“Ann, please. Listen.”

He’d called me Ann. I shut the lid and faced him. The sight of my tears gave him pause. He dug his fingers into his hair, keeping his hands on his head.

“That was after I’d spoken with Marna. I believed you and Kope were together, even though Marna said you weren’t. I was certain you’d fall in love with him. Those were not good days for me.”

My blood pressure was through the roof, but I tried to think about how he must have felt, and how I’d feel if I believed he was in love with someone else. Icy envy jabbed me. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the washer.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“No. Almost, but no.” He paused and whispered, “It wasn’t nearly as hard to stop as it had been with you.”

I kept my eyes shut. I hated this. It was unfair that some other Anna could have him, or almost have him, while I loved him but had to keep my distance and be careful. I hated imagining him whispering “Anna” in her ear and turning to her instead of me.

“I’ve mucked it right up, haven’t I?” he asked. I opened my eyes again, and he was in the same position, hands on his head, eyes desolate. “I’d been good for so long, Anna. You wouldn’t believe how good. Nearly eight months I’d gone. After Kope rang me I expected to hear something, but over and over Marna told me nothing had happened. When I saw you on Valentine’s Day I was going to tell you everything. Then I rang Marna, expecting another no, but she hesitated . . . and there was nothing worth being good for anymore.”

It was more than he’d ever revealed to me, and I could see it took a lot for him to force each word out.

I wanted to be mad. To scream at him for being so stupid when it came to matters of the heart. For being so careful with me and so reckless in every other way. He could see the hurt in my eyes. I know, because it was reflected back at me in his own. How much more could we hurt? How much more time would we waste?

We had one night. We had now. I held out my hand. He stared at it then brought one of his hands down to meet mine. I squeezed it and pulled him to me.

“No more,” I told him. “No more running in the wrong direction.”

With a look of disbelief, he leaned down to kiss the path made by tears on one cheek, then the other, whispering, “No more.”

Emotions were running high when I took his rough cheeks in my hands.

“You run to me,” I said, pulling his mouth to mine.

He pushed forward until I was against the stacked washer and dryer, and his knee slipped between my legs.

“To you,” he whispered, his breath hot against my mouth. “I swear it.”

The kiss became fast and frenzied as we pulled each other closer with greedy hands until Kaidan broke away and breathed against my ear, “Let me see you again.”

“What?” I tried to pull back to look at him, but he held me firm and kissed the freckle over my lip before whispering with that low voice in my ear.

“Let me undress you. Not all the way . . . just as you were today at Blake’s. Please. Let me see you again.”

OH.

I listened to my heart pound five loud times in my ears. Did I dare? I wanted to. I wanted to push the limits with him. I nodded and felt his fingers at the bottom of my tank top. I lifted my arms as he pulled the shirt over my head and dropped it at our feet, leaving me in my pink bra. My heart still pounded overtime. To make things fair I found the edge of his T-shirt and lifted, letting my fingers brush against his taut sides. He groaned and was kissing me again, the heat of our bare skin rubbing like flint, ready to spark a fire.

Once again he broke away, breathing hard, this time finding my eyes as his finger ran along the edge of my shorts, dipping in to touch the sensitive skin of my hips and lower abs. My breath hitched as he undid the button, then the zipper, never taking those blazing eyes from mine, as if memorizing my every reaction.

When my shorts fell, I kicked them aside and felt wildly exposed, even though it was no different from being in my bikini. Kaidan pulled away a few inches and glanced down at my body. Then he shut his eyes tight and lifted his head to the ceiling. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed.

With his eyes still closed he muttered a guttural plea. “Let me kiss you.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“No.” His eyes crashed into mine and his hands flattened against the dryer above my shoulders. “I need to kiss your body.”

Oh . . . yesohyesohyes . . .

“Okay,” I managed to say.

“Don’t let any more clothing come off,” he warned me, “under any circumstances.”

“Okay,” I whispered again. Apparently it was the only word I was capable of forming.

“Promise me, Anna.”

“I promise,” I said, though I was feeling extremely weak. I knew I’d have to be the strong one this time. We couldn’t have a repeat of the hotel room incident.

And with that his hands gripped my waist and his hot lips found my shoulder. I gasped as his hands perused the skin of my belly and back, and his mouth began feasting a trail down my torso, waist, and hip, stopping to kiss every freckle along the way until he was on his knees. My hands gripped his strong shoulders.

Staring at the blue heart charm dangling from my belly button, he said, “You are killing me.” I sucked in a breath when he licked a circle around it.

He began kissing the edge of the panty line at my hip, tasting me. I felt his teeth graze my skin, followed by his hot tongue, and my knees almost gave out. His hands still held my waist, steady and firm, and it was a good thing. Because it felt like a tornado of sensory charges was building inside me. I didn’t know how much more I could take. I was breathing as if I’d been sprinting.