Not once.

It’s not like I have a thing against them and Lord knows my friends enjoy them, with or without discretion. It’s just never happened. My body heats everywhere, one place a bit more than others when Mason touches me, and especially when he cuts through it all with his demanding ways.

My thoughts race as Mason wraps his hand around my waist and leads me to the front door. The chill in the night air is sobering. I can’t explain how my nerves are shooting through me. My breathing comes in a little faster now that the alcohol’s all but worn off.

I try to focus on how even our footsteps sound but all I can think about is how I’ve never done this before.

I’m doing it. I’m going to sleep with a stranger. I’m going to sleep with someone other than Jace.

Jace and I met as children, paired up in boarding school. I’ve never been with anyone else. My heel slips on the paved steps at the thought, almost making me fall, but Mason catches me.

He’s quick to grab on to my elbow and waist, his hands hot on my body. It’s a shock as something inside of me reacts almost violently to his very touch.

Eight months alone … even longer since I’ve been touched. The idea of moving on has never been such a dominating thought, or so terrifying.

I wrap my arms around myself, fueled by both fear and desire. My pulse quickens as I look back over my shoulder and toward his car. Toward an escape.

Mason straightens his shoulders, squaring them and hitting the keys against his leg once. The jingle catches my attention. It’s the only sound in the cold dark night.

I stand frozen as I look into his eyes. I’m a fool for doing this. It’s not me. Not the woman I am today and not the woman I was before I lost my husband. Mason’s steel gray gaze searches my own and I feel lost all over again.

I part my lips, ready to give an excuse, a lie, or even the truth. Anything to just go back in time and avoid being in this situation.

To run, just like I’ve been doing for the past eight months. Didn’t I say I needed a change? I said I needed something drastic, but that was back when the alcohol was flowing and we were surrounded by a crowd of people.

Mason is so very tempting. He’s gorgeous and confident, but I can’t handle a man like him. I can’t deal with this.

Weak and alone. A low whisper from the self-loathing bitch inside of me resonates in my ears. I slam my lips shut without uttering a word, hating that she’s right.

I won’t leave. I suck in a breath and force myself to be determined. Whether what I’m doing is right or wrong, it doesn’t matter. I need a change.

A moment passes with the two of us standing still in front of his porch. Only a handful of steps are between us and his front door. I just have to get there.

My eyes drift from the deep navy door to Mason. I’m caught in place as he takes a single step closer to me. It’s only one step, but with it is something powerful. His height, his scent, and his very dominance overwhelm me when he’s this close. He radiates desire and my mind may be questioning things, but my body is pulled to him, magnetized by his presence.

It’s soothing. Surprisingly so as I let my body move forward, closing the small space between us. He trails a finger down my collarbone lightly, testing my reaction.

“I want to touch you, Jules,” he murmurs, forcing my gaze back to his all-consuming stare. I hadn’t imagined it’d be this intense. Not at the bar and not in his Mercedes. He didn’t push, and he didn’t do anything to make me feel trapped. How odd—now that we’re out in the open with no one watching and no enclosed spaces, it’s only now that I feel cornered. All because of the way he looks at me.

What’s most surprising is that I love it. I want this. The way he looks at me is addictive; it’s freeing in more ways than one.

I can’t wimp out. I won’t.

I nod my head once and his fingers trail up my throat. His light touch feels much rougher than he’s being with me. I tilt my head as his grip moves to my chin and he just barely brushes his lips against mine. It’s a soft kiss that leaves me wanting more. I keep my eyes closed and stay as still as can be when he hovers close and whispers, “I want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” I whimper, a pathetic plea, or maybe one of strength. My head feels so clouded that it’s hard to know what’s driving me. Raw, primal instinct or desperation. Perhaps a lethal cocktail of both.

He pulls away just slightly, but I don’t let him get far. I take a half step closer to him, my breasts brushing against his shirt and I crash my lips into his. I need him. I need this.

He’s quick to wrap his arms around me and pull my body against his. The faint noises of the night surround us and they seem to get louder as my breathing gets heavier. His lips travel down my throat and I throw my head back. I may have been tipsy from the alcohol before but in this moment I’m drunk with lust, and I find it too difficult to care.

“I want to fuck you, Jules,” Mason practically growls. He pulls me into him suddenly and forces a gasp from me as he nips my earlobe. “I want to make you cum so hard you forget everything.”

I moan as my nipples harden and my back arches. “The only thing you need to worry about is remembering my name,” he whispers into my ear, his hands roaming down my waist, stopping at my ass. “Just my name and what I’ve done to you tonight.”

I tilt my head back and everything he’s saying is exactly what I need to hear. “Yes,” I say into the soft breeze that cools my exposed hot skin.

“Only tonight,” he says so low, I nearly miss it. My fingers slip under his shirt so I can feel his bare skin, and it triggers him to pull away from me. Just slightly, only so he can look into my eyes, but I grip him harder. I’m afraid to lose what he’s offering me.

I want him. I want his promise.

I want to forget and feel alive again.

“Yes, only tonight,” I say in agreement and then press my lips to his, moving a hand to the back of his head. My fingers spear through his thick hair as his tongue strokes mine and he lifts me into his arms by my ass.

I gasp at the sudden movement and wrap my legs around his waist. He takes the opportunity to trail open-mouth kisses down my neck and torture my deprived body.

I’m sure of it now. All I need is to be held by this man. Fucked by him and ruined by him.

With my back against the wall of his porch, he slides a hand up my dress and between my legs. Petting me, testing me until the sudden spike of pleasure hits me harder than I expected. He presses his thumb against me just right and my grip on him tightens.

I come alive for him, every nerve ending on fire, ready to burst into a flame so hot I can’t control myself. He doesn’t stop, even as I writhe and beg for him to take me inside. My fingers dig into his shoulders, my nails scratching along his shirt and wishing it were skin.

The pleasure is so intense already. It’s nearly too much. I want to pull away because the inevitable drop from this high is going to shatter me. I’m all too aware of it, but I can’t help myself.

He never stops kissing me as he balances me in one strong arm and unlocks the door. He never sets me down until he has me on his bed.

And he never gives me the chance to think about anything but the desire threatening to destroy me.

He doesn’t take his time with my dress, desperate to have me bared to him. I reach behind me, unclasping my bra as he pulls the lace down my body. His fingers loop around my thong and take it along with the black dress.