Another Saturday night, and yet again he was on Summer-patrol. It had been the longest week of his life, one where he’d dreaded and anticipated seeing her again with equal fervor.

Chase widened his stance where he stood near the front right corner of the stage, pushing his elbows outward so no one got too close. He needed to keep room available so he could move at a moment’s notice. It didn’t look like he’d need to anytime soon though, because the brunette chanteuse on stage had captured the crowd’s interest and now held it on the tip of one glossy red fingernail.

The fact that she’d become a brunette chanteuse in his mind said volumes about where his head was. All his self-talk about how off-limits she was worked until she climbed the stage and became someone else. More than the Summer he’d always known. Mysterious and sexy, a fully confident woman who needed no games to seduce. He loved hearing her laugh, savored every moment of pleasure in her eyes.

The moment she opened those slick lips, the same hue as her nail polish, and let those honey-toned words fly, he was a goner. If she’d been anyone else, he wouldn’t have held back. She made him hard as a fucking rock, mentally dull as a broken pencil. She enthralled him, effortlessly.

Him and every other guy in the crowd, and most of the women too.

She kept stroking her braid. Not pulling it as he’d instructed her if she felt threatened, but working it through her fingers, freeing the occasional curl to fall across her breast. From this angle, they looked like they were on hydraulic lifts, for fuck’s sake. So high and firm he wanted to thank God for women. And simultaneously begrudge their very existence.

That wasn’t the worst of it. She sang like she was revealing her soul, just laying every part of herself on the line. Her hopes, her fears. Kyle played at her side, sometimes joining her as she played the guitar, sometimes playing on his own, but their accomplished harmonies barely reached his ears. Summer was the music, the lyrics and the instrument to him. All-encompassing.

Unforgettable.

And he stood like a hulking sentinel in the shadows, guarding her from those who wanted to own a piece of that joy for themselves. He wouldn’t let anyone risk her safety. Not even Summer herself.

Empire wasn’t quite as big as The Platinum Club, but what it lacked in fancy clientele, it made up for with volume. Bodies packed the place. Eager, writhing bodies. It didn’t take long for him to register the barometer of the crowd changing. This bunch wanted to mosh. Summer soon realized that, as a few of her more traditional ballads received boos. Chase’s chest compressed with every one of them.

At this distance, he couldn’t see her face clearly. The glare from the lights blinded him to most of the details, but he could read her body language. The way she tucked her guitar closer to her breasts, how she dipped her head and let her loosened hair shield her from prying eyes. Her pain and embarrassment twined inside his gut. He couldn’t let the surge of people around him divert his attention, no matter how much he wanted to drag her away to a place where no one could hurt her with their careless words. He knew what that was like and hated anyone daring to harm her that way. Only the repeated clenching and unclenching of his fists stopped him from launching himself at the nearest heckler.

That shit was not going down when he was around. He could handle what they’d said—and would say again—about him. For fuck’s sake, they wouldn’t treat her the same. Not while he could beat their stupidity out of their thick skulls.

But he didn’t move. And while he watched, his anger on steady simmer, she adjusted the setlist and turned it all around.

She kicked aside her stool and leaned in close to Kyle, whispering to him between numbers. He nodded and rose while she took off the virginal white sweater that had hidden her bare shoulders. She wore a dress of alternating strips of color beneath, as wild as the hair she tossed back. Then she kicked off her cowboy boots and seized the microphone. “So I’m guessing you guys want something a little rougher tonight? A little more raw?”

“Hell yeah, baby.” Came a shout way too close to Chase’s left ear.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chase noticed the club’s security guys branching out in the increasingly rowdy crowd. Things were heating up. Damn, he wished he’d thought to bring Jax tonight. He hadn’t told Summer yet about the new addition to his unnamed agency, though he would by next week’s show at The Platinum Club. She’d only told him about the surprise sudden cancellation that had led to another invitation to the club that night at dinner. For her, a week was advance notice. And hell, in the meantime, maybe he and Jax could name their agency.

Names fled from his brain the instant Kyle returned from backstage with an electric guitar. He plugged it in an amp and started to play a jarring groove that made Summer’s smile widen like the sunshine coming out after a storm. Rainbows had nothing on her, especially when a razor-tipped growl emerged from the same heart-shaped lips that had earlier caressed and cajoled the words from her soul. Now they were a screaming, sex-laced demand, full of an aggression he never would’ve known she possessed.

Barefoot, floaty dress swishing around her thighs, fingers wrapped around the microphone that became her lover, she threw herself into the song, dragging the crowd with her whether or not they were willing. Dragging him.

He’d already been half hers—three-quarters—since last weekend. The memory of her soft, giving body and her breathy moans had tormented his sleep all week. He’d awakened cock in hand too many times to count. It hadn’t touched the ache she’d caused with her mouth and her innocence and the fact that she cared. She genuinely gave a shit about him, and that more than anything else pulled him to her with magnetic force.

His lips quirked. Maybe she’d been right about the importance of peas.

She bent at the waist, crooning into the microphone as she wailed about not giving a second chance to a lover who’d done her wrong. Then she turned, shaking her ass as she strutted over to Kyle and sang at his side. Her guitarist gave a rare grin, obviously enjoying the set change. Together they added their typical soaring harmony to the grinding beat.

Chase lost track of the bodies pressing close around him. The cheers and screams disappeared. Everything faded away but Summer and the song that she seemed to be singing to him, her gaze flashing to his and away again before he could sink into its heat.

He couldn’t stop staring. His vision lasered to her sweat-sheened face, to her blissful smile, to the twist of her athletic thighs. All the while, her damn near orgasmic breathy demands filled his brain as she reached the climax of the song. Total overload.

If he had to walk right now, he’d be in fucking trouble, because his dick was so hard he doubted his jeans would even bend enough to accommodate movement. She’d done that to him, and he couldn’t even punish her for the exquisite torture. It was his alone.

Something red whizzed by his head, exploding on the stage with a frighteningly loud bang. The guitar screamed to a halt and Summer jumped back, her fear telegraphing across her face as her gaze met Chase’s.

He didn’t think, he moved. Erection or no erection, he scaled the stage and hauled ass over to her, too concerned with making sure she was okay to even care about the bastard who’d thrown the bottle. He’d handle him later.

“Did you get hit?” he demanded, stroking a hand over her hair and pulling her trembling body to his before he’d thought better of it. His grip faltered and he had to tighten his fingers to hold on to her. God, what if the same weakness occurred when he needed to restrain someone who could cause her harm?

Pushing the thought away, he cupped her cheek. His little finger had gone numb, one of his more usual symptoms. “Summer. Are you all right?”

Shaking her head, she pushed him back and pressed her lips together until they were white. Her gaze darted to the club staff already cleaning up the mess. “I’m fine. It was only a drink.” Her voice wobbled. “Looks like Hawaiian punch, for God’s sake.” She waved him away before he could argue. “Go on. I need to finish the show.”

“You’re still going to?”

“Of course I am. It’s my job.” She gave him a determined smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’ll take more than a kiddie drink to get me to quit.” She licked her lips and his not-so-dormant erection returned to life. “At least it tasted pretty good.”

“You’re an insurance risk waiting to happen.”

“I’m not officially employing you, remember, so you don’t have to worry about what kind of a risk I am.” She lightly shoved him away and turned to Kyle, dismissing Chase as effectively as if she’d slammed a door in his face.

Terrific.

Chase crossed the stage and jumped to the floor. Better this way. If she treated him like a bug she couldn’t wait to swat, maybe he wouldn’t get hard every time she spoke or smiled or breathed.

Maybe he wouldn’t recall the flavor of raspberry and chocolate on her tongue.

He fisted his hands at his sides and watched the rest of the show without making eye contact with her. He saved his visual inspections for the guys who tried to push too close to Summer. Empire’s security team kept a tight watch on things, but they hadn’t stopped what had happened earlier.

Nor had he.

For the last song, Summer chose a pop-flavored number. That blissed-out smile of hers returned while she and Kyle rocked their way through it. This group definitely preferred the harder-edged cuts, but they didn’t boo this time. By the final notes, they were chanting “Sunny Z” so enthusiastically that she couldn’t stop grinning as she and Kyle took their bows.

Chase waited until she and Kyle headed backstage before leaving his post. He pushed his hands in his jeans pockets and strode through the buzzing clutch of people closest to the stage. From what he could tell, most everyone had enjoyed it. He sure had, enough to lose track of his focus. His purpose for being there was to do a job—to keep Summer safe. No more, no less. And he’d failed.

The glass hadn’t hit her. She was fine. But the point was she could have been hurt. If she’d been injured, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself, especially since he’d been so preoccupied for one ridiculous reason.

Sex. Stupid fucking sex. Which they would not be having, so he needed to get it out of his head. Or more accurately, he needed to get his brain out of his dick.

It had been too long, that was all. It wasn’t because it was Summer. She could’ve been anyone. Sure, she made him laugh. Talking to her reminded him of some of the best times of his life, and somehow she managed to make them sweeter. Her voice blew his mind. She was smart and sarcastic and tough as nails under that cotton candy exterior. But she was Cass’s friend and now his client, which made her doubly off-limits.

Besides, she didn’t see him that way anyway. She’d obviously reconsidered the idea of them hooking up. Her haste to shove him off stage earlier had proven she didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Message received.

He tapped his knuckles on the partially closed door to the closet-sized dressing room. “I’ll be parked outside,” he began, his voice deserting him as he glimpsed a bare shoulder. She sat at the makeup table and clenched a puff of some sort. The eyes she turned his way were ravaged. “Summer?”

“Don’t come in here,” she said as he did just that.

“What’s wrong?” He glanced around the room, noting the scatter of clothes on the floor that accounted for why she was sitting there in her bra and tiny little cotton shorts that might’ve been underwear. A second equally small table across the room offered another mirror that gave him a way too revealing glimpse of the curve of her back and the long laces of dark curls that spilled over it. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

“This is the changing room, you know. I already chased out the other chick who’s up next. She didn’t want to hang around some emo guitar bitch. Now it’s your turn to leave.” She threw down her makeup thingy and whirled around on the seat, evidently realizing he had no intention of moving. “You shouldn’t be back here.”

“Yeah, I know I shouldn’t be here, but I am. You’re upset and I’m not leaving until you tell me why.” He crossed his arms and waited.

“You saw that show. I’m a round peg trying to fit in a square hole. No, worse, I’m a round peg trying to fit in the head of a needle. I need a band. I need to write harder stuff. No one wants to hear my country-rock hybrid crap in the city—”

“Hold on.” He moved forward and cupped her shoulders, registering the satiny skin under his. Soft. Way too fucking soft. But he still kept his hands right where they were as he bent his knees to meet her eyes. “What I saw was that it took a little time for you to win them over, but you did it. By the end, they were eating out of your palm. You didn’t buckle. You adapted and got the job done.”

“I need a band,” she muttered, averting her gaze. The loss of those big blue eyes staring straight into his hit him as acutely as the loss of breath. “Me and Kyle can only do so much. He knows some people, but I’ve been resisting bringing more people onboard. Too much trouble, too many personalities. I only want to sing.” She rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, hard. “Up there, I feel alive. I’m more me on stage than I am anywhere else. I live for those moments. The rest of the day, it’s just surviving until I hear the crowd again. That acceptance…” She shuddered. “God, I’d die without it.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said, voice flat.

“How do you know?”

He shifted back, lifting his palms so that only the tips of his fingers rested on bare skin. Not that it mattered. He’d never forget that silken expanse for the rest of his life. “Because I was the same. The roar of the fans kept me going. Booze, women and training filled the hours, but they didn’t give me that rush. Nothing could. After a while you stop caring what it’ll take to get attention. You’ll do anything. As long as they accept you—hell, as long as they notice you—you can accept yourself.”

Her minute nod cut him to the quick. He hated that she felt ashamed for falling victim to what so many people in the public eye had, over and over again. “Yes,” she whispered.

“What you need is to find acceptance somewhere else. Use it to fill you up. To make you so strong no one can touch you.”

“Where?” She raised her chin, eyes brimming with tears that didn’t fall. “From who?”

All the standard answers came to mind. The ones his AA sponsor had thrown his way more times than he could count. Acceptance needs to come from within. If you can’t love yourself, no one else will love you. Self-respect is the first step.

Blah, blah, blah.

That all may well be true, but words weren’t what she needed right then. And they weren’t what he needed to give her.

He gripped her hips and lifted her up on to the table bolted to the wall. It didn’t shake from her weight, which he counted as pure luck. This wasn’t the fanciest place and the dressing room looked like it had seen much better days. He grabbed the chair she’d vacated and pushed it toward the door, flipping the lock and then shoving the chair beneath the knob.

When he turned back, she was staring at him in silent wonder. Or trepidation, he couldn’t tell.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he strode over to her and cupped her face in his hand, tipping it back so their eyes met. As his thumb feathered over her chin, he bent his head to breathe in her sweet apple scent, nothing cloying or artificial. No heavy perfume, just Summer. She sucked in air at the brush of his mouth over her ear, a single glancing blow. Then he returned for more, drawing her earlobe between his teeth, pulling to make her moan.

She didn’t disappoint him.

“Chase?” she whispered, her usual bravado long gone.

Pressing his mouth to her neck, he fisted his hands on her hips and pulled her close. After the taste of her mouth he’d had last weekend, he craved more. No amount of kisses would be enough, so he didn’t allow himself the luxury. Kisses like they’d shared then were for lovers.

This was just fucking. As much as she mattered to him, he couldn’t let himself forget that.

She wound her long, supple legs around his hips and twined her arms around his neck, squeezing her knees to his sides. Rubbing against him so that the hard column in his jeans lined right up with the warm seam that taunted him under cotton and the slightest hint of lace. He nuzzled her neck and ear, drowning in the warmth and richness of her scent. Her tiny pearl earring clinked against his teeth and she gasped every time he nibbled on her flesh.

So he did it often.

Doing this in the back of the club was a mistake. He didn’t give a shit. If he didn’t get a taste of her, he’d go crazy with wanting it. And he couldn’t afford that distraction, not when her safety was under his care. This was the most expeditious route to making sure she was protected. Once this was out of his system, he could focus on what was important.

He wished for a bed. For somewhere he could at least lay her out and do her right. She deserved that and more. Since he didn’t have that, he’d do the best he could within the current limitations.

Easing back, he drew the straps of her bra down her shoulders. Slow. So slow. Her eyes shut, lashes fluttering. His hands stilled and her eyes flew open to lock on his. In their hazy blue depths was permission—hell, a command—for him to continue. He flicked the front clasp and the fabric popped open enough for him to see the pale breasts that had tormented his memories since a few weeks ago. “Jesus.” The word burst out of him at the glimpse of her nipples, already hard and distended.

Looking wasn’t enough. He had to touch. He slipped his hands under the fabric to cup them, to test their weight while her glossy, wet lips parted on a soundless moan. His thumbs circled the tight crests and her pulse visibly beat in her throat as he drew his tongue down the valley between them before slicking beneath one curved swell. He licked upward, seizing a nipple between his teeth, plucking at the other with all of the urgency she inspired and none of the finesse he’d learned over the years. As far as he was concerned, he’d never loved another before this minute, because no one else had ever gazed at him with such overwhelming trust in their eyes.

He could fuck this up—was even fucking it up right now, by making it happen at all—and she would follow his lead. He’d never had anyone trust him like that before. Never knew how much it would mean.

His fingers grew restless and he swirled his tongue, drawing more of her into his mouth. His stubble roughed a pink path over her flesh and he regretted the flush even as he exalted in it. He liked the look of him on her skin. Would love even more making her his when he pushed his way into her body.

If she heard his thoughts right then, she’d call him a caveman. And she would be right.

“Chase.” He glanced up at her whisper and unintentionally tugged harder on her nipple at the fever-brightness of her face. A whimper escaped her and he rubbed the other pebbled tip, squeezing her perfect breast in his palm. She moved her hips restlessly, stirring against his groin until the insistent throb in his cock turned into actual pain. “Too much.”

To his way of thinking, too much wasn’t even close to enough. Not when it came to sucking on her sweet nipples or caressing her silky skin or nipping her flesh to leave behind marks that aroused something primal deep inside him. He lost himself in the act of pleasuring her, vaguely aware of music starting up out on stage. The driving rock rhythm shook the floor as he ratcheted up the pressure, focusing one hundred percent of his attention on the beautiful tits in his grasp. In his mouth.

She cried out and he glanced up at the soft thud of her head on the mirror. The row of lights highlighted the sheen of sweat on her cleavage and her reddened cheeks. Then she cried out again, even more desperately, and with one rapid twist of his fingers, she shuddered and locked her legs around his hips.

Good God, she was coming. From breast play alone. Holy shit.

She panted and gripped the edge of the table, finally opening her eyes when he slowly eased his lips away from their haven around her nipple. If her irises had ever looked bluer, he didn’t remember it.

Now would be the time to walk away. He’d diverted her from her sadness, now he should help her get dressed, escort her to his SUV and drive her home. Chalk this up to an intimate interlude between friends. They’d…bonded once, and that was that.

What he should not do? Step back and unbutton his jeans, then lazily lick lips that were still warm from her while he tugged down the zipper.

Her throat moved, but she didn’t speak as he pushed the denim and his boxers over his hips. His erection bobbed free and she let out a little gasp, one that caused him to arch a brow. Aftershock? Delayed rejection response? He hoped she said her piece soon, whatever it was. If she waited any longer to turn him down, he’d need to force his dick back in his pants with a crowbar and possibly some of that face cream on the dressing table.

“I’m assuming you’re intending on using that thing?”

Chase blinked. Was that a trick question? Just in case, he didn’t respond. Better to keep quiet than to risk being dismissed by virtue of a flippant remark.

Besides, getting inside her had become a biological imperative and breathing was about all he could manage at the moment.

She tugged at the waistband of her little cotton shorts, shimmying them off in a way that didn’t indicate an impending refusal of sex. With one glimpse of the landing strip of barely there dark curls between her thighs, the last remaining brain cells he had left vacated to premises unknown.

“Because if you are, I hope your mouth isn’t tired yet.” She tilted her head and tossed back her curls. And opened her legs.

Chase gazed at her in speechless wonder. Maybe he was shocked? She had to smother a nervous giggle. He’d believed she was some naïve little church choir girl, and she’d stripped down to nothing and practically demanded he give her head. After she’d come from breast stimulation alone—which, actually, was all him and holy wow, had that been amazing.

He remained silent, but he also didn’t pull up his jeans. Better yet, he kicked them and his boots off, then reached for his skintight muscle shirt. Maybe it wasn’t technically made for bodybuilding, but the fabric clung to his pecs and washboard abs like a lover. Like she wished she was, instead of standing around chatting.

Maybe she needed to be clearer. Much.

“See, you’re a little better built down south than some of the other guys I’ve dated. Erectionally speaking,” she added at his raised brow.

“Some?” His cocky smile made her shoulders stiffen, which also had the unintended consequence of thrusting out her breasts. Chase’s expression glazed while he ate them up greedily with his eyes.

The tips beaded more as she remembered when he’d used more than a look to devour them. As in ten minutes ago. And she was up for a repeat performance anytime—after he offered the same treatment to another equally eager part of her body.

“Some,” she enunciated carefully. “So if you want in—” she slowly licked her lips, “—you’re going to have to, you know, ease the way.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up as he leisurely viewed her naked—and very aroused—body through hooded eyes. “Didn’t I ease the way enough already?”

He lunged toward her before she could answer and placed one broad palm on her belly, teasing the edges of her breasts with blunt-tipped fingers. That slight movement was enough to make her moan, and the heat in his expression grew.

“Wider,” he murmured, levering her thighs apart with his other hand even as he gave the command. Leaning forward, he nipped her chin and slid his palm lower, then lower still, not stopping until he ground it against her mound. A cry ripped from her, shocking them both. His head lifted, his sleepy, sexy green eyes meeting hers. Then his fingers parted her, the tip of one circling her sensitive clit. “Mmm, so wet for me, baby. Were you like this on stage, even when you were pushing me away?”

Because his fingers were gliding up and down, sliding in her moisture, making more, she had trouble following him. Pushing him away? When? He didn’t give her time to puzzle it out before one finger entered her, then two. Moving deeply, claiming her inexorably. She threw back her head and shut her eyes, not wanting to see his smug face when she went over again. Mr. Arrogant liked knowing she was at his mercy.

She’d love proving that she could do the same later—after she’d come another six dozen times.

“Or is it doing something bad in a semi-public place that’s getting you all hot and bothered? There’s so many people out there, so close by…and you’re in here about to get fucked by the bad boy of the major league.” Amusement tinged his irritably smug voice. “One of them, anyway.”

For a second she was too startled to reply. He rarely talked dirty around her, and him just saying he was going to fuck her—oh God, please—was enough to bump her already thready pulse into the red zone. “You know, I was taught that swearing was a lazy man’s way of expressing himself,” she mumbled.

“That so, sugar? I can guarantee I won’t be lazy when I express myself in about three-point-five seconds.” He rotated his hips against hers and her brain did its best impression of an Etch-A-Sketch. Wiped clean with one shake—or in this case, one well-placed pelvic thrust.

Then the rest of what he’d said sank in and she opened her eyes. “You think I see you as the bad boy of the major league?”

“Doesn’t everybody?” More cockiness, but this time she saw the hint of vulnerability in the drawn tight lines of his face.

“No. Everybody doesn’t.” She reached up and caught his cheeks, making him look at her. He hadn’t kissed her yet, but that wary look in his eyes melted her almost as surely as his lips on hers. Almost. “To them, you’re Deuce. To me, you’re Chase.” She leaned up and pressed her lips to his for an instant before he started edging away. “Just Chase,” she repeated, trying not to let the hurt inside her crowd out the lust.

So what if he didn’t want to kiss her? He had that afternoon on her couch and she knew it had shaken him—probably even more than it had shaken her. She’d practically run away from him, then told herself her overwhelming reaction had been from the sauce’s herbal enhancements. They couldn’t have chemistry that powerful.

Except here they were again, and oh God, did they ever.

So what if he wanted to slot her into the category of simply another lay? All she wanted from him was sex. Sure, she might’ve hoped for more, but it wasn’t like he was good relationship material, and besides, she was his sister’s friend. Normally he saw her as a buddy, someone to protect and keep safe. Either he was guarding her physical person or ensuring she had multiple O’s.

She should be indignant, right? She didn’t need anyone taking care of her any longer. He’d sort of strong-armed her into the whole bodyguard thing, but he wasn’t in charge of making her feel better about herself or even making her come—despite what she’d insisted he do.

Somehow she needed to get indignant, quick.

Saying nothing, he pushed two fingers into her, slow and sure, flexing them exactly right. She arched and moaned at the raze of his teeth over the stubble burn on her throat. “You’re thinking too much,” he said against her skin, lips rubbing, fingers pumping. “Feel.”

Feel. Yes, she could do that. They could do that.

His touch grew rougher, harder. She didn’t want to come on his hand. She’d given up so much control to him already—she’d be damned if she did here too.

She palmed his head and pressed against his shoulder, making him draw his softly abused mouth away. Seeing it so swollen from kissing her skin made her ache. God, she wanted to feel it everywhere. “You stalling or you got a problem with making love to a woman right?”

His jaw locked. Oooh, she’d pissed him off. “Didn’t realize you had a problem with how I was making love to you to begin with.” He traced his thumb over her chin. “Tell me what you want, baby. You gonna make demands, I think you should ask for exactly what you want.”

Uh oh. “I want you to put your mouth between my legs.” There. Perfect.

His mouth curved as he knelt and parted her thighs. Her heart beat thickly in her ears when he moved in close, then stared up at her and slowly rimmed his lower lip with his tongue. “Like this?”

She let out a frustrated growl and reached for his head again. He darted back before she could grab him, that infuriating smile growing. “Damn you, you know what I want.”

He smiled at the rarely used curse from her and slid his finger over her puffy lower lips, so lightly she barely felt it. “You afraid to say the words, church girl? Tell me what you need. Stop beating around the bush.” He stroked the small strip of hair, mirth dancing in his green eyes. She’d never seen them as alive as they were right then. If she wasn’t so pissed at him for tormenting her, she might’ve even been glad.

“Chase,” she warned.

“Say it.” His voice, low and cajoling, floated over her senses. His gorgeous eyes beamed straight inside her and shattered the last of her reservations.

She had no reason to be shy. This was Chase, and he wanted her. Fucking finally. Only a fool wouldn’t take full, graphic advantage.

Besides, a curse word only counted as a swear when used in anger, right? She wasn’t even a little bit mad right now. Well, mad for Chase’s cock, but that was a different thing entirely.

“Slide your tongue in my pussy and tongue fuck me until I come. Hard. All over your face.” At his surprised—and aroused?—grunt, she tacked on a smile. “Please.”

“Jesus. Remind me never to dare you again,” he muttered, lowering his head.

Luckily he didn’t see her pump her fist—or roll her eyes back in her head at the first swipe of his tongue over her slick seam. He did it again, just as slowly, murmuring something she couldn’t make out. His teeth scraped her clit and she jolted, only to have his massive hands clamp over her thighs to hold her still. She wasn’t getting away.

Thank God.

He took his sweet time sucking and licking her, exploring every crevice of her pussy until she could do little more than shiver and moan incoherently. He slipped two fingers into her, then worked in three, circling them and stretching her so pleasantly that her belly cramped with her oncoming orgasm. And oh hell, it was going to be big. That whole all over his face thing? Not unlikely at this point. Especially when he sealed his lips around her clit and applied soft suction, never letting up the twist and grind of his fingers in her now dripping slit.

Warn or not to warn? Guys usually gave a head’s up. Did she need to? He had to know. But it was probably the courteous thing to do. “Chase, I’m going to—”

He didn’t let her finish. Instead he stood up, a condom somehow already in his fist, his lips and chin wet from her arousal.

Her core clenched. God, that was sexy.

“I know.” She gazed at him as he slid the latex over his erection—she’d need a Niagara Falls amount of easing to make that go down easy—and stepped between her legs. “Wrap your legs around me and take me in.”

“But I didn’t get to come.” Yeah, sounding petulant was always hot. But she couldn’t help it. Though, really, why should she complain? If she kept looking at that rock hard cock, standing at an angle away from Chase’s exquisitely fit body, she’d climax spontaneously and all would be right with the world.

“Take me in you, Summer.” And this time, there was no playful light in his eyes, no humor in his tone. He was down to all business.

Well, so was she.

She wrapped her fingers around him, stroking gently, then more briskly when he lurched into her grip. Touching was definitely believing, since his size was no mirage. That hot, firm flesh pulsed in her hold and she swallowed a sigh as she slid him over her cleft. He grunted, clearly getting impatient, so she acquiesced enough to take the tip of him inside, moaning at the intimate invasion. Even his fingers hadn’t prepared her. Especially when his muttered, “Sorry,” offered her an inadequate warning for his surge into her body. Full throttle, one deep thrust. “Jesus,” he gasped against her forehead, still more articulate than she was since all she could do was whimper. “You’re tight. Like a goddamn fist.” He eased back and lifted her chin. “Please God, tell me you’re not a virgin.”

“Hell no.” Annoyed, affronted, she swiveled her hips and angled her legs to take more of him inside her. She might die, but he’d called her a virgin. “Hell no,” she said once more, whimpering again as he accepted her challenge and slid in again.

Rinse and repeat. After about the fifth time, she could take full breaths again.

“Sorry to insult you.” He grinned at her and lifted her up, tilting her over that table until her shoulders bumped the mirror and she was more on display than she’d ever been in her life.

And she loved it.

With a wiggle and a bit of stretching, she managed to grip two solid handfuls of his delectable ass. What she wouldn’t give to see it tense as he powered in and out. “Fuck me, ball boy. No holding back.”

His answer? He bit her chin. Pulled out, hesitated with just his tip inside. Then slid in, as slow as warm fudge slipping over melting ice cream. He groaned and the sound shivered over her mouth, as physical as a kiss. His breath puffed in and out and she locked gazes with him, helpless to look away during the endless siege of his cock into her pliant, slick center. His stomach flexed and she looked down, riveted by the sight of him burrowing in and holding, the pleasure so acute she couldn’t do more than beg. Shamelessly.

“I’m going to come,” she breathed, grinding against him. Oh God, he filled her perfectly. The burn felt so good. “Just a little more—”

He drew out and she expected him to instantly reclaim her, as he did before. But nope. He grimaced and knelt between her thighs instead, his irises so intently green that she would’ve sworn their power singed her skin.

Before she could protest, his mouth was on her, gently sucking, coaxing out that orgasm he denied her twice and now provoking it to flow in a hot, quick burst onto his waiting tongue. Spasms overtook her and she bent forward, grasping a fistful of his silky brown hair, dragging him against her so he could hopefully never leave. He barely gave her time to enjoy the heat spiraling through her, bathing her limbs in a warm glow, before he rose and powered back into her in one deep stroke, then swiveling and doing it again. “Damn sweet pussy,” he whispered over her lips, still not kissing her, making her hunger for his mouth in a way that shook her and nearly made her lose her mind.

And it did make her come again, in a swift, drenching rush while his hips battered hers and he murmured dark, dirty things right against her ear. “Give it to me. All of that juice. Soak me in you. That’s it. So tight around me, baby. I never want to leave.”

Summer mumbled her agreement, so dazed she would’ve acquiesced to anything. It was enough that he was fucking her like a frigging stallion while that night’s entertainment sang Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock and Roll” onstage. The heavy bass beat reverberated through the floor, shaking the table. Or maybe that was just Chase shaking the table, banging it into the wall while he drove in and out, whispering wicked words that made her writhe and pant and fall a little deeper and harder than she ever had before.

He didn’t give her advance notice he was coming. She didn’t need it. He pulled out and sank deep in fast, frantic thrusts, his lips warm on hers though he still didn’t kiss her. Not for real. She settled for even that paltry contact while his body shot into overdrive, content to cling to him and murmur her own version of dirty talk, which wasn’t all that dirty at all. But it seemed to make him even more crazed and she started worrying he’d fuck her right through the sheetrock.

Guess she’d add Empire to the list of clubs she figured might not invite her back.

She wound her arms and legs around him as he buried himself inside her and let out a shout he muffled with her mouth. For a second his tongue slid over hers, desperately, and she sucked on it for all she was worth, still squeezing him hard with her inner muscles to prolong his pleasure.

Judging from his stuttered gasps, she was pretty sure she succeeded.

For a few dizzy moments after, she tried to gather her bearings. Somehow her butt had gone numb. With all that activity, she didn’t know how it was possible. She wiggled it experimentally and Chase grunted, stilling her with a swift pinch on her hip. “Don’t move unless you want me to fuck you again right now.”

Uh, okay then. And he really thought she’d stay still?

“That doesn’t bother me.” She flexed around him and he groaned. “I like to fuck.”

“Dammit, Summer.” She had no idea why his eyes went to slits as he pulled out of her, but he looked pissed. Really pissed.

She bit her lip. That probably wasn’t good.

Had he not enjoyed himself as much as she had? He’d certainly seemed…enthused. For God’s sake, he was still kind of hard as he pulled off the condom. So he’d been turned on. And the things he’d said during the throes had been rather convincing. He’d even invoked deities.

She shouldn’t ask. That would be lame. She’d pulled off the sexy, brazen woman act before—she’d even demanded he eat her, for Pete’s sake—so to ask would be to totally erase her provocative babe cred. If she even had any.

“Was it—was it unsatisfying?” she asked as he bent to pick up his jeans. She feared he’d get a head rush since he remained stooped over while clutching the denim in one fist. “You can tell me. I won’t cry.” She crossed her arms over her breasts. They were still red from stubble. And bite marks.

Yep, there she went, getting all lubed up again for a party that would not be occurring.

He pulled on his clothes, dressing silently. And fast. She’d never had a guy bail on her immediately after sex, but she suspected this might be the first time. Which sucked, because he was her ride. The hours plus trip upstate to Yardley would be a bucket of fun, because she knew he wouldn’t leave her on her own. He’d just not talk to her and make her life miserable.

But hey, she wasn’t crying about her show anymore, so…win?

“Get dressed.” He picked up her dress and sweater off the floor and set them on the table, then strode to the door to pull the chair away.

“But—”

“We’re leaving in five.” He glanced back over his shoulder as he opened the door. “No, it was not unsatisfying. Are you fucking kidding me? Jesus, Summer.” He slammed the door shut behind him.

She grinned and hopped off the table. And winced.

Looked like she’d need a hot bath—or five—before bed. But dang, it had been so worth it.