Warm water rained down around me, stroked me from behind and along the sides. Sly stood in front of me, his lean, muscled body blocking most of the spray from the front nozzle.

I felt drunk.

My head was still spinning and my limbs seemed to be made of nothing more substantial than Jell-O.

As he soaped me and rinsed me off, I fought off one yawn after another until finally, I couldn’t do it anymore and one escaped that threatened to crack my jaw.

“Tired?”

“Umm,” I responded, tipping my head back to stare up at him.

His hair was wet now and slicked back. The water made it darker, almost black and I reached up, stroking a hand across the side of his head. “You’re entirely too pretty, Sly O’Malley. Anybody ever told you that?”

He blinked, looking a little caught off guard. A faint smile curved his lips as he shook his head. “No, they haven’t. I think I’m too much of an asshole for people to want to say something like that.”

“Being an asshole doesn’t negate being pretty.” I swayed forward and pressed my mouth to his chin, lifting my hands to brace them on his chest. He was covered in ink, tattoos that twined, swirled, and marked his skin in the most delicious manner. I wanted to take the time to study each one but my head was still spinning.

Who knew orgasms delivered via the traditional manner would be so much more intense than one delivered via a handy, dandy vibrator?

“You keep that up, Emmy, you’re going to find yourself fucked again,” Sly said, dipping his head to murmur the words directly into my ear. “You sure you’re up to that?”

I shivered at the raw, blunt words and looked up at him. “Can we do it in here?”

His lashes, thick and black and tipped with gold, swept down over his eyes. Then he stepped back, nudging me down onto the bench tucked along one wall. “Wait here.” He disappeared, closing the clear glass door behind him as he went.

I shivered now that I was out of the direct line of the water, but I was only alone for what felt like a few seconds before the door reopened and he came back inside.

He tossed something down next to me and automatically, I looked down to see what it was.

Another condom.

Swallowing, I watched as he crossed to me through the multiple sprays of water.

He pulled me up against him, his eyes searching my face. “You sure you’re up to this? You’re not too sore?”

“No,” I said, blushing furiously. I was sore, but the thought of missing out on a second of this was enough to freeze out any thoughts of being too anything—except maybe too hungry for him. That need had been building ever since we’d first locked eyes and even if I’d tried to ignore it, I’d just been lying to myself.

His lips came down to brush against mine and I sighed into his mouth, stunned anew at the sensation he could bring to life inside me.

I’d stopped believing in shooting stars and fireworks and rainbows up until tonight.

I still didn’t believe in fairy tale endings, but I didn’t need fairy tale endings to believe in fairy tale sex—shooting stars, fireworks, and rainbows. Of course, that they’d be delivered by a man with a satyr’s smile and sin in his eyes was either terribly wrong or terribly fitting. How many of the old fairy tales had the ill-fated princess getting into trouble because she’d made a deal with the devil or something along those lines?

That’s where I was right now.

The man going to his knees in front of me on a smooth stone floor had nothing of Prince Charming in his eyes and when he touched me, I thought nothing about heaven and cherubs singing.

No, I barely thought at all.

He pulled me into his arms, one hand sliding down low on my spine and curving over my ass, bringing me in full-on contact with his cock.

“You’re so incredibly fucking hot,” he murmured against my mouth, right before he slanted his mouth over mine, his tongue thrusting deep and tasting me like it was the first time.

I curled my arms around his neck and arrowed my fingers into his hair, needing him closer.

Then he was and I felt the hard ridge of his cock rocking against him. It made these tiny little pulses that were enough to drive me crazy and I rocked against him, seeking to deepen the contact.

But just when I’d gotten almost there, he pulled back, rising to his feet and moving away.

“Condom,” he muttered. “Need a fucking condom.”

If that was why he pulled away, then hell, yes, he needed a condom.

He was back in seconds, pulling me to my feet. But when I would’ve reached for him, he turned me around and I found myself bent over the bench, my butt lifted up for him. My face flushed, although logically, I knew what he was doing—what we were doing.

I might be technically a newbie when it came to sex, but I was far from innocent.

Still, I sucked in a breath as I felt him brush against me.

“You okay, Emmy?” he asked as he tucked the head of his cock against me.

“I…” The word squeezed out of me and I had to force the rest of the answer out of me. “I think so.”

He eased deeper and withdrew and I cried out. Noooo…

“Emmy?”

“Please!”

He thrust in deeper then, harder. I cried out again in reaction, needing more. I rocked back when he went to withdraw, tightening around him, but it wasn’t enough to keep him inside me.

He gripped my hips and pulled me more firmly against him. “Greedy,” he said, voice rough. “I like it.”

Greedy didn’t describe it.

He moved on me faster and pain started to mingle with pleasure until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Mouth open as I sucked in air, I focused on the bliss of his body moving on mine, barely aware of his voice as he talked to me, words so dirty and raw, I would’ve blushed ten shades of red had I really heard him.

But I didn’t and then he was growling and I was coming again.

His hands tightened on me and I could feel it when he started to come and I thought I just might die from the pleasure of it.

Dots swam in front of my eyes and I swayed on my feet, steadied only by the sure grip of his hands at my hips.

* * *

Nearly an hour later I sat curled up on the couch, a blanket thrown over my lap while I watched him move around the kitchen, energy in coiled, human form.

He was cooking something.

He’d gone to lay me down on the bed and my belly rumbled demandingly, so instead of putting me in his bed, he’d put me on his couch and asked me what I liked to eat.

I didn’t know how to handle this, a man making me feel what he’d made me feel, and now he was cooking for me.

I was almost uneasy about it, but mostly because I had the funny feeling he didn’t do this for people.

People.

Women.

Lovers.

Is that what we were now?

Were we lovers?

I didn’t know how to handle thinking about that, either.

It got a little easier when he settled down next to me, two big plates of scrambled eggs—the easiest meal in all of creation. It wasn’t like he’d cooked a three-course meal, but I could appreciate the kind gesture for what it was. There were diced onions, peppers, tomatoes in it. He’d probably added herbs and spices to the dish at some point while I wasn’t paying attention, because it smelled heavenly.

He sat down next to me, buck-ass naked, and handed me a plate.

Why in the world was I so self-conscious now?

We’d had sex and we’d been naked.

What did it matter if we ate naked?

Because you’re supposed to have sex naked. You’re not supposed to eat naked.

Although sometimes I did. Sometimes I did all sorts of things naked that other people probably didn’t. Yoga. Eating. Laundry. Chores. It was the one thing I felt oddly free doing, which was insane really. I was such a prude in so many other things—

Not anymore. You had sex. You’re not a virgin now.

Abruptly, I found myself grinning and I grabbed the fork, shoveled a bite of food into my mouth.

“Huh.”

That came from Sly and I slid him a look. “Huh, what?” I asked after I swallowed the bite.

“I figured you’d be one of those pickers.”

At my confused look, he said, “You know, the women who pick at their food, barely eat anything, and then say they are full after three or four bites.”

“Are you nuts?” I took another bite—the fork full. And it was my third. I was nowhere near done.

“I need to find us something to drink,” he said, putting his plate on the coffee table. “Got any preference?”

“Nothing with caffeine.”

He nodded and got up. As he was walking off, something vibrated under my elbow. Frowning, I spied my purse and pulled it out. Whoever was calling—

I was so relaxed, so mellowed out, I wasn’t thinking.

But one look at the screen changed that.

I dropped the plate and my phone and both of them hit the ground with a clatter.

“What happened?”

Sly’s voice came from behind me.

Jerking myself to awareness, I looked down and saw the eggs splattered on the ground and on my phone. I slid off the couch, my face hot. “I’m sorry. Shit, I’m a klutz, Sly. I’m really—”

I lapsed into silence as he appeared in front of me. At first, all I could see was his strong, naked feet. Then he crouched down in front of me and I saw his knees, his calves…other things. Dragging my gaze upward, I met his eyes and forced a smile.

“I just dropped the plate. I wasn’t paying attention,” I said, wondering if I could use my phone for a bit without him noticing.

That pitiful hope died less than five seconds later as he reached out and picked it up, shaking the bits of egg and onion off it. He slid me a look from under his lashes as it started to vibrate again.

“It’s him, isn’t it?”

Swallowing the nasty taste of fear that boiled up my throat, I met his eyes.

“Yes.”

He nodded and put the phone face down before going about cleaning up the mess I’d made.

“Let me do that.”

“Nobody’s stopping you,” he said amicably enough.

But he wasn’t going to let me clean it up either.

Sighing, I joined him and between the two of us, we got most of it up off the smooth floor. He had a heavy rug thrown in front of the fireplace, but other than that, most of the floor was bare and that was a good thing for my clumsiness.

He disappeared and came back, bringing with him…another fork,

He turned it over to me. “Share mine,” he said.

I blinked at him, then looked at his plate. “I’m…”

“If you tell me you’re not hungry, I’ll have to put my plate up. I can’t eat if you’re not eating,” he said levelly. “And I’m starving. So…help me out.”

It wasn’t until later that I wondered if he was lying, but the simple act of eating managed to soothe my belly. Even my nerves managed to settle somewhat when the phone remained silent.

But that changed once he put the plate down and turned to face me.

“I want to know what’s going on.”