The time of reckoning loomed close at hand.

Before he checked his private e-mail, he had a long day of work to get through. He scheduled a meeting with a potential new bodyguard client, then took a conference call with his father and the head of a smaller investment firm Vance LTD intended to acquire. An hour of playing hardball later, he switched gears and did a bit more checking into Pete Lamont’s financials. The man had some serious credit issues. It would be a shame if he ran into even more difficulty—and he would if he continued to call Ang. She’d offhandedly mentioned Pete’s overattention, but it hadn’t been offhand to Sterling.

He’d begun investigating him the day he’d encountered Ang at the bingo hall. Soon he would know everything there was to know about the guy. He was already having him followed. He’d taken on the task himself, until he’d made eye contact with Pete two days in a row at different locations, including once at Pete’s latest place of business, J and E’s Auto Body, and realized it might be better to be circumspect. Not that he gave a tinker’s damn if Pete knew he was tailing him, but he didn’t want to overplay his hand too soon. There was something to be said for discretion.

And patience. He grabbed his personal tape recorder, flipped open his study guide on private investigation and pretended not to notice the siren’s call of his laptop.

He’d been getting messages from GothGeek all afternoon, and it had required sheer force of will to ignore them long enough to get his work done. Now that Jax had left for the day, he had the perfect opportunity to open his e-mail and…peruse.

He still wasn’t sure what had gotten into him when he’d requested that she share a picture. Something niggled the back of his neck during their conversations, a flash of intuition perhaps, and he’d asked her for more to allay those concerns. He’d grown enamored of talking to her over the past two weeks, so much so that he found himself imagining what she was doing at different times of the day.

Especially while he sat at his kitchen counter, ostensibly reading the stock pages and trying to make small talk with Ang. She remained steadfastly pleasant, though she avoided conversations about anything personal. She rarely mentioned her pregnancy, despite the fact that he could make out her little baby bump more with each passing day, even in her baggy tops. He hardly needed to discuss all the ins and outs of her maternity issues, but her reticence on the topic seemed strange.

Ang was never reticent. Or she hadn’t been in the old days. Now she refused to discuss her parents or her housing search or her hunt for a better job than the one she held at the bingo hall. Which was basically anything.

Hell, yesterday her father had called, and Sterling had flat-out lied about not having had a chance to see Ang since they’d talked. She’d continued reading some heavy-metal music magazine and ignored the entire conversation. Either she’d taken her Pollyanna personality to extremes and veered into the land of denial, or else she was hiding a hell of a lot from her new housemate. Perhaps both. The distance between them bothered him immensely, but damn if he knew how to close the gap.

Part and parcel of inappropriately fingering a woman, then touching himself with her shampoo while she watched, he supposed. There were all kinds of prices to be paid, and his was losing a true friend.

If he let it happen.

He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He never quit, and besides, she mattered too much. She and her unborn child. She might not be spending much time reflecting outwardly on the impending birth, but he sure was. To the point that he’d begun to halfheartedly imagine turning one of the guest bedrooms into a nursery, if she stayed. The bedrooms were just sitting empty. Why not put one to good use?

Why not move the mother into your bedroom and complete the circle entirely?

Exhaling, he moved his fingers over his laptop and roused it from sleep. He needed to stop focusing on Ang. Until he poured out his feelings to her—it would help if he knew exactly what they were—things weren’t going to change. Clearly she didn’t have much to say to him, and maybe that was for the best right now.

After all, he was getting to know his new online friend. And if occasionally he wondered a bit too much about GothGeek, if some random comment she made struck him as slightly off, he’d just chalk it up to overactive PI senses. She hadn’t balked at sending him a possibly explicit picture, which he’d requested for the sole reason—mostly—of putting his concerns about her identity to rest. Surely that meant she wasn’t lying.

Unless she planned to grab some random one from the Internet and pass that off…

No. He wouldn’t borrow more trouble. And he also chose not to think about having to take an equally explicit picture of himself. He’d enjoy hers first.

Another thing he would not do is feel guilty about engaging in an Internet friendship with a woman who wasn’t Ang. If he and Ang were an actual item, that would be different. But she’d made it clear he wasn’t her type. Hadn’t she?

Besides, he wouldn’t allow himself to be her type. They had too many reasons to steer clear of each other in that manner. Long-standing family friendships and her vulnerable position due to her pregnancy at the top of the list.

Her most likely faking her orgasm during their solitary encounter didn’t weigh in at all. That was ancient history and far from relevant.

He clicked on GothGeek’s latest message, smiling at her plaintive question.

Well?

Well, indeed. He sifted through her previously sent messages, mostly along the lines of nervous meanderings about cellulite and the lack of flattering lighting. All the while he crept closer to her picture. It might be something innocuous. A wrist, a hint of cheek. A tease of curves.

Or…not.

She stood at a slight angle so he couldn’t make out the writing curving up one side of the tattoo, but he discerned the ample curve of her breast. Nipple and all. Pale pink and tight. The small cluster of green vines radiating from a central flower—a lotus, perhaps—on her shoulder blade almost couldn’t compete.

Christ.

She hadn’t even included her face in the picture and he still couldn’t catch his breath, just from the suggestion of her curvaceous figure. Well, more than suggestion. She’d revealed her hip and a bit of her bottom. A good bit.

So much for his desire to put his concerns about her identity to rest. He’d stirred up a whole new hornet’s nest. He could almost hear Jax’s voice now.

Buddy, you need to get laid. Stat.

For once, Sterling agreed.

His stomach tightened and he clicked off on the picture. As attractive as Ms. Geek was, there was one irrefutable fact he couldn’t deny.

While he was looking at her, he couldn’t stop thinking about Ang and the tattoo she had mentioned having. If it was as beautiful as this one, if her skin would be as petal soft as Geek’s looked, if her breast would be as firm and full. His guess on all counts was yes, which increased the fisting in his gut.

Thinking that he had every right to engage in this sort of pictorial conversation with Ms. Geek because he and Ang weren’t together was all well and good. It was also self-serving and wrong. In truth, he probably never should’ve opened this line of inquiry with GothGeek, no matter how uncertain things were between him and Ang.

Flipping back to his e-mail program, he started to write a quick response to GothGeek. Perhaps he needed to divert this conversation back to safer shores. He didn’t feel right about this on any level.

Clearly he wasn’t pseudo player material.

His cell buzzed and he picked it up, frowning at the caller. It was Bob Collins, the PI he’d hired to keep an eye on Pete. Bob calling out of the blue probably meant one thing.

The bastard had contacted Ang. In person.

“Vance,” he said.

“Collins here. Lamont just pulled up to your house. The young lady appears to be inside, alone.”

Sterling rose. He didn’t need to hear anything else. “I’m on my way. ETA five minutes.” Four if he made all the lights. “Take off when I get there. If she lets him in—” he had no right to be angry if she did, he reminded himself, since as his guest, she had full run of the house, “—see if you can get close enough to monitor things until I arrive.”

“You got it, boss.” Collins hung up.

Sterling locked up the office and went out to his car, ignoring the relentless churning in his gut. There wasn’t anything to be concerned about. Ang could take care of herself. If it hadn’t been for that restraining order served by Pete’s former girlfriend, he probably wouldn’t have been strung as tight. But the restraining order remained in effect and Ang rarely met his gaze when he inquired about Pete, which most likely meant he continued to attempt to communicate with her.

And the bastard was at his house. The knowledge goaded every protective urge he had, along with some violent tendencies he hadn’t realized he possessed.

He slid into his car and drove home, beating his record by a good minute. When he pulled up, Bob’s deep-green sedan slid discreetly away.

Sterling parked at the curb and glared at the sleek red sports car behind Ang’s in his driveway. My house. My driveway. My wo—

A sharp pang hit his chest. She wasn’t his. Would never be his. But he intended to make sure she was safe. He climbed out and slammed his door shut.

Whatever it took.

Ang opened the door and blinked at the person waiting on the stoop. Sterling had told her to expect a package so she’d just assumed—

Wrong. Way frigging wrong. Dammit, why wasn’t this Hilda’s day to work? At least Sterling’s capable housekeeper was smart enough not to open the door to strangers.

“Pete,” she said flatly.

His dark eyes narrowed as he stepped back to look at the number beside the door. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t looking for me?”

“No. I have business with Vance.” Pete scraped a hand through his mohawk. “What are you doing here?”

Relief surged through her. Thank God he hadn’t tracked her to Sterling’s, though he’d have a bead on her location going forward. This was just a horrible coincidence. But that begged the question: What kind of business did he have with Sterling? She didn’t think for a minute that Sterling would have anything to do with him after hearing about her situation.

So that meant Sterling must still be poking around in Pete’s life. He was probably just doing what bodyguards/PIs did. But the fact that she and Sterling had gotten friendlier than client and employer—and that she was living in his home—put a whole new light on things.

As did the fact that now Pete would know without a doubt that she and Sterling were cohabiting. And if he knew, he’d likely tell her parents just to make her life more difficult.

Time for some damage control.

“Sterling needed someone to, um, sign for a package for him.”

“Guess you respond to his calls better than you reply to mine.” Pete cocked a brow at her outfit. “So that’s what you wear to answer his door?”

She didn’t have to look at her slouchy, off-the-shoulder T-shirt and strategically ripped yoga pants to know that she didn’t look like someone Sterling would recruit for much of anything. Or, you know, have sex with. Not that she was the least bit bitter.

He also hadn’t seen fit to respond to her—fine, GothGeek’s—nudie pic. You’d think flashing some skin would get a response from the man, but apparently not. After all, he did think tattoos were trashy. Add in the piercings and she probably tipped his boat into Titanic territory.

Still, she’d spent a lot of time getting that photo right. She’d struggled with the angle of her tat in the mirror, along with the inclusion of precisely enough side boob. Hell, she’d even temporarily borrowed Brandy’s phone so that Sterling wouldn’t recognize hers in the picture. Expecting a little appreciation for her efforts wasn’t asking for too much.

“Yes, in this. He doesn’t dictate my wardrobe choices.”

“Really. So he’s cool with you wandering around here half-naked and barefoot and pregnant, answering his door?” Pete crossed his arms. “You playing house, Ang?”

So much for Pete believing she’d had an abortion overseas. She’d gained a little weight, but she didn’t think her condition was that evident yet.

More denial, obviously.

“Of course not.” She made a show of scratching the top of her nose, as casual as could be. “I told you why I was here. Your turn.”

“I came here for answers. Looks like I got them.” Slowly, Pete shook his head. “You don’t really think you can land a fish like him, do you? I mean, we’re talking impossible under normal circumstances, but when you’re knocked up and barely employed and sleeping on friends’ couches to avoid going home?” He chuckled. “Sorry, not happening.”

She gripped the doorjamb. A million retorts sprang to her tongue, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of engaging her in an argument. “Get out.”

“I’m just trying to help.” He stroked his lip piercing, his gaze drifting to her bump. She wanted to cup it to prevent him from seeing even the most minute detail about her baby, even its damn size in her womb. Irrational, yes, but there it was. “We were friendly once. You remember, don’t you, sweetheart?”

The sound of footsteps ascending the stairs behind him made Pete shoot a surprised glance over his shoulder. Ang’s eyes met Sterling’s and something tightened in her belly, way down deep.

“She’s doing her best to forget all about you. Now I suggest you get the hell off my property before I give you my own version of a restraining order—with my fists.”

Her breath clogged in her throat. That couldn’t be her Sterling, threatening Pete. He rarely got angry, and his knuckles had probably never been split. But there he was, her tall, muscled warrior in Hugo Boss, with sparks flying from his normally placid blue eyes.

Her panties drenched in an instant.

Shame followed swiftly after. She shouldn’t let him fight her battles. But oh God, she couldn’t stop the momentary pleasure that he wanted to. That he would.

“I’d like to see you try.” Pete cast a look over his shoulder. “You or your goons.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Pete smirked, all cocky insolence. “I wouldn’t want to see you damage your pristine suit—”

The flying fist seemed to come out of nowhere, landing with precision against Pete’s nose. He howled as blood spurted. Sterling merely sidestepped the spray and shook out his hand, his face still contorted with rage.

Rage. From Sterling.

“Leave. Now. Or I promise you, I won’t pull my next punch.”

Ang lunged forward, intending to insert herself between the two men if need be. Pete would resume his usual trash-talking and posturing anytime now, and things would only get uglier. Instead he spat at Sterling’s feet and stalked off, cupping his mangled face and cursing under his breath.

She stared after him, stunned to see him reverse out of the driveway. Pete never backed off from a fight.

Her focus swung to Sterling. And the man in front of her never started one.

God, if just the sight of Sterling striding onto the porch to save her had turned her on, spotting the craving for blood in his eye had to be the bonus round.

“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have hit him.”

Sterling’s voice was low and hot, and it didn’t make her think of violence. It made her think of his body ranging over hers as he slid inside her with one deep, mind-bending thrust.

She cleared her throat and tried to shake the image from her mind. Her body was already reacting as if they were in bed together. Her nipples pebbled and her pussy grew even wetter than it had been a moment before. Hell, Lake Winnetonka at the park up the street currently had nothing on her nether regions.

“Ang?”

He stepped forward and she threw up a hand to ward him off, mainly because she feared that she couldn’t control herself. She really might just jump him right then and there.

But the flash of hurt in his eyes at her gesture made her drop her arm and her gaze. She kept making things worse between them.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“What are you apologizing for?” It wasn’t his fault she wanted to fuck him brainless. Okay, it was, but she’d been the one to screw up everything by prematurely interjecting sex into the mix.

“I know you…cared about him once. He’s the father of your baby. Despite your difficulties, you probably didn’t want me to hit him.”

Oh God, he was so sweet. She couldn’t help smiling and moving closer, then lifting her hand to his chest. “On the contrary. I would’ve cheered the second time you hit him. I might’ve even grabbed the umbrella next to the door and joined in.”

He looked at her for so long she was tempted to move back, but then he reached between them and touched her somewhere no one other than her doctor ever had, at least while she was pregnant. He cradled her belly in his broad hand, his thumb slowly rubbing in circles. “I feel the bump.”

Embarrassment came first, then a slow, swamping warmth that blossomed from his palm and flowed over her in waves. He didn’t sound put off by the evidence of her baby. Far from it.

There were so many things she tried to say. To make it into a joke by commenting on her newfound craving for waffles with honey in the morning or blaming its size on the bodybuilding vitamins he’d given her. Even a simple yes would’ve sufficed. But she’d always gone all in, all the time.

“I feel part of you too,” she murmured, more than a little shocked that it wasn’t an idle statement. He’d just knocked a guy in the face and now he was stroking her with the utmost gentleness…and getting hard while she pressed her rounded body close to his.

His hand continued to move in those same tender sweeps. “Mmm-hmm.”

That was it. Mmm-hmm. No disagreement? No amusing comeback that fighting got him aroused? Just simple, basic acknowledgement of the truth.

He was hard, because of her. Somehow.

When staring into his way too perceptive, light-blue eyes became uncomfortable, she wet her lips and glanced between them, needing visible confirmation of his fingers on her stomach. Maybe she was imagining this entire surreal moment, and if she blinked, she’d wake up—

His cracked, bleeding knuckles made her gasp. “Oh God, you’re hurt.” She grabbed his hand, earning his wince, and lessened her hold as she brushed her finger over the splits in his flesh. “Let’s go inside and get you cleaned up.”

“I’m fine.” His mouth quirked. “Besides, my hand quite liked where it was.”

She gave him a sharp look. “You’re injured, due to me. That means it’s only fair I bandage you up.” She returned her attention to his knuckles. “And that’s if you don’t need stitches.”

“I assure you that I don’t. All I need is a stiff brandy—” He broke off, apparently catching her amused expression. His lips curved again, and this time he gifted her with a full smile. “I’m guessing you didn’t assume I’d end with ‘brandy’ when I started with ‘stiff’.”

She couldn’t help giggling. He was so different from the men she’d dated, yet he had a way of disarming her that none of them ever had. “You guessed correctly.” Before he could say something to alter the moment, she lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed it, meeting his eyes. “Are you going to be a good patient?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so.”

Her belly fluttered. “I have ways of dealing with bad ones.” Lightly, she tugged him along with her, leading him inside the open door and shutting it behind them.

“I’m sure you do.” He glanced through the glass at the porch they’d just vacated. “I should go get my laptop and briefcase. I didn’t lock the car.”

“Okay.” She started to step back, and then she gripped his fingers hard enough to make him grimace. “Sorry. Uh, have you been on your computer a lot this afternoon?”

He cocked a brow. “A bit. It’s a usual part of my workday.”

Of course it was. But he hadn’t responded to her tattoo picture, taken impetuously back when she’d been certain nothing of an, ahem, physical nature would occur between them. Before he’d rubbed her belly and given her sex eyes and gravel voice and basically turned her panties into a very thin impediment to a flash flood.

If he’d seen that picture, she couldn’t even think about getting naked in front of him. Ever.

Or she could tell him the truth about her double identity and resign herself to his ire. Worse, his disappointment. She deserved it, without question. He’d given her nothing but kindness—excepting their odd sexual interlude—and she’d lied and deceived and tried to find a way to get into his supertight boxers without him being any the wiser.

It was wrong. She should just suck it up, tell the truth and cry her eyes out that, yet again, she’d been faced with the possibility of sex with Sterling, only to have the chance ripped away by the cruel jaws of fate. And her own stupidity.

“Why don’t I get your laptop for you?” she asked before anything remotely like an apology formed on her lips. “You’re in pain. Go put some ice on that hand and I’ll handle this.”

Maybe he hadn’t seen the e-mail yet. That could be why he hadn’t replied. And if he had his e-mail password saved on his machine, she could just delete the incriminating evidence and he’d never know. GothGeek could vanish pictureless into the Internet ether.

As long as she got some sex, goddammit, she’d make it up to him. She’d rock his world in ways he couldn’t imagine. Perhaps she’d even tell him the truth…after. Once they were both sated and she knew he wouldn’t kick her out of his life for good.

“I’m fine, Ang.”

“Oh, but I need some air.” She practically thrust herself between him and the door, which wasn’t all that easy to do in light of her currently sluggish motor skills. But she was horny enough to lift a bus if she had to, so she could definitely nudge Sterling out of her way with her ass.

The ass he now has a partial picture of…

She nearly groaned aloud. “Let me. I’ll take care of everything.” She shot him what she hoped was a moderately sultry look over her shoulder. “Everything,” she added with a little purr.

His pupils flared and he brushed against her for an interminably long moment before easing back. “No time like the present. The laptop can wait.”

Apparently it could. It would have to, because if she pushed any harder to go out to his car, he’d know something was up. Maybe the point was moot anyhow.

He could’ve already seen the picture. Then what, smartypants?

Ang bit her lip. She’d just have to take her chances. If she stripped down and he called her out as a liar, she’d throw herself on his mercy and beg for another chance. She wasn’t in her right mind. All those pregnancy hormones were wreaking havoc and she couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.

Lame. So lame.

Yeah, well, she didn’t have much to work with. She really was sorry. It had been a crappy thing to do. And she’d apologize in every way he saw fit—on her back, on her stomach, on her knees. She still had some mobility left. She might even be able to do upside down.

She made a soft noise in her throat and urged him to follow her up the hall. “Rinse your knuckles under the water for me. Cool, but not cold,” she said, filling a paper towel with ice from the maker on the fridge.

By the time she made it over to the sink, he’d stuck his hand under the spray like a good boy, but the heat in his eyes definitely spoke of darker desires. “Ang…”

She didn’t want to talk. If she talked, she’d feel guilty. More guilty, because the sensation already threatened to choke her at unsuspecting moments. A guy like Sterling didn’t deserve to be lied to. Whatever her ridiculous reasons for sending that first message as GothGeek, the time had arrived to fess up.

But the apology wouldn’t come as she stared up into his startlingly blue eyes. Eyes like that made a woman dumb.

So she’d make up for her transgressions with her body, if she couldn’t with her words.

Always goes back to your body with you. Is that the only thing you think anyone finds valuable?

She focused harder on his hand as she carefully applied the ice to his raw knuckles. “This won’t take long. I promise.”

“Yes, it will.”

Oh God, his voice. She couldn’t stave off a shiver as she continued to grip his fingers and carefully tended his wounds. It aroused something deep inside her, that caring instinct she still struggled with in connection to her baby. Feelings this deep and strong frightened her. If she loved that much and lost—

She wasn’t going to lose her baby. And Sterling wasn’t hers to lose in any case. She shouldn’t compare the two.

“Ang,” he murmured, brushing her hair away from her cheek. She’d spiked and teased it like crazy after she’d shed her conservative job-interview look, but it seemed to bend to his will as he smoothed down each strand. “My hand’s okay. Really. Thank you.”

Dear Lord, she couldn’t draw enough breath when he looked at her like that. “You need antibacterial cream.”

“No. I need something else.”

She stumbled back, losing half the ice in the sink, only to come to a halt at the brush of his fingertips over her mouth. So softly that it could’ve been a kiss of the air instead of an actual touch. She shuddered just the same. “Bandages. Where do I find those?”

“How many attempts has he made to contact you?”

Okay, she hadn’t expected him to ask that particular question, at least not right now. “He calls every other day or so and leaves a voicemail.”

“Do you return those calls?”

That commanding thread in his tone unraveled her, word by word. “No. I have nothing to say to him.”

“And the following? Is that still going on?” He caressed the piercing above her lip. “Do you still feel threatened by him?”

Looking into Sterling’s eyes, she could barely remember Pete’s name, never mind feel concern that he could harm her or her child. Sterling’s heat and solidity enveloped her, strengthening her spine. She’d mostly convinced herself that the whole following thing had just been her overactive imagination.

“No,” she whispered. “I’m not scared of him anymore.”

“He won’t hurt you. I promise.” His gaze dropped to her midriff. Lingered. “Either of you.”

“He damn sure won’t. I won’t let him.”

“Neither of us will.”

The steel in his tone melted her, inside and out. Her skin felt too tight to hold all of her organs, especially the one in her chest. So she grabbed for what she always did—her bravado.

“What about you? Is my presence here helping you with your persistent ex? An ex I’ve seen no hide nor hair of, I might add.”

“I don’t want to talk about her hide.”

She couldn’t help smiling. He made it so hard to stay firm. “What about her hair?”

“Also off the table.” He leaned in, so close that his minty breath fluttered over her cheek. “May I kiss you?”

In spite of how absolutely flummoxed he made her, the question coaxed out a smile. “You’re the only one who has ever asked. Most just take.” When he remained still, she nodded. “Yes. Please.” Please.

His eyes open and intent, he pressed his mouth gently to hers. She trembled and he reached up with his cool, wet fingers to cup her other cheek. He slid his thumb along the seam of her mouth until it parted enough for him to slip his tongue along the edge of her teeth. Easing his finger away, he forged deeper, slanting his head, exploring her as if she was the most fascinating creature he’d ever encountered.

One kiss bled into the next. He sipped from her, drawing on her air and her flesh and imprinting her with the brand of his mouth. He dropped kisses at the corners of her lips, on her chin, along her jaw. Their mutual hunger flared to life, as palpable as his palms on her skin, and she arched toward him, needing more. He caressed her with such care, and she reveled in it, because it was new. Because it was Sterling, finally.

All the while, he watched her, silently gauging her reaction. Water flowed into the sink from the running faucet, splashing her arm, yet she stared into his dark, vast pupils as if he held the answer to every question she’d never thought to ask. And he fed her his breath in a shuddery stream that told her he was every bit as excited as she was, maybe even as awed and scared.

So fucking scared.

Ang jerked back, breaking the trance. She slammed off the faucet and tried to regain her equilibrium even as his hand pressed to the base of her spine to offer her support. She sagged against him, only now realizing she’d barely even kissed him back during his sensual onslaught. All she’d done was take and take and take. Greedily.

So much for rocking his world. He’d grabbed hers and shaken it like a snow globe. She hadn’t stopped spinning yet.

She shut her eyes at his hand gliding up her back, silently soothing. “If you don’t have any antibacterial cream, peroxide would work too.”

Nice segue, McFee.

But he didn’t bite. “You continually surprise me.” Crushed gravel lined his tone, sharp little rocks that rubbed wicked welts over her skin.

She shot him a look under her lashes, still breathing too fast. “Because I can’t kiss for shit?”

His smile verged on a smirk. “Funny, I thought you did just fine.”

“How would you know? Despite your sex-crazed ex, I have a sneaking suspicion one of us has vastly more experience than the other in that department.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she pushed her fist against her forehead. “God, shut me up. Bodily.”

He turned her toward him again and slid his hands over her cheeks, tilting her head back to plunder and tease her mouth once again. This time he closed his eyes, so she did too.

Heat and light burst inside her, leading the charge for her riotous emotions. She couldn’t contain them, couldn’t process. So she clung to his arms, digging in with her nails, rising on her tiptoes to chase his tongue and tug it back into her mouth as if it were spoils of war. She raked her teeth over his flesh, her eyes flashing open at his low, needful groan. Pressing closer, she rubbed her hardened nipples against his chest and flexed her pelvis so that he’d hopefully get the message and do the same right back. But he kept that respectful distance between their bodies, letting her grind all over him.

Did he have the self-control of a monk or what? Or had she somehow misread the intensity of…this?

Just when she thought she’d go crazy with want, he dragged his lips from hers to coast down her neck to that particularly knee-weakening spot behind her ear. One suck and she shook. Two and she whimpered, beyond all sense of pride. In a minute she’d be screaming, “Take me, dammit!” and then he’d know without a doubt that she craved him more than she’d craved anyone—

No, not more than anyone. He didn’t mean that much. No man did. But he was her friend, and she felt especially friendly toward him right then.

She palmed his head as he ventured down the slope of her shoulder. He tugged aside her already loose shirt, revealing her bare skin. She’d happily divested herself of her bra the minute she’d arrived home. Her breasts were extremely sensitive to begin with and pregnancy hadn’t helped. But now, just the scrape of her top over her nipples made her bite the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out. He didn’t alter his pattern of little licks and bites, pushing her shirt farther and farther down, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the only thing holding it up was her breast.

Her unrepentantly eager breast, diamond-hard nipple and all.

“Sterling,” she gasped. “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never.” He found her mouth again, slipping inside to toy with her tongue. While they kissed, he slid his hands into the back of her stretchy pants and squeezed her ass, pulling her closer so that she could rub against his magnificently hard cock in maddening little circles that stoked her need even higher. “I’m waiting,” he breathed over her lips.

She blinked, already caught between the conflicting impulses to plaster herself to his cock and to grind into his palms. Trying to puzzle out what he’d just said made her world tilt even more. “For what?”

He continued to move his mouth over hers, seducing her with slow thrusts of his tongue. She’d never been kissed this much before sex. Not that she was complaining. But her lips were going numb, for God’s sake. And she was more than a bit impatient for act two to begin.

Finally she could take no more. She grasped his broad shoulders and pushed him back just far enough to see that his lips were swollen and reddened too—and damn if a freaking gush of wetness didn’t saturate her panties from the realization. “Sterling, damn you. What are you waiting for?”

He tipped back his head to catch his breath, allowing her to see the ripple of his powerful throat. Adam’s apples didn’t turn her on as a rule, though neither did men in suits. In Sterling’s case, both were making her clit fucking pound. That slightly loosened tie, the one open button on his white dress shirt, the gaping jacket, pushed open by her wandering, hungry hands…

“You said you had so much more experience than me.” One dark eyebrow winged up and the pounding between her legs turned into a drumbeat that echoed throughout her entire body. “I’m waiting to see it.” He reached up to pull his tie over his head and wrapped it around his wrist, that eyebrow climbing even higher most likely due to her sudden flush. “Bondage?” he asked, half to himself.

“No,” she said too quickly. “I mean, yes, I would, but I haven’t tried it with anyone else yet—”

“You’ve experienced bondage by yourself?”

How to answer this without looking—and feeling—like an ass? “Uh, yeah. I’ve tied myself up before while…self-stimulating. One hand only, of course, but I like the way it feels to be bound. And I don’t trust just anyone at that level.” She sniffed, hating that her mind veered to Pete even for a nanosecond. “Especially certain exes who won’t be named. But hey, you know, my fault for jumping into bed like I’m jumping into a pool.”

Also her fault for completely killing the mood. His eyes had taken on a sharper quality that turned up the pitch of desire in her belly to the molten heat range. The more she feared he would pull away, the hotter she burned.

Sterling Vance was her Mount Everest, just an experience to be had. Being with him was exciting, incredible, but not life-changing. She couldn’t let herself forget that for a second.

“Are you telling me we should slow down?” He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Perhaps he was helpless when it came to suppressing the urge to touch too.

About as helpless as she was to not move closer. To take more. She spread her hands over his tight abs, sculpting them with her fingers through his expensive shirt. His shudder wasn’t lost on her. Nor was the pinch of his generous mouth.

“I’ve known you since I was in diapers, Vance, so no, I don’t think we should slow down. We’ve already gone slowly enough.”

The grooves around his lips only deepened. “Yes, remind me of that, why don’t you?” Gently but firmly, he gripped her wrists and nudged her back. “Look, maybe we should consider—”

She leaned up, going with instinct, and breathed as close to his ear as she could manage on her tiptoes. “I want you to fuck me, hard. I need it.” At his long exhale, she grabbed his hand—oops, that was the injured one—then swapped it for his good one and pressed it between her legs. It was a damn miracle the fabric hadn’t soaked clear through. “Feel that? I’m wet for you. Don’t make me go tie myself up in your guest bedroom and writhe all over your sheets while I’m getting myself off.”

His jaw went tight and his eyes—well, they sparked with a dark, dangerous light that ignited a matching one in her core. “I can’t believe you really do that.”

She fingered the dangling edge of his tie and nearly shivered from the muscle that twitched in his temple. Unless she didn’t know men at all, prim and proper Sterling Vance was imagining her tied up and bound at his mercy.

And pleasure. Lots and lots of pleasure. At least if he continued to let this version of himself play. The one that had fingered her to near orgasm, then pushed her away, had vanished, good riddance to him.

“I do.” Not often, but now and then. She did that more often than she used her vibrator, which probably made her one kinky little puppy. “Want me to show you what else I can do, Mr. Vance?”

Hell, that clenched-jaw, steely-eyed expression he wore practically produced an orgasm all on its own.

Without warning, he swept her up in his arms, causing her to let out a very unladylike snort-squeak. He only picked up the pace.

This time, he didn’t take her to the guest bedroom. Nope, it was the master all the way. He carried her over the threshold and laid her down on the pillow-soft, blood-red sheets as carefully as if she were a priceless doll. He tossed aside his tie—she watched it fly through the air with a sad sigh—and reached for her top, tugging it up and off with no hesitation whatsoever.

While she gaped, he set aside her shirt and viewed her naked upper half with a hunger that made her nipples bead into proud little points. “You’re so beautiful.” He ran a reverent hand over the slope of one breast and she gasped, incapable of smothering the sound. “No wonder you want to pierce these,” he murmured, circling one taut tip with his thumb. “They’d look delectable wrapped in jewels.”

Words. She had them. Yet only “uhh” emerged.

He bent, took one of her nipples in his mouth for a fraction of an instant. Hot, drugging pleasure pulsed into her pussy when he drew back to meet her gaze. “Taste delectable too.”

His palm coasted over her slightly rounded belly, and the sight of his fingers stretching to reach as much of it as possible made her eyes blur with lust, and more. He was touching her baby as tenderly as he’d stroked her breasts, and he didn’t seem dissuaded by the sight. “Beautiful,” he repeated, pressing a kiss just above her navel as she trembled like a leaf caught in a sudden storm.

Shocked, a little overwhelmed, she struggled up on her elbows while he unbuttoned his cuffs. He rolled up his sleeves, then, much to her confusion, turned to open the closet door opposite the bed before sitting on the floor with his back against the mattress.

“W-what are you doing down there?” God, she was stuttering already, and he’d only sucked on her nipple for a second.

She was in so much trouble.

“On your knees.” He looked back and made a come-hither gesture with his fingers. The fact that his knuckles were seeping and torn didn’t dissuade her in the least.

She pursed her lips, trying to figure out the logistics. Her brain felt like mush. “On the floor, with you? Do you want a blowjob?” Because that was mighty fine with her. She’d happily suck on him for as long as her jaws held out. If he blew his load down her throat, even better.

He flushed, just slightly around the tips of his ears and cheeks. It was so cute she couldn’t decide whether to hug him or mount him like a polo pony.

Both. Definitely both.

“No. I mean, I’m not against them, but—” He exhaled. “Stay up there, lose the pants and get on your knees. Please,” he added, making that same come-hither gesture again.

Now she blushed. He wanted to blow her. And oh yeah, she was down for that. She’d make like glass and probably shatter with one breath, but hell, she’d give it a whirl just for the pure joy of getting to sit on his face.

She was already scrambling into position when reality slammed into her with the force of a dump truck. She was no longer as small as she’d once been. “I’m heavy.”

Her second thought went unstated: I’m preggo. Belly will be hanging too close for comfort. Abort mission!

His snort made her grin. “Oh sure. That buck-twenty you’re packing is too much for me. You saw how I struggled to carry you up the stairs.” He shook his head. “You’re perfect in every way.”

Warmth flooded her veins and twined satiny ropes around her heart. She should’ve known he’d be a sweet talker. “Oh, I’m totes confident. Always.”

She hooked her thumbs in her waistband and tried to pretend she wasn’t searching for more stretch marks while she rolled them over her hips. Nope. She was so blasé about this whole thing that she couldn’t even force her unsexy, plain white cotton panties down due to her shaking hands.

That was excitement. Just excitement.

“Just in case this is you feeling charitable, no worries.” Her voice climbed higher. Thinning out like a wire about to snap. “I’m good to go. Foreplay’s awesome, but—”

“Ang. Finish taking off your clothes and get over here.”

She didn’t really want to argue. Normally she loved oral sex—who didn’t?—but she felt more shy and more…well, everything since becoming pregnant. Her skin prickled with nerves, and she couldn’t quite imagine actually placing her knees on either side of Sterling’s head, positioning herself so that he could lay his head on the bed and press his mouth to her pussy.

But then she was, and it wasn’t the least bit awkward. In fact, it felt fan-fucking-tastic.

He banded an arm around her butt, securely holding her in place, and somehow reclined even more. His tongue flicked over her drenched flesh, barely parting her folds, and she fisted her hands in her own hair and pulled. Somewhere along the way she’d closed her eyes, but when he circled her needy clit, they flew open.

And landed on the mirror capturing every erotic movement of his mouth between her legs. He was way too occupied with his oral activities to take time to look in the glass, but she couldn’t stop. Each clench of Sterling’s strong hands around her thighs while he feasted on her with blatant enjoyment torqued her even more.

Maybe he was a little bit kinky too. A girl could hope.

“Y-you opened the door.” Dammit, what was up with the stuttering? “On the closet.”

Meaning she’d have to be very careful to aim her back away from the glass at all times. She couldn’t take a chance of him connecting the lotus buds of her tattoo and identifying her as GothGeek.

He made a noise in the affirmative and added an extra lick for good measure. That she actually saw the flash of his tongue gliding over her in the mirror finished off her visual sundae.

Nearly finished her off too.

She tightened her hold on her hair and flexed her hips, which had the benefit of thrusting her breasts out and her pussy down. Sterling offered a growl of approval. His dominant side had roared to the fore, and God, it worked for her. All of this did.

She rocked experimentally, unable to keep from squinting to analyze how she looked in the glass. Her curves were more ample than they’d once been, and she couldn’t quite move as agilely, but all in all, she looked good as she shamelessly rode Sterling’s face. Especially since she had a hot as hell man below her, eating her out with a raw appreciation she’d never expected from him. He seemed like the kind of man who only ate with a knife and fork—not with his sensual lips parted wide as his tongue scooped out her wetness and rolled it into his mouth.

Then he wet his own fingers and slid them inside her, pumping slowly. So slowly that her moans hissed out in fractured bursts. He shifted away just far enough for her to see his swollen lips and damp chin and the pure crystal blue of his eyes. Their focus staggered her, at least until she lost hers when he reached down to undo his belt. The fingers of his other hand continued to slide in and out. Swiftly driving her mad.

She whimpered. Oh yes, yes, yes. She wanted to see that cock. Wanted to suck it and taste it and ride it until she couldn’t feel her lower half anymore.

“You’re clenching me like a fist. So tight.” His voice sounded strangled as he drew his leather belt through its loops. He unzipped his pants and with just one glimpse of his boxer-clad erection, her inner walls fluttered around his fingers. “I’ll give you what you need.”

He still sat on the floor beside the bed, facing away from her, and the angle of his arm as he reached back to caress her flesh wasn’t ideal. But she wasn’t about to tell him to stop, because damn, she was on the verge of bathing his hand. Embarrassingly. This had all the hallmarks of a tell-your-friends-and-neighbors kind of orgasm, if she’d had those kinds of friends and neighbors.

In lieu of them, she’d just scream her fool head off.

“Please,” she whispered, dividing her attention between where he’d freed his length and the mirror opposite them that revealed everything. The naked desire on her face, the slack-jawed hunger on his. Those slick fingers pumping deep, and his other palm clenching his thick length.

He wasn’t built the way she imagined a desk monkey might be. He would’ve been a fine…dildo model, for example. Perhaps she’d suggest he consider a second—third—career change.

Later. Much later.

He wrapped his palm around himself and stroked from root to tip, leisurely as could be. At the same time his thumb brushed her throbbing clit and she cried out, her body jolting from the influx of pleasure. Tipping her over into a climax so strong that she couldn’t even draw enough breath to fuel it.

Again and again she convulsed around his questing fingers and drove her own into his hair, yanking until he groaned. From arousal or pain, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t have lessened her hold anyway, since he kept going, his gaze riveted to her undulating body in the glass. She struggled to watch too, to see every bit of this carnal play she somehow starred in.

He continued to massage his cock, fisting it without hesitation. His damaged knuckles rippled, and she shuddered even more. Her cheeks heated at her perplexing reaction to his injury, yet she couldn’t drag her focus from his pumping grip.

God, he was sexy. Her friend. Her warrior. And now, finally, her lover.

“Look at those nipples,” he murmured, and she did, mainly because she couldn’t do anything but stare dizzily and grind into his palm. The hardened tips extended visibly from her bouncing breasts, hued a deep red that could’ve given Rudolph a run for his money. But he sounded amazed and ridiculously turned on, so she jutted her chest that much more and gave him a solid squeeze inside. He groaned again and caressed her clit, making her jerk back. “Too soon?”

She nodded and let out a little whimper as he withdrew his fingers and rose to face her. Every line of his face had been wrought in granite except for his swollen lips and urgent, seeking eyes.

Shyness tried to overtake her again as he openly perused her still-twitching body, but she couldn’t smother a moan as he latched on to her nipple and pulled. The thrum of heat struck deep in her pussy, releasing another pulse of liquid, and she gave in to the urge to reach for her other nipple and twist it.

His low-lidded, heavy-eyed stare prodded her to increase the pressure. He bit her other nipple and cupped her mound. “Your thighs are soaked,” he whispered against her breast, his warm breath streaming over her areola. Proving his point, he caressed her damp inner legs, and her now-neglected clit throbbed in protest.

How quickly she’d gone from oversensitive to hell yes, I could come again.

Ang rolled her lower lip between her teeth just as hard as she rolled her nipple. He sucked on its twin, pressing his tongue to the aroused tip.

God, she ached deep inside. She quaked around air, craving something hard and thick to stretch her wide.

Not something. Him. That sexy cock bobbing against his still-buttoned shirt. She gripped him and he groaned, his arousal dripping onto her thumb. She rubbed the head harder, eager for more. “Fill me up. Please.”

His teeth grazed her nipple and she trembled, hoping that wasn’t his idea of an answer. Surely he didn’t intend to get her off like this—a huge step up from his guest-room antics, yes, but far short of what she craved—and back away due to his ethics or his manners or the fact that, oh yeah, he was sort of online dating the skeeze who’d sent him a booty shot just that afternoon.

The memory of her alter ego’s computer activities made her freeze up in spite of his fingers finding her clit again. Stroking. Sliding in her abundant wetness to her opening and gliding inside. First one finger, then two. Finally three, widening her while she tossed her head back and forth and watched the play of muscles beneath his shirt in the mirror. And his taut ass flexing as he lurched into her tight grip while they handjobbed each other to the brink of oblivion all over again.

More. She craved so much more.

She seized his wrist, stilling him. “Why won’t you fuck me?” Her chin quivered. “Is it because I’m pregnant with his baby? Does that…taint me in your eyes?”

The eyes in question flashed hot. “You aren’t tainted.” He freed his wet hand from her grasp and cradled her belly. “You and your baby are gorgeous. Perfect.”

Her eyes smarted. Waterworks on the way, right on schedule. “Then? You’re hesitating. I feel it.”

“You’re pregnant and it’s been a long time for me. I don’t want to rut into you like an animal.” He inhaled a ragged breath. “Hurting you would kill me, Ang.”

Tears spilled, and she didn’t bother trying to wipe them away. He knew her almost as well as she knew herself, which pushed him realms away from most of the men in her past. He wasn’t a good-time guy. This one here was the real deal, and if they had sex, she’d be giving him more reign over her life than she’d ever given anyone else. More reign over her. Her halfhearted, rarely acknowledged crush would be shoved right into prime time. He could bruise her without ever uttering a harsh word or using a rough hand.

Pete’s words resounded in her head. “You don’t really think you can land a fish like him, do you? I mean, we’re talking impossible under normal circumstances, but when you’re knocked up and barely employed and sleeping on friends’ couches to avoid going home? Sorry, not happening.”

“There’s another problem,” he murmured, feathering his thumb over her belly.

She tried to swallow. “I’m experienced, yes, but I was always careful. I’m clean. Safe. We can still use a condom if it would make you feel better.”

“You don’t know about my sexual history, so it’s about protecting both of us.”

“Fine. Condom it is.” It was the smart thing to do. Still, she couldn’t help sounding flippant. “I’m open to it.”

“As I’m open to experiencing you without anything between us. I’m clean as well. But safe?” That muscle along his jaw ticked again. “You’re the exact opposite of safe, Thumbelina.” He winced. “I wasn’t supposed to call you that now, was I?”

“It’s okay.”

“The possibility of disease wasn’t what I was referring to in any case.”

So he thought she wasn’t safe. Yeah, well, he could get in line. She could claim the same about him. But at least he’d never been anything but honest, other than that questionable situation with his ex. Still, though, that was small fries. She had no right to worry about him somehow treading on her feelings when she was the liar. The one who hadn’t been nearly grateful enough for his help, because she’d been too focused on proving to everyone that she could provide for herself and her baby on her own.

Add in her hormones and the absolute chaos her life had become since she’d peed on those seven sticks, and she’d been in a whirlwind of crazy for the last several months.

But she could still turn this ship around. An opportunity existed for her to get to know Sterling better, at the very least. Tonight would be a beginning. Of what, she wasn’t sure. That didn’t mean she should close herself down out of fear and remorse. She could still fix this situation. Even the lies she’d told.

“What were you referring to then?” she asked.

He inhaled deeply. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly…fucked anyone. It’s all been so much more civilized than that.”

Her own smile took her by surprise. “Classical music and silk sheets?”

“More often than not.” His thumb dipped into her navel, and she suppressed a gasp at the flare of pleasure in her core. “But with you, it wouldn’t be that either. It couldn’t be just sex.”

Oh God, she was shaking now. Inside and out, so that she knew her voice would wobble when she finally gathered enough air to form words. “No?”

“No. With you, it would be making love. For a very long time, and in potentially awkward positions so that I don’t crush your baby.”

Awkward positions sounded like this side of heaven to her. “You won’t. Sex is perfectly fine.”

“I know. I’ve done the required reading.” His mouth curved at her raised eyebrow. “I’ve gotten up to chapter fifteen in What To Expect When You’re Expecting. I’ve found it surprisingly enjoyable.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, wondering how she could be getting progressively more turned on during a conversation about sex terminology and pregnancy. But the insistent throb between her thighs bordered on manic. “I haven’t read it yet.”

“Intercourse is acceptable all the way through, and sometimes even useful in provoking delivery, but I do have my personal dictates.” His thumb slipped lower to rub just above her mound. “And they include you riding me and me entering you from behind and also possibly a reverse cowgirl that I’ve never tried but looks positively fasci—”

She grabbed his jaw and hauled his mouth to hers, effectively cutting him off with a crushing kiss. “Take me, Sterling. Every which way.”