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stroking his thumbs around her nipples and when she sneaked a look at him from under her lashes, she saw that he was also staring at the way his hands looked on her flesh.
    Arching into his touch, she said softly, “Isn’t that kind of up to me to decide?”
    “You’re supposed to take it easy.”
    She reached down and undid his belt, slowly released the button on his trousers, lowered the zipper. “Then we’ll just have to drag out the whips and chains next time, huh?”
    Slipping her hand inside, she closed her fingers around his cock and stroked. With a groan, he crushed his mouth to hers.
    Those wicked, wicked fingers would drive him out of his mind if he wasn’t careful, he realized.
    Or maybe they already had, because there was no way in hell he could be sane and still be doing this. If he were sane, he wouldn’t have stripped Dez out of her clothes, wouldn’t be easing her body back so that she lay spread out over the cool white marble of the kitchen island. Her flesh glowed a soft, warm brown, her breasts round and full, her belly softly rounded. Her hips flared out, a sweet, sweet curve that had driven him insane pretty much from the beginning. Her legs, strong and sleek, parted for him as he moved up closer.
    Dez stroked a hand down the front of his shirt and said, “You’re still dressed.”
    He knew. He needed to do something about that, but first…
    Between her thighs, the flesh of her sex was glistening and pink, already wet. Wet…for him. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Reaching down, he cupped her in his hand and as he pushed a finger inside her, he watched her face.
    “I don’t have anything with me,” he said, his voice ragged. This had been the last, the absolute last thing he had planned on doing—even though it was the one thing he wanted more than anything else on earth.
    He was so unprepared, it was laughable. He had his hand between Desiree Lincoln’s thighs, one finger inside her snug, wet pussy, and his cock ached like a bad tooth and the nearest fucking gas station was fifteen miles away.
    Her lashes drooped low over her eyes. “I’m on birth control.” Then she arched her hips against his hand, a shuddering sigh rolling out of her. “And that’s not the only consideration…but I’m clean. Broke up with my last serious boyfriend a few years ago and haven’t been intimate with anybody since him.”
    He knew she’d broken up with the guy—he even knew the date. He knew the guy’s name, his address, his job. And he also knew that the last thing he needed to be saying was, “I have a physical yearly and I’m clean.”
    “We’re responsible, reasonable adults,” Dez said. She rocked against his hand once more and reached down, closed her fingers around his wrist, held him closer as she started to ride his hand slowly.
    His heart slammed against his ribs at the sheer, sweet sensuality of it.
    “Yes. And we should both know better.”
    Their gazes met. “Fuck it,” she whispered.
    He shoved his trousers down and tugged her to the edge of the island, steadied himself. Disentangling his hand, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and muttered, “Later, I’m going to taste you. All of you.” Then he licked them clean before gripping her hips.
    He had the pleasure of watching her eyes flutter as he pushed inside…slowly. Feeling that soft flesh yield and stretch around him as he took her. Slick, tight…so wet. Skin to skin. He hadn’t gone skin to skin with a woman…ever. As he buried himself completely inside her, he pressed his brow to hers and stared into her dark, warm eyes, shaken to the very core.
    “Dez,” he whispered against her lips.
    She brought her legs up, wrapped them around his hips.
    “Make love to me, Taylor,” she murmured.
    How could he do anything but?
    * * *
     
    LATER, he kept his promise. After Dez called her friend Julie and told her she’d have somebody with her and would be okay through the night, of course.
    And after Taylor did something she didn’t