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cherry-red bra perfectly cupping her breast. Her nipple strained at the delicate lace, drawing his attention and making his breath quicken. “You are as beautiful as I remember.”
    He bent and took her nipple in his mouth, rolling its taut form under his tongue before suckling on it hard through the lace.
    “Nick,” Lauren raked her nails over his shoulders, her hips bucking forward. He pressed his free hand to the small of her back, holding her still as he drew on her breast. She whimpered, clinging to him, those wordless sounds slipping from her again. Wordless sounds that grew to raw pleas. “Oh, Nick, that feels so good. So good…”
    He laved her nipple, caught it between his teeth and flicked his tongue over it. She arched in his arms, one long leg wrapping around the back of his thigh. His blood roared through his veins, in his ears at the warmth of her sex, her pussy, so close to his groin. It shoved him dangerously close to the edge.
    “Fuck me,” he ground out against her breast, raking his hand down to her arse to cup her left cheek, “I’m about five minutes away from—”
    She reached up and yanked her bra aside, freeing her nipple of the concealing lace, and the rest of his sentence was lost to him.
    He latched onto the taut point of flesh, drawing it into his mouth with hungry need. Lauren moaned and arched into him, stroking her heat against the length of his erection through their clothes, her nails digging into the backs of his shoulders. A disconnected part of his mind wondered where his leather jacket had gone. A far more involved part pointed out it didn’t fucking matter. Lauren Robbins was in his arms. Who the fuck cared about a jacket?
    He scooped her breast, now completely released of her bra, deeper into his palm, massaging its beautiful weight as he feasted on her nipple. With every suck and nip, she whimpered, thrusting her pussy harder to his cock. His straining, throbbing cock.
    Ah, Christ, he was close to coming.
    It was always this way with Lauren, Nick. You lost control every time she touched you. Lost control and lost yourself in her heat, her smell, her taste…
    The thought seared into him, hot and powerful. Every song he’d ever written was about her, every rhyme forged by what they’d had and what he’d walked away from.
    And now here he was, her flesh in his mouth, her nipple under his tongue, her pleasure turning the air musky.
    Christ, he wanted to be inside her.
    He straightened from her breast, grazing her chin and mouth with his lips before dragging his thumb over her nipple. “Let me make love to you, Lauren. Right now.”
    She opened her eyes, gazing up at him through heavy lids. “Nick…”
    His name fell from her lips, part supplication, part request.
    Without another second wasting time, he hauled her off her feet, threw her onto the bed and crushed her to the mattress with his body. He captured her lips with his, his kiss as savage as his lust. His head roared, the pain of his concussion insignificant to the dire need, the concentrated pleasure consuming him. She writhed beneath him, her hands raking over his back, her sex grinding to his erection.
    Fuck, it felt so good. So good. So potent and raw. It was as if they were two horny teenagers all over again, discovering each other with the full force of hormonal need. The first time he’d possessed her they’d been just that, barely legal and so fucking on fire he’d hardly stroked into her tightness once before losing his load. The second time—fifteen minutes later—had been just as hot, just as powerful. She’d cried out his name both times, begged him for more. Told him she loved him.
    And he’d buried his face in her neck, one hand on her breast, one hand knotted in the sheet of her single bed, his cock sheathed inside her wet heat, and told her he loved her too, would love her forever.
    Fuck, how had he let it all go so wrong?
    Fix it now. Give her everything you should have the last fifteen years.