My body was languid, pliable, and still high on an orgasm, but as this man watched me while he walked around the bed with a volatile darkness in his gaze, my pulse began to tremble in my throat.

Goose bumps spread across my skin as the air-conditioner kicked on with a blast. He opened the nightstand drawer, pulled out a condom, and tossed it on top of the table. My stomach tightened, and a noise of surprise escaped me when he grabbed my ankle and jerked me to the side of the bed.

“These fucking shorts,” he gritted, grabbing the waistband and yanking them down my legs along with my thong.

A somewhat manipulative part of me knew exactly what he meant. The shorts resembled underwear, and I might have worn them in front of him while he was still my soon-to-be brother-in-law.

He tossed my clothes on the floor behind him. “Were you trying to fuck with me, Elena?”

The orgasm might as well have been truth serum, because I breathed, “Yes.”

He grasped my thighs, parted them, and then let out a low curse. His gaze flicked to my face, hardening. “Who else do you fuck with?”

The words hit me in the stomach and turned every drop of lust sour. He still thought I was a slut, and here I lay with my legs spread for him? With a glare, I yanked my thighs out of his grasp and stood. “Screw yourself, Nicolas.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’d rather screw you.”

“Too bad,” I snapped, pushing past him.

I didn’t make it another step before his arm wrapped around my waist, my feet left the floor, and he tossed me onto the bed. The air whooshed out of me and a breathless annoyance flared. “I’m not a doll you can throw around, and I’m not sleeping with you.”

He crawled onto the bed and kneeled between my legs. “No one said anything about sleeping,” he drawled.

I hated to admit it, but my body loved his voice and responded by growing warm everywhere. I was such a pushover. “Nico—”

“Platonic.”

I faltered. “What?”

A sigh escaped me as he ran his calloused palms down my thighs, spreading them. “You want me to stop, you say Platonic.”

The word only reminded me of how very un-platonic I wanted to be with him.

His fingers tightened on my inner thighs as two tense seconds passed between us. And when I didn’t say a word, his eyes grew so dark I could see his blackened soul. He lowered to his stomach, and anticipation fluttered and flared in every nerve ending.

I sighed a half-hearted “Wait,” but I should have saved my breath. It wasn’t the right word, and while I didn’t want to come off as a pushover, I didn’t want to say Platonic more. I leaned on my hands watching him, and as he pressed his face between my thighs and inhaled, my head fell back.

I once said that whatever Nico did, he did it with his all.

And God, did he ever.

His arms wrapped around my thighs, lifting them slightly, and then he licked me all the way from ass to clit. Steam crawled through my blood, lighting me on fire. I gasped, my fingers fisting the sheets.

It was so dirty, so wrong, so inappropriate, but God, maybe that’s why it felt so good.

A deep sound of satisfaction came from his throat.

“You’re disturbed,” I breathed. “Do that again.”

For the first time ever, Nico listened to me.

The hot sweep of his tongue sent a violent shiver through me. A mindless haze brushed my thoughts away, leaving lust and insanity behind. I was so hot, burning up like a comet falling from space. My hips rolled beneath his mouth as he licked me everywhere he could reach.

Each fiery wave coalesced into an empty ache between my thighs, until I could only feel empty.

I needed him. In a mindless, archaic, bordering madness kind of way.

And if it made me a slut, I didn’t give a damn.

“Nico . . . stop.” I learned his compliance was a one-time thing, because as I tried to pull away, he did nothing but tighten his arms around my thighs. However, I then lost track of my end goal for a moment, my eyes rolling back into my head.

So empty.

I yanked his hair as hard as I could, and he finally deigned to give me his attention. The gold in his eyes had burned up, leaving nothing but char. They narrowed around the edges. I didn’t say a word, but he must have read what I needed on my face.

He crawled over me, licking and nipping my stomach and breasts as he did. His body covered mine. He was so heavy. A warm, blissful heavy that made my skin sing with satisfaction. He kissed my neck, while bracing his hands on either side of my head.

I realized he’d licked every part of my body and I’d barely touched him. Tension rolled through him as my hands slid down his back, his sides, and when they settled on his abs, he closed his eyes, his jaw tightening.

My fingers trailed the line of hair below his navel, but as they reached the waistband of his briefs, I hesitated. I’d been with a man, but that didn’t mean I knew everything about touching one.

“Lower,” he gritted.

My heartbeat fluttered with expectation and uncertainty, but I slid my hand down until I cupped his erection through his briefs. His forehead fell to rest on mine and a rumble escaped his chest. He pressed himself further into my palm.

I felt how hot he was through the fabric, how thick, how big and hard and utterly masculine. Any hesitation was pushed away by a rush of longing, and I slipped my fingers beneath his waistband and wrapped my hand around his length.

“Ah fuck,” he groaned.

So hot and smooth. Holding it in my palm filled my lower stomach with warmth. I could taste the anticipation of how it would feel inside me. A pulse bloomed between my legs. I ran my hand down to the base and then all the way back up.

“I want it,” I breathed.

His hand cupped the side of my face.

“Ask me nicely,” he rasped, nipping my jaw.

When I squeezed, he hissed and shot me a narrowed gaze. I gave him a slow, gentle tug and whispered in his ear, “Please.”

His eyes were lazy and dark as he dropped to his back beside me and pulled off his briefs. My face burned as I watched him grab his erection at the base and reach for a condom on the side table.

The action was so primal, so surprisingly hot, something burned to life inside of me. Before I knew what I was doing, I straddled his hips. Resting my hands on either side of him, I leaned forward and kissed his throat like I would his mouth.

“Fuck.” His hand cupped the back of my head, his fingers lacing through the strands.

He tasted like he smelled, and I couldn’t get enough. I was all over him, running my hands over his biceps, pecs, and into his hair. I kissed his throat with tongue, nipped at his earlobe, and sucked on his neck.

“Enough,” he growled with frustration, and fisted the hair at my nape to make me stop.

I pulled back with half-lidded eyes. My breasts brushed his chest, sending sizzles of pleasure lower and making me ache for friction. I ground down on his erection. It spread a fire through me that made me drop my head and dig my fingers into the sheets.

“Wait,” he gritted, tearing the condom open with his teeth.

I had a fever. A hot and itchy and empty one, and it wasn’t possible to stop. I rolled my hips against him, using his chest for leverage and rubbing my wetness up and down his length.

Just as he got the condom out, he froze, and then groaned so deeply I could feel it vibrate through his chest. I’d ground down hard enough the head of his erection had slipped inside of me. He was so big it stung. A tremble rolled through me, my exhales heavy and uneven. My fingers curled on his abs as I sank onto him another inch. As the pain faded into a delicious fullness, a throaty sigh escaped me.