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from under her lashes and smiled. “Dare you,” she said, just enough mockery in her voice to overrule any remaining remnants of his better nature.
    He released her then, but only to shift his grip to her waist.
    As he lifted her back onto the desk, she wrapped one leg around him and dragged him up against her—
    he wasn’t starting something and then walking away. Not this time. Fingers buried in the thick, silken mass of his hair, she devoured his mouth, using her teeth as much as her lips, loving the low growls she evoked.
    Tom wasn’t about risk, he was about control, always had been, and Ali loved making him lose it.
    They’d been together for almost five years before Mike had lured him away with the promise of power and no matter how bad things had gotten during those five years, the sex had always been incredible.
    He moved his mouth to her throat, licking and sucking at the curve where her neck met her shoulder, bringing the blood to the surface, his hands moving from her waist to her breasts, stroking her through the fabric of blouse and bra, strong fingers finding her nipples as they hardened and closing around them.
    Ali fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, needing to feel his skin under her hands.

    “You’ve been working out,” she gasped, both hands brushing quick and rough over the hard, hot planes of his chest and stomach as he licked along her collarbone and down over the swell of her breasts. She’d been trying for glib and had a feeling she’d missed it entirely.
    He laughed—at her, with her, at this point she didn’t really care—and dropped his hands to her thighs, running them up under her skirt. “I don’t have time…”
    “I don’t need time.” Not with the siren song still playing in her head.
    He took her at her word, reaching into the center drawer for a condom.
    “Do I want to know why you keep condoms in your desk?” she asked, leaning back on her elbows, as he rolled it on.
    Eyes dark, his lips curled. “Same reason I always did.”
    Same reason. Different partner.
    Her lips curled in answer to his. “Be a nice change for you then, back on top.”
    “We don’t have to do this, Ali.”
    She sat up, grabbed the wings of his shirt. “Yet we both know we’re going to.” She dragged his mouth back onto hers. He tasted like expensive coffee, the apple he always had for breakfast, and memories.
    The kiss got rougher, sloppier, wetter.
    One hand splayed against the small of her back, Tom pulled her toward the edge of the desk. The other hand slid up under her skirt, trailing lines of want along her inner thighs.
    Ali couldn’t keep from crying out as he entered her, wasted a moment hoping his office was as soundproof as it looked or that his secretary was considerably more discreet, then wrapped her legs around him and matched him stroke for stroke.
    Matching the rhythm of the music…
    It felt like she’d been on the edge since the first time she’d heard NoMan play and it didn’t take her long to fall.
    After, as she paused at the office door to slip the piece of paper with the date and address of the private concert into her purse, she glanced back at Tom. Dark curl of hair falling down into his face, his cheeks flushed, he looked like a debauched angel. Buttoning his shirt, he frowned down at the glossy surface of his desk like he was trying to work out just what exactly had happened.
    NoMan had happened.
    That was one hell of a band and there was no way she was letting Michael Richter have them…

    …too.

    “How nice of you to join us, Alysha. Tom tells me you know what I’m hoping to accomplish here tonight.”
    Mike’s smile was all dangerous edges and as he moved closer, Ali felt her heart begin to race. Behind him, Tom’s smile suggested she was totally screwed, and not in a fun way. Not this time. The interlude in his office had been just that—when it came to choosing sides, Tom had made his decision three years ago and, to give credit where credit