He hasn’t touched me. Not once. Not even by mistake.

We paid the bill. Left the cantina. Walked across the street and into one of the nicest hotels in San Diego.

Through the lobby, up the elevator, down the hall on a floor that required a special passcode to enter, he didn’t touch me once.

Each step amped my heartbeat. Every turn toward his hotel room and our final destination had my mouth going dry. I’m doing this. I’m really doing this. My first one-night stand.

With a swipe of a key card, the door opens. Cool air wraps around us and ushers us inside. It’s a gorgeous suite with light colored wood and deep purple and gold accents. The curtains are open and the view is spectacular.

“Wow,” I whisper, padding across the soft carpet. A couch to my left, a television to my right, I pass by both to see the water below. “This is so beautiful.”

“It is.”

Looking over my shoulder, he’s standing next to me. Hands in his pockets, his eyes twinkle with mischief.

“I … Um …” My lack of experience in situations like this is kicking me in the butt. What do I say? How does this work?

“Are you okay?” He stops a few steps from me. “If you aren’t comfortable, we can leave. Or you can leave. At any time.”

I answer too quickly. “No. I don’t want to leave.”

“Good.” He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. “I’m getting a slightly weird vibe off you and I just want to make sure.”

I can’t mess this up. This is what I want. Badly. I haven’t slept with a man since a couple of months before my divorce and even that probably didn’t classify as sex. It was a few pushes before a fight started and I don’t think either of us found any satisfaction in it.

I do want this. I want it in a way I think a man like that can give it to me.

“Can I be honest with you?” I ask.

“Please do.”

Settling my gaze on a bundle of fresh flowers on the table next to the sofa, counting the different shades of yellow as a distraction, I struggle to find the words that won’t make me feel stupid or him weirded out.

“Um …” I gulp. “I know all women say they’ve never done this before, but I really haven’t.”

“Done what?”

I don’t answer.

His energy moves toward me and, before I can ready myself, his fingertips touch my chin. With a gentleness that causes my knees to buckle, he brings my face toward his. “Done what?” he repeats.

“I haven’t gone to someone’s hotel room, or room otherwise, to have sex with them.” Tucking a strand of hair out of my face, then wishing I could pull all my hair in front of my face so he can’t see me, I sigh.

He drops his hand. “You have had sex before, right?”

“I have three kids.” I chuckle. “So, yes. I have had sex before. At least three times.”

He grins, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk as the air between us settles. “So, you’ve had sex. But have you ever been fucked?”

My eyes shoot open. Muscles in my lower belly tighten as I draw in a ragged breath. “I’m not sure,” I say.

“Then you haven’t.”

“Okay.”

I don’t know what else to say. Even if I had the words, I’m not sure I could make my tongue form the syllables to pronounce them. The look he’s giving me fries every synapse in my body.

“Last question,” he says, positioning his wide torso in front of me. “Do you want to have sex right now? Or do you want to be fucked?”

“Um …” I say, forcing a swallow. In my dreams late at night when I’m envisioning a man half as gorgeous as this asking me similar questions, I’m much, much cooler. I’m sexier. I’m like the heroines in the books I read. Where is she when I need her? “I …”

“You have two options,” he says. “You can walk by me and leave this room. No harm, no foul. I’ll admire that, actually, in a lot of ways. Or you can tell me what you want.”

Staring into his eyes, imaging his hands touching my body, I shiver. Why am I nervous? My gaze travels down his neck, across his chest, and to the bulge in his pants.

I look back at him. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

A sense of empowerment floods me. I said that. I owned it. I did it—right or wrong—but this is my choice. What I want. To hell with anyone that judges me.

I’ve been the good girl my entire life, doing what was the expected thing to do. Today, I’m doing what’s good for me.

And, as he closes the distance between us, that’s to get fucked.

“Dear God,” I mutter beneath my breath as his hands find the sides of my face. His lips crash onto mine. Working them over with the skill of a surgeon, he parts them with his tongue. The warmth of his mouth topples into me as he explores the inside of my mouth like he just took the deed.

My body turns to mush and how I’m standing is a wonder. His body presses into me, the hardness of his cock digging into my stomach.

He pulls back too soon. His eyes are wild, his breath rising and falling as fast as mine. “Your lips are so sweet,” he says, stepping back.

“Thanks?”

He watches me like a hawk, as if he’s still getting his game plan together. I don’t even care what game we’re playing right now. I want him inside me stat.

“A dress was an excellent choice tonight.” He takes my hand and guides me to the sofa. I sit. He kisses me long and hard again before nudging my shoulder. I fall back, my head hitting the cushion.

Connor kneels in front of me, pulling my dress to my hips. I pant as I watch him discover I’m wearing no panties.

“Good God, woman,” he mutters. His eyes flip to mine. “You’ve been like this all night.”

“Yeah.” I giggle.

“Good thing I didn’t know this at the cantina.”

I giggle louder, partly from anxiety, partly from anticipation. “And what would’ve happened, had you known?”

“What’s about to happen now. Just in front of a whole lot of spectators.” His palm lies on the apex of my thighs. The pressure just adds to the brimming explosion ready to go off inside me. “I’m going to do a few things before I fuck you. Not because I don’t want to bury myself inside you right now, but I want to make sure that’s really what you want. Okay?”

“Fine,” I pant as his thumb presses on my swollen clit. “Whatever. Just …. Ooooh!”

His hand flips around and his thumb drags through my wet slit. He parts me with the pad of his fingers, his eyes never leaving mine. “Just what?”

“Just … Ah!”

A finger slips inside my body. I can feel the heat of my pussy as he works me gently. As he gains tempo, watching me for cues, I raise my hips toward him to urge him for more.

The top of my skull feels like it’s going to explode. My body craves him, craves a release, too worked up from being here to start with, let alone being opened up by a man I barely even know.

“Oh, God,” I groan as his hands hit my waist again. He exposes my clit with his fingers, the cool air like a fan on flames. It works me up higher and higher until his mouth hovers over it.

I try to move, try to wiggle out from beneath him, but he presses me into the cushion. Do I let him do this? Oh, God. Do I …

His tongue sinks onto me, lapping up the juices dripping down onto the couch. The contact explodes through me like a missile shot into space. My back arches, my hips lifting for more.

He inserts a finger, then two, working them back and forth in my hole. Just when I think I can’t take another sensation, my clit is sucked between his lips and I’m pretty sure I scream.

The room begins to shake, my legs involuntarily moving right along with it. I’m trembling and at his mercy. He increases his movement, cupping my bare ass with his free hand, before slowing just as I think I might break in half.

The descent from heaven is softer, gentler than I expect. Shots of climax continue to rock through me even after he pulls away.

His face is covered in … me.

“Connor,” I say, scrambling to sit up.

“Two more things,” he says. He gets to his feet and undoes his belt. “One, your pussy is sweeter than your lips. And two,” he says, jerking off the belt and tossing it onto the bed, “you’re about to get fucked.”

“That was the best fucking I’ve ever had,” I admit.

He laughs, tugging on my hand. “You haven’t seen the start of it.”