He was wild, almost brutal, and she loved it. Loved looking at him. Loved being the object of his passion. His eyes glittered wildly, the tension in him clearly mounting. His lips were red and swollen from her kisses. He was a fantasy without equal. And he was hers.

“Harlow,” he cried out, surging in one last time. He gripped her hips with delicious, bruising strength, the tension gradually fading from his features as he came.

He collapsed over her, quickly rolling to his side so that he wouldn’t crush her. Without his strength to hold her, her body was too weak to wrap around him and she, too, collapsed against the mattress. They lay there for a long while, facing each other, the ragged sound of their breathing filling her ears.

“That was...” she said.

“World-changing?”

“Merely okay,” she finished, trying not to smile.

He gave her bottom a light tap. “If you aren’t careful, Miss Glass, I’ll start again, and I won’t stop until I’ve made you admit the truth.”

“No, no,” she said with mock horror. “Anything but that.” Then she chewed on her bottom lip. “Will we do it again?”

“Definitely.”

“When?”

“Impatient?”

“Yes!”

“You’ll be sore.”

“I don’t care.”

He smoothed the hair from her cheeks, only to gaze at his hand and stop, as if the appendage had done something it shouldn’t have. A flash of fear crossed his face before he donned a blank mask. He rose from the bed, disposed of the condom.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, worry chasing away her languid satisfaction. She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest, no longer quite so relaxed with her nudity.

He climbed in next to her and turned her, drawing her back to his chest. He wrapped his arm around her, one of his legs fitting between hers. “Round two will have to wait. I’m tired, and I need a nap. Go to sleep. We’ll work out all the details when we wake up.”

Details? “What details?”

He kissed the shell of her ear. “We’ll discuss them when we wake up. Now go to sleep.”

But after that, how could she?

CHAPTER TWENTY

BECK’S WORDS PLAGUED Harlow every minute of naptime. They plagued her while the two of them ate dinner alone in the kitchen and Beck hand-fed her. While they climbed back into bed and watched TV. While they made love again. While Beck slept peacefully.

By the time morning arrived, the fog of desire had faded, her thoughts clearer than they’d been in a long time—since meeting him, in fact.

We’ll work out all the details in the morning, he’d said. And before making such sweet love to her, he’d said, If it’s the only way I can have you, that’s the way it’ll be.

It—meaning commitment.

Realization hurt. Beck hadn’t jumped into this relationship with her because he loved her or even liked her. He hadn’t even committed because he couldn’t stand the thought of being without her. He’d done it because it was the only way he could sleep with her.

In other words, he felt as if she’d backed him into a corner.

What kind of future would they have if he felt trapped by her? What would happen when he came to resent her for it? When, not if. Sharp thorns of bitterness would set in, that’s what, and each would be aimed at her. Hatred would soon follow. Could she really do that to him? Could she really do it to herself?

She and Beck had been doomed before they’d started, hadn’t they?

But if she left him, if she walked away, she would be fanning the flames of his fears. Could she really do that?

They needed to talk.

She carefully extricated herself from his embrace and padded into the bathroom, trying not to panic as she brushed her teeth, dressed in one of his shirts and a pair of his sweatpants.

“Harlow?” Beck’s voice, tinged with upset. Because she wasn’t beside him?

Hope bloomed, the only rose in a deadly winter. Please, please want me the way that I want you.

She schooled her features to reveal only calm, then opened the bathroom door. “I’m here.”

He’d thrown his legs over the side of the bed, but at her greeting, his head jerked in her direction, his upset fading. He was breathtakingly naked, his muscled chest on display, his impressive lower half hidden by the sheet they’d shared.

He smiled at her, a wicked invitation to experience round three. His hair lay in total disarray, the golden tips gleaming in the morning light. His stubble was slightly denser, and her skin already ached for its tickle.

“I think it’s clear I hadn’t planned to wake up alone in this bed,” he said.

Do it, before you chicken out. “Does it make you happy to think about a future with me, Beck?”

His smile dimmed a little. “First, I’m seriously thinking about considering giving you a spanking. Afterward I’ll show you where I wanted you to be when I opened my eyes—and what I wanted you to be doing.”

Her stomach knotted and cramped. “Please. Answer my question.”

The smile faded completely, and he rubbed his chest. “Why do a Q and A when there are so many other things we could be doing? Better things.”

Let’s try this another way. “Last night, you mentioned going over details we hadn’t yet covered. What details?”

He patted the mattress beside him. “The only detail I’m concerned about right now is your distance. Get over here.”