A word is just a word, until it changes everything.

“Yes,” I answer huskily.

Something primal enters his eyes. It makes me feel extremely vulnerable, but the sensation isn’t scary in the least; it’s exhilarating, sinful, delicious.

His hand drops from the doorknob, the gatekeeper between us, but I raise my own hand to let him know it hasn’t been fully decided yet.

He frowns, yet says nothing; he does, however, place his hand back on the doorknob, a sign to let me know for certain that he will walk away.

I push that aside and focus on moving forward. Even with the decision made, the “not sharing” rule has to be mutual. “Yes, I can,” I repeat, my voice quivering in a way I hate, “but that means you can’t be with other women either.”

Brooklyn is my age, and yet the look he gives me makes him more of a man than any guy I’ve ever been with. “That’s implied, Amelia. For as long as we fuck, we only fuck each other. If you want out, or I do, either one of us just says the word.”

I take a tentative step toward him. “And when I leave, this ends. It won’t be messy or emotional. And we don’t tell my brother, so you don’t have to worry about your relationship with him. I don’t want anything to come between the two of you, especially me.”

Perhaps agreeing, or perhaps simply deciding to stay, he lets go of the doorknob and strides toward me. Before I can say another word, he hauls me into his arms and crashes his mouth to mine.

The moan that escapes my throat isn’t on purpose. It’s just the way he runs his hands possessively up my arms to clasp my shoulders, and then upward again, to my throat, and finally to cradle my face, is so unlike any way any man has ever touched me that I lose control immediately.

The way he kisses me—as though he is starved for me, as if we’ve been forced apart by some exterior circumstances and suddenly brought back together—it’s enough to make me whimper.

I’ve been kissed by dozens of frogs, toads, and would-be princes, but never like this. Never where my toes curl and the room seems to shift sideways. Never, even in my wildest fantasies, could I have dreamed of anything like this.

It’s over the top.

Explosive.

All-consuming.

The tiniest of glimpses of what is to come.

One of his hands moves from my face to curl an arm around me, drawing me closer, anchoring me tightly against him. I can feel his hardness against my belly, his straining erection more than prominent, another promise of what is about to come.

His lips move.

His tongue strokes.

His cock pulses between us.

And we kiss and kiss and kiss, until finally he breaks our connection, his breath exploding all over me, and leaving me gasping for air.

I look up.

His blue eyes glitter. “I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

I nod, tongue-tied.

His mouth moves close to mine again but doesn’t touch it. Instead, he skims my jawline, his lips just brushing my skin. “Cat got your tongue, Amelia?” he asks, nipping at my earlobe.

“No,” I manage, more hyperaware of his presence than ever.

“Talk to me. Tell me you want me as badly as I want you,” he commands in a husky voice that elicits a full-body shiver.

“Yes, I want you,” I tell him as that shiver races across every inch of my flesh.

“Tell me you aren’t going to regret this.” This time the calm authority in his voice reassures me that I am making the right choice.

“I won’t,” I mouth, but that is not enough to ease his mind. It’s evident on his face when I pull back to look at him. Perhaps what he wants to know isn’t that I won’t be the only one who won’t regret anything. I run my hands up his chest. “You, Brooklyn, are not going to regret this,” I reassure him.

The blaze in his eyes is like an inferno. “I don’t doubt it,” he murmurs, and then he tugs on my ponytail, lifting my chin, and lowers his mouth to mine.

This time, he sips at my lips, grazing them with his teeth, nipping with just enough force that they tingle from his touch.

Somehow our hands find each other and our fingers intertwine.

My mouth remains closed as his lips work hard to coax it open. And coax it open he does when he licks between my lips in the most delicious way, leaving me desperate for his tongue. And not just in my mouth.

As if he could hear my thoughts, he breaks the kiss and looks at me. “Your mouth tastes so good. Can I taste the rest of you, too?”

I nod, incapable of words. I find my voice just enough to sigh when he slides slowly to his knees in front of me.

With his fingers hooked in the waistband of my yoga pants, he slowly slides them down inch by inch, revealing the wild zebra-print panties I bought yesterday when I went shopping. Wild, bold prints were all the store had. So unlike me, but I kind of fell in love with them and went a little crazy. I bought seven pairs with equally crazy prints.

His eyes flare as soon he sees them. There is a raw hunger in his features that appears almost primal.

An uncontrolled shiver works up my spine. My nipples harden, pressing against the lacy fabric of my new bra.

Once he gets me out of my sneakers and pants, his palms slide up the back of my calves and up higher to the back of my thighs.

My heart thumps as I try to breathe.

Again, he looks up at me; this time, though, his mouth quirks to the side. “Take your shirt off.”

Swallowing and then sucking in a deep breath, I pull my T-shirt over my head, not for a moment even considering denying him his command. “My bra, too?” I ask huskily.

His gaze is fiery as it rakes over my chest, and then he gives me a slight nod. “I want to see those nipples you’ve been teasing me with for days.”

Slowly, I reach back and unclasp my bra. The cups loosen, baring the bottoms of my breasts.

Brooklyn draws in a ragged breath. “All of it.”

Carefully, I lower my bra, allowing the straps to slide down my arms in a seductive fashion, and then let it fall to my feet, his feet.

“Beautiful.” His voice is a low growl of appreciation.

After a few moments, he closes his eyes and turns his face to kiss my bare thigh just below the lacy edge of my panties. He kisses me there the way he last kissed my mouth—teasing.

Oh, God, the feeling of his lips so close to my pussy is enough to drive me out of my mind. He’s on his knees in front of me, and still he’s the lethal one.

Sucking gently on the soft flesh of my inner thigh for only a few more seconds, soon his mouth is lifting and I feel his breath and the wetness of his mouth through the scant material of my panties.

I swallow the murmur of his name, not sure I should allow the intimacy I’m feeling to show so soon.

Brooklyn’s palms caress upward, over my ass, fingers hooking into my panties at my hips to pull them down my legs.

Breathless, I step out of them, looking down at him.

Raw heat emanates from him, and he keeps his eyes on mine as he spreads my legs wider, baring my pussy. Slowly, his gaze lowers and he seems to be devouring me with his eyes. “Fuck, you’re bare,” he growls.

Before I lose my nerve, I blurt out what I thought about texting him all day. “I haven’t been with anyone in over a year.”

His eyes are still on my private parts.

I feel the need to explain. “I wax for my own masturbation purposes. I come faster like this.”

There—my confession might be too much information, but at least it is out of the way. I haven’t had sex with a man in over a year. I hope he reads through the lines that that means I might be a bit rusty.

His eyes gleam as he looks at me. “Your pussy is going to be so tight.”

Okay, not the pity party that I was expecting.

Without another word, he runs a single finger down the center of my pussy, and then using both hands, he spreads me open, baring my most intimate flesh to the cool air in his room.

I can’t help but watch as he goes between my thighs, putting his mouth right over my clit and blowing on it.

Oh my God!

It’s like a jolt of electricity so strong I have to bite back a cry, one hand going to his head as my hips pump forward.

His tongue sweeps over my clit and he toys with it repeatedly, swirling his tongue around and then sucking at it with gentle tugs.

I rest both hands on his head and thread my fingers through his beautiful hair. Hair that is not quite brown, but not light enough to be blond, either.

The quick movement of his mouth has me gasping for breath.

For some reason, I find my eyelashes fluttering, unable to watch and feel at the same time. I fear I might topple over.

When he switches from the tip of his tongue to the flat of it, the sensation is even greater, causing desire to pool deep in my belly, spreading like fire to every part of my body with each swipe of his wet tongue.

“Sit on the edge of the bed,” he tells me.

And I gladly do.

Now I’m spreading my legs wider and I’m tilting my pussy toward him so he can have access to every part of me.

Using his hands, he holds onto my thighs and drags me even farther to the edge of the bed, exposing me even more.

I look down.

His eyes are wicked as he stares at me.

I stare back, lustful, yearning, wanting.

Lowering his mouth, this time he starts to nuzzle, licking his tongue right down to the center of my pussy.

Gasping for breath, I pop up onto my elbows to watch.

His hands are on my ass now, drawing my core to his mouth in every way.

With my body his for the taking, Brooklyn mouths my entrance, flicking his tongue expertly and then delving inside me, fucking me with his tongue.

Everything about this is new. Men have gone down on me, sure. Licked around my clit, used their fingers to fuck me and bring me to orgasm quickly. It felt good.

This is nothing like that.

This is so much more than good.

This is incredible.

This is the work of a man who knows how to bring pleasure to a woman. This is for me. To make me feel consumed, devoured, wanted. Which I really like. His mouth owns me, and it feels hot, wet, and wild.

I’m on the edge, my orgasm building quickly. As if he knows this, he slows his mouth, brushing his tongue lightly from my center back to my clit and then kissing his way back down to my center.

The sensation forces swirling heat all through me, and I gasp in delight.

For the briefest of seconds, Brooklyn looks up, his eyes burning brightly with lust, enough to make me want to come more than I ever have.

“Brooklyn, please,” I whisper.

“Yes.” He pauses again.

“Don’t stop.”

He chuckles, the sound vibrating over my clit and sending me even closer to that magical place I can practically picture. “I don’t plan on it. You taste so goddamn good, Amelia, I just might eat your sweet pussy all night.”

My hands find the sheets and I hold on to them tightly, thinking I really don’t know if I can survive another five minutes, let alone five hours. Although the thought of a man at my pussy licking and kissing it for that long is tempting, the reality is my body is burning to the point of pain.

“Oh, God,” I call out.

“Do you want something else, Amelia?” he asks, knowing that he is driving me wild. By the tone of his voice, it is on purpose.

“Yes, I want to come,” I blurt out, more direct with him, in his room, and naked, then I have ever been.

Slowly he licks around my clit, already teasing me to the edge again, but not letting me jump over it. “Beg me, Amelia. Call out my name, and I’ll make you come like no one ever has.”

The second part is a given; I already know that is going to happen. The first part, well, I already know that Brooklyn is an alpha male, and as such, control seems to be a driving need. Honestly, I don’t mind submitting, but like Kate, I know I have to be careful about how often and when. The chase is what makes a man come back.

In this case, though, begging is the right choice. “Please, Brooklyn, please. Make me come.”

Within moments of my second plea, he’s inserting a finger inside me, licking his tongue around my clit, placing his other hand on my ass and circling the puckered skin there.

That swirling heat I felt earlier flares out of control, fierce enough to spin my world a little, and then I’m in a place where unicorns and rainbows are everywhere. A colorful sea of hopes and dreams made possible by the orgasm rocketing through me.

I don’t have to tell him it is the best orgasm I’ve ever had; I’m sure he can see it on my face and hear it in the tone of my voice as I cry out.

Before I’m even fully recovered, Brooklyn is on his feet, ripping his shirt right over his head. Scooting back, I rise to my elbows and watch him. The in-control alpha male seems to be a little out of sorts; perhaps hurried is the best word.

As he toes off his scuffed work boots, I watch him. He’s so freaking hot, standing at the foot of the bed. Stripping. Almost naked.

I lie here dizzy with exhilaration, and somehow manage to smile at him.

Beautiful and brooding in that way he has about him, he can’t hide his desire for me. It’s there, all over every inch of his coiled body. And I can’t stop looking at it.

The hum of my body has yet to stop; in fact, rather than stop it seems to have morphed into an ache that only he can satisfy.

His eyes burn over me with blazing heat as he unfastens his jeans and yanks those and his boxers down his hips at the same time.

I make a small noise of pleasure when I see his straining cock. It’s big and beautiful. Perfect.

Stepping around the bed, he’s close to the headboard in two small strides. His muscles bunch when he reaches for me, taking hold of my thighs and pulling me to him.

Sucking in a breath, my hands start shaking and I clutch the sheets to steady them. I don’t want to appear as nervous as I am.

Those blue eyes practically simmer when he says, “I can’t wait another second to be inside you, Amelia.”

Meeting his intense gaze, I don’t hold back, and answer him in the only way I can. “I’m more than ready, Brooklyn. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.”

With that, he reaches for a condom in the bedside table and tears open the foil packet. Once he’s rolled it on, he positions himself between my legs.

Up on my elbows, I throw my head back and feel his cock push into my already swollen pussy before I see it. Instantly, I feel crazy for him. All of him.

Need.

Want.

Desire.

The slow build of something magical starts to take root.

Watching me, he slowly pushes in. Just a little, just his head. Then, just as slowly he withdraws, dragging his cock through the flesh of my soaking wet pussy. And then returning to my entrance, the condom wet with my desire, he surges fully inside me. Deep. Hard. Fast.

My gasps mingle with his.

“Oh, God!” I scream.

“Christ, you’re so tight,” he growls.

The shock of his first full thrust nearly sends me over the edge. “Oh, God!” I scream again.

The sensation of him inside me is so overwhelming, I can’t stop from crying out in pleasure over and over. He’s filling me so utterly and completely. He moves again, and I’m so tight around his cock, I have no idea how he is going to move faster. This time I moan without words.

He stops. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, his voice raspy, sexy as hell.

I shake my head. “No. Not at all. Please. Don’t stop.”

His fingers dig into my hips, and he begins to move again. Harder. Faster. Yet, still in control. “You’re greedy, Amelia,” he says, and the caution in his voice is something I want him to shed. I want him to be wild with me. Wild for me. Crazy.

“Brooklyn, please,” I beg, looking into his eyes. Telling him it’s okay to move faster and let go.

His movements quicken at the same time his hands begin to explore my body, sliding from my belly up to my breasts. He palms them and tugs at my nipples. I watch him, mesmerized by his touch.

His cock so deep inside me moves at a steady pace, and my entire body begins to hum again, so much so, I give up trying to remain on my elbows and allow myself to fall to the mattress and let him consume me.

“Your nipples are cherry red. Beautiful,” he says, staring at them.

Saying nothing in return, my hands find his, wanting to feel his skin like he is feeling mine. I start at his wrists and slide my palms up his arms, reveling in his strength beneath my fingertips.

While moving inside me with a steady pace, he finds my hands and has them over my head before I can blink. My eyes widen in surprise, but I leave them there. My palms are flat on the mattress; he holds them in place. After a moment, I try to pull them back, but he holds them tighter. When I acquiesce, he makes a low noise deep in his throat. The way he commands my body with a power I can’t explain sends a deep thrill through me.

He withdraws and thrusts again, jolting my body with the force of reentry in a way that makes me dizzy with anticipation.

His gaze sears me as he buries his cock deep, deep inside me.

I’m underneath him, pinned beneath his body, and he now moves at a punishing pace. I find myself getting higher and higher. He is a drug. I’m high on him. And I can’t get enough.

In.

Out.

Up.

Down.

Hard and fast he moves.

Deep.

Deeper.

Breathless, he lets go of my wrists to slide his hands under my ass and draw me even closer to him.

He must be close to coming, and I know I am.

Wanting to connect in an even closer way, I find myself wrapping my legs around his waist.

The sexy look he gives me tells me I made the right move, and sends me so close to the edge that I don’t even dare breathe or I know I’ll be going over it.

He pounds into me, and the feeling has my breath exploding in a violent rush. As he withdraws and surges forward again, his hands tighten around my ass and spread me wide open.

It’s unlike anything I have experienced before. I find myself on a cloud. I clamp my lips together to stop from crying out, not ready to come because this feels way too good, but so wanting to.

I look up, lost to him.

Satisfaction beams in his eyes. “Let go,” he demands.

And I do; louder than before, I cry out, my arousal like a fever. My orgasm, hot and wild, explodes so intensely, it’s even harder than before.

He’s deep inside me.

So tight.

So tight and so deep that I swear I can feel the pulsing of his cock against my walls. His skin slaps mine, and as if wanting more from me, he keeps up the punishing pace.

My orgasm doesn’t stop. I call out his name, over and over. He stills, his cock still pulsing inside me.

And only when I close my eyes, limp and sated, does his body go taut against me. He groans and rasps my name. I open my eyes to watch him come. His lips press together and every muscle in his arms and chest coils tight.

He continues to thrust until every ounce of his orgasm is milked. “Fuck, you’re incredible,” he grits out.

And then he goes deep and stays there, slowly lowering himself on top of me until he covers me with every inch of his body.

God, he feels so good.

Seconds later, he rolls us, and then stands. “I’ll be right back.”

And he is. Without the condom on his cock, he’s back beside me. I rest my head on his chest and stare at his body. In this postcoital moment of bliss, I allow my fingers to roam over his smooth skin.

With a hand flung over his head, he lies still and lets me do whatever I want. Look, touch, pinch, rub, palm, feel, and revel.

Finally, I break the silence. “I knew sex with you was going to be incredible.”

Moving his arm away from his face, he smiles at me then, not the brooding badass look I usually got. “Oh, yeah, how so?”

I circle one of his nipples. “I don’t know. I just did.”

“There has to be a reason.”

“I guess I know you’ve been with a lot of women.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“No, I guess you’re right. To be honest, the way you look at me sends a vibe I can’t explain. I don’t know, have you ever fantasized about something, but never acted on it?”

Brooklyn pulls me right on top of his body and I use my elbows to push up. “Sure, a lot of things.”

“Like?”

“Quitting my lifeguard job. Getting my screenplay produced. Making something of my life.”

His hair is over his eyes and I push it away.

He looks at me. “What in particular do you fantasize about?”

I shrug because it seems so far out of my reach anymore. “Photographing important moments for a living,” I say.

“And?”

“And?”

“Yes, and what else?”

I smile. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, there has to be something else.”

I blurt it out. “Finding the person I want to spend my life with, and great sex.”

Normally, something like that might send a guy running for shelter, but Brooklyn takes a moment to think about it. “As in two separate things?”

I bite my lip. “Yeah, I guess. When I think about exploring sex, it’s not necessarily with the man I see as my husband.”

“Ahhh…” he says, “the sex part is with someone like me. Someone you see as a player who will never settle down.” There’s a sadness in his voice I’m surprised to hear.

Not wanting to say yes, even though that might be true, I offer, “It’s with someone my father or brother would never approve of, and that is why I never have pursued anyone like that.”

“Before,” he adds.

My brows quirks in question.

“Before me.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” I insist, but I know he doesn’t believe me. I wish he did.

Brooklyn pushes it aside, though, and smoothes his hands over my ass, where he rubs slow, lazy circles around my cheeks, and then his lips curve into a sexy grin. “Since I am willing to allow you to objectify my body, tell me some things you’ve never tried that you fantasize about.”

I can feel the pink painting my cheeks. “I’m…not sure. Just wild, unabashed sex. The kind people talk about.”

“Come on, you have to specific.”

“I can’t.”

“They’re your fantasies. You must be able to name at least one thing.”

My head begins to explode with a montage of images—sexy lingerie, being tied up, toys, steamy hot sex, and endless fucking.

Curiosity seems to pique Brooklyn’s interest and he rolls me off him to get up on one elbow, and then stares at me. “Are your fantasies as kinky as a threesome?”

Heat suffuses my cheeks. “God, no, I’m way too jealous for something like that.”

“Anal sex?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t think so. I’m not sure.”

He lifts an eyebrow and amusement glitters in his eyes. “Okay, moving on. How about bondage?”

I hesitate and then sigh. “Nothing hardcore, no whips and chains, but I liked when you held my hands over my head.”

His knee moves between my legs, and he looks at my pussy. “Okay, good to know. Spanking?”

I shake my head. “No way.”

That gets a chuckle out him. “So no kink.”

Feeling a little ridiculous for bringing it up, I blow out a breath. “I’m hopeless,” I tell him. “Never mind. Let’s talk about something else.”

Gently, and very unexpectedly, he caresses my cheek. “Nah, I’m not giving up. You like to masturbate, right?”

Dropping my head to the pillow in embarrassment, I can’t even answer.

“Show me,” he says, his voice thick and hot, not an ounce of humor in it.

I peek up, and my embarrassment fades immediately when I see the hot lust in his eyes. “But I don’t have to—you’re here, and you’re much better than my own hand.”

His finger swipes across my pussy, and then he brings it to my mouth. “I want to watch you. Start by tasting yourself, Amelia. Taste how sweet you are.”

Incredibly turned on right now, I can’t believe it, but I do. I suck on his finger, practically licking it clean.

Brooklyn sits up and eases me onto my back with a gentle nudge. “Now, touch yourself,” he says in a strained voice. “I’ll tell you what to do to make it feel so much better.”

I place my hand on my pussy.

He gets on his knees now, towering over me, giving himself a bird’s-eye view of my body. “No. Start by pinching your tight little nipples and slide your hands down your body, slowly.”

Unsure, I look at him.

He nods. “And then when you reach your pussy, I want you to run your fingers up and down your center, all the way to your sweet ass, over and over, until I tell you to stop.”

For some strange reason, I find myself doing as he has instructed. My eyes flitting from him to me and back, over and over as I begin to play with myself. I gasp when he takes his cock in his hand and gives it a little stroke.

“What do you think?” he asks, the tone in his voice oozing with something almost feral.

I think a lot…

I think I really like him even though I shouldn’t.

I think that was the best sex of my life, and by the looks of things to come, it’s about to get even better, hotter.

I think I’m in a whole lot of trouble when it comes to this man.

I think I know better.

And then I look into his intense blue eyes and the way he is stroking his cock, and think…I’m so screwed.