Dustin Cardwell is a liar. He claimed I was the one who failed between the sheets. Turns out he’s the one who didn’t know what he was doing. If he’s such an expert at sex, why then did he fail to bring my body to boiling point? Why didn’t he light every nerve ending under my skin?

It’s clear to me now that he was the failure that night. And my realization has nothing to do with the alcohol swimming in my system tonight.

Bryant, he’s everything. Swept up by desire, we’re no longer on the couch, but against the wall, where his body presses against mine. We’ve barely even started and I already know this was a risk worth taking.

With every sweep of his hand against my skin, I know he’s the one.

He might not be staying forever, but tonight—in this moment—Bryant LaClaire is the one for me. In this fragile moment in time, the things he does and says to me affect my world in the most profound ways.

Forgetting the broken, insecure person I used to be, I tug at his clothes, unable to tolerate anything that stands between us. I want him to know I’m ready and willing to take charge of my own destiny, my own sexuality.

He moves his mouth to my ear, nibbles at my earlobe then whispers, “Is this what you really want?” His breath is hot, the feel of his stubble sending shivers scattering across my skin. “If you want me to stop, say the word.”

“I don’t want you to stop.” I crush his lips with mine so he doesn’t say another word, doesn’t try to talk me out of it.

He slides his lips from mine and trails a hot path to my neck. I tilt my head to one side, to allow him full access. I moan as he licks, and kisses, and nibbles, while his fingers travel to other parts of my body, kneading my thighs and butt like a well-trained masseuse would.

I was lucky, it seems. I was lucky to escape a marriage that would have eventually killed me inside. A marriage that would not have challenged my heart the way this moment alone is doing.

I don’t stop Bryant as he moves us to the bedroom, not once taking his lips off my skin. We move backward and I hold on to him, trusting him with all of me. He doesn’t stop until the backs of my legs meet the bed.

With a hand on the small of my back and one behind my neck, he lowers me onto the bed. I stretch out like a feline as he watches me with a hunger that turns my insides to liquid.

I moan as my palms sweep across the Egyptian silk. “This is amazing,” I breathe. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft.”

“Want the same sheets for your cabin?” He chuckles with a wink. “You know it can be arranged, right?”

“Are you giving me preferential treatment, sir?” I bite my lower lip.

“I like to think I am.” He covers my body with his. His mouth exploring its way toward my breasts. My stomach clenches for a second, when my mind reminds me this man has been with some beautiful women. What if he doesn’t like what he sees on me? But he must like something if he brought me this far.

My anxiety does not stop my body from reacting to him. My back is arching, my breath whooshing out of me in quick gasps. When he sweeps the fabric of my dress aside and envelopes one nipple with his mouth, a rumble erupts from deep within my throat. Sensations spiral through me when something hard nudges me at the place where his lower body meets my crotch, confirmation I must be doing something right.

“You’re incredibly sexy.” He massages places my own hands can’t reach.

I don’t say anything, preferring to communicate without words. I’ve never felt more powerful, more in tune with my sexuality. It feels damn good.

“Bryant.” His name slips out as he tugs at my nipple, sending waves of pleasure shooting to my core. “Oh, Bryant.” My hands curl around the perfect sheets and my eyes drift closed.

I’ve known Bryant for only a few days yet I’m able to relax and let go of my inhibitions, to give in to him so completely. But when he moves even lower, my eyes open and I pull myself up on both elbows.

“What—what . . .?” The words catch in my throat.

“Hmmm.” He gives me a dimpled grin, the one that makes me forget how to breathe. “I take it you’ve never had a man do this to you? Well, babe, allow me to show you. Consider it your own sexual awakening.”

I give a shy smile and flop back onto the pillows, giving him permission to continue, giving myself permission to trust him.

Fire ignites under my skin as he brushes the dress from my lower body upward. I close my eyes again, forcing myself not to think about what he’s about to see. Thank God I’m wearing one of the panties he bought me in Cartagena and not my old underwear.

“If only you could see yourself through my eyes.” He kisses my belly button. “You’re gorgeous. Whoever doesn’t appreciate your body the way I do, is a complete fool.” He flicks his tongue into my belly button and I bite my lip hard. “I’m one lucky bastard right now.”

Are those words meant only for me or has he said them to another woman before me? I’m pretty sure he’s slept with women with much sexier bodies.

Stop it. This is your moment. 

I draw in a breath and relax.

“I just knew these panties would make you look like a sex goddess.” He pushes a finger into the lace thin waistband of the panties.

I smirk in silence.

He pulls the panties down my thighs and raises my legs to remove them. His finger start to move up and down my clit. I jolt with the kind of pleasure that takes me by surprise and makes me shrink backward on the bed and away from his touch.

“Sorry.” I swallow hard and scoot back toward him. “I . . . I didn’t expect that.”

“That was nothing.” He plants both hands on my thighs and draws me closer to the edge of the bed.

“Oh God,” I gasp when his finger enters me, massaging, exploring, paving the way for him. I want it to stay in there forever. In spite of the invasion, my body finds a way to relax, as though his finger was the key to everything.

“Ready for more?” Without waiting for a response, he pushes another finger inside my body and finds a rhythm that drugs my senses.

As if that isn’t enough to drive me crazy, he removes the fingers and lowers his mouth to the private part of me, to continue the work his fingers had started. His tongue dips into me.

“Oh fuck,” I scream. That word has never left my lips before. Bryant is so good and so bad for me. He’s turning me into such a bad girl and I like it. I love that he’s peeling back the layers to uncover a different version of me. “Oh . . .wow . . .” I reach out to put my hands on his head, massaging his scalp, holding him in place. I wish his mouth and tongue could stay forever between my legs with nothing more important to do than bringing me pleasure.

I groan with frustration when his tongue exits and he lifts his head. “No. What are you doing? Don’t?” His mouth swallows my words. Instead of recoiling from the taste of where he had been, I feel even sexier, more connected to him.

He pulls away for a heartbeat and opens a drawer on the nightstand, producing a condom.

My breath stills inside my throat as he rolls it down his long, thick length. The shyness I’d felt earlier long gone, my fingers itch with the need to touch him, to feel the velvet skin, the glistening tip.

I purse my lips as I glance up at him.

“You want to touch it, don’t you?” he asks, reading my mind.

Since actions are better than words, I run my tongue across my bottom lip and reach out. My heart is like a drum inside my chest and the rush of blood in my ears is deafening, but my hand doesn’t stop moving until my fingers are curled around his warm shaft.

“Bloody hell.” His head falls to his chest as he drinks in the pleasure I’m giving him. “Those hands of yours are something else. You’re one incredible woman, Grace.”

My hand moves up and down, learning by doing. His drowsy eyes assure me I’m doing fine, better than fine. Like the true masseuse I am, I continue massaging away the tension, my eyes never leaving his. Where the hell did I get this sudden burst of confidence from? How can I be holding a man’s penis in my hand and not feel the need to hide? When did sex become so normal and enjoyable, and not the sin I should be ashamed of?

He bites his lip and his breaths become quicker and ragged. My chest aches with joy at his reaction. I may not be a porn star, but I’m damn good at this.

Bryant gently removes my hands from himself and kisses me hard on the lips. His body covers mine again. “I hope you’re ready for this.”

“Yeah.” I’ve been ready for this moment for a long time, years in fact.

He’s the man I’d been waiting for all my life, the man to flip my world upside down.

“Very good.” He uses his thighs to push my legs apart and he enters me, filling me up, physically and emotionally.

“Bryant, oh, Bryant,” I scream out as he thrusts deep and begins to move in and out.

This time it doesn’t hurt much, not like last time. Bryant has taken his time to prepare me so I don’t have to feel uncomfortable.

After a while, an unfamiliar but pleasant sensation builds inside me, starting in the pit of my stomach, and creeping up into my chest. It’s all-consuming, intense, a hurricane spiraling out of control, crashing over me

As my world is rocked, I scream, thrash, and buckle beneath Bryant, who continues to drive relentlessly into me, pulling out only to pierce into me again to the hilt. When the hurricane ends, I’m left with a dizzying sense of relief, one I’ve been waiting for all my life. The calm after a storm. It leaves my veins still buzzing with remnants of pleasure which I hold on to when it comes time for him to come.

“Fuck, I’m coming.” His voice rumbles through his throat. He grabs me tight and I hold on to him as his body jerks and trembles.

Tears burn my eyes because now that he’s shown me what good feels like, I never want to let go. He’s the first person to make me feel special, beautiful, and worthy. I want to hold on forever, for my body to melt with his. But all good things must come to an end. Our moment ends with a loud grunt, followed by him rolling off me and perching on the edge of the bed, his back turned from me.

A surge of panic rises from my belly like bitter bile. Now that he got what he wanted, will he tell me to leave, to make space for the next woman in his life? Should I make the first move and say goodbye before he shows me to the door?

I know the rules. This is sex and nothing more. I’m not allowed to stop him if he walks out of my life and never looks back.

He does look back. He twists around and leans into me, gathering me into his warm, sweaty arms. I detect nothing but warmth in his eyes, warmth that travels the distance between us. “I want you to know something important, something you should never forget.” He whispers the words into my hair.

I swallow hard. “What?”

“You’re one amazing woman, both inside the bedroom and out of it.”