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and the moisture of her mouth, and the taste of her name on his tongue. They’d been
     lying in his bed all night, neither of them sleeping. They’d just been licking and
     tasting and kissing. Their eyes glowed in the dark, holding each other’s gaze with
     curiosity and wonder. It was as if she, like him, couldn’t understand what she found
     so attractive about him in the first place.
    He didn’t know why he couldn’t stay away from her—but he was a man, and he didn’t
     give a shit why. He only knew he couldn’t get enough of this creature.
    When she stroked his lips with one fingertip, he ducked his head and kissed her mouth
     with gentle flicks of his tongue, his cock immediately throbbing for more. Bubbles
     of pleasure gushed through his bloodstream, the sensation almost new to him, for he
     hadn’t had someone in his bed in at least a decade. He didn’t want this woman to get
     up to eat or to drink or even to fucking pee.
    He curled his fingers around her hips and kept her locked in place, on her side facing
     him, as he angled his head and kissed her until he couldn’t feel his own lips, they
     were swollen and red and wet from her.
    “Can you feel your mouth?” He only stopped kissing her to ask her that, and to give
     her time to answer.
    “It’s asleep, I think.”
    She lifted her head and brushed those tingling lips against his, and his stomach got
     into a tangle. He’d bet all his millions that Ivy hadn’t had sex in a while either.
     Her hunger was as raw as his, as consuming, and it made him feel not so alone in the
     world. That there was someone out there, like him. He ducked and stroked his tongue
     between her lips, groaning when she sighed like she had missed it.
    “Do you feel that?” He slid deep inside, all the way past the tips of her teeth, then
     withdrew.
    “So good.” Her eyelids fluttered closed and she shuddered, flicking her tongue against
     his, her arms tightening around his neck.
    He eased onto his back and dragged her up against his side. Her flimsy camisole was
     plastered to her skin, delineating her belly button, her ribs, her small breasts under
     a lace bra. He hadn’t even undressed her fully. Her white cotton panties were still
     on, wet from her arousal. He’d wiped his mess off her pussy and his abdomen, but he
     could still smell his pleasure in the room. On her.
    She hooked a leg around him, her knee almost on his cock, as she bent to continue
     kissing him.
    He scraped his hands up her back and grabbed her ass, grinding her small frame against
     his larger one. “What date number would we need to be on for me to have you again,
     baby?” He pushed tendrils of her damp, tawny hair back behind her face with one hand
     and squeezed her ass with the other, aware that she leaned back to survey him with
     a coy little smile.
    “Usually…” She straddled him fully and rocked sinuously over him, and because the
     only connection of their bodies was at their hips now, it made him hyperaware of the
     moist slit of her pussy nestling his erection. “This wouldn’t happen until a couple
     of months into a relationship.”
    He curled his fingers on her waist to pin her in place. “Have you had many? Relationships?”
    “Not even one.”
    The strange knot that had formed inside him immediately eased. “Then what the fuck
     are all these rules for?” he growled.
    She laughed, her neck curving temptingly when her head fell back. “So I don’t get
     involved with assholes.”
    He released a dark laugh of his own. “Oh, baby, you chose a bad time to break your
     rule,” he said, but they both sobered when he clutched her pelvis and thrust his cock
     up against her pussy, grinding against the fabric of her damp panties.
    His temperature rose at the sight of those lace-encased breasts and her small, slim
     body straddling him, her porcelain skin glistening with sweat, her mouth swollen red
     and as inflamed as his own mouth felt. “Take off your panties