What happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas—well, kind of. If I hadn’t married Harley or hadn’t slept with him, maybe there would have been a chance for me and Andrew, but the fact was, I did those things. And drunk or not, that meant something.

But I didn’t want Harley to think he was some sort of consolation prize. And that was the only reason I stopped kissing him. Trying to find the words among the haze in my mind, I looked down at him when he spoke. “I have to tell you something, Soph.”

“No. We’re done talking. Well, you are.” I grinned because I couldn’t help it. I liked the desire in his eyes, the deep husky sound of his voice, the way my cheek was cradled in his hand. Harley was my happy place. “I want you, and this doesn’t have anything to do with me and Andrew. This is only about us—you and me. I’m not confused or torn or wishing you were anybody other than who you are. I just wanted you to know that.” And that was the last word we were saying on the subject if it was up to me. And as long as his arms were wrapped around me, his body was beneath mine, and my tongue was in his mouth, it was going to stay up to me.

Until it wasn’t anymore, until I was so thoroughly kissed I couldn’t remember my own name, much less a single reason why we shouldn’t have been tugging shirts up and pants down. The fingers skimming along my ribs to rest on my hip left a trail of heat that moved toward my center and burned me from the inside. My heart pounded, and all I could see was Harley. All that mattered was him.

He turned us so I was on my back and he was half on top of me. His chest was bare, begging me to touch it, and I pulled him closer, desperate to taste his skin, to feel his weight on top of me, to make this a memory I’d never forget. His mouth moved from my lips to my jaw to my neck. After showing agonizing care to my collarbone, and reverence to the hollow of my throat, he moved in the smallest increments down. I was writhing, begging in pants and gasps while he worshiped me from shoulder to shoulder.

He glided his hand from my hip down to my thigh, and I clutched his shoulders and sealed my mouth to his. If this life ended right now, I would still die a pretty happy girl, but I wanted the full Harley experience. I’d never wanted anything or anyone more in my life. When I thought I couldn’t take more, when my heart was throbbing so hard I could hear it outside my body, he slowed down, brushed his lips over my eyelids then stared down at me with just a hint of a smile. He stroked his fingers up my side to cup my cheek and curl into my hair before he lifted my head to kiss me again.

His skin was smooth, but the corded muscles underneath flexed with every sensual move he made, and I wanted to touch more, explore all of him. I wanted to feel his weight on me, move with him until neither of us could think or breathe or want more. The fiery passion consumed every thought before I could process, and I’d never known anything like it.

After he kissed a trail from my lips to my ankle, he made his way back up, using hands and mouth to bring me closer to the edge. I whimpered for more through a clouded haze of desire. “Please, Harley, now.”

His lips were hot against my ear. “What do you want, Sophie?” He pressed against me, hard, hot, ready, and I gasped. “You want this?”

“Yes.” I could barely hiss the words as he held himself away, left me panting for more.

“Or this?” His kiss was a pendulum that swung between soft and sensual to rough and needy. “Tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

His grin made me more desperate, and I clawed at his shoulders, pressed wet kisses against his chest, tilted my head to twist his skin between my teeth. When he continued to tease me, drawing closer then pulling away, I used all the strength in my body to push him onto his back. His eyes widened when I threw a leg on each side of him and ground my hips until his breath came in shallow puffs and his hands clenched fistfuls of air.

He either surrendered his power or I took, but there was something erotic about seeing him this way, eyes half-lidded, wrists held in mine over his head while I nipped at his lips. “Tell me what you want, Harley.” As soon as I whispered the words against the shell of his ear, I sucked the lobe between my teeth and bit down just enough to make him moan.

“I want you”—he flipped us again—“out of control.”

I had news for him, this was as out of control as I’d ever been. In. My. Life.

He sat up, and for a second, I was cold where his body had been. Then, when his tongue and fingers were both stroking my center, heat spiraled through me, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I was buoyant and heavy at the same time, floating away and grounded by the weight of this minute.

Writhing, with my fingers tangled in his hair, I felt the pressure building, driving me toward release. “Oh, God, Harley.” The words escaped as he lapped at me, twisted his fingers as he pulled them in and out. A pinpoint of light exploded, and I rocked against his mouth, moved in time to the motion of his fingers.

He raised his head and glided along my body until he was braced on his elbows and brushing the hair back from my face. “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”

As soon as he breathed the last word, he pushed inside me and threw his head back. In a frenzy of sensual moans and cries of pleasure, we moved together, slow, then fast then slow again. The ache inside me was back, and I clung to him until with one final thrust of his hips, we shattered together.