She leaned in, brushing her cheek against the line of his c**k until he nearly hissed. How such a small thing could feel so amazing he didn’t know, but it did.

She licked up the line from his sac to the crown, around and around, before sucking him into the heat of her mouth. Hot and wet, she took him deep, so deep he grunted at how amazing it felt.

Over and over, the rhythm of her down and up, down and up, the heat cooling as she retreated, only to shock him again as she swallowed his cock. Her nails scored up the backs of his thighs, her hands flattening on his ass to pull him closer.

From his vantage point he could take in the color on her back as her hair moved. It was so good he had an inner quarrel with himself. He told himself he could stop her in just a bit because he wanted more of her mouth. Then he told himself he had great recovery time and if he came in her mouth—and that idea appealed quite a lot—that he could concentrate on making her come and then by the time he was ready again, he could f**k her.

So he could have both.

Yes, that was it.

What he really wanted was to grab that gorgeous hair, wrap it around his fists for purchase so he could f**k her face. Not dignified. But he wanted it with so much greed it clawed at him.

She pulled back and looked up at him. The sight of those eyes and the expression on her face shocked him to his toes.

“Is there a problem?” One brow rose.

He laughed, giving in enough to caress her face and head. “Only the wealth of options you present.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t know you well enough yet.”

“Hm. You know me well enough to put your c**k in my mouth.”

Put that way . . .

He licked his lips.

“I said I didn’t play games when it came to sex and I meant it. I think you should do the same.”

He didn’t want to scare her off. God knew he wanted at this woman for a while to come. But she was right.

“Get back to work.”

His tone changed, and then his expression did. It sent a shiver through her and there was nothing more she wanted than to do exactly as he’d asked. No. Commanded.

So she did.

She knew he’d been holding back. Could feel the fine muscle tension in his arms as he’d touched her.

And then he shoved his fingers through her hair and tugged hard enough to bring a gasp, which quickly turned into a moan. That did things to her; shivers ran riot over her skin as her control slipped.

He tugged. Using her hair. Bringing her mouth on him closer, sending his c**k farther back into her mouth.

She hated it when men touched her head during a blow job. But this was . . . different. Like a whole different planet.

He groaned and thrust as he pulled her forward, using her hair.

She struggled to get her breathing right, fought back panic. But she could do this, damn it. She wanted to do it. Wanted to make him feel good. Got off on the way he handled her, taking what he wanted.

And in a minute or two, she found her rhythm, got her breathing regulated and relaxed.

She hummed and he snarled. The satisfaction of affecting him like that seemed to shoot straight to her ni**les, which throbbed in time with her thundering heart.

“Goddamn, yes. Like that. Christ, you’re so f**king hot.”

She held on, breathing, licking and sucking until his taste filled her, the hot wet of him titillated as she took everything he had to give.

And when she pulled back and kissed him, he picked her up, raining kisses all over her face as he moved her to his bed and lay her there with so much care she had to open her eyes to look at him.

He was smiling. “Wow.”

It made her laugh as he joined her, the heat of his body against hers.

“Thanks.”

“Now it’s my turn to get a taste.”

He kissed her. Kissed her so long and slow and deep she thought she’d burst from her skin. She was pretty sure she hadn’t kissed like this in fifteen years at least. There was sex now, and so the kiss got short shrift on the way to f**king, which was a certainty. Back in the days of the long make-out, sex was an oh-my-god-I-hope-she-lets-me thing.

But this man knew he’d f**k her. And he kissed her long and slow because he wanted to. It was disarming and the panic returned. She was a kiss-a-few-times, f**k-hard-and-fast-and-go-home sort of woman. It suited her. But this was soul-deep f**king. Jonah Warner got under her skin, saw into her heart, and there were things inside she didn’t want anyone knowing.

But he wasn’t one to be rushed.

She took his hand and put it on her breast. He twisted the bar until she gasped into his mouth. And then he slid that hand all along her arm, clasping her fingers with his. And kept kissing.

He nipped her bottom lip. So hard it sent ripples of pain through her body. And then he returned to lave the sting with such gentleness it cut through her.

He kissed her, licked her tongue, her lips, he nipped and laved, sucked and seduced her mouth until she’d have given him just about anything.

And he was only getting started.

Later, she’d realize this was probably the moment she’d gotten in over her head with this man. But she couldn’t think straight. Not with his hands on her. Not with the way he made her feel singing through her veins. She was drunk with him.

He finally pulled back, his face still very close to hers. His lips swollen from those long, drugging kisses. “You taste so good.”

She swallowed hard. She worked to reclaim her inner sex vixen, but he rendered her a lazy mess, like a kitten in a freaking patch of sunshine.