Good ol’ I-can-always-count-on-her Jen.

Colin releases his hold on one of my hands and reaches for me, cupping my face, his thumb caressing my cheek as he turns more fully toward me. His chest brushes against mine, my ni**les harden almost painfully, and I slide my hands up his chest, over his pecs, winding them around his neck so I can bury my fingers into his silky, soft hair.

I love touching him. Hate how secretive it always is, under the cover of darkness, the shroud of nightmares, the bleakness of night. I have my own secrets that I hide. Ugly, terrible things I’m desperate to keep locked inside. If he ever found out, I know he’d never look at me the same again.

This time between us is different, though. Our mouths cling to each other, our lips slowly parting with every pass, but I refuse to be the first one to take this deeper.

Refuse? More like I’m too scared to take this deeper. What if he turns me away? I don’t think I could deal with that.

“God, what you do to me.” He murmurs the words against my lips, his breath hot as he exhales shakily. His other hand is at my hip, nestling me closer, and I can feel him. Every blessed, hot inch of his bare, firm skin, the boxer briefs he wears, the thrust of his erection beneath them.

A matching shuddery breath leaves me when I realize he’s hard. His hand slips up my cheek, into my hair, until his fingers are at the back of my head, tightening around the long strands until I have no choice but to bend my head back, my new tattoo aching, the adhesive from the bandage tugging the few hairs that are captured beneath it.

It hurts, but I revel in the pain. Because it means I’m alive and Colin is touching me, kissing me. I want more.

So much more than what I’m willing to ask for.

He shifts his position, towering over me, dominating me, and a delicious shiver runs over my skin and through my veins, settling between my legs.

“I could take you like this.” His hips thrust against mine, a slow, sensual roll that nearly makes my eyes cross. I try my best to withhold the whimper of pleasure that wants to escape, but it’s no use. “Would you like that?” he asks, his perfect full lips tilting up at the corners. He’s looking right at me, his lids lowered, his gaze smoldering and nearly setting me on fire.

I don’t answer. I freaking can’t find my voice, I’m so turned on, turned inside out. Trying to lift my head to connect our mouths again, he tightens his hold on my hair, sending a ripple of pain across my neck. My freshly tattooed skin hurts, the bandage isn’t helping, but I ignore it. I focus instead on Colin, how he’s keeping me in place. Keeping me under his control.

He likes control. I’ve known this for years. I had no idea it carried over sexually, though I shouldn’t be surprised.

“I won’t f**k you, though. I can’t have you,” he says, disappointment ringing in his deep voice. He runs his lips along my neck, covering my sensitive skin with tiny, hot kisses, and I moan, wishing I were naked.

Wishing he were inside me. Filling me, f**king me like he suggested. Pounding deep within me so hard I can’t help but come within minutes.

God, I really, desperately want that.

My moan seems to knock him out of his stupor and he rears his head back, releasing his hold on me as if I’ve burned him. Scrambling off the mattress so fast it all happens in a frenzied blur. He’s standing on the side of the bed, running his hands through his hair and clutching the back of his head as he looks at me in utter disbelief. “What the f**k just happened?”

Sitting up, I smooth my hair back from my face, wincing when my fingers brush over my bandage. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what just happened.”

He glances down at himself, spotting his erection no doubt, and makes one of those frustrated male sounds he’s so good at. “Tell me we didn’t . . .”

“Don’t worry.” I climb off the bed, trying my best to look dignified as I stand before him, knowing I’m failing miserably considering I’m wearing a see-through tank and skimpy panties. I should be embarrassed, but screw it. “We didn’t. Like you don’t know that.” We didn’t even get in any tongue action with our kiss and I’m downright desperate to know his taste. To know if we’re as compatible as I hope we are when it comes to kissing.

Disappointment settles over me, mixed with a fair dose of irritation. This conversation we’re about to have is gonna go south, quick.

“Why are you in my bed?” His gaze drops, drinking me in, and those cool blue eyes of his heat with unmistakable arousal.

“Why am I always in your bed? Why do you think I come to you at least four times a week in the middle of the night and slip beneath the sheets with you? If you’re going to pretend like you don’t know what’s happening here, I swear to God, Colin, I’m going to kick your ass.”

He has the nerve to laugh, the jackass. “Did you know you’re pretty hot when you’re mad?”

“This isn’t a joke.” Taking a deep breath, I tell myself to remain calm. He’s doing his usual thing. Pretending nothing serious just went down, acting like he has no idea what actually happened.

He’s a liar. I wonder if he’s been playing me this entire time.

“I know it’s not.” His words practically dare me to explain exactly what’s happening.

So I go for it.

“We never talk about it, you know.” I take a step toward him, forgetting my lack of clothing, too focused on my anger. “What happens at night between us. What’s been building and growing since I moved in with you.”