Her body couldn’t decide what it wanted—tongue or the pressure of my lips—so I made the decision for her, hungry after a night of secretive, hurried sex and so little intimacy. I surrounded her with my mouth, sucking and reminding her this is how I love you, both soft and wild.

I am f**king lost in you.

Her body was so familiar to me, its dips and curves, the flavor of her sex as she went from sleeping to wild. And although I’d started this wanting to tease her, I couldn’t; her release was a precursor to mine. She came quickly, legs falling away, back bowed until her cries quieted and thighs stopped trembling. She propped herself up on her elbows, watching me.

I kissed up her navel, pushing my shirt up her body as I went, and exposing the soft fullness of her br**sts.

“Hello, my lovelies.”

“Did you have fun tonight?” she asked, voice still groggy with sleep and pleasure.

“It was definitely interesting.” My teeth found the bottom swell of her breast, and then my tongue slid up the curve, found her nipple.

“Bennett?”

I paused my gentle attack on her chest to look up and catch the uncertainty on her face. “Hmm?”

“Is it really okay that we did this? That I crashed your bachelor party? I mean, it basically hijacked your first night here.”

“Do you think I’m at all surprised you decided to take charge at the club?”

She closed her eyes, smiling a little. But only a little. “Not being surprised isn’t the same thing as being glad that I did it.”

I pushed my shirt the rest of the way up her arms, trapping her wrists above her head and using it to tie her hands together. “We have all weekend to celebrate the bachelor thing. It’s really okay that you did this.” I leaned down, sucked her neck. “In fact, if you ever stop doing crazy things like that, stop being wild and foolish because you want me so much, it might just ruin me a little.”

“A little?” I could hear the smile in her voice.

Looking down at her face, at her hair fanned across the pillow, eyes heavy with desire and satisfaction in equal measure, I had the sense of being pulled backward through a cable in time. How the f**k had we gotten here? This woman beneath me was the same one I’d despised so viciously for months, the one I’d f**ked with such combustible need and hate. And now, she was in my room, on the weekend of my bachelor party, wearing my grandmother’s ring, hands tied over her head with my favorite T-shirt, the one she’d claimed as her own months ago.

Chloe tilted her head, catching my eye. “Where did you go?”

I closed my eyes, swallowing. “Just remembering.”

She waited, eyes studying me.

“I was just remembering everything and . . .”

“And?”

“Thinking about how we started . . . and what it was like before. I was trying to remember the last woman I was with before you. . . . I don’t think I ever told you about that night.”

Beneath me, she laughed. “This has the potential to be such a romantic conversation.” She wiggled a little, rubbing her slick skin along the underside of my cock.

“Just listen,” I murmured, bending to kiss her. Pulling back, I said, “She was my date at the fund-raiser for Millennium Organics. You were there, too. . . .”

“I remember,” she whispered, watching my lips.

“You had on this dress . . .” I exhaled. “Fuck. That dress. It was—”

“Red.”

“Yes. But not just red. Fire engine red. Siren red. You looked like a f**king beacon, a devil . . . which is pretty appropriate, considering. Anyway, Amber was my date, and—”

“Blond. Tall. Fake boobs?” she asked, clearly remembering. I took a small bit of pleasure knowing she was paying close enough attention even then to remember my date nearly two years later.

“That’s her. And she was . . .” I sighed, remembering my complete apathy that entire evening. “She was nice enough. But she wasn’t you. I was obsessed with you, but in a really f**ked-up way. I loved finding ways to push your buttons just to see you react to me for a second. I loved getting a rise out of you, because I think it meant that I was the focus of your thoughts for a moment, however rage-filled.”

She laughed again, stretching to kiss my neck, sucking lightly. “Psychopath.”

“That night,” I continued, ignoring her, “you were getting a drink at the bar, and I walked up to you and made some crack—I don’t even remember now what it was I’d said. But I’m sure it was nasty, and unnecessary.” I closed my eyes, remembering her face, how she stared at me blankly, without even a trace of interest. “You looked at me and then laughed before taking your drink and just walking away. It f**king wrecked me, I think, though I didn’t really get that until later. I was used to seeing you react to my jabs with a tiny hint of hurt feelings, anger, or frustration. But to see absolutely nothing but indifference . . . fuck. That was it for me.”

“I don’t remember what you said, either,” she admitted. “But I’m sure it took a lot of effort for me to look unaffected.”

“We left not long after that. Amber and I.” I smoothed a hand up Chloe’s body, over her breast to her face. I looked her in the eye and admitted, “I f**ked her. But it was awful. You kept barging into my head. I would close my eyes and imagine what it would be like to touch you. I tried to imagine the sounds you would make when you’d come, how you would feel. That’s when I came. I bit the pillow to keep from saying your name.”

She exhaled sharply, and I realized she’d been holding her breath. “Did you go to her place or yours?”

I looked away from where my fingers ran over her jaw and met her eyes again. How was that relevant? “Hers. Why?”

Shrugging, she whispered, “Just curious.”

I continued to study her and could see the wheels turning, some private curiosity growing in her thoughts.

Bending to kiss her ear, I asked, “What are you thinking, little devil?”

She smiled up at me, caught. “I was wondering . . . what position you were in.”

Ice trickled into my bloodstream. “Do you like hearing about this because you want to imagine me with another woman?”

She shook her head immediately, eyes darkening. Her hands turned into tight fists around the knot of my shirt above her head. “I like hearing how you were thinking about me. I just . . . want to hear about it.”

“I was on top of her, like this,” I murmured, wary. “We only had sex that one time. I’m sure she found me wholly unimpressive as a lover.”

She wiggled, adjusting the position of her hands in their soft binding, watching me. Thinking, thinking, thinking. “Before you had sex with her,” she said, eyes on my mouth. “When you got back to her place. Did she go down on you?”

Shrugging, I admitted, “I think so. A little.”

“And did you?”

“Taste her?” I asked and Chloe nodded. “No,” I said. “I didn’t.”

“Did you wear a condom?”

“I always wore a condom,” I said, laughing. “Well, before you.”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Right.” But then her legs slid up around my waist. “Before me.” All I needed to do was shift my h*ps slightly and I would be able to press inside her. Yet somehow, talking about this nak*d and over her felt perfect. We had no secrets. “Did she come?” she asked.

Sighing, I admitted, “She faked it.”

Chloe laughed, head pressed back into the pillow so she could see me better. “You’re sure?”

“Positive. It was an impressive effort if not a bit over-the-top.”

“Poor girl didn’t know what she was missing then.”

“It was only a few days before the conference room,” I whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth. “I think I was probably already in love with you. So when I think back to that night with Amber, it feels as though I cheated. Given how you found me tonight—blindfolded, passively accepting an erotic dance—I want to air all of my potential sins. I guess that’s why I’m talking about Amber now.”

Her face straightened, eyes wide and earnest. “Babe. You didn’t cheat. Either with Amber or if had been another woman tonight dancing for you.”