This was all she got out before she went sailing through the air.

She landed on a huge bed. Before she’d even bounced once, he was on her. He’d removed his Kevlar vest and shirts again, dropping them to the floor with his other gear. Taking both her wrists in one hand, he raised them above her head and pinned them there as he settled over her. She wriggled and lightly tugged to see if he’d free her hands.

“Not yet,” he said.

“No?”

“No.” He nipped at her chin. “We need to talk first, and if you touch me, I’ll forget what I want to say.”

This surprised her. “The big, bad sheriff has a weakness?”

“When it comes to you, more than one,” he admitted readily and lightly squeezed her wrists, silently telling her to hold still and stop squirming.

Chloe couldn’t help it. He was so nice to squirm against, warm and hard in all the interesting spots, his strength barely held in check. “You don’t really want to talk right now, do you?” she murmured. “Really?”

Sawyer let out a breath and dropped his forehead to hers. “Hell, no. But I have to ask. You said before you couldn’t have orgasms.”

“Which you proved wrong,” she reminded him.

“Yes, at your cost.” He paused. “So you don’t usually…”

“Not in mixed company, no. I can give myself one, if I concentrate on staying real calm and still.”

His eyes dilated black. “That’s a hell of a contrast. Trying to come while staying calm and still.”

She shrugged. “I manage.” Fascinated by the way he was looking at her, as if he wanted to gobble her up whole, she heard herself say, “I could…show you. If you wanted.”

“Yes,” he said very seriously. “I want you to show me.” He backed off of her and sat at her hip.

Suddenly a little shy about this venture that had been her idea, she hesitated.

“Here, let me help.” In five seconds flat, he had her out of her shoes, socks, and jeans. He stared down at her sunshine-yellow, boy-cut panties and then ran a finger over the smiley face on her mound. “Show me, Chloe.”

Closing her eyes, she slid her hand into her panties. A very rough, male sound of appreciation rumbled above her, and then Sawyer encircled her wrist with his warm fingers. Her eyes flew open.

“Slow,” he commanded. “Real slow and easy.”

“I didn’t say slow,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be slow. Just calm.”

“Lots of calm.” His thumb scraped over the pulse at the inside of her wrist. “But let’s try slow and easy, too.”

She knew that he didn’t want an ER run. Problem was, she wasn’t a slow-and-easy sort of girl. She was more of a hurry-up-before-she-had-an-asthma-attack sort of girl. “Fast is better. That way I have a shot at it.”

“Slow and easy,” he repeated firmly and then slid his fingers beneath hers so that he was the one touching her. Gently, so gently that she wanted to weep, he glided his fingers over her core. Back and forth, then again. And again. Teasing.

Arousing.

Her moan echoed around them, and then it was her turn to grip his wrist. What he was doing was magic, but she needed…“More.”

“Shh,” he said and kept up that light touch, opening her a little more with each pass of those diabolical fingers, spreading her wetness until she was writhing beneath him.

Then he just stopped.

Gasping, she sat up.

“You okay?” Sawyer asked, eyes on her face.

When she nodded, he put a hand over her chest and nudged her flat on her back again. “Good,” he said. “Keep it slow and—”

“If you say easy, I’m going to hurt you.”

“I researched asthma online,” he said so quietly that it took a moment for his words to sink in. Or maybe it was because his fingers were driving her to the point of madness, affecting her ability to process. But he’d actually taken enough interest to research her problem? It meant something, it had to, but she wasn’t sure what. That he liked her? Okay, she could deal with that. She liked him, too. And maybe it’d also been fear based. Her almost dying had scared him. Yes, of course. That made perfect sense.

“I learned that the key,” he said, “is relaxation and having a partner that pays close attention to your breathing patterns. I’m paying close attention, Chloe.” His smile was both sexy and reassuring and made her chest tighten until she thought she might burst.

“Hey,” he said, his gaze narrow with concern. “Are you—”

“Fine. It’s not the asthma. It’s” —she moistened her lips— “you. I don’t want to stop.”

His gaze immediately went back to her poised hand. “Then don’t,” he said a little thickly.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Or as deep as she was able. She wasn’t feeling asthmatic—yet—but she did feel a little…exposed. “Maybe you could tell me a dirty story,” she whispered and heard his soft chuckle.

“Okay,” he murmured. “There’s this beautiful, gutsy redhead…” He leaned over her on the bed. “She has curves that drive me insane.”

“Curves? Is she chunky, then?”

“She’s perfect.” Sawyer unbuttoned her top and spread it open. She felt his lips on her collarbone, then the swell of a breast. “And she has this way of moving, so confident and sure of herself. It’s sexy as hell.”

“Sometimes,” Chloe whispered, “she fakes the confidence.”

“My story,” he said and kissed her nipple through the silk of her bra. His mouth was hot, and she arched up into it, moving her hand faster. Her breath hitched, but his fingers settled over hers, stilling her movements, reminding her about the slow-and-easy decree. Before she could object, he tugged down the cup of her bra with his teeth and ran his tongue over her bared nipple. “You were pierced,” he whispered against her skin, kissing the pebbled peak.

“Y—yes.”

“Why?”

There was no recrimination in his voice, no judgment. Only curiosity. “I don’t know.” But she did.

Sawyer lifted his head and met her gaze. Not pressing. Just waiting in that way he had that made her want to spill all her secrets.

“Sometimes, I can’t…feel,” she said softly.

“Here?” His fingers closed over her nipple, plucking the peak like an instrument, and she quivered.

“No.” She shifted his hand to her heart. “Here. I couldn’t feel anything, and I needed to.”

His gaze dipped to her hand, then rose back to her eyes, his own filled with what might have been understanding.

But she wasn’t used to that. And anyway, how could he really understand? He didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought. He could do whatever he wanted, when he wanted. Run. Climb. Have wild animal sex…

“Did it help?” he asked quietly. “The pain?”

She waited to feel the anxiety build in her chest, festering and clawing at her until she shut down in self-preservation. But she was looking right into his eyes, and there was still no judgment, nothing but a simple acceptance, and she didn’t get anxious at all. “Yes, it helped,” she whispered. “At the time.”

“And now?”

“I don’t need the pain anymore.”

“Good.” He flicked his tongue between her br**sts and worked his way south. Her hand was still in her panties, her fingers where she needed them, moving in what felt like tandem with his mouth, making her arch up into him.

“Still pierced here,” he murmured against her trembling belly.

“I l-like how it looks with my bathing suit. God, Sawyer.”

He settled a hand over hers again and slowed her down. “Easy,” he murmured.

“If you say that one more time, I’m going to easy your—”

He hooked his fingers into her panties and pulled them down her legs. Then he wedged his broad shoulders between her thighs, getting up close to all her secrets. A groan wrenched from his throat. “Ah, Chloe. You’re so wet. No, don’t stop.”

She’d always assumed that she could make herself come because there wasn’t a lot of aerobic action to a self-serve, at least not the way she did it. No stress or performance anxiety involved, just a slightly boring but gratifying release.

But she was definitely feeling a little breathless now, with him holding her legs open, watching her with such avid fascination. Her chest tightened even more, and she realized this wasn’t going to work. “Sawyer—”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not very good at following directions.” He took her hands in his, pulled them to her sides and held them there. “Don’t move.”

“I—”

He licked the moisture between her legs, and she gasped.

“Keep breathing,” he murmured against her skin. “You’re holding your breath. In and out, Chloe. Slow.”

Was he kidding her? “I can’t.”

“Thought that word wasn’t in your vocabulary.”

She huffed out a faint laugh. But his hot mouth was still working her, making her tremble, and his name tumbled from her lips as she slid her hands from his and fisted them in his hair.

He stayed the course, hummed her name against her, making her toes curl. She tightened her grip, but he couldn’t be rushed. Whenever she tried, he merely captured her wrists again, pinning her legs with his heavy body to hold her still. “Shhh,” he told her and then continued.

Slow.

Easy.

Driving her right out of her mind. “Please. Sawyer, please.”

But her entreaty fell on deaf ears. He did his own thing at his own pace, gently massaging and teasing and coaxing her right into a blissful explosion that shocked and rocked her to the very core.

While she trembled and shuddered back to Planet Earth, he gave her one last soft kiss and moved back up her body to study her face closely. “Okay?” he asked.

“If I was any more okay, you’d have to peel me off the ceiling.”

He smiled, but his eyes were still hot, lines of tension bracketing his mouth.

“I really am okay,” she said, stunned to realize it was true. She was breathing heavily but not feeling wheezy. “Sawyer?”

“Yeah?”

“Your turn.” She pushed him down to the bed. Leaning over him, she took his wrists and forced his hands up to the headboard and curled his fingers around the spindles. She lowered the timber of her voice to imitate his. “Slow,” she commanded. “Real slow and easy.”

He smiled. “But I don’t have asthma—”

“You’re not very good at following directions either. I suppose I’ll have to take over.”

He raised a challenging brow. He was sprawled beneath her wearing only his uniform trousers, his body warm and strong, his every muscle taut. God, so many muscles. Even his feet were sexy. Lord, she had it bad. “I could look at you all day,” she whispered.

A flicker of surprise came into his eyes and then heat. “Look all you want,” he said. “But first let me—” He let go of the headboard to adjust himself with a grimace.

“Yeah, those pants do look pretty uncomfortable.” Batting his hand away, she popped open the button herself.

“Careful,” he said when she reached for the zipper.

“Easy, Sheriff. This won’t hurt a bit.” She unzipped him with great care and then tugged the pants down his long legs, watching as he sprang free. Sitting back on her haunches, she smiled. “Happy to see me?” Leaning forward, she kissed him on the tip of his very impressive erection, making his low reply unintelligible.

He rose onto his elbows to watch her, reaching to glide his fingers into her hair, but like he’d done to her, she shoved him back to the bed.

He gripped the headboard again, tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “Christ, Chloe. You’re killing me.”

Ditto, she thought, transfixed as the sight of him spread out for her viewing pleasure now, so perfectly in proportion from head to toe and all the glorious spots in between. Wrapping her fingers around the base of his hot, silky length, she licked him delicately, then not so delicately, until he shuddered and slid his fingers back into her hair to pull her away. “God, Chloe. You’re going to make me—”

“That’s the idea.”

“Not yet.” He grabbed her, hauling her up his taut, heated body until she was straddling him. She gave a little wriggle to get him right where she…wanted…him—

“Oh no, you don’t.” Gripping her hips, he held her still. “I want you to stay with me this time.”

“I’m with you,” she promised. “All the way with you. My lungs are good, see?” She inhaled as deep as she could and let it out.

“Good. Keep doing that, keep breathing,” he ordered softly. “I’ll do the rest.” Biceps flexing, he lifted her up and then allowed her to sink onto him, and exquisite pleasure washed through her as he slid home.

“Your pace,” he said. He sounded a little rough and strained, but his hands loosened their grip on her.

Her pace. Normally she’d kick into gear, desperate to get to the finish before it was too late and she couldn’t. But he’d already proven that she didn’t have to rush. So for the first time, she set an achingly slow rhythm, letting herself get lost in his eyes as she moved on him, feeling each emotion as it shimmered through her.