Her kiss was honest and good and needy. I didn’t realize how afraid I’d been to find out how she tasted—like I was terrified the first taste would be so sweet I’d never get my fill—until this moment.

I’d been right to be afraid. Aly tasted fucking perfect. Possibility with a hint of the champagne we’d had earlier.

I wanted to devour her, but I held back. Let her take the lead. Her hand was on my face now, fingertips tracing my jaw. She angled her head, deepening the angle of the kiss as her lips explored mine. She opened them. Touched my bottom lip with her tongue.

I’d just had the orgasm to end all orgasms. And still blood rushed to my groin. Still I wanted to curl her into me and keep her here, just like this, forever.

One kiss.

I pulled back, breathing hard. I was slipping. One of us had to keep our heads tonight. This was supposed to be a hook up. We’d done it dozens of times. Tonight could not be any different. It was time to stop before things went too far.

Searching Aly’s eyes, I ran my hand up her side. Blew out a breath. She was looking at me like that again. Like I had good things—important things—inside me that she liked.

Fuck me, this girl.

I ducked my head and kissed her back. Stupidly. Recklessly. I didn’t know who I was in that moment: the man who took what he wanted without a second thought, or the one who thought so much about this girl he’d give her anything she asked of him.

I kissed her hard, closing my eyes. Unleashed the pent up longing that’d plagued me over the past few weeks. I kissed her deeply, pushing, pulling, demanding that she push back. I drank her in, breathing hard, heart pounding, waiting for her to push me away. She moaned into my mouth. I didn’t stop. I was losing grip, losing myself in her, but she was losing herself in me, too. And I loved that.

I fucking loved it. Being in a warm cocoon of blankets with her, the whole night ahead of us.

Rolling onto my side, I took her with me, pressing the front of my body to hers. I put my hands on her, my fingertips roaming her skin, her tits, her ass. They found their way to the nape of her neck, and I held her there, my thumb arcing over her cheek, controlling the kiss.

I’d somehow managed to stay inside her. I was getting hard again. Aly sensed it; she rolled her hips. Her pussy was still soft. Eager.

I wanted to kiss her like this and hold her like this and have her like this every night. I was being a greedy arsehole. But in that moment, I didn’t care.

Suddenly we were moving together again, the kiss becoming sex, our bodies falling into rhythm as we kept kissing, and kept kissing. And kept bloody kissing. My hands were on her face. Hers were on my ass now, and then my back, my arms. Taking her time.

And then I was coming again, grunting without breaking the kiss.

“Sweetheart,” I murmured, feathering my lips over hers. I reached for her cunt. “Again? Stay. We’ll break our record.”

She froze. Literally went dead still in my arms.

My stomach clenched.

Aly pulled back. “Stay?”

“Yeah,” I said, searching her face, trying to get a read on her. Did I say something wrong? “I’d like you to spend the night. Six orgasms was our record, right? Let’s make it seven.”

The light in her eyes contracted. “And then what?”

My pulse sped up. I suddenly saw where this was going, and I hated it. Because my answer sucked. Then nothing. I can give you nothing but this.

It’d been criminal to rush with a girl like Aly.

It was also criminal to kiss her like I had. Like she was everything I wanted. She was. But that was exactly why I could not have her.

I was leading her on. Toying with her feelings.

As if realizing the mistake we’d both made, Aly put a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.”

No.

No no no. Fuck.

“Aly—”

“I got carried away. I shouldn’t have—shit, this was a mistake.” She sat up and gathered the blankets around her breasts. Rage cracked down my middle, slicing me neatly in two. She was hiding herself from me. Protecting herself from the animal that I was. The one who’d devour her and leave her bleeding.

She was right, of course. I would leave her bleeding. And this whole thing had been a mistake. But the selfish, pig-headed animal in me wanted her to stay. I wished I was capable of giving her the things she wanted—things other than orgasms—so she’d bloody stay.

“Please don’t leave.” I sounded desperate. I didn’t want to tell her why I was the way that I was. I hadn’t told anyone. Not a soul.

But suddenly, I needed her to know. Needed her to know why I could never be the real deal she wanted. I owed her that much.

Scooching onto the edge of the bed, she swung her legs around. “We can’t do this, Rob.”

I winced. She stood. Without thinking, I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

She spun around, hair falling over her shoulder. Her eyes were wet.

“Please,” she said hoarsely. “Please let me go. I don’t want just a hook-up anymore. You don’t want what I do. If we go any further…”

It was hard to speak around the tightness in my throat. “I can’t want that, Aly. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could give it to you—the real deal.”

Her eyes softened. “Why can’t you? And don’t give me some bullshit about how much fun fast cars and pussy are. You’re better than that, and you know it. So tell me the truth. What the fuck is so wrong with you that you keep running like this?”

It was a risk telling Aly. But I owed her an explanation. More than that, I wanted her to understand. She needed to know this had nothing to do with her and everything to do with me.

And she trusted me. It was important that she knew I trusted her, too.

I dropped her wrist and got out of bed. “Wait here.”

“Rob—”

“Please.” I looked at her. “Ten minutes and then you can go. I promise. I need to show you something.”

Aly tucked her hair behind her ear. Then she nodded. “All right. Ten minutes. Then I’m out of here, got it?”

“Got it,” I said grimly. Then I grabbed my jeans and headed for the door.