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touch warm, hard abs.
    “Tell me,” he said.
    She played with the waistband of his jeans. “Um . . .”
    “Oh, don’t lose your nerve now.” His mouth was at her ear. “Tell me, Maggie. Slow and sweet?” He skimmed his thumb over a nipple, making her arch into him. “Or fast and hard?” His other hand was up her skirt, playing with the edging of her panties. “Or somewhere in between?”
    “Fast and hard,” she decided as she shoved up his shirt, revealing his stomach, which made her mouth water. “Really fast,” she choked out, as his finger slipped just beneath her panties.
    “I can do fast.” He glided the pad of his finger over her, his own breathing uneven, his body tight against hers.
    She was breathing just as erratically, and her body was every bit as tight, and also trembling.
    And wet.
    She dropped her forehead to his chest. She could tell he was holding back, being careful with her, and she’d have expected that from Mr. Right but not Mr. Wrong.
    She didn’t want careful.
    She wanted wild, unmitigated, unadulterated passion, from him, for her, and she wanted that now, along with her fast. So she kissed him, gliding her tongue to his. He made a low, rough, intimately thrilling sound from deep in his throat and his arms came up, banding tightly around her, pulling her flush to him.
    Careful restraint gone. Mission accomplished.
    “Tell me it’s like getting back on a bike,” she gasped. “That I’m going to remember what to do next.”
    “Trust me, you’re going to remember.”
    “Okay.” Desire was getting the best of her, and her fingers outlined the bulge of him straining the front of his jeans.
    “See?” He breathed shakily. “You’re remembering already.”
    She could hear the loud beat of his heart in her ear, could feel him shudder in pleasure when she stroked him. He wanted her. Her Mr. Wrong wanted her. Unlike her last encounter, the man she was with wasn’t worrying about the time, or his next meeting, or how he looked. He was thinking of her, touching her, kissing her, completely lost in her, and she let herself get a little lost in that, lost in the heat, the passion, the need, all the things she’d deprived herself of for so long.
    He tugged off her blouse, let out an extremely satisfying growl at the sight of her, and lapped up some of the honey concoction he’d left on her breasts, his thumbs rasping over her nipples until she thunked her head back against the wall. “Definitely remembering.”
    “Good.” He laved one nipple with special, tender care, then gave the other the same attention, until her hips were rocking restlessly, needing, desperately needing. His hands danced up the back of her thighs, cupped her bottom and squeezed. “That’s real good.”
    She tried to tug off his T-shirt, murmuring in delight when he helped, pulling it over his head. When she leaned in to kiss his chest, he let his head fall back, his hand coming up to cup the back of hers, which tightened on her as she licked his nipple. Egged on by his shaky exhale and the way he moved hungrily against her, she did it again, lapping up his magnificent body, all lean, long, hard angles, so male, so hot. It was incredible, it was freeing, knowing this was just sex, that’s all, and for that moment she felt like a different woman, and she loved it. Loved how he made her feel. “I’m ready for the fast and hard portion of the program,” she whispered against his skin.
    “Me, too.” He urged her hand lower to prove it, helping her unzip his pants to free the essentials.
    “Oh,” she breathed, wrapping her fingers around him. “You’ve definitely got the hard part covered.”
    “Yeah. Let’s work on the fast.” Pressing his mouth to her shoulder, he hooked his fingers in her panties. “Lift up, Maggie.” He tugged the material off and over his shoulder. The table was cold against her butt, making her gasp, but he slid his hands beneath her.
    She’d meant to do this quick, meant to