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moment when the promise of him inside her was imminent, but not yet, not yet, oh, not yet. Her head dropped back, and the elastic holding her hair up lost the battle with gravity and sex. Eyes still closed, she kept hold of her skirt with one hand and lifted the other to tug the elastic free. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders.
    â€œChrist,”
he said.
    Little by little she sank down, taking him in slow, hot stages, shivering with each subtle stretch until her inner thighs pressed against his hip bones and he was fully inside her.
    â€œOh,” she said. “Oh, yes.”
    Heat wicked along her nerves as she rode him, lost in sensation. She kept her skirt lifted to just the tops of her thighs and planted her hand on his sternum as she moved. This gave her the leverage to lift and fall and helpfully kept his undershirt pushed up. Her gaze flitted from his eyes to his mouth to his incredible torso to his clenched fists.
    â€œSo good,” she said.
    â€œFaster,” he said.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œMore.”
    She laughed, then shifted her weight from her knees to the hand on his sternum, let her skirt drop, put that hand on his shoulder, and leaned. “More of this would be good, wouldn’t it?” she murmured in his ear. “I’m not going to give it to you. If you want more, take it.”
    He groaned, and the grabby impulse did him in. His hands clamped around her hips, driving her down as he thrust up. There was a short battle as he tried to keep his shoulders off the bed, but she pushed him flat on his back and whispered, “I win.”
    â€œFuck winning,” he said, and rolled her to her back. His next thrust, deep and hard and uncompromising, made her cry out. She wrapped her legs around his hips, flattened her hands at the base of his spine, and lifted into his pounding strokes. Her entire nervous system went up in flames as her orgasm steamrolled her. He followed her almost immediately, muffling his low groan in her hair.
    When she came out of it, the first thing she noticed was his hand cupping the back of her head to push her mouth against his shoulder and stifle her cries. She rolled her head into the touch, feeling his fingertips press into all the tight spots in her skull.
    â€œThat was incredible,” she said.
    â€œExcept for the part where I lost,” he said, the low rumble of his voice in his chest too satisfied to give the words any weight. He pulled out and removed the condom, then a couple of strides took him to the bathroom. Sarah rolled to her side, pushed her skirt over her hip, found her hair elastic in the sheets and pulled it over her wrist. When he emerged, he was zipped up and tucked in, drat it.
    â€œHi,” she said, grinning.
    He leaned against the door frame and scowled at her, but she could see a satisfied set to his shoulders. “I underestimated you.”
    â€œYou certainly did,” she said.
    â€œYou won. What do I lose?”
    She sat up, found her panties on the floor by the foot of the bed, and pulled them on. “Come over for dinner,” she said.
    â€œI lost so you’re going to cook me dinner?”
    â€œSomehow I doubt you get many home-cooked meals,” she said with a glance at his apartment. She could see what appeared to be training manuals stacked in the oven.
    â€œEating your food isn’t a penalty.”
    â€œThe penalty is that you cleanse your palate before you eat.”
    His brows drew down. “You mean some kind of crazy detox diet? I transport one or two of those a month. They’re hell on your system and a really bad idea.”
    â€œDo I look like the kind of woman interested in detox diets? Not that palate. Don’t masturbate until you come over.”
    He blinked. “What?”
    She slid past him into a bathroom so tiny, she had to all but step into the shower to wash her hands in the sink. When she looked in the mirror she saw his broad back and his profile as he