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fantasies almost exclusively featured Cat buck naked.
    Total exhaustion had left him addled, but it was clear now. This was the real deal. Cat Thomas, wet and wanting, thighs spread wide under him, was waiting for him to slide home and make her scream. He didn’t know what had changed her mind about him, but it was about fucking time.
    In the utter blackness, on the precipice of fantasy becoming reality, every sound seemed amplified. The tear of foil, his own heaving breaths as her sure fingers worked the condom over his cock, her gasp as he tipped his hips forward, testing her readiness.
    “Yess,” she hissed, clutching at his hips, dragging him deeper, inch by inch. “I want it all.”
    The need was so keen it made him dizzy, and he gave up the fight, filling her tight sheath in one sure thrust. Deep, so deep she whimpered against his shoulder, and he started to pull back. Dial down the intensity. She was so small, and he—
    Her teeth clamped down hard on his shoulder, and her nails dug into his lower back, urging him on. Begging him wordlessly not to stop.
    She dropped her head back to the pillow and pulsed her hips against his, faster and faster. “I’m so close. Just…”
    He’d wanted to tease, to play, to cool her back down only to fan those flames even higher, but he was so far gone. She whispered another plea, but it came on a hiccup, and he froze, buried deep in her clutching heat, primed for release. His breath sawed in and out of his lungs with the effort of his restraint. He peered at the clock. Almost 4:00 a.m. Had she been drinking this whole time? “Cat, I—”
    “Don’t.” Her tone was high and reedy, ripe with want. “Don’t you dare. Fucking. Stop.” She strained against him, wild and desperate for something only he could provide.
    He tried to think clearly, to fight off the instinct to propel them both into oblivion. Then her body squeezed over him, sucking at him, luring him toward an orgasm he could no more deny her than he could himself, and all coherent thought ceased. Blood roaring in his ears, he pulled back and plunged forward again, gripping her hips tight, the pressure of his own release clawing at him like a beast demanding satisfaction.
    “Yeah, yeah, just like that,” she chanted, stretching beneath him, her whole body tensing.
    Just like that. It was all so fucking perfect. But did she even know what she was doing or who she was with?
    “Say my name.” His voice was raw and low. “Say it, Cat,” he demanded, snapping his hips against hers in steady, hard thrusts. “You know it’s me, so fucking say it.”
    Her head tossed on the pillow and she moaned, “Damn, ah, Shane! I—I—oh God.” Her body clasped him tight and fluttered, clutching and releasing as she came hard around his cock.
    Triumph coursed through him, sending him hurtling over the edge, and his body bucked, hot liquid pooling in his balls before pumping into her. Her body milked him dry, the waves of ecstasy leaving him shuddering. For a long moment, he stayed poised over her, his pulse pounding so loud it was a wonder he could hear anything else. Because he’d just had sex with Cat Thomas. And it had been damned good. Excellent, really. But something told him that things were about to go downhill fast.
    He rolled to the side to take care of the condom, and before he could roll back, she’d sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Soldiering through the stab in his gut at her rush to get away from him, he kept his voice low.
    “So that’s it? You going to run now, Cat?”

Chapter Three
    Hells yeah, she was going to run. Shane had just turned her ass upside down, and her head was reeling. The whole have-sex-to-get-him-out-of-her-system plan had failed miserably. She should have known better. She’d read her fair share of romance novels, and none of that shit ever worked out the way it was supposed to. But she’d prided herself on not being one of those women.
    Yet here she was.
    She