Annabelle’s mouth tightened. “You’re going to make this hard for me, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

He opened the door wider and gestured for her to come in. She did, but looked very reluctant doing so. Wary, she glanced around the apartment, taking in the leather couch, the state-of-the-art entertainment system and the two beer bottles on the glass coffee table. Above the couch was an Angelina Jolie calendar, flipped open to the October snapshot showing Angie stretched across a recliner. It was the typical bachelor pad, but Ryan didn’t care. He was, after all, a bachelor.

“Do you have a stripper pole in the bedroom?” Annabelle asked dryly.

“If I did, would you do a sexy dance for me?”

“Nope.”

“Figured I’d ask.”

Looking awkward, she leaned against the arm of the sofa, her abundant curves practically pouring out of her indecent yellow bikini. She looked good enough to eat, but Ryan kept his distance. Women always needed to set some ground rules, and this particular woman probably had a whole slew of them. He already knew she liked to make lists.

“Three weeks,” she began. “I’m here for three weeks, so that’s all you’re going to get from me.”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You make it sound like you’re doing me a favor. I think it’s the other way around, Annie.”

She bristled. “Don’t call me Annie.”

“Whatever you want, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe either.” She rested her hand on the couch and tapped her fingers nervously. “So, um, about the list…”

He patiently waited for her to continue.

“It wasn’t serious or anything.” Her brown eyes avoided his. “I was just joking around.”

“Liar. You’re dying to do each and every thing on that list,” Ryan said, laughing again.

He could see her biting the inside of her cheek. “Maybe some things.”

Ryan took a step closer, noticing that her breath hitched as he did so. He could see her pulse throbbing in her throat, and a faint flush had spread just above her br**sts. Oh yeah. She was totally turned on. Good. “How about we start with good old number one then?”

He stopped when they were only inches away. Her br**sts were practically touching his T-shirt, and he couldn’t wait to feel her ni**les poking against his bare chest. “What’s number one again?” she asked, sounding breathless.

“Sex somewhere other than a bed,” he recited.

She sighed. “Jeez, you really did memorize it.”

“Couldn’t help it. I have a photographic memory.”

“Or you’re just a pervert.”

“That too.” He flashed her a grin. “You like me, though.”

“Maybe.”

He eliminated the last inch between them, pressing his body against hers. A shaky breath flew out of her mouth. “Maybe?” he teased.

“Fine, I like you,” she blurted out. She paused for a second, then tilted her head to meet his eyes. “So, um, how do we do this?”

He froze. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin,” she huffed. “I just haven’t had sex with many strangers, okay?” She hesitated again. “Do you want me to take my bikini off?”

Ryan let out a low laugh. “That’s a good start.”

His pulse sped up as he watched her raise her arms and reach for the tie behind her neck. Anticipation coiled in his gut. Annabelle, however—and why wasn’t he surprised?—prolonged that anticipation. Rather than untying her bikini top, she narrowed her eyes and said, “I think you should do it first.”

“Do what?”

“Get naked. Because really, why should the girl always undress first? You’re so sexist, Roger.”

He sighed. “Do you always have to overanalyze every last detail?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. Then overanalyze this.”

Before she could respond, he dipped his head and captured her mouth with his. The kiss shut her up completely, and soon she was rubbing her br**sts against his chest like a contented cat. Fuck, she tasted sweet. Ryan slipped his tongue in her mouth, licking and exploring, while his hands drifted south to rest on her firm ass. She made a little whimper sound, then deepened the kiss. When her tongue entered his mouth, he groaned, as blood pooled in his groin and his c**k thickened against her belly.

She reached down between them and rubbed him over his shorts, eliciting another groan from deep in his throat. The who-undresses-first debate went up in flames and soon they were both tugging at their own clothes. Her bathing suit was flung across the room, his shorts ended up under the couch, and who knew what happened to his T-shirt. Ryan didn’t care. His entire body was on fire. So was Annabelle’s, judging by the rosy flush rising on her smooth, golden skin.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped, his gaze taking in every inch of her naked body.

She had an hourglass figure, with a curvy little ass he couldn’t help but dig his fingers into. He squeezed her bu**ocks, then feasted his eyes on her smooth mound. Her pu**y was completely bare, which made his mouth go dry and his tongue tingle. Damn, he couldn’t wait to taste her. His c**k bobbed against her stomach as he drew her close again, kissing her hard and deep, and then he slid down to his knees and pressed a soft kiss right between her legs.

Annabelle gasped, teetering on her feet. “Oh, God. That’s…so good.”