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little recourse but to remain still.
    He seemed to interpret her inaction as permission to touch her as he pleased. His mouth trailed down her nape, searing a path as he continued to fondle her. The gentle whisper of teeth and tongue contrasted with the strong fingers kneading her flesh, the warm muscular prison holding her captive. When she reached for his wrist in a weak attempt to slow him down, he clamped his teeth over her shoulder. His thigh ground against her in the same moment, the dual lance of pain and pleasure sending a burst of white light over the back of her lids.
    He hiked up her top, his rough palms scalding her ribcage. Steam dampened her skin as he peeled the thin cotton over her head, unhooked her bra, and tossed her clothing to the side.
    Bared from the waist up, she shivered as his T-shirt slid along her spine. When the dark fabric dropped to the floor, coarse hair and firm muscle replaced soft cloth against her back, the sensual abrasion making it near impossible to breathe. She clenched her hands into fists on the warming countertop, driven to near madness by the callused fingers brushing her arms.
    He caught her hips, and it took the slightest of nudges to get her to rock them. Arousal and desire had twined into a voracious hunger, the pressure at the apex of her legs building in an inexorable crescendo. Molten heat consumed her as he claimed her breasts. He rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, his mouth roaming over her bare skin. Her neck, the arches of her shoulder blades, every inch of her back became his playground. He kissed and nibbled until reality fogged, until harsh pants echoed around them, until needy pleas parched her throat.
    Before she hurtled over the edge, he pulled back and spun her to face him.
    Her feet hit cold tile, jerking her out of the sensual daze. Annoyed, frustrated, and needing to combat a belated pang of insecurity, she licked her lips and struggled to find fault with his physique. But the array of defined muscle lured her to touch, an impulse she indulged with shaking hands. She traced the shape of his pectorals, explored his abs, and watched his stomach tighten as she followed the line of dark hair down to his belt.
    He yanked her hands off the moment she tugged the metal buckle. Surprised by the rejection, she lifted her gaze. The barely-formed question never made it past her throat.
    Fusing his lips with hers, he sucked her tongue into his mouth. She tasted mint and a hint of coffee. Threading his fingers through her hair, he repositioned her head to ease his assault. For the first time in her adult life, she understood the true meaning of surrender.
    Left with no recourse but to close her eyes and follow his lead, she gave in to the madness. He was inside her, around her. His scent, the warmth of his body, the cocoon of sweat-slicked muscle, became her only reality. He relinquished her lips to claim her neck, his shifting grip curving her spine.
    She reached behind her in search of an anchor. Her hands met heated glass, but her arms buckled when he kissed his way over her shoulders down to her cleavage. He explored every inch of uncovered skin, whether it be the sensitive underside of her breasts or the soft swell of her belly.
    Smoothing one hand up her back to support her nape, he circled his other arm around her waist. His lips hovered over her nipple, his breath hot against her. She writhed, uncertain if she meant to move closer or inch away. Tightening his hold, he forced the choice out of her hands.
    Her hips bucked, her hands clawing his upper arms as he took possession. When she tried to twist free, he lifted his head and blew over her moistened flesh. The sudden temperature shift peaked the nipple. Before she could process this new torment, he bit lightly down, cutting off circulation for a few torturous moments. Easing off, he circled his tongue until her muffled whimpers morphed into high-pitched cries. When he relented, it was to switch to