweater slid low over one bare shoulder. Under that, she wore shorts. I wanted to chide her for having bare legs in the freezing cold doorway.

Or fuck her until she was warm everywhere.

She stepped back and I crossed into the kitchen, the door banging shut behind me.

The music playing in the background was upbeat. Something indie. Definitely not slow jam stuff.

I couldn’t have cared less.

I wanted to tell her I’d been thinking about her all week. That I’d spent an hour last night negotiating with myself over whether I was going to get off to the memory of her, or hold out for the real thing.

In the end, I’d held out. I mean, I’d been not-screwing-Sam for over a decade. I’d gotten pretty good at it.

I kicked off my boots. Stripped off my jacket, setting it on the kitchen table.

“So. You want to look at that auction? I made up digital files of the images.”

No.

“Sure.”

It took every ounce of control in me to lower myself into the chair next to hers as she opened her iPad.

The flush of her cheeks was the most perfect pink. The rise and fall of her breasts under the thin sweater was hypnotic. I could’ve watched it all damned day.

I tried to breathe through my mouth so I didn’t have to deal with the scent of her shampoo taking over my brain.

“Is that it?” she asked once we'd written a description, inserted pictures of the drawings, and sent the link out on social media.

“Yeah. We’ve set the auction to run until New Years’. Our marketing manager will check in later today and she can take care of promoting it. But the fact that I sent it from Titan’s account means it’ll get a lot of eyes already.”

“That’s great.”

“Sam, thanks for doing this. But for the record, you get that I’m not broke, right? If I want a new car, I can afford it. I need to call my investment guy and I don't want to bug him in Hawaii this week.”

Her mouth twitched. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Just wanted to clear that up.”

She nodded, her fingers running over the edge of the table. “My dad’s driving my grandparents to the airport. He’ll be gone a few hours.” She rose and turned away. “Are you thirsty? I can make coffee. Or tea.”

“I’m good.”

Need curled in my gut, the full force of it hitting me now that we’d done away with the distraction of working.

I crossed to stand behind her, listening to her fussing with drawers and jars.

“Are you hungry? There are leftovers and…”

“Yeah. I’m definitely hungry.”

She stilled at the sound of my voice at her back, turning. She peered up at me from under a curtain of dark lashes, her breath hitching.

I stepped closer, my eyelids lowering halfway as I breathed her in. I brushed a piece of hair over her ear, tucking it back.

It’d been weeks since I’d run into her at the gallery but it felt like I’d always had this need. It was part of me, a low-grade frequency vibrating through my core that I couldn’t ignore or deny.

I backed Sam into the counter, rewarded by the friction of her hips against mine when her ass met the edge.

“Jesus, Lee,” she murmured, a half smile playing on her lips. “When’d you get so hot?”

I grinned. “I was always hot for you, Sam.”

Her fingers reached for the pull for my sweater. She drew it down, her gaze never leaving mine. The zipper gave way, her hands landed on my chest through my T-shirt. She pushed the sweater off, and neither of us caught it when it landed on the floor.

It felt forbidden and so damned right at once when I reached for her, desperate to feel as much of that smooth skin I could get my hands on. My hands skimmed up her sides under her sweater, my thumbs grazing the bottoms of her breasts. I felt her intake of breath everywhere and it was like she was breathing into me, into us, when my mouth dropped to hers.

It was fucking unreal. The way her mouth melted under mine, the way I could make her moan just by grazing my teeth across her lower lip.

Her hands found the back of my T-shirt and the impatient sound in her throat had me pulling back long enough for her to jerk it upward over my head.

It stuck on my head, the difference in our heights more obvious than ever. I ducked so she could pull the fabric away from my body.

Then her hands were on me. Exploring my bare chest, making my muscles leap under her touch as I groaned against her mouth.

“Fuck, it feels good to have your attention.”

“You always had it. From day one.” Her low words ran together, one blending into the next. “You looked like you didn’t know what you wanted out of life, but you were going to find out if it killed you.”

Her words were killing me. When her fingers flirted with the waistband of my jeans, I growled. “Upstairs.”

If she was going to let me do this—which was still an if, because all we’d done was kiss—I didn’t want to do it on the kitchen table.

Except that I really fucking did, and if she looked at me like she was for another five seconds, it would be game over.

I swept her up into my arms and she squeaked as I started up the stairs. “What are you doing?”

“Relax. I’ve got you.” Her hands clutched at my neck. The laugh that rumbled through me made her soft sweater rub against my bare chest, reminding me she still had too many clothes on.

Upstairs I set her down in the middle of her bedroom floor. We were surrounded by the same paint color from a decade ago, her canvases on the floor and her bed tidy in the corner.

I stripped the sweater over her head, letting my gaze move down her half-naked body.

Her skin was fucking luminous. Her breasts small and high, their tips hardening in the cool air. She was all woman, an invitation I couldn’t wait to accept.

I wanted to stop time. To memorize every part of her in case I never saw it again.

To document every inch, cross-reference it against every innocent and not-so-innocent brush, touch, tickle, and grab.

But more than all of it, I wanted to show her.

I backed her against the wall. Her mouth lifted, seeking mine, and I used my height to deny her.

I twisted my fingers in hers, and on a foreign rush of possessiveness, pinned them over her head. Sam’s noise of protest was darkly satisfying.

She was all soft skin and curves I could lose myself in. And the way she responded to my touch… the way she arched against me like she needed to get closer, her wrists trying half-heartedly to escape…

I skimmed a hand down her neck, her collarbone. Over the curve of her breast, feeling the perfect weight of her before tracing along the bottom.

I rolled her nipple, already hard, between my fingers. Sam arched into the contact and I groaned in approval. “Good girl.”

My cock was already straining against the fabric when I dropped my mouth to the top of her breast, the hard peak begging for my attention.

“Oh my God, Lee…”

Each syllable pulsed with need and I switched to the other breast, dragging my teeth lightly along the underside before turning my attention to the hardened peak.

Sam’s fingers were tangling in my hair, pulling hard with impatience.

I traced the curve of her stomach, the flat skin disappearing into her shorts. My finger hitched in the top, and I slowly drew them down over her hips as my mouth fixed on her neck. “I love how you taste,” I muttered against her skin.

She squirmed, creating impossible friction between us. I hissed out a breath as she hit my cock.

My fingers slipped down, finding the spot between her thighs over the cotton of her panties. A tortured little sigh escaped her throat.

I wanted to stop time, her nearly naked and writhing against me as my fingers rubbed her, the growing wetness between us evidence of how much she wanted this.

It took every bit of self-restraint not to come undone when I slid my finger under the edge of the cotton and pressed knuckle-deep inside her silky heat.

Her moan and the feel of her had me hard as rock.

“It’s okay,” I murmured against her neck. I didn’t know if I was telling her or myself.

There were a million ways I wanted to sink into her, a thousand angles. I wanted to take my time with her, save every second to memory.

But the clink at my hips made me realize she’d found her way to my belt. The button on my jeans too.

I kept up the pressure, stroking inside with my fingers as my thumb slid up over her clit.

“Oh, fuck.” Her hand shook only a second as she shoved at my pants and shorts.

It was her turn to take control. She did it without any force, and muscle, even without any touch.

Her gaze dropped between us, her gaze hungry as she cleared her throat.

“I can’t believe I never knew.” Accusation blended with lust in her voice.

“And now that you do?”

“It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.”

It took everything I had not to press her up against the wall, to drive into her and duck her until we both exploded.

She brushed a finger experimentally over the barbell. I shivered. “Is it good?”

“Yeah.” I was already leaking, and her fascinated gaze darkened.

She slid her thumb over my slick crown and I pressed another finger inside her, making her gasp. “I want to tell you something,” she murmured.

“Do it.”

“After you’d leave my room at night,” she swallowed, her half-lidded gaze on mine, “I’d breathe you in from that pillow you used to lie on. I’d get myself off and imagine it was you.”

Blood pounded in me, everywhere. My head, my chest, my cock.

The feel of her cool hands on me coupled with the hot, tight vise around my fingers was driving me insane.

“Even after you turned me away…”

“Sam, I didn't turn you away. I was fucking in love with you.”

She blinked up at me, her hands stilling. “What?”

I swallowed, my heart beat thudding in my ears as the cocktail of need continued eating at me.

“I know it doesn't change anything now, but it's true.”

She rose up on her toes, wrapping an arm around my neck and hauling me down to her. Her other hand resumed its torture, making me buck into her grip.

On a groan, I pulled my fingers back, using both hands to tilt her hips, pressing her against the wall.

My abs shook with the effort of holding back. “Sam, slow down.”

“Riley, hurry up.” Her teeth found my ear, and my eyes rolled back in my head.

Jesus. How the hell did she know what I liked?

“Pocket,” I rasped as I ripped her panties down over her hips.

She reached inside, finding a foil-wrapped package. She tore at it with shaking hands, then rolled it on me.

There were a million things I should’ve done in that moment.

Told her how beautiful she was.

Carried her to the bed.

Made her come with my hands, my mouth.

Because I’m a good guy, and that’s what good guys do.

Instead I pinned her wrists to the wall. Held her steady, even as her hips created agonizing friction against mine.

Her face was flushed, eyes hot as she twisted in my grip. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It reminded me of the words she’d said years ago.

“No. You’re not.”

This time, you’re not.

I pressed the head of my swollen cock against her, and her smile faltered.

Then I thrust into her, swallowing her cry with my mouth.

I needed her to take me. To feel me.

To fucking know me.

Pleasure shot down my spine, settled in my groin as I waited for her to adjust.

The second her tight noise turned into a moan, I hitched her legs up around my hips again, lifting her higher to find an angle I knew on instinct was there.

Some people swear by make up sex. Angry sex. Hate sex.

Regret sex beat every last one of them.

I stroked deeper, finding a rhythm in the heavy drag of her body against mine. Our noses bumped, and the faintest pain twinged from when she’d hit me. My sharp inhale flooded me with mint and sweat.

I was blind, but Sam’s noises were my guideposts. I chased the feeling we both needed, grabbing her ass, my biceps clenching as I shifted her higher.

“I’m close,” she panted.

“Keep going.” I brushed my mouth across hers before dropping my head to bite the top of her breast. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, and I didn’t care. I wanted to mark her. If she marked me too…

That was fucking perfect.

“Lee.” Our lips brushed as she implored me with her voice, her expression, the insistent pressure of her fingers in my sides.

Something had to give. Right now, the strongest woman I knew was the weakest link in a chain we’d woven together, starting a decade ago.

She clenched around me, and I knew it the second before it happened.

I had a front row seat to the most beautiful thing I’d ever witnessed. Each taut muscle, each slow curve, each glimpse of her sweat-slicked skin twisted the need in my gut tighter. I wanted to fuck every inch of her with every inch of me.

And when I followed her over…hell, I was lost.