Every muscle on this man is utter perfection. Utter provocation, if you ask me. One thrust of those perfect hips and I’m done for. He fills me with his eyes wide open, boring into mine, daring me to fuck him back.

What other option do I have?

What other option could I want?

I rake my fingernails across his back and he grits his teeth, then bends his head to kiss me so ferociously it’s almost a bite. The pain twines itself around my pleasure and races down between my legs. Everything about him is pressure and my body fucking loves it. It gives me something to move against. It’s like running into water—that resistance feels so good after living in the air for years and years.

“Let me—” I drive my palms into his chest and try to turn him over.

He presses his mouth into my collarbone, holding still. “Let you?” He growls the words into my ear. “What if I don’t let you?” He draws himself in and out, in and out, his rhythm totally uninterrupted, totally under his control.

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, the frustration down at my navel curling into pure desire. “Why do I find that so sexy?”

Wes slows his pace and I tighten around him, trying my damndest to draw him in further. “So sexy, but you can’t stop fighting me.” He pulses inside me.

“You like it.”

His eyes flash. “I can’t get enough of it. Explain that.”

“While we’re fucking?” I struggle for a full breath. The pleasure is making me lightheaded, and I don’t care. “You want to talk?”

“I’ll listen to you.” Fuck, he makes it look so easy, so nonchalant, even though I can tell from the tension he holds in his body that this is not easy, that this is something else entirely. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen. Tell me again how much you love this.”

I’m never into this kind of thing. I’m into men who worship me, who find me exotic and magical, and maybe Wes does too, but this isn’t simple worship, a kiss on the back of my hand. It feels like desperate need, cloaked in something else.

I know all about that.

“I love it—” He comes in deep and it coaxes a sigh out of me. “I love it more than I thought I would.”

“Oh?” There it is again, that little torque of his hips that rocks his crown against that rough, secret space inside me, and a moan slips from my mouth before I can cover it with my hand. “What about now?”

I can’t look away from him. “More than most things.”

Wes braces himself on his elbows, leans down, and licks my bottom lip. It’s a slow, sensual motion in contrast with the unrelenting pounding of his hips. As soon as his tongue rises, he thrusts back in, so deep, so deep. “What about now?”

It’s the perfect rhythm and every stroke is driving me toward release. I’m losing myself, breaking down around the relentless beat of him, the heat spreading from my hips all the way to my fingertips, all the way to my toes. I can hardly breathe for the force of it. I grab for the sheets—anything to close my hands around—and Wes catches one hand, puts his own into it so I have to hold him. “What about now?”

It’s blinding. “More than any—anything. I’m—”

Release comes like a wave, crashing over me even while Wes holds me in place. I have no choice but to bear my pleasure. My mind is all white light, Wes’s green eyes the only thing to pierce through the haze. I’m a bundle of nerve-endings.

“Shit.” He moves into me, filling me and stretching me, and I’m putty in his hands. I’m nothing, I’m weightless, so it is nothing for him to turn us both so I’m getting what I wanted after all.

Wes guides my hips with his hands, dragging me back and forth against him, and God, oh God, a second orgasm builds on the tail of the first. I plant my palms against his chest. “Oh, no.” My voice sounds far away. “I can’t. I can’t—”

“You can. I want to see it happen. I want to watch your face.”

Heat blooms across my cheeks but there’s no other option, and I don’t want another option. I sway my hips from side to side to test the strength of his hands and they are strong, they are solid, I couldn’t get away even if I wanted to.

I throw my head back and my hair comes loose from the knot at the base of my neck. Wes makes a sound low in his throat when it happens and his muscles work between my legs.

It hits.

The sound I make is half-animal, half-desire, and so encompassing that all I can do is hold on for dear life, my hands on his chest. His grip on my hips is the only thing keeping me upright. I feel him flex, feel his legs tense, as he digs his feet into the mattress.

“Look at me.”

I do.

He comes hard, his face lit up in relief and release, and I find it within myself to rock against him, even though I am a puddle. I am jelly.

The last moment of his climax comes and I feel it, sense it, and watch it trail away into the past. Then I slump to the bed beside him, panting.

“You’re glowing.” He follows it with a chuckle.

I laugh out loud and shove him a little with my fingertips. “I’m sweating like a pig. That was a workout.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffs. “I did all the work.”

“All the work? I—” I’m ready to argue, but Wes pushes himself up on one elbow and kisses me. It’s still hard, still strong, still Wes, but there’s a backdrop of gentleness that makes my wounded heart flutter.

He pulls back. “Better not do that.”

“Why not?”

“We might end up in bed all day.”

“Oh. Right.” I muster as serious an expression as I can. “That would be a tragedy like the world has never seen.”

He stretches, muscles gleaming in the shaft of sunlight coming through the window, and rolls over me, his weight only a whisper against the rise of my breasts. Wes jumps to the side of the bed and stands up, stretching again.

I’m suffused with energy. He’s fucked the sadness hangover right out of me, but watching him stand there—what is he doing?

“Do you...have plans?”

Wes leans languidly against the doorframe. “You don’t? It’s Friday night.” He runs his hands through his hair, taming the mess that I made. “Don’t you usually go out with your friends?”

It stings, somewhere beneath my skin, the fact that he’s pushing me into leaving. I throw off the covers and swipe my clothes up into my hands. “Yeah. Sometimes I do.”

“Whit.” He blocks my path on the way to the door. “You’re...” He laughs. “You’re scowling.”

I try to push past, but he’s faster, bigger. “I’m going out. Friday night.” I put on a fake smile and remember to let it go all the way to my eyes. Acting.

He raises a hand to my chin and tilts my face up to his. “Don’t be an ass.”

My mouth drops open. “I’m the one who’s not supposed to be an ass? You’re hustling me out the door after—”

“I am not hustling you out the door. I’m trying to find out, in the least pathetic way possible, if you’re free tonight.” Wes presses his lips into a thin line. “To go out with me.”

“I thought you didn’t date roommates.” I can’t keep the smile off my face.

He runs a thumb over my chin. “We’re past that now.” He straightens up, dropping his hand. “Unless you’d rather pretend this didn’t happen.”

“We should pretend this didn’t happen. You’re not my type.”

Wes steps into my space and the nearness of him heats the air. “I’m not?”

“No. Not at all.”

“That’s not what it sounded like when you were moaning I love it more than anything.”

“You have a perfect dick,” I tell him solemnly. “I did love it more than anything.”

“In the past tense?”

I shrug one shoulder. “Who’s to say? There is only now, and the present is an ever-changing—”

He sweeps me up into his arms, my breasts brushing against the hard surface of his chest, and kisses me. Fuck, it’s hot. It’s that confidence, that control, that gets under my skin, into my bones. I part my lips for him to let his tongue in to do battle with mine. He backs us up until the backs of my knees are pressed against the side of the bed, and I squirm in his arms. I’m pinned, but I like it. It’s so opposite of what I normally want, but I need it.

He pulls away. “Are you really going to tease me like that?”

His lips are perfect too. I can’t stop looking at them. “If that’s what it takes.”

“What if we have dinner instead?”

I reach down between us and grab his thickness, already hard and standing out from his carved, luscious body. “Fuck me one more time, and then we can go to dinner.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of how things are supposed to—”

I drop my clothes, put my hands on his shoulders, and twist until he falls back onto the bed. I’m on him in an instant, hips rocking.

I hear no more complaints.