I forget to be embarrassed because he slides down my legs and leans his head in.

He breathes against my curls before his tongue snakes out. He loves kissing me there. Tasting me there.

He wedges his shoulders between my thighs and parts them with his hands, settling in perfectly between my legs. I’ve never been eaten out like this—no rush, only licking and tasting, probing and teasing.

I want to feel close to him. I want to feel his strength and borrow it.

My attraction to him is undeniable, the most overwhelming feeling I’ve ever experienced in thirty years. But now I know that I’m falling in love with him, and it exponentiates everything this guy does. It’s frightening, but giving in feels liberating. I’m tired of fighting it, of being scared, of being sad and alone for years. And now here’s this guy, biting my clit, lightly—and I’m constricting into a tiny ball.

I give in and for a moment, I just want it all. I want all of this man. I want to know what he wants, what he dreams, what makes him up, I want to dissect him and let him dissect me and then I want to put each other together with the wrong pieces, so one piece of him ends up in me, and some of mine end up in him.

It’s an obsession, an addiction, a complete infatuation.

I press him closer, groaning.

He stands up all of a sudden, shoots me a languorous, half-mast stare, a small smirk on his lips that tells me he’s very satisfied with how hot I am for him.

With a gentle but firm nudge of his feet, he toes my leg farther apart, revealing my sex a little more.

A shiver of nervousness runs through my body. He notices, smiling a crooked smile as he watches me squirm. “I don’t know that I can go off with your assistant so close…”

He grabs me by the butt and boosts me up, kissing me as my sex settles against his hardness.

“You won’t have any choice,” he rasps wickedly.

“What is this?”

“Karma.”

“Haha, really.”

“It was a long time coming.” He shakes his head in warning. “I’m to have my way with you daily for as long as you live.”

“Christos, not against the door,” I gasp, pushing at his shoulders so he lowers me.

I’m flushing, head to toe, as I head to the opposite wall.

“You’re ravenous,” I accuse.

“I am.” His eyes glint. “And I’m only recently discovering I’m jealous too. Even of Jensen.” He stalks forward, smirking. “Possessive—I’m feeling very, very possessive too.” He stops before me and tilts his head as he regards me—head to toe and without an ounce of apology. “I want you in every way possible, Bryn.”

I think I’m breathing a little harder than usual, but I’m trying not to. “Like what ways?”

He runs his gaze over my face, letting it linger on my throat. “Tie you up, grab you by the back of the neck, so you can hardly squirm. Have my way with you for hours.”

“You’re kinky.”

“I’m not kinky.”

“Well…do you want to gag me too? Typical guy, wanting the woman to just shut up and look pretty and take it.”

“No. I enjoy that mouth of yours too much.” He circles the back of my neck with his hands, as if measuring how delicate it is. “I want you undone. I want to know that you trust me. I’ve had enough time to fantasize about that, you understand.”

“It’s about trust,” I say.

“It’s about watching you lose control. Letting yourself get taken by me, no fear.”

“You’re the last man I’d trust to do anything. You’re intimidating. Unpredictable. Reckless.”

“You liar.” He slips his fingers into mine, and my heart kicks as he tugs my arms up.

“What are you doing?” I ask breathlessly.

He secures my arms above my head with one hand, grabs his tie, and slowly unknots and slides it from under his shirt collar. Then he wraps it around my wrists.

He smiles when I squirm, and he grabs my thighs and guides my legs around his hips, then holds them locked by the ankles in one of his hands at the small of his back.

“That can’t be too hard, can it?”

“I want you,” I groan.

He laughs against my cheek, his lips in my ear. “You trust me, little bit?”

I groan and move my head in both yes and no directions.

I’m wet but pretending this is all a game, which I guess it is.

“If I do this, and you get ten minutes to do whatever you want with me, I get the same with you.”

“That’s not happening.”

“Are you afraid of not having control?” I ask.

“I want my hands free to touch you.”

“I bet I can make you forget all about touching me when you’re being touched the way I want to touch you,” I bluff.

He laughs, shaking his head, his eyes green with the sunlight streaming through the window and shining. “This is about you. Giving yourself to me.”

“No, it’s about you,” I contradict.

“Yeah, it is too,” he says, eyeing me possessively.

His eyes scan me slowly, secured for him.

I watch his face, concentrated, as he pulls off his belt and ties it at my ankles. His jaw is set at an angle, his forehead furrowed slightly in concentration. God, a man is tying me, what the fuck is wrong with me? And I’m secretly thrilled about it. Thrilled by the care he puts into it. He’s measuring if he can fit in one finger, adjusting so that it’s not too tight, not too loose.

“You’ve never done this before?” I ask.