The moment seems to drag on for an eternity, watching various emotions flicker across her face while I wait for her response.

She’s going to kick me to the curb, I know it. I shouldn’t have come here. Shit, I sure as hell shouldn’t have turned pseudo-stalker and gotten her address from her personnel file.

But I did, and there’s no turning back now.

Just as I’m mentally trying to figure out a way to save face and determine how I’ll make it through work days with her, she completely stuns me when she wraps her arms around me, tugs me close, and kisses me.

The second our lips meet, all bets are off. Neither of us hold back.

My hands thread through her silky hair, and I use the slight leverage to tilt her head to the side and deepen the kiss. I walk her backward, farther inside, and kick the door closed behind us.

She steers me back against the door and her hands are all over me. They graze along my shoulders, her palms gliding down the firm wall of my chest before slipping around to grip my ass—as if she’s as overwhelmed with a fierce desperation to touch me, to revel in the feel of me again, as I am her.

I tug her closer and skim a hand down her body before slipping my fingers beneath the hem of her dress to toy with the thin strap of her thong at her hip.

When I rock my hardened length against her and she releases a tiny moan, this spurs me on as our tongues slide and stroke against one another, taking part in their own carnal war. I shift my hand to the front of her panties, and when I find them damp with her arousal, it sends another sharp burst of desire radiating through me.

Tearing my lips from hers, I trail wet kisses along the slim column of her neck as I slip a finger beneath the damp fabric of her thong, dipping inside her wet heat.

Holy shit. She’s drenched, coating my finger as I work it in and out of her. I add a second, and her hands grasp my shoulders, clutching tightly as she throws her head back. Her lips part, her breath rushing out in tiny pants.

Looking down at her like this, my chest constricts. Her eyes flutter open. She peers up at me for a moment, and I can see the haze of lust ebb slightly. My movements still as I watch her, her teeth nibbling at the corner of her bottom lip, illustrating her sudden nervousness.

“Knox? Are you sure about this?”

I know what unspoken question she’s posing.

But don’t you hate me?

Right now, I’m sure about this. More sure than I’ve been about anything. Even if it’s the dumbest fucking thing I do and will probably set me back in getting over her and finally moving past what she did. All I know is I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to go back to my place alone.

I don’t want to pass up the chance to have one more moment like this with her.

As for her unspoken question, I don’t know how she can’t fathom just how impossible that is. Because even after everything that’s transpired, one thing is certain.

I could never hate the only woman I’ve been able to picture as my wife.

I withdraw the hand that’s threaded through the hair at her nape and move my palm to cradle the side of her face. My eyes lock with hers, and as I graze my thumb over her full bottom lip, I don’t break eye contact.

“I’m sure.” I search her expression. “Are you?”

I hold my breath, waiting for her answer. “I’m sure…” She averts her gaze, focusing on my lips. “Because it’s a one-time thing.”

Her eyes flicker up to mine, as if awaiting my reaction, my response, to affirm her statement.

A one-time thing. Although her words weren’t spoken in a callous manner, they send shards of unease rolling through me.

“Right,” I agree hollowly.

Her lips curve upward slightly, and she places both palms flat against my chest. Rising to her tiptoes, she presses a kiss to the side of my throat, near the base, and I suddenly feel my knees grow weak.

Long ago, she used to do that when we’d make love because she knew it was my “spot.”

I flash a mischievous grin. “You didn’t just do that.”

Her smile widens, those beautiful eyes sparkling, as she taunts, “Oh, but I did.”

“That’s it.” I bend slightly and scoop her up, tossing her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and revel in the little squeal she lets out. “You’re playing with fire, and now you’ve got to pay the price.” I punctuate this with a swat of her ass as I head down her hallway, finding what I assume is her bedroom.

“Knox!” she exclaims with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

Entering the room, I walk to the bed. The soft light from the moon cascading in through the small slats in the venetian blinds sets the room alight with a soft glow.

Gently laying her back on the bed, I quickly rid myself of my shoes and climb onto the bed to brace myself above her on my forearms.

I reach out to slide some stray strands of hair away from her face, and she peers up at me with a tender quality I hadn’t realized I missed.

Dipping my head, I dust a light kiss across the bridge of her nose before I do the same to her lips. It’s a soft, tender kiss; our lips graze against one another in a languid caress.

We continue like this until finally, her palms press against my chest, drawing me to a stop. My eyebrows arch in question.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she guides me to shift off her. Once I’m lying on my back, she straddles me, her fingers instantly going to work on the buttons of my shirt.

Her eyes take on a playful glint. “You won’t be needing this.”

My hands glide up her legs, bunching the material of her dress to bare her thighs and slide it up her body. She pauses in her task, raising her arms to rid herself of the fabric, leaving it to drop to the floor beside the bed.

And promptly robs me of my breath.

The black bra encasing her breasts has a lace border along the top edge, and when I finally manage to tear my eyes away to admire her stomach and lower, a laugh erupts from me.

Her panties are hot pink and have “I’m a badass on Fridays” printed on them.

She appears confused before looking down once she realizes what’s caught my attention. With a slightly sheepish smile, she tips her head to the side. “Well, I kinda was today.”

“Indeed, you were.”

I drag my index finger between the hollow of her breasts and down the center of her flat stomach, then lower to toy with the waistband of her panties.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing these.”

“You first.” She tugs at the sleeve of my now unbuttoned shirt. I carefully lift and she helps rid me of it.

“And these”—a smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she rises to her knees, still straddling me, and unfastens my belt—“pants are completely unnecessary, too.” Unbuttoning them, she glides the zipper down before gripping the waistband of my pants. “Lift up.”

Her simple command sends a surge of arousal rushing through me, and I oblige, allowing her to remove my pants with my socks following suit, both joining our other clothes on the floor.

“I suddenly feel very underdressed.” With one hand, I reach around to unclasp her bra.

“Still have that skill, huh?” Her eyes question me, though her tone is playful, recalling how I’d mastered it with her.

“Still have it.”

Only with you, part of me wants to add.

Something shifts in the depths of her cerulean gaze, as if she wants to ask that same thing, as if she’s wondering how many times I’ve exhibited this “skill” with other women. But I don’t want that tonight. Don’t want the past rearing its ugly head. I only want this moment.

Sliding the straps of her bra down her arms, I discard it and cup the weight of her breasts in my palms, reveling in the feel of her nipples tightening. When she arches her body to press more fully into my touch, something deep inside me snaps.

With one hand on her back, I guide her to lower herself, and I lift slightly, enabling my mouth to latch onto one of her nipples. I lave it with my tongue, suckling it, while I toy with her other nipple, gently plucking her hardened peak between my thumb and forefinger. Her fingers sift through my hair, tightening their grip of the short strands with a feverish desperation.

“Knox,” she breathes out, her eyes fluttering closed as she rocks herself against me. I’m unable to resist a groan as I switch to her other nipple and suckle it. “That feels so good,” she whispers.

Watching her unabashedly, I release her nipple from my lips, taking in her beauty. Then I drag my lips against her collarbone and murmur, “It’ll feel so much better once I push inside that wet pussy while I suck on your nipples.”

Her eyes flash open, lips parting on a gasp. And that’s when I feel it. Even through the thin fabric of her panties and my cotton boxer briefs, I feel it.

The sudden rush of heated wetness.

From my words alone.

I know I’m playing dirty, but I can’t help it. I recall with vivid clarity just how much my words—my dirty talk—would turn her on.

“Knox.” That’s all she has to say. One word. My name. That’s all it takes, and instantly, I know what she needs.

Even after all the time that’s passed, I know what she’s saying.

She wants—needs—one thing.

Me.