Knees shaking like a damn leaf in a windstorm, I walk around the large hotel suite as Harding showers, and I have to say, I feel a little bad for him. Going from city to city, fight to fight, hotel to hotel, has to be a hard way to live. I honestly couldn’t imagine a life like this. So cold. So detached.

I heard about fighters who were married and their spouses would go on the road with them, but that’s not a life I’d ever want to live. I shake my head at the stupid direction of my thoughts. I’m here with Harding to have a drink—maybe get laid—long-term does not even fit into that scenario. Which is good, since I could never do long term with a fighter for many reasons. Mainly, I hate violence; hate to see him get hurt.

The shower turns off and my heart gallops. I sit at the dinette table, then stand, not knowing what to do with myself as I wait for him to emerge. God, what do I do if he comes out of the bathroom naked, ready to pounce?

He’ll take you back to his room, give you some straight up nasty sex.

As Sara’s words ping around in my brain, my breath comes faster. It’s not that I don’t want to be with him sexually, I’m just not sure about diving right into it. While it might work for others, it doesn’t quite work for me.

The bathroom door creaks open and Harding comes out dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, not in a towel like I suspected. I make the mistake of panning the length of him, and heat bombards me. My breasts grow hot, swollen, and the needy juncture between my legs tingles with anticipation. Still, I’m not sure I could jump straight into bed—as much as I want to feel his big hands on my body. I don’t think I’m quite ready to just shed my clothes and inhibitions and hand myself over.

“Sorry I took so long. I usually get a massage after a fight. Had to let the water warm my muscles.” He rolls one shoulder and my body heats at the way the fabric stretches over said muscles. My glance falls to take in his jeans and they way they fit him so nicely, especially around the crotch area. Damn, he’s like six feet of pure testosterone, and my body is reacting naturally.

I draw a fast breath to center myself. “I’m sorry. Did I take you away from that?” I gesture to the door. “I could go if you want me to.”

He stares at me for a moment, like he can see right through my nervousness. “Don’t be sorry, Adeline, and no way do I want you to go. I’d give up a hell of a lot to spend time with you.”

A little thrill moves through me, but I work to pull myself together and get my head on straight. He’s a fighter with a horde of women vying for his attention. I’m sure he says this kind of thing to all the girls.

“What?” he asks when I go quiet.

“Nothing, just, I guess you don’t have to say things like that to me.”

His eyes narrow—zero in on me—and being the center of his attention again is like a powerful aphrodisiac. “Things like the truth.”

“Harding, come on—”

“Adeline,” he says and quickly closes the distance between us. “I don’t want to scare you off, but you have to know how much I want you.”

“I…you want me?”

“Hell yeah, I do. I have for a long time now.”

For a long time now?

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Now you do,” he says quietly, his voice pulling me under, into a current of need and desire. “So how about that drink?”

He grabs his coat, shoves a wallet into his back pocket, and I stand there stunned as need claws at my insides. He was serious about the drink? I thought it was code for let’s go back to my room and fuck. Am I confused by this turn of events? Maybe. Pleasantly surprised? Definitely.

“Have you eaten?” he asks.

“Not for a while.” I was just finishing work at the library when Sara dragged me away, and I only managed to shove a granola bar into my mouth before the fight. “Actually, I am kind of hungry.”

“Great, let’s go to that little Italian restaurant down on Main. You know it?”

“It’s only my favorite.”

He slides his hand into mine, and electricity crackles between us. He sucks in a quick breath, clearly feeling the heat every bit as much as I do. But if he brought me here for sex, why are we going out to eat? This is all so confusing to me.

“Is it okay if we take one car?” he asks. “I want to spend as much time as possible with you.”

“Sure. I guess.” I try not to sound as excited as I feel, but I have the feeling he can see through the veil, see how much I want to spend as much time as possible with him too.

Even though the elevator is empty, he stands close to me as we ride it down to the lobby. I steal a glance at him, and cringe at the bruising on his face. “How’s the eye?”

“It’s good.”

“Do you…get hurt a lot?” I ask as the elevator stops and he leads me outside. He hands the valet his ticket and he disappears to get Harding’s vehicle.

“It comes with the job,” he answers, but his smile dissolves when he sees the worry on my face. He squeezes my hand. “You really hated tonight, didn’t you?”

“No, it’s not that. I just don’t like to see anyone get hurt.”

The valet brings the car around and much to my surprise, Harding opens my door for me. I slide in and watch him give the man a tip before he climbs in beside me. His body is huge, too big for the Prius he’s driving. I’m guessing it was the only rental available. Harding doesn’t strike me as the type of guy to drive a Prius. Then again, assumptions can be dangerous.

He pulls into traffic. “Why do you do it?” I ask.

“Fight, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Because I’m good at it.”

I think back to the project the teacher assigned to us. He was a hard worker, and had brilliant insight. “I bet you could be good at a lot of things.”

He shoots a glance my way and his grin is so dirty and mischievous, my insides flutter. “I am good at a lot of things,” he says, humor edging his voice and I get the impression that he no longer wants to talk about fighting.

He pulls up to the restaurant, opens my door for me, and guides me down the sidewalk. The possessive way he splays his fingers over the small of my back does the most ridiculous things to my insides. We enter the dimly lit restaurant, and Harding slips the hostess a few bucks. We’re guided to a small, intimate table in the corner. Harding pulls my chair out for me and I sit, still shocked at how old fashioned he is. My father would really appreciate it, I’m sure. But thought of my father has a knot tightening in my stomach. Harding is definitely not the kind of guy I could take home to meet daddy. Not that I’m considering it. I’m not.

The waiter stops by and asks about our drink order. I order red wine and Harding gets a specialty beer. When we’re alone again, Harding zeroes in on me, and I have to say, there is something strangely erotic in being the sole focus of his attention.

“So tell me, Adeline.”

I toy with my cloth napkin. “Tell you what?

“Everything. What have you been doing since high school?”

I shrug. “Nothing much has changed, I guess. I’m a senior in college, and like I said, I plan to go into politics.”

“No significant other in your life?” He glances around.

I shake my head no, but my mind goes to boring Oliver, the man my father has been trying to set me up with for ages. The perfect political union—or so my father says. What I say is, I don’t think so.

“I’m not going to suddenly get attacked by some guy in a jealous rage because I invited you for drinks, am I?” He leans closer. “I’m not really interested in fighting anyone else tonight,” he says, his voice deeper, lower. “But I would if it meant I could spend more time with you.”

I laugh, even though there was no humor in his voice and I’m sure he’s being serious about getting in to a fight. Who is this possessive Harding, and why do I like him so much? “No. Actually, I still live at home.” He goes completely stiff at that, and I ramble on with, “It made sense financially.”

Wait! Why do I suddenly feel the need to justify my actions? Deep down do I think there is something wrong with the decision I made? Yeah, I get it. Moving out is a part of growth and independence, yet I let my parents talk me into staying home. Is Harding going to call me on that?

“Yeah?” he asks and I nod slowly. He nods too, then adds, “It’s nice that your folks care about you, and want to keep you close,” he says quietly.

Keep me close?

Is that what they’re trying to do?

I take a moment to chew on that and when I’m hit with an epiphany it sucks the air from my lungs. My God, the reason my parents wanted me to stay home was to keep me under their thumbs, to watch my every move. I’ve lived up to their expectations, studied hard, got a scholarship and I’m top in my program at University of Washington. Did they really need me to live at home so they could continue to monitor my every movement? Did they not think I could make good decisions on my own?

I look at Harding, who is watching me carefully, like he knows where my thoughts have gone.

Are you making a good decision now?

I’m not so sure, but the fact is, I want him. I have for a very long time now. What’s wrong with two consenting adults having a little fun together? Not a damn thing. As long as we keep it under wraps, it’ll all be good, right?

The waiter comes with our drinks and Harding lifts his cup for a salute. “What should we drink to?” he asks.

“Old friends.”

His warrior features soften when he says, “We were never friends, Adeline.”

“Okay, to new friends.”

I take a big gulp to calm my nerves, and as he watches me, there’s a new intensity about him, one that excites me almost as much as it frightens me. I saw that intensity in the ring when he was fighting and I see it again now as he looks at me—like he wants to eat me alive. But I have no reason to be afraid; he told me he’d never lay a hand on me—unless I wanted him to. But oh, how I want him to. More than ever. Especially with the wine relaxing me.

“Is that what we are?” he asks, the sexual tension between us off the charts. “New friends?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

We click glasses and after another very big drink, I ask, “Do you ever get lonely? Being on the road all the time.”

“I don’t really have any reason to stay in one place.”

He shrugs like it’s nothing but I get the sense that it’s something—that he’s not tell me the whole truth—even though he’s been open and honest with me up until now. Maybe the fact that he has no one embarrasses him. I nod and think back to high school. He had potential, for sure, but his home life sucked. I think his father was even arrested for assaulting Harding in our senior year, but I’m not about to bring that up. He had no one rooting for him, urging him to do more with his life. Too bad, really.

My napkin falls to the floor. I bend, but Harding is there first, gathering it in his big hand before I can reach it. He takes my cloth napkin and gives me his clean one in return. He’s so rough and tough in the ring, but this is another side of him, a tender one I like a lot.

“I never knew you were such a gentleman, Harding.”

“No?”

“I guess I just thought…” I let my words fall off. What the heck am I supposed to say? I thought you just wanted to fuck?

“Thought what?” he pushes.

“That we would go back to your hotel and just have sex,” I blurt out, then instantly wish I could take back my words.

His eyes darken, and his muscles go stiff. “You were nervous. I wasn’t going to touch you until you wanted me to.”

My heart squeezes at the sweet gesture, so I give myself a quick lecture. Careful, girl. You could fall for a guy like him.

“So you’re saying you did just want to go back to your place to have sex.” I’m not sure whether to feel happy or sad about that, because I’m enjoying this moment and getting to know him better.

“There are a lot of things I want to do with you and yes, fucking is one of them. But I wanted to get reacquainted first. You see, Adeline, when I take you, I want you ready and eager, and you should know that I’m not always a gentleman.”

Why does that excite me so much? Oh, maybe because I’ve only been with one other guy and that experience left me with a bad taste in my mouth and not eager to go through it again. But, after one night in Harding’s bed, I have no doubt I’ll walk away feeling something else altogether. I wet my dry lips, my body urging me to spread my legs and let this man do whatever it is he wants to do to me.

“Here’s the thing, though.” He leans toward me, so close I can feel his breath on my face. “If you keep licking your lips like that, I’ll have to take you before we get back to the hotel.”

I gasp and find myself licking my lips again. God, am I doing it on purpose? I think I might be. Good Lord, what is happening to me?

“Adeline,” he growls.

“Yes.”

“You’re still licking your lips.”

Heat curls through me as we stare at each other for a long moment, neither speaking, neither breathing. “I know,” I say, breaking the quiet.

“Go to the bathroom,” he orders.

“What?”

“Get up from the table, and go to the bathroom.”

“Harding, I—”

“Now, Adeline.”

A fine quiver moves through me. While I like the gentlemanly side of him, this take-charge alpha side is mind-blowingly sexy, and makes me want to follow his every last order.

“Why do you call me—”

His jaw clenches. “Now,” he says, a new hardness in his tone. My body trembles as I toss my napkin to the table. When I make a move to get up, he stands to pull my chair out for me. He might come from the wrong side of the tracks, but there are so many right things about him.

I force my legs to work, and cut through the dimly lit restaurant. Why is he sending me away? Is it so I can pull myself together and stop licking my lips, or is he planning on following me and taking me up against the wall in the women’s bathroom? Which do I want more? I enter the small room and stand there. It’s quaint, a one-person only washroom, and I lean against the sink and try to fill my lungs as I debate on locking the door.

A second later a knock comes.

“I’m in here,” I say, having no idea who is on the other side, but can’t deny that I’m hoping it’s Harding.

The knob turns and I grip the sink tighter. He steps inside, everything about him predatory as he closes the door, locks it, and takes two measured steps until he’s standing over me. He cups my chin and angles it until my lips are open and poised.

“I want you. If you say you don’t want me, I’ll take you back to your car and see you get home safely. If you say you want me, I’m going to fuck you right here, right now.”

I think about my choices, and while my brain is screaming at me, telling me to do one thing, my body isn’t listening. Nope, my body is plugging its damn ears and saying, lalalalala.

“Which is it, Adeline?” he asks pointedly, his hot gaze racing over my face as he waits for an answer.

“I want you,” I manage to say around a tongue gone thick.

He dips his head and his lips crash down over mine, hungry, demanding as his tongue slides into my mouth. He groans as he tastes me and I slide my hands around his back, eager to touch him all over. I tug at his shirt, slide my hands under it and palm his muscles. My God, his body is so hard and warm, I want to crawl inside his shirt and stay there forever.

“Fuck,” he murmurs between fierce kisses, and backs me up until I’m against the door. Lust drives me and I palm his back, and lightly scratch his skin, unable to get him close enough. With little finesse and much greed—that turns me on even more—he shoves a knee between my legs to widen them, then pushes against me until I’m riding his knee. Jesus, I can’t believe I’m dry humping Harding in the restaurant bathroom. How delightfully naughty. Seriously though, this is so out of character for me. But I like it. I like it a lot.

He gyrates, pushing his pelvis against my abdomen and I briefly close my eyes against the flood of heat. His cock is rock hard, and big, as it presses into me. Oh my God, the rumors are true. He is sporting a king cobra. Since I’ve only been with one guy, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at that.

Skilled hands pull my arms from around his back and pin them over my head. I gasp, never having been restrained in such a sexy way before.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you?” he asks, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses to my face and neck while he confines me with one hand and examines my curves with the other.

“No,” I murmur.

“A long fucking time, Adeline. Long before we ever had to work on that assignment.”

A thrill goes through me. “I didn’t know,” I say for lack of anything. Since he’s being so honest, I decide to confess as well. “I’ve wanted you for a long time too,” I whisper.

He goes still, perfectly still, then he inches back. Our gazes meet, and his nostrils flare.

“How long?”

“Long before that assignment.”

My words seem to do something primal to him. His nostrils flare again and a low moan catches in his throat. Warm lips crash down on mine, hungry, far more possessive than he was earlier. Feeling crazed, reckless, I kiss him back and our tongues tangle, nothing but need ruling my actions. I don’t care that I’m in a restaurant bathroom, and people could be lined up outside. All I care about is feeling this man inside me.

With a new urgency about him, he dips his head and unbuttons my blouse; his big fingers are so skilled and deft I can’t wait to feel them on my body, inside me. He slides my shirt from my shoulders and air leaves his lungs in a hiss when he sees my lace bra and I give a silent prayer of thanks that I put on something sexy. Despite my protests with Sara, is it possible that I had hoped something like this would happen? I’m thinking so.

He leans into me and his hot breath scorches my skin as he kisses me through the lace. My nipples swell, poke through the material, and he growls with approval. I am dying here. Seriously dying.

He grips the material and tugs it down until my breasts are exposed, then he stands back to take a good long look at me. The air grows heavy with lust, and it’s all I can do to fill my lungs. He shakes his head, and gives a low, slow whistle, the smile on his face making me feel like a prized possession.

“You are so gorgeous,” he whispers.

“So are you.” I reach for him, desperate to touch him all over, to take his hard cock into my hands and mouth.

“I need to taste you,” he says.

I reach for the button on his pants. “Same.”

His gaze shoots to mine and his hand captures mine before I can touch him. “You want to taste me?”

“Yes, I want your cock in my mouth.”

He grip on my wrist tightens. “Jesus Christ, Adeline, you can’t say shit like that to me.”

A quiver moves through me. Honest to God, I can’t believe I’m able to reduce this big, dangerous fighter to a mass of need.

“But it’s true,” I say, wanting to tease him more, to see this strong, dangerous fighter come undone—because of me. “I want to take you as deep as I can and then I want you to come in my mouth.”

He growls, and pushes a hand between my legs. He rubs me through my jeans. “As nice as that sounds,” he begins, his voice heavy with lust. “I want to be balls-fucking-deep in here when I come. I want to feel the heat of your pussy on my cock, want your juices dripping over my shaft when I fill you with my cum.”

Oh. My. God.

With my body screaming for release, and my breath growing shallow, I ask, “Then what are you waiting for?”

He looks at me, his gaze scalding, his muscles rippling, and I know I landed a direct hit. I move against his hand, bolder than I’ve ever been before, but Harding brings out another side of me, one I was always afraid to show. But with him I don’t feel embarrassed by my needs. In fact I feel empowered, greedy, so ready to let go for once in my life, and enjoy before I go back to burying my nose in my books and walking the straight and narrow.

“Fuck, I’ve been in the ring with some nasty motherfuckers, yet I somehow sense that you’re going to be the death of me.”

I move my pelvis, and he rips into my jeans, tugging them to my knees. I squirm, wanting them lower, but he turns the tables on me, taking full control. He shoves a hand between my locked thighs, and goes higher until he’s nudging my clit and I cry out. He feels my wetness, and I move against him, sensations rocketing through me.

“You need my cock in here?” he asks.

“Yes,” I cry out.

“You know, I think I’m going to make you wait a bit longer.”

A whimper crawls out of my throat. An actual whimper. That’s never happened before, but then again, I’ve never been locked in the bathroom with such a primal being before, either. “No…Please, Harding,” I beg, needing him to take me over before I shatter into a million tiny pieces. “Your cock…hurry.”

He grins, and my plea turns to a moan when he sinks to his knees, slides a tongue between my snug lips and dips into my heat. He looks up at me. “Still want me to hurry?”

“No, yes, God, I don’t know.” His chuckle skitters through me and I moan, never wanting him to stop what he’s doing, even though I’m desperate for his cock. I run my fingers through his hair, holding him to me like the needy slut I am.

“Mmmm,” he growls, “So fucking sweet. I knew you would be.”

He licks me, and alternates between shoving his tongue up inside me, and swiping it over my aching clit. I try to move, but he grips my hips to hold me still. A restless energy arcs between us but he seems hellbent on taking his time, drawing this seduction out. My heart races, crashes, as I try to move, but can’t do anything but stand there and bask in the pleasure building between my legs.

He eases my pants down a bit more and I’m able to open slightly, just enough for him to get a thick finger inside me.

“Yes,” I cry out, not giving a damn who’s listening now. I want this, need this. He strokes deep, brushing the rough pad of his thumb over the hot bundle of nerves inside me while his tongue glides over my clit. I am so close. So damn close, I can barely think, let alone breathe. I cup my breasts, run my thumbs over my nipples and he glances up at me. He briefly pinches his eyes shut like the sight of me playing with myself is more than he can bear.

He changes the pace, the rhythm between my legs and a cry lodges in my throat as sensations take over. I pant, grasp at him, pull him to me, push him away, hanging on to the edge of oblivion by my fingernails, but when he inserts a second finger, my body lets go and gives itself over to the pleasure.

“Yes,” I whimper and toss my head from side to side as he laps at me to draw out the powerful release. I swallow against the dryness in my throat as he climbs up my quivering body, and when I see my moisture glistening on his face, I’m astounded by how much that turns me on again.

I reach down, rip into his pants and shove my hand inside. I take him in my hand. God, he’s so thick and full, I don’t think I’ll get my mouth around him, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to give it my best. I stroke him a few times, dip into the pre-cum pearling on his crown and use it for lubricant.

“Fuck, Addy, that feels good.”

“I want you in my mouth.”

Instead of answering, he grips my shoulders and pushes down until I’m on my knees, and I find it completely thrilling. Why is it no matter what this man does, it turns me on?

As I crouch before him, he shoves his jeans to his ankles, and takes his cock into his hand. He runs his palms from base to tip, and more cum pearls on the end. I sit there shell-shocked as I watch him. Never have I seen a man stroke himself before. Who knew it would be so sexy? I lick my lips and he groans.

“Open up,” he says and comes toward me, his cock like a heat-seeking missile. As much as I want him to come in my mouth, I do need him inside me more. Maybe next time he can shoot down my throat. Wait! What? There’s not going to be a next time, and I’d be wise to remember that.

“Suck me, Adeline.”

I open my mouth as wide as possible and he feeds me his cock. It fills my mouth, widens my lips and stings a little, but I like it. I take him to the back of my throat and gag a bit.

“Easy,” he says, and tries to inch out, but I stop him. I want to take him deep, want to make this so good for him. I relax my throat, and breathe through my nose as I plunge forward, until he’s filling my throat and cutting off my air supply.

“Holy fuck,” he says and grips my hair. He wraps it around his hand and watches me take him in, and I work my mouth over him to give him a performance. “You are so good at that,” he growls. I work the length of him with one hand and cup his balls with the other. They draw up into his body, and from his curses, I suspect he’s close.

“Stop,” he orders, and gives my hair a tug to pull me off of his cock. His expression is full of agony as he grips my shoulders and pulls me up. “I need to be inside you,” he says, and presses his lips to mine for a hot kiss.

“Yes, please,” I murmur into his mouth, and wiggle out of my pants. God, it’s crazy how much I ache to feel him inside me. After my last experience I thought there was something wrong with me. Now, well, now I know it’s because I wasn’t with Harding.

He’s for you.

As Sara’s words once again bounce around inside my brain, Harding bends to grab something from his pants. “Condom,” he says, but I stop him.

I shake my head. “No.” Sex without a condom is reckless I know, but there is a part of me that knows this man, trusts this man, trusts that he’d never do anything to hurt me. And I want his cum in me, I want him to fill me now, so I can feel it dripping from me later—a sweet reminder of this night—when he’s gone and I’m alone in my bed.

“You sure?” he asks.

“I’m clean.”

“I am too. I’ve never had sex without a condom before.”

Ecstasy flitters though me to know I’ll be his first. You never forget your first, right, and even though emotions play no part in this game, I kind of like the idea of him never forgetting me and vice versa.

He pushes against me, his crown probing my wet opening and I moan and rock against him. With commanding hands, he grips my ass, lifting me clear from the floor.

“Legs around me,” he orders his voice sounding tight, tortured, full of raw lust. I put my legs around him and squeeze to hang on, but I don’t need to. He’s holding me firmly in his arms like I weigh nothing more than a damn paperweight. I squirm, trying to impale myself on him, but it’s useless. He’s controlling my movements, the pace, completely in charge of my pleasure. He slowly eases into me, offering me only an inch at a time. I grumble, and he chuckles, amused at the torture he’s inflicting upon me.

I pound his back. “Harding...” I warn, but he seals my protest with a kiss. His lips press into mine, and our tongues play as he slides into me until finally—finally—I have every last inch of him deep in my sex. I moan, never having felt so deliciously full before.

“Oh God, that is soooo good,” I moan.

He breaks the kiss. “Is this what you’ve been begging for, Addy?”

“Yes.”

“You need my cock?”

“I need it,” I whimper and squirm, rotating my hips to get him moving. “I need you to fuck me, Harding.”

“Yeah? You’re hurting for it?”

“I’m hurting for you,” I say, and his eyes turn a deeper shade of blue.

I tangle my hands around his neck and hang on as he pushes me against the wall, pulls almost all the way out and powers into me.

“Ohmigod,” I cry out as he takes me the way I’ve never been taken before, yet always needed to be. How did Sara know? How did she know he was the one for me? Well, sexually that is.

My blood flows thick and heavy. Never in my life have I had two orgasms in a row, not even when using my vibrator. I suspect that is all going to change tonight.

Heat sizzles through me as he pounds, grunts, and drives impossibly deeper. I gasp, scratch at him, and open my body to his. I want everything he can give me, even though I know one night with him will ruin me for every other man. But I can’t think about that right now. Not when my orgasm is so close and I can feel the tension rising in his body, the way he’s struggling to hang on.

We rock together as one, our bodies in sync like we’ve been doing this forever, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Wanting him to come with me, I squeeze my sex muscles around the long length of him.

“Fill me with your cum, Harding.”

“Jesus,” he bites out, and slams deep. He goes still and I bask in the way his cock swells inside me, each pulse matching my own. I bury my face in his neck, breathe in the clean soapy scent of his skin and hang on as we both ride out the ebbs and flows. Glorious. Absolutely freaking mind blowing glorious.

When our pulses slow he puts his forehead to mine and we both gasp for air, trying to regulate our breathing. He brushes my hair from my forehead, the warmth of his hand so nice on my skin. I close my eyes, and lean into him, unable to get close enough.

“You good, Adeline?”

“I’m good. You?”

He chuckles. “I’m better than good.” We continue to breathe in silence, as seconds turns to minutes, and then he asks, “Are you ready for dinner? Our waiter is probably wondering what the hell happened to us.”

“Dinner?” He chuckles again, and that’s when I remember we’re in a bathroom. “Oh, my God,” I say, and cover my mouth with my hand. “I can’t believe we just had sex in the bathroom.”

“I wanted to wait, but Jesus, Adeline.” He stops talking for a second and shakes his head. “The way you were licking your lips, I had no choice but to throw in the towel and take you right now.”

“What is it about me licking my lips that gets to you?” I ask, and swipe my tongue over my bottom lip, wanting so much more from him tonight, even though this is supposed to be a one-night stand. Then again, why does it have to end tonight? Why can’t we keep having sex until he leaves for his next fight?

Oh, because you could fall for him. Who the heck am I kidding? I’ve been crazy about him since the first time I set eyes on him, and any more time in his bed will be emotional suicide. The best thing to do is to get out now before I end up with a broken heart.

“You told me you were hungry, and if you keep that up, we’ll never get out of this bathroom,” he warns.

Walk away. Get out now.

“Oh, I’m hungry, Harding.” I place my hand over his expanding cock. “But it’s not food I’m interested in putting in my mouth.”

Well done, Kat. Well done.