I’m already stripped down to the core in front of Levi, after that outburst. I cried about a dollhouse. I cried about a dollhouse that I can’t fit into my apartment by any stretch of the imagination. I sobbed against the front of his shirt for a long time, and there’s nothing in this room that really means anything to me…until I start to think about it. Standing next to all my father’s things, my mind goes into overdrive thinking of all the reasons they’re important, that they should be treasured, that they should be protected. Once it starts, it’s impossible to stop.

So much for pretending to be a true professional about this. From the moment I woke him up on Sunday morning, I’ve done nothing to convince him that I’m level-headed, that I’m in this for the money, that I can be as coldly interested in profit as he is. 

Is it this room that has the words coming in a rush out of my mouth, spilling out one after the other until I’ve all but admitted that the feeling of his arms around me was the best thing I’ve ever felt? That I didn’t know it until he touched me, but some part of me has always been dying to be held that way? To be held by him? I never knew that a desire could be so specific without ever having met the man in your life, but now it seems like I’ve always been hungry for his touch. For Levi Blake’s touch. 

My heart is on fire. It must be burning up inside my chest, making all the rest of my resistance wither to ashes.

Levi’s gray eyes are locked on mine like he’s a drowning man and the only thing that will save him is the gaze that neither of us can break away from. I don’t want to break away from it. I don’t want to take another breath that’s not full of his scent.

“No. I didn’t hate it.” The words are still a whisper, and I have to work to make my voice audible. “I didn’t hate it.”

He’s so close—close enough for me to reach out and brush my fingertips over the fading wetness of my tears on his shirt—and I can’t tell him how much I want him to touch me again. I can’t find the words to say that even though I hate what he’s going to do to this house, I want him closer, I want his lips on mine, I want his body on mine...

But he doesn’t need them.

The moment he hears what I’ve said, he’s moving forward, and I’m swept up in his arms. He’s so strong, so powerful, and it seems to take him no effort at all to lift me, his hands on my ass, my legs wrapping around his waist. It all happens on instinct—the same instinct that makes me throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, so hard and hot that there’s nothing on the face of the earth that can match the inferno raging between us.

He backs me up against one paneled wall, and my shoulder hits a frame, sending it crashing to the ground, the glass shattering. I don’t bother to look down, and Levi doesn’t seem to have heard. His lips against mine are firm, possessive, and god do I want to be his. I can’t help moaning a little into his mouth, opening my lips to give him full access. 

I’m soaked.

My pussy throbs against the fabric of my pants, stretched tight over his hips. Why did I wear these? Why did I not wear something that would let him slide his hands up my thighs and push my panties out of the way so he could fuck me right up against this wall? Now that I’m not trying to keep my mind away from him, everything I’ve ever wanted is breaking loose, running rampant in my thoughts. His hands against my ass are holding me without the slightest bit of strain, and when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, grazing it, I arch my back against the wall

He swings us around then, still kissing me as fiercely as the moment our lips first met, and steers us toward the leather sofa against one wall. Levi kneels, putting me down on the sofa, my legs still spread to accommodate his waist. 

Every inch of me aches to be closer, to tear off my clothes and his, and I’m so lost in the wanting of it that it takes me by surprise when he lifts my shirt by the hem and pulls it over my head, whipping it to the floor.

“Not fair,” I gasp, but there’s nothing that feels better in this moment than the air caressing my skin…and then his hands, sliding down over the curve of my waist and then back up to tug at the straps of my bra. “Not fair…”

He laughs, his voice low and thrilling, and reaches for the buttons of his shirt. They’re open in an instant and I finally have my hands where they’ve wanted to be—against his naked skin, trailing down over...

Over the most unbelievable set of abs I’ve ever seen on a man. It’s like dragging my fingertips over a washboard, every ridge defined, and I must look pretty captivated because Levi puts two fingers under my chin and tips my head back so I’m looking into his eyes again. “Do you like what you see?”

“Yes.” Then he’s pressing his thumb against my lip, against my teeth, and I bite down gently. His gray eyes flash.

Another kiss—this one hotter than the last, more consuming, and I can’t help but press myself against him, my nipples hard against the lace of my bra. This morning, I never would have admitted to myself that I was putting on this bra, these panties, because I had to meet Levi after work. He was never supposed to see them.

He wasn’t.

I would keep telling myself that, but his hands are against the fabric of my bra, cupping my breasts, and he’s seeking out my nipples with the pads of his thumbs. I arch back when he makes contact, and another moan escapes from my mouth.

“God, Ruby, I could listen to you do that all day.” He increases the pressure on my nipples and pleasure burns a path right down between my legs.

I’m about to lose control.