“Holy shit! Do you see the meat on that boy?” My best friend Marnie's high, whiny voice cuts through the beach party's racket.

She's so loud and desperate I expect the gorilla in the speedo she's been eye-fucking for the last ten minutes to skip fetching our drinks and drag her behind the rocks for some alone time. It won't take much for him to throw her over his shoulder and carry her off – exactly what the excitement lining her face says she wants.

“Delia, did you see –“

“I saw,” I say, draining the last dregs of my water bottle. “Believe me, I couldn't miss him. He's like the oldest dude here.”

Her smile quirks. “Oh, come on. You're never jealous. Don't tell me you're pissed that I poached him first with a little flirting? We'll be down to geeks and dad bods by the time you make a move.”

Laughing, she shakes her hips, causing her beauty queen body to bounce. I don't know how she tolerates those skimpy, skin-tight bikinis. Not that one wouldn't feel awfully nice right now in the California sun.

“It's okay, Marnie. Really. He's a good pick. Not really my style, you know.”

It's not just the overgrown body builder with the tangerine skin I'm talking about.

I stare down at my tank top and shorts. I've probably got the most conservative beachwear here – same as always. Sometimes, I think everybody else enjoys these parties on dad's private stretch of beach way more than I do.

Sometimes? Okay, make that all the time.

She throws her head back and laughs louder, slapping me on the shoulder. “Oh, girl. Just what the hell is your style, anyway?”

I shrug, and she leans in closer. “Kyle told me you two never fucked. Jesus, lady, you're about to start your senior year and you're still a virgin. Don't tell me you're going to be the only one in our circle to walk off campus with a fancy degree in hand and your cherry intact.”

I wrinkle my nose. Marnie acts like a crazed lioness when she gets a few drinks in her, and I make a mental note to slip away once she's had a few more, maybe got her arms around her latest hottie.

“I'm going to get you laid, you know. I've made it my personal mission.” She wags her finger at me and flips her blonde hair with the pink highlights back. “I know you brought a bikini. Go slip into it, show off your sexy, and maybe I'll ask big boy if he's got a friend when I'm done with him.”

The smile she's wearing makes her look like a shark. Shaking my head, I fold my arms, one more reminder that I'm overdressed, even though I feel like I'm half-naked out here.

“Jesus, no. I told you, I'm just here to get some sun and a nice buzz. Oh, and remind me to flip Kyle the bird next semester for talking about crap he really shouldn't.”

Trouble is, the idiot I'd broken up with a month ago was supposed to be the one. We lasted a few months, longer than my other boyfriends, and I'd actually been getting a little impatient about jumping his bones. He'd been the first man in awhile I could imagine going to bed with – until the day he sat me down and came out with the nasty, kinky stuff he wanted me to do.

I'm no stranger to weird, overpowering sex. I crave it. Heck, I've read all about it in those books about billionaires with dirty mouths and a love for handcuffs and spankings.

All the crap Kyle wanted? Picture the opposite.

I wasn't ready to tie him up and slap him across the face while he called me mama. Not in this lifetime. Not with anyone.

Seriously, why the hell is it so hard to find a normal man with a body like an Adonis on campus? Do the guys with an alpha bone in their bodies still exist outside romance novels?

“Aw, c'mon,” Marnie whined. “We need to do lunch so you can dish right back. I'm sure it wasn't all one-sided, and I'd love to hear what the little rat was really up to.”

I open my mouth to try to change the subject, and then I see Mr. Tangerine coming back, two martinis and a beer in his hands. Thank God.

“Here you go, ladies,” he says, pushing one martini into my hand and flashing me a wink.

Ugh. Some of these beach bums have the balls to try for two girls at once, and there's no way I'm falling for it. I nod, then turn my attention to Marnie as she gives me the look, as if to say watch this.

“Damn, what kinda beer is that?” she asks, closing the tiny distance between her and Tangerine Man, a quick, jerky movement that causes her to crash her martini glass rim right into his thick chest. “Oh, shit! I'm so sorry.”

Every bone in my body wants me to roll my eyes. The beach bum laughs, wipes the booze off his pecs, and then pulls her into him.

“You know I'm gonna make you lick that off, right?” He growls it softly into her ear, but it's loud enough for me to overhear.

Marnie practically loses her panties on the spot. I turn away in disgust, sipping my drink, praying the strong alcohol beneath the fruity sweetness will help me forget the train wreck I'm seeing.

Who the hell invited him anyway? I wonder. He's too old to be a student, unless he's like a grad student in fitness or something.

Marnie's a way bigger social butterfly than I am. Every time I get dad to open up the beach and fire up the bar for our private fun, my friend tells me it'll just be a few people, no more than a couple dozen. My eyes scan the crowd. I estimate there are way more than a hundred here, sorority boys and bleached out bimbos I've never even sat in a lecture with.

“Hey, Delia! Seriously, thanks again for letting us play on papa's property again. If anybody leaves their shit behind, come to me. I'll kick their ass.” Marnie reaches for my hand and gives it a firm squeeze.

“Yeah, me too,” Tangerine Man says lazily, not even pulling his eyes off her ass.

“Go have some fun! We'll link up again later,” she says, giving me a gentle push.

I'm too upset to turn around until I'm sure they're gone. It's not just my friend's too loud to live attitude, or her taste in the dumbest man candy around.

Everything here reminds me I'm stuck being the good girl again, and I don't want to be.

I'm tired of playing third wheel. Just once, I wish I could be somebody's number one, just for one night. I wish a tall, dark, and mysteriously kinky man would swoop in from nowhere and blow my hair back.

But the boys out here tonight don't fit the bill. Not one of them, not even close.

College is hell when your standards are too high, and luck won't even shake your hand, much less push a girl into the strong, sexy arms of a man with a brain and an attitude.

* * *

A couple hours after sunset, and it's just like every other party I've hosted for Marnie. I watch the sun sink below the roaring waves, and every building lining the Bay Area's coast comes alive.

I'm several hundred feet from the nearest party couple, sitting on a big, smooth rock, my fifth drink of the night halfway drained, an extra tall Long Island Iced Tea.

The liquor drowns my feelings, keeping me out later than I intended. I should go soon, but I don't.

I'm running behind on my senior project for Professor Thosser, the most arrogant, picky slave driver in the entire journalism department. He's also the teacher with the hottest connections for landing an internship or maybe a full blown career after school, and I'm determined to impress him.

Unfortunately, that means turning in a rough draft before summer's over, hopefully something interesting enough for him to cite in his Op-Eds to the big papers and endless seminars. A few simple citations for other students over the years landed them gigs with some serious money and mobility. One guy even wound up working in the White House.

I'm also supposed to meet my brand new stepbrother tomorrow. When dad tied the knot for the second time in his life last month, it turned my whole world upside down.

Well, technically it was still upending itself right now. I'd only spent two days in bizarro land back home since moving out of my dorm for summer.

Weird is an understatement. His new wife, Evie, looks exactly like the hot, prestigious trophy girl a high powered airline executive ought to have.

She's also a washed up Hollywood bombshell with three ex-husbands and at least two bankruptcies behind her. If the tabloids are to be believed, she's been struggling to get her career back on track, and hasn't had a major role since she played lead on a romantic comedy about ten years ago.

I'd barely been around her for a day total, and I still don't understand it. Maybe I don't want to.

It's not like dad to elope with a stranger. Much less an aggressive, high demand Hollywood babe with a lot of baggage. The looks are all she's got. It's hard to believe he's fallen so fast, so hard.

I don't want to believe dad is just another shallow, overworked rich guy with a hard-on for a beautiful younger woman, but...

My thoughts stop the instant I see the man standing on the rocks overlooking the ocean. He's only there for a second before he leaps, plunging into the dark Pacific.

Is he crazy? I'm ready to rush over and find out if he's been cut to pieces by rocks when I see him emerge, apparently in one piece.

His big arms rise above the waves, like black flames in the darkness, huge and powerful, pushing the water aside like Moses.

No, he can't be hurt. He wouldn't be swimming like a total pro if he were. Then I get a better look, and I realize he's not just some kid out for a swim.

This dude's serious.

He's wearing a full body wet suit, complete with a snorkel mask and oxygen tank. At first, I'm fascinated, wondering if he's just a diehard swim fanatic, or maybe a hobby diver who's gotten off course. His feet kick up sand as he comes ashore, heading for a rock further down the beach, where I notice there's more gear carefully stored, like a little campsite.

I frown. I'm not crazy over-protective of dad's private property, but he's definitely screwing around on our family beach. He must've somehow missed the bright red PRIVATE PROPERTY signs lining the cliffs every twenty or thirty feet.

Finishing my drink, I slide off the rock and start to approach him, getting a better look in the last summer sunlight fading red over the Pacific.

He's got his back turned to me, focused on his diving gear like it's the most important thing in the world. His mask and oxygen tank are off by the time I'm a few feet away, and he's working on the suit. He peels it off quickly, as effortlessly as shedding a second skin.

Oh God, is he completely naked under there? I'm a little relieved when I see the navy blue trunks as he kicks off the rest – but only a little.

He's...magnificent.

His back looks powerful, just like a hardened swimmer's who's been at it for a long time. Muscular creases collide with long, dark stripes permanently inked on his flesh. He's big, but he's smooth, sculpted, and his skin looks totally natural, healthy and real in a way Tangerine Man will never be.

Sure, it's silly to prefer ink all over his body instead of too much UV tone, but I can't help myself. Then he turns around, and my eyes almost pop out.

His chest looks like an underwear model's, if they put their perfect bodies under the world's most skilled tattoo artists. More dark stripes spike up his arms, like flames licking his biceps, and something dark and menacing lines his broad chest.

It's some kinda dragon. The beast surrounds an anchor or multi-pronged pitchfork, a lot like my grandfather's old Navy patches that dad keeps hanging proudly in his office.

He's mature, several years older than me, but young and alive, like he's fresh out of college.

Our eyes lock. His are bright green, set in a strong face, with just the right amount of dark, sandy stubble. His jaw looks like it's home to the most capable mouth in the world, able to kiss or spit so much fire he can burn whatever the hell he wants.

Maybe even who he wants.

Oh, God. I'm supposed to give him a polite warning about diving on our little stretch of land, but now I can't even think. I'm starting to feel like a bitch for inwardly rolling my eyes at Marnie and her boy toys after all.

“Didn't know I had an audience,” he growls, giving his rubber suit a swift kick behind him and marching toward me. “Where the fuck did you come from, princess?”

Jesus. The tone in his voice makes it sound like I'm the intruder here.

“You're not supposed to be diving here.” I swallow weakly and point to the nearest PRIVATE PROPERTY sign behind me, wondering if he can even read it in the creeping darkness.

Mystery Man focuses his eyes through the darkness before he looks at me. “Aw, shit. I thought this whole stretch was public?”

I shake my head. “No, my dad owns it.”

Damn! Why is it so hard to form words? It's not like he's going to grab me and throw me in the water for saying the wrong thing.

The man cocks his head and smiles. “What did daddy do to buy himself such prime beachfront? Hell, who'd he fuck to make a sexy thing like you? The rich guys I know all look like something I oughta find under the ocean.”

I'm floored at the crude, half-complimentary things spewing out of his mouth. Then the big, beautiful bastard closes the last few steps between us and throws his arms around me, pulling me close.

Despite being beneath the cool waves only a few minutes ago, his chest is warm, dangerously hot and tempting. Finally, I'm thankful for the shorts. If I had bikini bottoms on right now, I'm sure he'd see them soaked, and then I'd probably drop dead from embarrassment.

“You know, I normally don't take orders from little girls standing on the beach in their PJs,” he whispers in my ear, his breath so hot it matches the fire rippling in my blood. “But I normally don't fuck up and drag myself onto a billionaire's private beach club either. What's going on over there? Big party?”

Tilting his head, he looks over my shoulder, noticing the light and noise from all the partiers. Just the perfect angle for his sandpaper stubble to rake my shoulder, ruining any urge to fight him off for at least another ten numb seconds.

“I'll be damned.” He pulls back, staring me straight in the eyes. “You don't look like much of a party girl, princess. Then again, I've fucked enough girls in my day to know the quiet ones are always the wildest. Go on, get back to your fun. I'll be on my way.”

His hands slowly slide down my body as he releases me, driving me temporarily insane.

This can't be happening, getting felt up by a total stranger. Why am I letting him?

Some crazy instinct flips on and my hand flies across his face.

Before I know what's happened, there's needles on my palms, and I realize I've just slapped Mystery Man. My jaw drops.

“Oh, crap. Jesus. I'm sorry, sir, I really didn't mean to hit you like that. I just got carried away when you started feeling around for –“

What, exactly? Maybe I screwed up, misread him, even if he was getting way too close for comfort.

“For what?” he says coldly, reaching down to a huge bag at his feet to start packing up his gear. “You've got nothing to worry about. I said I'm on my way out. I'm used to partying on these beaches too when I'm stateside. It's fucking hard keeping my hands to myself when I see a firecracker.”

He flashes me a smile, complete with dimples that bend in on his cheeks. My heart sinks as I watch him stuffing his scuba gear away.

Yeah, he's been rude, but I haven't exactly been an angel. Clearing my throat, I step up to him again, gently reaching for his shoulder.

He stands up, a fresh change of clothes in his hands, turning to look at me when he feels my touch. “What?”

“Hey, I didn't mean to just brush you off. I'm not as rude as I seem. You probably think I'm a snob, but if you want, we've got an open bar and some music tonight. It's no big deal if you want to hang around and have a few drinks. This isn't like an invite-only thing.”

He quirks an eyebrow, moving his eyes up and down my curves. “Yeah? You're serious?”

I nod. I'm not sure what's pumping my heart harder – the awkward guilt, or seeing how hard his tattooed muscles flex when he drops his pants and boxers, ready to roll them on.

“Sounds a helluva lot more fun than being slapped by a party girl. Turn around while I get dressed. Unless, you know, you wanna rake those little nails across somewhere else on my body.”

I'm not sure what's pounding more hot blood as I spin around. My nipples are like hot, wild buds beneath my tank top, but the heat in my cheeks is almost enough to burn me alive.

* * *

I lead Mystery Man to the small private bar and watch as he orders a dark beer and another martini for me.

“So, what the hell were you doing out there diving this late at night?” I stare at the neat white button down shirt he's changed into. It clings perfectly to his slab of a chest.

“Work. Fitness. Pleasure too. You'd be amazed at all the things you can see along this stretch of beach. This place is pretty damned pristine by Bay Area standards.”

I sip my martini, unable to keep my eyes off just how sculpted he really. He sounds too smart to be a beach bum bodybuilder like Marnie's new fling. Only one possibility comes to mind.

“Are you Navy, or something?”

“Yeah, you can say that,” he says with a wink, taking a long pull from his beer. “I didn't really come here to talk about business. Listen to that music.”

He holds up a finger, and I sit up straight, listening to the booming speakers. There are only a few couples left swinging drunkenly around the fire, occasionally collapsing into the sand underfoot with bawdy laughter.

“I didn't get your name,” he says, standing up and darting his eyes over my top.

I try not to flush. “Cordelia. Everybody calls me Delia.”

“Fuck, for real? I've never heard that name outside the Johnny Cash song.” He snorts, and then smiles. “Love it. Does Delia like to dance dirty?”

I'm stunned. Is he seriously asking me to dance? Nobody's done that since high school prom, and the skinny geek I danced with there didn't have anything on this god.

He gestures toward the open fire, polishing off his drink. Before I can answer, he slams his empty glass down with a clink, and grabs my wrist.

“Come on, babe. This is supposed to be a party.” He pulls me along, picking me up with one arm under mine, carrying me across the sand toward the dance around the fire. “My name's Chris, by the way.”

I'd say 'pleased to meet you,' but I'm yelling instead when she swings me completely over his shoulder and flings me around, before pushing my bare feet into the sand with ease. Right where he wants me. It's hard to keep up, and he does most of the work.

I catch flashes of his eyes on me, checking to make sure I'm not going to freak out and walk away. Once his hands wrap tight around my waist, jerking me close to his chest, it's not even a possibility.

“Too rough for you?” he asks, pushing his hot breath into my ear.

My brow furrows. I'm tired of being the boring good girl at all these parties. I want to act out, and the perfect opportunity just landed in my lap – or is it up my skirt?

My panties feel like they're about to melt, but I force my hips to grind into him, wrapping my arms around his thick neck.

“No. Show me what you can do.”

His green eyes light up and he grins. “I knew you'd be fun, Delia. I'm gonna move fast, swift, hard. I'll take you every goddamned place I see you begging for in your dark little eyes. I'm in control. I've got you.”

Everything about him screamed powerful before. But once he's moving me effortlessly across the sand, around the fire, tangling our shadows together like rich black waves, I know it's true.

Something visceral tells me I'm clinging to a real man, an alpha male with an edge to him that's so sharp I want him to cut me to pieces.

Chris handles me with strength and elegance. Total control. Everything he promised.

He flings me through the air and rips me back, dangerously close to his heat, his temptation, before tearing me away again.

He makes me want. I'm dying to feel his mouth on mine, his hands on my hips, his strength between my legs. His power wants to conquer, and I want to submit.

His hands are everywhere – long enough to tease, but never lingering so long it wins him another slap across the face.

I'm glad I slowed down on the drinks. Some of the strange tango movements he leads me through are so quick, so vibrant, they'd upset my stomach if I'd had a little more. So would the swarms of butterflies he's stirring up from head to toe.

Mostly, I'm drunk on the adrenaline, the hellfire coursing through my blood, filling all my tender parts with crazy admiration, wanton desire, ruthless excitement.

Obsession, in a word. Crazy fucking need.

We dance for what seems like ten minutes, and I'm breathless by the end. Toward the last spin, his hands sweep across my ass, grab it hard, and pull me into him. My legs part automatically. I'm only against him for a second, but I swear I feel something hard and wild in his jeans, something electrifying.

The current hits and makes my whole body tingle. My head spins as he finally settles me in the sand for good, still holding me close.

There's a clapping noise. I look up, and realize some of the drunken partiers are applauding us. Chris waves, brushing it off like it's nothing. It doesn't take them more than a few seconds to go back to their private revelry.

“Wow. Holy shit. Where'd you learn to do that?” I gasp, trying to recover precious oxygen.

“A man learns a few things when he's been around the world like I have. Tonight, I only care about this beach.”

The way he's looking at me makes me feel like it's not just the beach. There's a hunger in his eyes, a feral look I've only seen on my short-term boyfriends a few times before. The big difference is, for the first time in my life, I'm sure I'm beaming back the same desire.

“You're a bigger party girl than I thought, Delia.” He pushes his chin against my shoulder, moves his lip to my ear, and growls. “You move like a fucking angel, when I make you. Will your lips twist like they were made to kiss me, or am I gonna have to lead them too?”

Oh, God. God! He doesn't waste any time. His hips grind against me, giving me another rough, wonderful feel of that huge, angry hardness he's sporting beneath his denim.

My hand slides down between us, checking if I'm completely soaked through my shorts. Not quite, but there's definitely a heat; a raw, wet craving so bad it makes me want to rip my clothes off.

I have to taste him. Craning my head, I pucker up, moving in for a kiss.

He preempts me, driving his firm, strong lips against mine first. Bastard.

Wonderful, arrogant bastard.

Masculine warmth floods my mouth. Chris takes my mouth in a heartbeat, blitzes my lips. His kiss is intense, decisive, and so is the way he parts my lips, shoving his hot tongue into my mouth.

I can't hold back the moan that washes over me. It comes from deep in my belly, pulses into his mouth, like I'm sharing the horny fire deep inside me.

His breath quickens. His chest bows up, pushes against mine, giving my buds the perfect friction.

So much for regaining my breath. By the time he breaks the kiss, I'm panting, struggling not to pass out from the wild thunder in my blood, plus the surreal realization that I want to fuck this strange badass.

“You like my taste, baby?” His eyes burn me down as I nod shyly. I can't deny it.

He smiles before he leans in again, stamping his mad lips up my throat, working his way to my ear. “Good. I want to feel your hungry little lips wrapped around every fucking inch of my cock. Now.”

He's got me by the wrist again, and we're heading for the bar, but we pull past it. It's like my feet have turned into dumbbells, and I trip all over myself, trying to keep up with him.

Hell, trying to decide if I'm really going to go all the way and get my V-card punched by this wild animal tonight.

I don't have long to decide. My body does it for me when he slams me against the wall, covering my mouth with his again, picking up where we left off.

Except now we're truly alone and secluded, behind my dad's beach bar. His kisses crash over me again and again, as sure and powerful as the dark waves lapping the shore behind us. He palms my breast, pinching my nipple, and I almost come on the spot.

“Christ. Chris!” Mom would slap me across the face if she heard me confusing Jesus with the bad boy at my throat.

Her efforts to fill me with more than a lukewarm faith never went very far. But I'm feeling heavenly now with his stubble on my skin, his lips, his rough hands all over my body. He holds me down, pushes between my legs, and starts to dry hump me.

I've gotten hot and heavy with a few guys before, even if I haven't gone all the way. Making out has nothing on this, and his delicious friction stabs deep. The bulge in his pants rakes through my shorts just right, pushing the fabric over my clit.

Help. Me.

My arms pinch tight around his neck. Chris growls, filling my mouth with his energy on the next kiss. His tongue flicks in and out of my mouth, deep and possessive, almost like he's fucking my mouth with his tongue.

His hips haven't stopped speeding up. They're frenzied, hellbent on burying me, crashing into me again and again.

I'm so damned close it hurts, ready to go careening over the edge, straight into my first climax at a man's touch.

He seems to sense it too. He breaks the kiss, beams his hot green eyes into mine, and gives me an ice cold look that seems way too serious for any ordinary lover. It's more like the sort of face you'd see on a cop ordering somebody to hit the ground, hands behind their backs.

“Fucking come for me, babe. I want to hear you whimper in my ear. I need to hear you come undone.” His hips punch mine harder, rougher, longer and meaner strokes. “Come!”

And I do.

My orgasm roars up like a huge wave and almost rips me in two. I can't even stop to wonder if I'm hurting him, tearing at his neck with my desperate nails, because the pleasure shaking my body engulfs me. My head hits the brick behind me as he continues to grind me against the wall.

Snarling, he shoves one hand down my waistband, pushes his fingers against my mound. My hips buck wildly against his calloused fingers until he finds my clit, and then I'm blasted into a whole new universe of ecstasy.

My thighs clench hard around his hand. I want those fingers deep inside me, a prelude to feeling the magnificent cock swollen in his pants pounding into me.

My hips rock wild as he rubs through my wetness. I push my lips against his shoulder, stifling the screams exploding up my throat, all I can do not to cry out across the hot summer beach.

“Babe? You okay?” That sexy stubble on his cheek brushes mine.

I open my eyes. It feels like my knees collapsed and he's holding me up by both hips, angling me against the wall, awake and safe in his strong arms.

“Yeah. I've never had it so good,” I tell him, running my tongue across my lips.

I've never had it at all.

A nervous spark shoots through me, cutting through the tingling desire. Something holds me back from telling this wolf of a man that I'm a virgin.

What the hell would he think? There were only two possibilities. He'd either turn around and run, or else rip me away from the wall, push me into the sand, and fuck me so hard I'd shatter.

I'm not ready for that. I'm nervous, lost in the butterflies soaring through my stomach, sapping all the confidence I had earlier.

Maybe if we just take it slow, I'll work my way into it. He doesn't need to know anything, right?

“My turn,” he growls. “You kiss like a little maniac, Delia. I fucking love it. Now, it's time to find out how hard you can suck my cock.”

His hands move to his hips. He backs up a step, and I watch him tearing at his belt. That massive bulge in his jeans is about to get a whole lot closer, stronger, real.

Shit. Sweet baby Jesus.

My heart pounds. My eyes fall to his crotch and they don't let up, and I notice I'm holding my breath, trying to stop myself from soaking what's left of my panties as I think about what he's about to reveal in all its hard, naked glory.

Then there's a sound like someone shredding the quiet night, and a burning rub in my pocket. I jump, realizing too late it's just my phone vibrating.

Ugh. Worst timing in the world.

Sighing, I pull it out, tap the screen, and see a message from my dad.

HONEY, ARE YOU OKAY? IT'S LATE. YOU'RE NOT HOME. SHOULD I SEND MARY DOWN TO SEE IF YOU AND YOUR FRIENDS ARE ALL RIGHT?

Chris stops, gives me a knowing grin. The look in his eyes isn't so patient, though. He looks like he wants to rip the phone out of my hands and smash it on the nearest rock, obliterating the distraction so I can get down on my knees, open his pants, and –

“Sorry. Just a second.” I type back furiously, tell my father I'll be home in another hour, maybe less.

I smile at Chris, ready to tuck the phone away and find my courage. Then another message blows up my screen.

CORDELIA, DON'T DO THIS TO ME TONIGHT. I TOLD YOU EVIE IS VERY NERVOUS ABOUT TOMORROW. PLEASE DON'T EMBARASS ME. YOU NEED YOUR BEAUTY SLEEP.

My brow furrows. Daddy's always been Mr. Responsibility, uptight and overprotective. It's sweet that he worries about me, but he's also terrified of rattling her.

He won't do anything to upset the Hollywood bombshell I never wanted for a stepmother. And as much as I hate to admit it, he's right. Evie gets bitchy, moody, and throws tantrums like a sixteen year old girl.

I've seen it happen with the servants. I know my father secretly fears her turning on him.

I look at Chris again, my smile gone. My heart sinks, and whatever confidence I had before is completely gone. This is no way to learn how to pleasure a man for the first time, bleeding guilt over busting dad's dreams about his fresh new happy family.

“I'm really sorry,” I say, stepping forward and stroking his arm. “There's an issue at home. I need to get going. Can we take a rain check?”

I bite my lip like some scared little romance heroine. Especially when he comes marching up, wraps an arm around my waist, and jerks me so hard against his chest I feel our heat collide.

“You're damned lucky I'm staying in town for the next week, babe.” His arrogant lips brush over mine. Softly at first, before his kiss deepens.

Rough. Aggressive. Domineering.

He wants me so fucking bad. And I want him. The fire in my pussy reignites, and I pinch my thighs together, trying to stop the wetness leaking out of me. His hands wrap around my backside, find my ass, and squeeze.

I moan, shimmer, dangerously close to coming all over again. I'm so turned on it's obscene, and I can't figure out if it's because he's just so hot, or because I'm the most inexperienced girl on this beach.

“Give me the phone,” he orders, not even waiting for me as he pushes his hand into my pocket.

Before I can say anything, he's got it, fumbling with the screen.

“Hey! What're you doing?”

“Putting in my digits as soon as you unlock this fucking thing. Here. Pull up your contacts.” He shoves it into my hand and folds his arms, waiting.

I feel like I'm fetching my insurance info for a cop. For a second, I think about bullshitting him, typing in nonsense that isn't whatever number he tells me.

That's the smart thing to do, hands down. Get out while the going's good. Chalk tonight up to a few drinks and a lot of pent up emotion.

If I just lie, I won't be tempted. I won't have to deal with his bossy, dirty mouth. But crap, then I'd miss finding out what else that mouth can do to me, what he feels like when I'm full of him, experiencing every inch of my body cracking apart as he owns me in ways I've never imagined.

I don't want to imagine anymore. I don't want to be the good girl, and this strange bad boy showed up just in time to offer me a way out.

“Get those fingers moving. Four-one-eight, nine-zero-seven...”

He rattles off his number. God help me, I put in every digit, holding it up when he's finished so he can see me saving it. I can always delete it later if I chicken out – or just go tumbling headfirst into the greatest storm I've ever known.

Next time, there won't be any distractions. He won't let it happen, and neither will I.

“Let's go. I'll walk you to your car,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me along.

I can't stop savoring his heat the whole walk back, up the high concrete steps leading over the cliffs, and then toward dad's private parking lot. Several partiers are crashing for the night in their cars, and at least one truck is creaking and rocking, barely hiding the panting, grunting moans and laughs from the couple inside it.

“It was nice meeting you,” I say, kicking myself for not saying more. “We'll text tomorrow.”

“Yeah, we fucking better, or I'll be trespassing here a helluva a lot more.” He reaches through my open driver's window and grabs my hair, catching my long dark locks and giving them a stern pull.

It should freak me out, but it only hurts a little. It hurts so good.

“Everything they're doing over there,” he says, pointing to the pickup several spaces over where I heard the couple having sex. “I'm gonna do to you in spades. If you come so hard just feeling my hips and my hands rubbing you to heaven, you'll lose your damned mind when my mouth's on your clit.”

Shit. He pulls me forward, just enough to lower his face, pulsing more hot breath into my ear. “Get home. Rest up. Have a nice, peaceful night. Then clear your calendar tomorrow. We're gonna fuck the whole night. I need to hear everything you muffled on this beach. I need to make you scream, baby girl, and you will once you've had my cock. You'll scream when it's teasing you, fucking you, and then you'll beg me for more.”

I'm speechless. He's completely lost his mind, and I'm going to pieces for this psycho's dirty talk. I'm about to start my car and drive right over him, but he lets me go in one swift jerk, flashing me those sultry, determined green eyes again.

I'm flushed, melting down inside like the scared little virgin I am. But I'm determined to have him, to prove to myself I can do this.

“Tomorrow,” I mutter, unable to get my mind off his dick, which is still hard and outlined in his tight jeans. “Let's make an evening of it.”

“Goodnight, Delia.”

He nods to me and backs up, leaning against the car next to me. He watches me start my car and back out, and I know his eyes don't skip a beat until I'm out of sight.

I don't notice my hands shaking on the steering wheel until I'm halfway home. If it weren't for dad's text, I would've fucked a complete stranger. And not just any mystery man, but a tall, brash, heavily tattooed badass – the total opposite of every clean college boy I ever dated.

Am I losing my mind? Am I completely drunk, or just so horny I couldn't help it?

I don't know, but I'm going to text him tomorrow. I can't walk away when I'm so damned close to finally losing it with a man who makes all my senses purr.

Tomorrow's so bright, so lively, so vibrant I can practically taste it.

I'll eat light tomorrow at the family luncheon and skip through the snorefest meeting my new stepbrother. Then, I'll get in touch with Chris and we'll find a bar, maybe a quiet restaurant. Hell, maybe we'll just head straight to his place.

I'm barely old enough to drink, and way too old not to fuck. It's just one night. It's just sex. It's not forever, right?

No, I've made up my mind. There's no way one more meeting with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dirty can hurt. Especially not if it involves me pinned down underneath him, screaming in all the ways he's promised.

I want to find out how long it takes between my legs before he breaks too, tensing and groaning, melting into me.