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was too hard to breathe, too talk, to do anything but ride with his hand.
    Back and forth his busy finger slid over her slit, finding her clit, stroking there, circling there, her body weeping with delight. She bucked against him, feeling the hard ridge at her ass, and he moaned, but she was pinned against him, his hands keeping her down, and the hard torture continued.
    He seemed to like watching her squirm, liked to hear her whine and complain. Part sadist, that’s what he was, because his hand was destroying her. His movements were faster, and she could feel him grinding against her ass, which only infuriated her, but all she could think of was chasing the high, chasing the feeling, chasing the stars.
    She closed her eyes, her body arching, and her hips tilted up, and he laughed at her, and she wanted to make him pay, but not right now.
    Right now, she only wanted to…
    Come.
    There. Instantly her breathing resumed, and her body fell against him, sated and sleepy, and she wanted more. She wanted him inside her. She wanted this.
    Morning-after regrets be damned. Hell, great sex would probably inspire her to write a better story. Snag the Pulitzer. Show Little Lizette exactly how it was done.
    With ethics. With integrity. With the feel of a hard man thrusting inside her.
    Happily she turned, attacked his mouth with all the excitement building inside her.
    But then he pulled back. The man who was going to help her secure her job pulled away. Bastard.
    She was furious that he was able to stop. That he hadthe discipline, the ability. And once again, she was left to find her focus.
    Angry at him, at herself, at the way her jeans were unzipped, and her shirt was half torn, she stood and picked up her phone, because frankly, at the moment, she preferred it.
    “I have a job. It’s very important to me, and it depends on me pulling a rabbit out of a hat, and I don’t even know if I can do it, but I have to try. If you sidetrack me, I will spend the next two weeks flat on my back, screaming my lungs out in orgasmic ecstasy. I don’t need that. I have to spend the my time searching out whatever godforsaken newsworthy truths abound in these hills. I will not do this.”
    “You’re right,” he agreed easily, much more than she wanted. His eyes were shadowed in the dark, and she wished she could see them, wished she could see whether this was truth or a lie.
    Not that she cared.
    “I know I’m right. Now go,” she told him because this was her rock. This was her place. He didn’t want the stars or the night. He wanted his mangy cabin in the woods, so he could have it. But right now, he was going to have to prove to her that he could leave her. That he could leave the promise of sex, the promise of the human touch that she wanted to badly.
    Slowly he got to his feet, the moon casting him in silver, and he shoved an unsteady hand through his hair. At that moment, she thought she had him. She thought he would admit defeat because he kept staring at her mouth, at her face, and his normally aloof eyes were still fogged with desire, and it was the most romantic thing she’d ever seen.
    But in the end, he turned and swore, and she was alone on her rock, exactly as she’d asked.
    After he disappeared, Jenn picked up her phone, prepared to get lost in the stars. Sadly after he had gone, the stars seemed to disappear, as well.
     
    B ACK IN HIS CABIN, Aaron pulled off his shirt, dragged off his jeans and stalked out to the lake. It was a rare moment when he yearned for the privacy of a cold shower. She had done this to him, and at the moment, the lake was all he had. The water was icy cold, enough to freeze a man’s desire, diminish his libido. Didn’t work.
    Shit.
    Aaron lectured himself as he swam from one shore to the other, his arms stretching as far as they could. He didn’t know anything about her. Only knew she was a reporter and that she was here to write the story of her life. A story, she so candidly admitted, about