Since I’ve known Harrison, the topic of where he lives has never come up. So when I follow him into his driveway in Malibu, and not just Malibu, but on the beach, my tongue nearly scrapes the pavement as I get out of the car. The house is no less than magnificent. It’s ultramodern and chic, but not sterile. As we walk in, he flips a switch and lights glow everywhere. I can’t wait to see this place in the daylight.

He holds my bag in one hand and takes my hand in the other. The long hall that leads from the entrance opens into a huge, open-concept living space. The kitchen is to the left, and it’s a dream world. I would love to spend a whole day in there piddling around. It has an enormous island that seats eight. Off the kitchen to the left is a dining area with a gigantic table. I don’t have time to count the chairs there. To the right of the kitchen is the living room. Oh my goodness. There are four plush couches that look so cozy, I want to plop right down on one. They circle around an enormous fireplace, above which hangs one of the biggest TVs I’ve ever seen. Doors open out to what must be a deck or terrace, but it’s too dark to tell.

I follow him along, humming my pleasure, until we get to a massive bedroom. Who is this man again? There is an expansive king-sized bed and another fireplace in here, and lots of built-in cabinets. I see several doors, which I’m sure are the closet and bathroom. He points to one and says, “The bath is through there if you’d like to check it out. I’m going to grab us something to drink from the kitchen. What would you like?”

“Some water would be nice.”

“I’ll be right back.”

I wander into the bath and it feels like I’ve entered a spa. There’s a fancy jetted tub, a luxurious shower, and everything a girl could possibly want. I will be spending plenty of time in here tomorrow.

Harrison set my bag in the bedroom, so I grab my toiletries and take them into the bathroom, taking over one of the sinks. I brush my teeth and change into my sleeping attire. By this time, he’s returned with some water.

“Your bathroom is really something.”

“Yeah, my mom likes to hang out in here when she visits.” He smiles.

“I’m super tired after all this shit tonight. Let’s get some sleep.”

I scoot under the sumptuous linens, which are much better than mine.

Harrison gets in on his side of the bed and says, “This switch here controls the blinds. Make sure they’re down at night if, for some reason, you’re ever here without me. That entire wall is nothing but glass and in the morning, it can be pretty bright in here.”

“Good to know.”

I don’t remember closing my eyes, but the next thing I know, I wake up to the smell of bacon. And damn, it smells good. After my teeth are brushed, I trudge into the kitchen and see Harrison fixing breakfast.

He glances up, saying, “Aw, you beat me. I was going to feed you breakfast in bed.”

“How sweet.”

Then he looks at me again and lets out a belly laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Someone had a party in their hair last night.”

“Eek. That bad, huh?”

“Go check it out.”

He points to a door off the hall in the foyer. There’s a powder room down there. When I go and look, I’m appalled. I come back saying, “What the hell did I do last night?”

“Beats the hell out of me, but it must’ve been fun.” He holds up the coffee pot. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

I take a seat at the large island and we chat while he cooks. He’s making omelets. “I could never master the art of flipping those things,” I say.

“It’s all in the wrist.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve heard that before, but when I try they either stay in the pan or end up on the stove, making a huge mess.”

He laughs. When he’s done cooking, he plates everything up. “Follow me.”

We go outside onto the terrace. It overlooks the beach. Gorgeous.

“Did you build this place?”

“No. Someone only had it for about a year when it went into foreclosure. I was lucky enough to snag it. I love it here.”

“It’s the most beautiful home I’ve ever been in.”

“Thanks. I thought so too when I found it. I just had to have it.”

I breathe in the tangy salt air and feel refreshed as we eat. The breakfast is delicious and when we’re finished, Harrison suggests I take a bath.

“Am I that dirty?”

“I actually like dirty. I thought you knew that.”

“You’re forgetting who you’re talking to, Harrison.”

“No, I am not.” He brushes the plates aside, to the point where I think they’re going to crash off the table, and then he pulls my chair around so it faces his. “I could never forget who you are.”

His fingers slip under the waistband of my shorts and he pulls them off. I quickly look around to see if anyone is in sight.

“No one can see us. Not a chance of it.”

In a couple of tugs, I’m bare from the waist down and he has my pussy spread wide open for him.

“Hmm, isn’t this a pretty sight?”

The chairs are large, the kind with arms on them, and he lifts me high, draping my legs over the sides of the arms.

“But not exactly what I was going for.”

He loops his arms under me and lifts me on the table. Under his intense scrutiny, I suddenly feel shy. I want this man to like me—really like me—and not find any faults in me. I don’t want to be that girl who needs fixing. I want to be the one who kicks ass. Only under the warmth of those dark-chocolate eyes that are inspecting the most private parts of me, I’m not feeling very kick-assy right now.

If I could squeeze my legs together and put my hand over my vag, I would. But wouldn’t I look stupid? Me, the ex-B-rated porn star who many a man—and maybe even Harrison—has jacked off to while watching me get fucked like a rabbit. Shit. Why did I have to go there?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” My squeaky answer tells him I’m a terrible liar.

“Are you going to tell me or do I have to lick it out of you?”

Busted.

“Do I have to?” I ask.

“Yes. I’ll find out one way or another. I’m very persuasive, you know.”

I do know.

“I want you to see me as someone who’s strong. And for whatever dumbass reason, I just got a big case of the nerves that you think I’m a crazy wimp.”

“That’s it?”

I screw up my mouth and nod.

He doesn’t acknowledge it one way or another, but pries my legs apart and dives down onto my bare pussy. Spreading my lips, he doesn’t mess around. Going directly for my clit, he tongues me until I forget that my real name is Velvet. Then he stops, leans back, and picks up a glass of ice water. What the hell. Did that make him thirsty? Oh, hell no. He holds it over my slit and pours a long, cold stream over me.

“Christ,” I say, twitching. The water trickles between my heated lips. The contrast is indescribable.

Flashing me a wicked grin, he says, “It felt like you needed a little cooling off. But I’m going to heat you up again.” His mouth is a flame to that ice water. When his tongue touches me again, I’m ready for it. He pushes the tip firmly against my clit, licking and flicking hard. I’m not sure how many fingers he slides inside of me, but it’s damn good. There’s a rhythm to his game, the tongue and the hand, and my body hums harmony in response. I want more ... him. I don’t want to just climax. Well, I do. But I want to do it with him inside me. And it scares the crap out of me.

His damn tongue is relentless to the point where I come, even though I didn’t really want to. Then I reach for his neck, wrapping my hand around it, and I look into his eyes. The sun dances in them, bringing out the dark gold tones hidden within their depths.

My breath comes in uneven puffs and I pull him to me so our mouths connect. Breathing in his scent almost makes me dizzy. There’s nothing but the warm sinew of muscle beneath my hand and it reminds me of his strength—that same strength I felt when I crashed into him outside my door.

Our kiss is wild, deep, with tongues dancing. His hand is in my messy hair, twisting it, pulling it. My hand is on the waist of his sweatpants, tugging, reaching for him. I need him. Inside me. We’re nothing but hands all over, grabbing each other. His are on my breasts now and mine are in his pants, closing around his cock, hard and smooth.

“I need a condom.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I breathe.

“Inside.”

My hand won’t release him. There’s a tiny drop of pre-ejaculate on the tip of him, and I rub it all over. He sucks in air.

“I need to go ...”

“Yeah. Inside.”

I’m pulling him toward me, because I’m clean and on the pill. I don’t give a fuck right now about a condom. I only give a fuck about him. I need him. My thighs are spread and I touch his tip to my slick, wet opening.

“Ah, Midnight.”

One hand pushes on his ass, and the other has his cock. My need is so great, so urgent, I can’t think straight. He bends forward and presses his lips to my temple, my neck, my mouth, and then he plunges all the way inside. I lock my ankles behind him as he fucks me, kisses me, holds my neck, and locks gazes with me. It’s the headiest sensation imaginable.

My stomach tightens in a weird way, like I’ve never felt before. Everything inside me flutters and I’m caught in a hurricane of Harrison, swept away by an emotional tide I didn’t think was possible. He takes my hand and links our fingers together. Never did I think such a gesture was intimate, until now. I kiss his chest, shoulder, anywhere my mouth can touch, until we both feel that flame igniting inside us as we orgasm together.

What the fuck just happened?

Finally, he says, “We just had sex without a condom.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Are you on the pill?”

“Yeah. Are you clean?”

“Yeah. I never have sex without protection. What about you?”

“Yeah. I’ve been tested repeatedly. My last test was after New York and I’m still good.”

Then he lets out a raspy chuckle. “That was some heavy shit, right?”

“Yeah.” My belly clenches again as I think of it.

His dark brown eyes seek out my own as his lips brush over mine. “Regretting what just happened?”

I slowly nod. “Not at all. Are you?”

He kisses me again, and this time it’s slow and sensual, stealing the air from me. He reminds me that his kisses make me forget about everything else.

“Does that answer your question?”

My smile is my answer.