“We can skip the question tonight,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip. It will mark the third evening in a row that we’ve spent time together without an interview.

Holden’s jaw tenses. I can almost see the war playing out in his mind. He’s in another mood, and unless I find some way to crack it, then I’m afraid he’s going to send me home—without touching a single part of my body.

Which would suck, since I’m quite comfortable in his apartment.

“No strings,” I say, with a shrug of nonchalance that doesn’t even fool myself.

“I’d fuck you regardless of whether you asked me a damn question or not,” he says. His fingers move deftly through the fridge as he withdraws marinated chicken, and an assortment of cut vegetables. Each dish hits the countertop with a flinching thunk. “Do you like stir fry?”

I’ve offered to cook—whatever mess that would be—but he deflects with some kind of excuse every time. I guess it’s easy to throw something together when your chef does all the prep work. All food becomes convenient, at that point.

“Stir fry sounds nice.”

He grunts out some kind of approval, and then pulls out a wok from one of the bottom kitchen cupboards. Once the chicken is sizzling, he pours me a glass of white wine. Another bottle of something expensive, this label too long for me to pronounce. I take a sup. “It’s good…light.”

Another grunt.

Yeesh. I can tell how tonight’s conversation is going to go.

“What about you?” I say, nodding my head toward the empty glass. “Not having wine?”

He shakes his head. “Whiskey.”

I blow out a sigh. At this crossroads, I have a couple of choices. I can stick it out, hoping that his mood improves. Or I can leave.

Holden tosses the vegetables on top of the chicken and puts the lid on, allowing the steam to cook through our incredibly delicious-scented meal. Leaving without eating doesn’t make much sense.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he says, finally, after taking a long pull from his drink. He holds the edge of the glass almost absent-mindedly.

“I can see that.” He turns and shakes the wok, mixing all of the ingredients together, and leans up against the counter. I can almost feel the stress radiating off him. “Is it work?”

His expression darkens.

I take a deep breath. “Okay fine. Your job is off limits.” Along with a bunch of other shit, which is only just now beginning to annoy me. Sometimes it’s like navigating a mine field trying to tiptoe around his mood swings.

My pulse thrums. I slide off the stool and come up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist while he tends to the wok. His whole body stiffens. I slip one hand beneath the waist band of his pants, and grab his cock. He sucks in a breath. “What the hell are you doing?”

Ignoring the edge to his voice, I begin sliding my hand up and down his shaft, loving the way it begins to thicken under my palm, needing to make him feel at ease. I cup his balls in my hand and squeeze. “Maybe you just need a little TLC.”

I’m acting bold, but the truth is, I’m trembling. Whatever darkness lurks under the surface of Holden’s cool facade is clawing its way out. Instinct tells me I should get out of there—but my damn heart has other plans. It’s too late to run. I’m already in way too deep.

Holden flicks off the stove and turns. The look in his eyes is raw desire, and my pulse spikes with a dangerous cocktail of fear and excitement. He’d never physically hurt me, I know that, but there’s something so hot about sex with him when it’s a little rough.

He pulls me close and plants his mouth on mine, effectively ending any further conversation. His hips grind up against my crotch while his tongue probes between my lips. His moves are frantic, almost desperate, as if for one second, he thought I might walk away too.

A girl could get lost in that power.

I don’t protest when he lifts me off the kitchen floor and carries me blindly to his bedroom down the hall. His hands hitch up under my buttocks and dig in as I wrap my legs around his lean torso. My teeth sink into his shoulder.

“I hope you know what you’re asking for, sweetness,” he growls.

My heart skips a beat.

In the bedroom, he lays me on the mattress and climbs up next to me. One hand is on my breast, and the other yanks my T-shirt up to expose my stomach. I tense under his scrutiny. My skin feels electric, almost alive. It amazes me how my body responds to his touch. Like I’m the only woman in the world he wants to kiss, to hold, to fuck.

A goose egg-sized lump lodges at the back of my throat.

My damn fantasies are taking over again. But how can they not when Holden’s gaze travels up and down my body with a hunger that makes my knees go weak. He shoves his hand down my skirt and grazes the top of my pussy through the underwear.

I curse myself for not wearing something sexier.

“One day I’ll buy lingerie,” I whisper.

He grins. “Yeah? Something red?”

I smile. “And lacey.”

“I love it.”

I love you.

My eyes go wide as I realize how close I’ve come to saying the words aloud. Holden doesn’t seem to notice my internal struggle. He has already begun to strip me off my skirt, my underwear, until I lay bottomless on the bed, my pussy exposed and wet.

Every hair on my body stands at attention as I wait for his lead.

It’s always like this, the anticipation of what he’ll do next.

“You’re sure this what you want, sweetness?’

I swallow any hesitation and nod. “Yes.”

Now. Always. No matter how often we spend together my body can’t get enough. I can’t get enough, and I’m all too aware of how dangerous that is.

Holden crawls back onto the bed and hovers over me, pinning my wrists to the sheets with his weight. The heat of skin against skin ignites like it’s on fire. Reaching with one hand, he pushes my hair off my shoulders, allowing clear access for his tongue to swipe along my throat. I crane my neck, inviting him to nibble on my earlobe. Holy fuck. It’s like fire and ice.

His teeth and mouth work in unison, and I writhe under his body. Just when I think I can’t take any more, the low vibrato of his voice thrums against my eardrum, unleashing a fresh wave of warmth between my legs. I wriggle beneath his body, pawing at his chest, desperate for access to any part of him.

“Kiss me, Holden.”

He hesitates for so long I worry he might not want the intimacy. But then he leans toward me, and when at long last his mouth finds mine, I part my lips to allow his tongue inside. The kiss deepens quickly, becoming more urgent and desperate. I can scarcely catch my breath. He devours my mouth in a frenzy that kick starts my pulse and send it into overdrive. My heartbeat cranks to full speed.

“I’m going to kiss every part of your body, sweetness.”

And I absolutely believe that he will. His mouth moves from my lips to my jaw, and down the slope of my neck. He nips at my shoulders, and trails his tongue between my breasts. His breath is hot, the air cool. Wicked sensations scream through me. When his tongue pauses to circle my nipple, my breath comes in sharp gasps.

“Jesus, Holden…”

He pays no mind to my weak protest, and cradles my nipple between his teeth. Gently, he begins to suck. The pressure softens, intensifies, ebbs and flows. Dear Lord, I want it all. Everything. Now. I arch my hips, meeting the push and pull of his rhythm, and without warning, my insides begin to uncoil.

I tamp back the emotions gathering at the base of my throat, reminding myself that the foundation for this indecent arrangement is nothing more than untethered sex. But sweet Jesus, it will be worth it. Whatever reservations I still have, there’s no doubt about it—I will remember this the rest of my life.

My hand finds the back of his head, and I draw his hair into my fist, pushing his mouth harder against my flesh. He nips, sucks, bites down hard enough to make me cry out, before dragging his lips to my other breast to give it the same undivided attention.

My fingertip rolls around the free nipple, raw from his teeth. No matter how hard I try, I can’t mimic the motions, the tinge of surprise that both pleasures and pains. The frustration is cut off by the shocking rise of a climax that hits without warning. I’m so turned on that even the subtlest motions could trigger a full-on release.

Surely there must be a reason for it.

Something more potent than carnal lust. An emotion deeper, more powerful than love.

Does he feel it too?

I search his face, but find nothing to give me a sense of how he’s feeling.

Holden pulls his mouth away and sits upright to unbutton his pants. He reaches down to spring free his cock, and I suck in a gasp. His size always startles me, no matter how often we fuck. And the sight of it—hard and ready—fills me with brazen desire.

I need him inside me.

Need him to mark me, make me his.

Fuck it. I just need him.

“You’re amazing,” I whisper, my voice filled with awe.

His mouth twists into a sexy grin. He climbs off the bed to finish undressing. His eyes lock in on my pussy, and his tongue slides across his bottom lip. I’m sure my juices have soaked through my panties and I love that he can’t tear his gaze away. In this moment, he belongs to me.

I know it won’t last, but I’ll take whatever I can get.

Holden kneels at the edge of the bed and puts his hands on my knees to pry apart my legs. I spread wide to make way for his mouth. The second his tongue dives into my crotch, my hips buck almost involuntarily, and I grip the sheets tight in my fists. I turn my head to the side, burying my cheek against the pillow. My vision fills with dots.

Holden’s voice is muffled against my pussy. “Hold still, sweetness. I’m only just getting started.”

The floodgates erupt. Hot juice flows between my thighs, wetting the comforter, maybe soaking right through to the mattress for all I can tell. A whimper sneaks out from my throat. I want to beg him to touch me, taste me, suck me dry, but the second his mouth closes in around my throbbing clit, it’s game over.

All I can do is pant.

The orgasm starts to build. I force it back, drawing out the pleasure for as long as I can. Please God, don’t let this night end. His tongue plunges into my pussy, pulls out, dives in again and again. I hold on to the side of the mattress as he devours me, curling the sheets under my fingers so tightly my knuckles go white.

My clit pulsates. I start gasping, my breath coming out in rasps.

If he doesn’t slow down—

“Holden, please, you’re going to make me come.”

Ignoring my desperate plea to ease up the pace, he inserts two fingers inside me and thrusts deep. I cry out in shock. My eyes widen as he begins to suck and finger me at once, my crescendo rising with an intensity that claws at my skin. It’s like my entire body is on fire.

My pelvis bucks under his mouth. He picks up speed and I feel the orgasm cresting on my pussy. I grab his head and shove it deeper just as my release shudders over me in a seismic tidal wave. I come hard, panting and screaming until my voice gives out. Holden sucks at the juices, cleaning every last drop. I imagine it sliding down his throat.

When he finally pulls away, I gasp. My head spins with pleasure and I am breathless, weightless, floating on Cloud 9. I pull him towards me and he crushes his mouth against mine. The muskiness of my sex lingers on his breath, his moist lips.

“My God…”

“I’m not near finished, sweetness’,” he says, and impossibly, I get wet again. It’s ridiculous how my body responds to him, over and over—it’s like I have no control. There has to be something wrong with that.

Doesn’t there?

I clench Holden’s back and grind up against him so that his hard cock nestles against my pussy. I part my lips, inviting his tongue, and our mouths tangle together. I am intoxicated and suddenly desperate to feel him inside me. Except I don’t want to rush. In this moment, here, now, maybe forever, I will do anything he wants, forget the interview altogether, just to savor this—him—for a bit longer.

My heart is a kick drum, pounding to its own beat.

He lays on top of me, hard cock pulsing between my thighs, teasing me with the anticipation of what comes next. Every inch of my body tingles.

My pelvis arches against him, and suddenly he’s nestled deep inside me. I gasp at his girth, how fully he fills me. He thrusts hard and I swear he’s going to push through to the other side, he’s so big.

“Jesus, sweetness. You’re so damn wet.”

Soaked.

It drips down the back of my thighs. Onto the sheets. If he doesn’t come soon, it’s going to be a puddle on the fucking bed.

I clench my pussy around Holden’s cock and he lets out a low groan. He pulls out, dives in, slowly picking up speed until he drives into me with deep thrusts that knock the breath from my chest. I’m panting, moaning, biting into my lip to stop from screaming out. Anything to maintain some semblance of control.

“Harder,” I say, breathing heavy.

His eyes cloud with desire and he plunges deep, fucking me with the intensity of a jackhammer. My brain goes numb. I can’t think, can’t breathe.

But there is no way in hell I want this to stop.

My nails dig into Holden’s back, biting at his skin with a fervor that startles even myself. He grits his teeth and grabs my hips, pounding harder and harder until it’s as though our bodies merge into one. His cock fills and consumes me, and I willingly give in.

“Jesus Christ, Chelsea,” he says, and the sound of my name on his lips brings another orgasm dangerously close. “Come,” he growls.

Not a comment.

Not a suggestion.

The command unleashes another climax and I buck against him as waves of intense pleasure course through my body, sending shivers up and down my spine. Holy shit. My pussy pulses around his cock like a beating heart. Holden gives one last thrust and his shimmering eyes lock on mine. Hot come surges through me.

We lay together after, exhausted, our hearts racing and breath panting, until finally, I start to relax. I tuck into his side and put my arm around him. His hand falls across my shoulder.

“God, you really are perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

My throat clogs up. If only he knew how utterly wrong he was about that.