I’m not sure whether he invited me back to his place or I invited myself, but it was clear where the evening was headed before the check came.

Dante’s guiding hands lingered a little longer, softened a little more, trailed as he pulled them away. Tension built in the car on the ride back, and by the time he unlocked the door of his apartment, I was aching for him.

As the door closed behind me, he turned, placing his hands on either side of my head, sandwiching my ravenous body between himself and the door. His breath was hot against my lips, and his gaze burned deliciously over me.

“I would like to kiss you, Ms. Ramos.”

“I would enjoy that, Mr. Drake,” I replied, lightly mocking.

He crushed the sass out of my mouth with his full, supple lips. He stole my breath with his tongue, ignited my body with his hands. I writhed against him as he pressed into me, wrapping one leg around his, opening my hips as he grew hot and hard against me.

There were entirely too many clothes between us, in spite of my short skirt. He broke away from my kiss, breathing heavily, his eyes smoldering beneath his thick lashes.

“Let me give you the tour,” he said, his voice rumbling low in his throat.

He grabbed my hand and led me through the small, beautifully decorated apartment. I was struck by the clean lines and tasteful choices in a hazy sort of way; I was paying far more attention to his energy, his scent, his touch. He must have been in much the same state, because the “tour” was as short as it could have been.

“The kitchen’s in there,” he said, pointing past a classic dining table to a swinging door. “Living room’s through there.”

The arched opening revealed dark brown couches and little glass tables, simultaneously masculine and aesthetically pleasing, just like the man who lived there. He pointed out a few more places, then pushed through a pair of French doors tucked into a sunken alcove.

“Finally, the bedroom,” he said as he pulled me into it.

“It’s a nice room,” I murmured, running my hand up his arm.

He caught me around the waist and pulled me into a deep kiss. Excitement rattled my senses and burned in my veins as his tongue twisted around mine, as his hands swept over my body, brushing against every nerve, spreading warmth from the tips of my toes to my lust-drunk head.

I was trembling with desire before he led me to the bed, picked me up, and lay me down beneath him. He cradled my shoulders with one arm, leaving his other to lazily trail over my quaking body as he kissed me.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he slid his hand up under my skirt, gently pressing his thumb against my already swollen clit.

Gasping into his mouth, I arched against him, wordlessly begging for more. Molten heat pooled between my hips, shooting a tingle through my most sensitive area, soaking through my satin panties.

He teased me mercilessly, keeping me always on the very edge of climax, until I growled and bit his lip. With a sultry little chuckle, he moved his mouth down my throat.

Freeing his arm, he pulled my dress and bra down to reveal one hard-peaked breast. An appreciative groan escaped his lips as he pulled my nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the tip, driving me wild.

I was ready to beg. He wanted me to, I could feel it, but I never begged. I twisted my fingers into his curly hair, pulling just enough to heighten the pleasure with a hint of pain, making him moan against me, and he caved.

He tugged my panties off, found my pleasure point once more, and plunged his fingers inside of me as his thumb worked in quickening circles.

A rush of ecstasy washed over me like sweet fire, up from my toes, down from my breasts, to explode from my pelvis. My ears rang, my legs shook, and still he didn’t stop. He drove me over the edge again and again, until my entire body was putty in his hands. My cries of pleasure awakened the animal within him. I could see it raging behind his eyes as he stripped me out of my clothes and removed his own.

My eyes widened as his boxers came off. I was no virgin, but I had never in my life seen a man so heartily endowed. He must have interpreted my heightened interest as fear, because he gave me a small, soft smile.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised in a low, husky whisper.

“Not too gentle,” I insisted, tangling him in my legs to center him over me. “I want it all.”

His eyes darkened in a reflection of the desperate lust which coursed through my own body and he slid into me—slowly, tantalizingly. He felt as big as he looked, filling me to the brim and beyond, pressing against the limits of what I could hold. He groaned and shuddered, lowering his head to kiss my collarbone.

I was in heaven when he was inside of me. I was in another dimension when he began to move.

Gentle and firm, just as I had suspected. He took his time, thrusting slowly as he used his eyes and mouth and hands on my body. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been encompassed like that in the bedroom, with every part of my body engaged and attended to. It stirred feelings deeper than lust, feelings which I was almost willing to risk acknowledging.

“Roll that beautiful body over,” he told me as he flipped me, tucking one ankle over his shoulder.

“Oh my God,” I breathed as he withdrew, then filled me all at once.

He stroked my back, my ass, my breasts, caressing me as he stirred my senses. His bulging muscles slicked with sweat, he kissed my ankle and slid his hand between my thighs, playing my body like an instrument. As he pumped, faster and faster, rubbing on me with the heel of his hand, a universe of pleasure exploded within me.

He groaned and cursed mildly under his breath, then grabbed my hips and turned them until I was on my hands and knees, never once breaking our intimate connection. His hands worshiped my curves as he plunged into me, a primal rhythm, an ancient dance. I felt his hands in my hair, tugging me back, arching me into him.

Pleasure built again to an insistent ache, and I pushed back against him in time with his thrusts, needing more—needing everything he had.

“Yes, baby,” he murmured, sending waves of excitement through my very core. “You’re so damn sexy.”

His breath quickened with his thrusts, driving me to the edge. Then, he stopped. I gasped for breath, trembling in his grasp. He moved again, ever so slowly, running his hands over my back and hips, molding my body.

Desperate for release, I slid away and rolled onto my back, pulling him into me with nails and thighs, arching up to slide around him.

He gazed into my eyes for a long moment, just breathing. Stroking my face with one finger, he kissed me gently.

“Relax,” he murmured. “Let go.”

“I can’t,” I whimpered, locking my legs around his and pressing against his flat, hard belly. “I need you.”

“Tell me how you need me,” he breathed, running his lips over my throat.

“I need you inside me,” I breathed. “I need you to fill me up.”

He groaned just under my ear and thrust hard into me. I cried out, my legs winding like steel springs around his hips, my pelvis crushed against his. He slid his hands up my body, pulling my arms over my head, holding my wrists down. Dante was the embodiment of masculine power, overwhelming me with his raw sex appeal, filling my senses with his pheromones.

I bucked against him, demanding release, demanding his essence. With a slow, lazy grin, he kissed me. He pressed into me until I thought I would break, then moved in a circle, hitting every pleasure point with his thick length. I trembled with the power of it, giving myself up to him, utterly vulnerable in that moment.

I felt his control snap, and I whimpered. He was so strong and so big that when his restraint left him, I was powerless. Anticipation tinged with just the slightest fear rocked me to my soul as he thrust into me, growling in my ear.

He hit the right spot and I arched into him, crying out as I pulsed around him, shaking as I pressed against him. Dante swore and groaned, ducking his head as he let go, riding the wave of ecstasy with me. His breath burned my ear, his hands bruised my wrists, and with a primal growl, he emptied into me.

I was a puddle of molten satisfaction. I sank into his bed as if I were one with it, my consciousness drifting on a hazy glow. He kissed my shoulder tenderly, indicated breathlessly that I should move to the pillow, then collapsed beside me.

Snuggled into his Egyptian cotton sheets with his masculine scent all around me, I fought against the urge to drift off to sleep.

I knew better than to sleep beside a one-night stand; something about dreaming in the same sphere, or lying skin-to-skin forged a bond which overwhelmed logic. I had broken my own heart that way more than once, and I had been determined not to do it again.

In the last second, in my last glimmer of conscious thought, I told myself I really should get up and leave; but then his warm, heavy arm wrapped around my waist and he trailed his fingers lightly over my belly.

With a comfortable, satisfied sigh, I drifted off to sleep.