His once dry mouth watered. He wanted—no, needed—to touch her, to taste her. Every glorious inch of her. He needed to be on her, inside her. Especially between her thighs. He wanted to dive in with his tongue and then his cock.

Surprisingly, there was a small tattoo beside her hip to the right of her navel. It was a red rose, slight bent at the top. Three petals lay at the base of the green stem. Something about the design was familiar to him.

He dragged his eyes up, and there was no mistaking the lust in her gaze. The flush racing across her cheeks and down her throat told him that she saw his hunger. Her ni**les tightened even more, and he groaned.

“You’re the most f**king magnificent thing I’ve ever seen,” he ground out.

Then those wonderful seconds came to an end. She reached over, snatched up a towel, and hastily wrapped it around her body. Her mouth opened and he knew she was about to give him an ass-chewing for the ages, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. Not yet.

Chandler was on her before she took her next breath.

Chapter Nine

Holy f**k a duck…

Anger and embarrassment had flooded Alana’s system, but so had something a hell of a lot more intense. Rife, intoxicating lust seized her—the same wild, out-of-control feelings that had taken her over the night before, when he’d kissed her. Knowing how quickly she’d lost herself in a simple kiss had dumped her in a bad mood all day. There was no reason for her to have such a strong reaction to a damn kiss and she shouldn’t be that attracted to him.

But she was.

Now those feelings were back, stronger than before. Her br**sts ached, her legs felt like jelly, and she was incredibly damp between her legs.

Alana knew she should have been pissed at Chandler and she was, but the hunger she felt inside her had been reflected in his brilliant blue gaze. And that yearning was more powerful than anything else she was experiencing.

Her fingers had tightened around the hasty knot she’d made in the towel above her br**sts. She couldn’t breathe. He’d been staring at her like she was the only woman in the world and he’d shuddered.

When he’d moved toward her, fast and graceful as any predator stalking its prey, there was no place for her to go. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to run. No man had ever looked at her like he had.

It made her feel brazen and wanton and she liked it.

There was a brief moment when she’d wondered if this was how her mom had felt, if this was the first symptom to the slippery slope that was obsession. Then Chandler’s large hands landed on her bare, damp shoulders at the same moment his lips met hers.

The kiss wasn’t about a slow seduction or exploration. His mouth fused to hers and when she drew in a breath, he delved in. She felt his body tremble against her and she was amazed that he was the one who was shaking with need—need for her. That awed her, and as a hand swept to the back of her neck, she was carried away in the exquisite sensations he was opening in her.

Alana needed to tell him to stop. This wasn’t appropriate. A relationship of any sort between them would never work. She placed her hands on his chest, but instead of pushing him away, she gripped the soft material, holding him to her.

She kissed him back, just as fiercely and with the same need that he claimed her mouth with. Her br**sts tightened and swelled, aching with the want of his touch.

He groaned against her lips, causing a chill to skate over her flushed skin. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She had a feeling she could say the same about him, but then he kissed her again, and she wasn’t thinking anymore. All she was focused on were the sensations he was dragging out in her, and there was something beautifully freeing in that. She fell headfirst into it, praying that when he was done with her, she would be able to resurface.

His hand slid down her bare arm and then dropped to her cloth-covered hip. He guided her head back and his lips left hers. A disappointed whimper escaped her lips, and Chandler chuckled deeply.

“I’m not done with you. Nowhere near it,” he said, nipping at her chin. “I’ve only just gotten started.”

Her stomach fluttered like a thousand butterflies had taken flight. “Really?”

“Oh yeah.” He grinned and tilted her head to the side. He nibbled a path along her jaw to her ear, catching the lobe between his teeth. She gasped. “You like that, don’t you?”

She couldn’t answer. Her senses were spinning.

Chandler chuckled again as he dipped his head lower, blazing a line of hot, wet kisses down her neck. When he reached her pulse, his tongue flicked over her skin. She shifted restlessly, wanting more, knowing there was more.

His lips moved along the edge of the towel as his one hand moved up, resting at her rib cage, so close to her br**sts. He didn’t touch her there. No, he teased her with the lines of kisses, with the way his thumb moved in a circle over the towel, coming close to the swell but never quite touching her.

“Tell me you want this,” he all but growled. Lifting her head, he kissed the corner of her parted lips. “Tell me you need this as badly as I do and you will not regret a second of this.”

But wouldn’t she? When it was all over and the heat of lust faded, how would she feel? There was already a part of her that was drawn to him, beyond the physical attraction. Would things be like they were before? Could she separate an act of lust from meaning anything else? Her mother had never been able to do that, so how could she be any different?

Chandler kissed her again, and panic clawed at her chest. From everything she knew about him, he wasn’t the type of man to settle down, and from what she knew about his needs, she wasn’t sure she could ever fulfill them. And she was also sure that every moment she allowed this to continue, the further she slipped under Chandler’s sensual control. But she wasn’t the type to settle down, either. And she was no coward.

She wanted to feel this—whatever this was. As long as she kept her head on straight and above water, she could handle him and her own conflicting feelings. Couldn’t she? The flutter moved from her stomach to her chest. Maybe she wasn’t even thinking straight, but who could blame her? This man was walking, breathing sin.

“Alana,” he murmured, brushing his lips over hers. His breath was enticingly hot. “Tell me.”

Blinking her eyes open, she barely contained a sigh when her eyes met his. “You are really impatient.”

He grinned, and her chest spasmed at the almost boyish quality to it. “You have no idea.”

Her hands smoothed out against his chest and trembled. He didn’t look away, holding her stare with a level of passion that stirred tendrils of yearning deep inside her. “Should we be doing this?” she whispered.

“This is the only thing we should ever be doing.” He pressed his forehead against hers and slid his hand through her damp hair, twisting his fingers into the mass. He captured her in his hold. “I can promise you that there won’t be a second of this you won’t enjoy.”

She wet her lips nervously and his gaze heated. “What about afterward?”

“What about it?”

Good question, but a dull ache pierced her chest. She pushed it away. “I don’t just sleep around.”

“I wasn’t planning on doing any sleeping.”

Her fingers curled as his words sent a spasm through her. “I don’t have sex with just anyone.”

Chandler made a deep sound in his chest. “I’m happy to hear that.” He shifted slightly, drawing her closer to the edge of the tub. “You want this just as badly as I do.”

God’s honest truth, she did. Her body trembled with the thought of it, but it had been so long since she’d been with anyone that she doubted her vagina would even know what to do. “I do, but…”

His tongue flicked over her lips with a dark promise as the hand under her br**sts slid around the small of her back. “How about this. No sex.”

“No sex?”

He laughed. “Let me clarify. No penetration. We’ll take this slow.”

Alana understood what he was saying, but her brain was slow to process it. He didn’t want to have sex with her? At least not full-out sex? There was a tiny part of her that was stupidly disappointed, but she refused to give much thought to that.

The hand on her back slipped lower, and she bit down on her lip to stop the moan building in her throat from escaping. What did she have to lose by taking what he was offering? They weren’t going to actually have sex and she was a grown adult, more than capable of having a little fun.

As their eyes met, Alana was struck again by the hunger in his gaze. He wanted this—wanted her—and there was something unequivocally powerful in that. Before she could change her mind or let common sense intrude and leave her aching all night without fulfillment and in an even worse mood tomorrow, she nodded.

Chandler froze, his mouth inches from hers. “Is that a yes?”

She nodded again.

“Say it,” he said in a low, almost dangerous voice. “Say you want me to please you.”

“Yes.” Her voice was barely above a whisper and she was unable to look away from those dark-lashed eyes of his. “I want you to please me.”

Chandler didn’t hesitate.

Those words seemed to unlock something primal in him. He snaked an arm around her waist and lifted her from the tub. His strength shocked her, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. While she’d hid—i.e. sulked—upstairs after returning from their shopping trip, she’d seen him disappear into a room downstairs full of weights and exercise equipment. The man was all muscle.

Her feet didn’t touch the floor until they were beside the bed. With a barely contained urgency, he stripped away the towel, and cool air rushed over her flushed skin. She moved to cover herself, but he caught her arms.

“Don’t hide from me.” His gaze traveled over the length of her body, lingering in some areas longer than other. “You’re beautiful.”

She let out a nervous laugh. “I’m already naked. You don’t have to ply me with compliments.”

“I mean it.” He took her hand as he sat on the bed. Lifting his head, he stared up at her. Staying before him completely na**d while he was clothed had her at a disadvantage. He tugged her between his thighs and then settled his hands on her hips. “I want to look my fill, so when it’s later and I’m alone, all I have to do is close my eyes to see your body while I make myself come.”

Holy God, her ears were scorched.

“Do you do that a lot?” she asked, breathless.

“Jerk off?” His lips tipped up as he moved his large hands along the curve of her waist, stopping below her aching br**sts. His searching gaze seared her body. “Or jerk off thinking about you? The answer is yes to both.”

Her breath stilled in her chest as he felt the light weight of her br**sts, his fingers coming tantalizingly close to their peaks. “You’re lying.”

“I never lie.” The conviction in his voice was undeniable. “Every single f**king night since you showed up at my door. I’d send you running if I told you what some of my fantasies involved.”

She wanted to know. Details—lots of details, but then his fingers moved over her br**sts and the ability to speak went out the window. Catching her ni**les between his fingers, he watched her closely as he rolled them with his thumb and then plucked at them. They hardened and ached for him.

“You were having a nightmare,” he said quietly, teasing her.

“W-what?”

“When you were bathing. I heard you cry out,” he explained. “That’s why I came in there.”

“Oh.” Her thoughts were muddled in a sensual haze. “It was just a dream.”

He pulled her closer and then his mouth was on her breast, licking over the peak and then tugging on it with his teeth. The sharp burst of pleasured pain was instantly soothed with a lap of his tongue. He alternated between the quick nips and licks until her head fell back. She cried out, her body shuddering even as it tightened deliciously.

Chandler suddenly pulled back, and her eyes flew open. She stared at him in disbelief. “You stopped!”

“For now.” He sent her a fleeting grin and then pulled his shirt off over his head.

His body…she hadn’t forgotten how perfect it was. The broad, muscled shoulders, hard pecs, and a stomach that was rippled and chiseled like rock. He was 100 percent male, not an inch of flab on his body. Her gaze found a puckered, circular scar on his shoulder, the skin a deeper pink than the rest of his body. She wanted to ask how he got it, because to her, it really looked like a bullet wound.

“Turn around.”

Her brows shot up. “What?”

Holding his shirt between his hands, he spun it until it was stretched long and thin. His eyes met hers and a dark, dangerous allure filled the blue of his eyes. “Turn around, Alana.”

Her heart jumped in her chest as a sharp, almost painful lick of pleasure pulsed through her. Her eyes fixed on his shirt, and she couldn’t help but think about what he wanted to do with it and all the things she’d heard about how Chandler liked to give pleasure. Part of her wanted to be turned off by it, to be disgusted, but she wasn’t.

Every cell in her body swelled. A tiny spark of fear blossomed in her chest, but it wasn’t that she was afraid of him. More like afraid of how she’d respond. But she took a deep breath and did as he asked.

A hand grazed over the curve of her bottom, causing her to jerk. She felt him behind her, standing. The heat from his body warmed hers. “Chandler?”

“Do you trust me?” he asked, skimming a hand over her hip and then to her arm. He pulled it back behind her. “You have to trust me for this. Do you?”