She exploded with sheer frustration.

“Damn it, are you going to sit there and look at me all night or are you going to do something?”

He gave a low chuckle. That full lower lip twitched. He hooked one leg around hers and moved over her in one quick motion. Hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Every muscle pressed against hers. Each delicious inch of his arousal cradled between her legs. He worked the pins from her hair and combed through the strands so the waves tumbled over her shoulders. Then he dipped his mouth and nipped at her earlobe, teased the tip of his tongue against the delicate shell of her ear, then blew out a warm stream of breath.

She jumped.

He laughed and whispered against her temple. “I intend on doing something. I’ve thought about looking at you for so long, I figured I’d indulge. But it looks like you also have a temper in bed, so I’ll move it along.”

“Nick—”

“Not now, Alexa. I’m busy.”

He covered her mouth with his and plunged his tongue deep into her mouth. She arched like a bow as the lightning crack of energy ripped through her. Her fingers clung to him as she held on and kissed him back, drowning in the taste of Scotch and male heat. He parted her legs and tortured her with promises of his hands and his penis, until she became crazed with need, until there was no more pride or logic, just this ache to have him inside her.

His mouth moved on her breasts, sucked her nipples, and nipped with his teeth. His fingers stroked her belly and hips, and hooked under the lace to play, one long index finger moving underneath to test her heat, drenched with moisture as she cried out for more, always more.

He slid off her panties and plunged a finger deep inside, then added another, rubbing delicately over the hard nub hidden between curls, just giving her a taste of it until…

She cried out and her hips bucked as the climax took her hard. Her body shook with pleasure as he shed his briefs and covered himself with a condom. He slid back up her silken length, interlaced all ten fingers with hers, and pressed their joined hands deep into the pillows.

Alexa blinked up, dazed by the endless depths of his eyes, a deep, dark brown that held an array of secrets and a gleam of tenderness she’d never seen before.

He pressed against her, seeking entry. Liquid warmth rushed out to ease his welcome and she lifted her hips to take him. He pressed an inch, then another. Her body tightened around him and she panicked, knowing she’d finally belong to him, knowing he’d never want her in the way she needed.

He paused, almost as if he sensed her emotions. “Too fast? Talk to me.”

She shuddered with pure need as she felt him retreat one precious inch. “No, I just, I need—”

“Tell me.”

A fine sheen of tears filmed over, her emotions raw and easy for him to read. “I need you to want me. Only me. Not—”

“Oh, Jesus.” He closed his eyes. Alexa watched sheer agony ripple over his face. He stopped at her entrance and bent to kiss her.

He tenderly mated his tongue with hers, stroking, tracing the swollen flesh of her lips in an action that bespoke pure humbleness. And when he opened his eyes and looked into hers, she sucked in her breath as he finally let her in, let her see it all, and gave her what she needed.

The truth.

“It’s always been you. I don’t want anybody else, I don’t dream about anybody else. It’s only you.”

She cried out as he buried himself to the hilt inside of her. Her body opened and accepted his swollen length, hugged him deep and demanded more. His fingers gripped hers and pressed harder into the pillow as he began to move, slowly at first, joining her to the rhythm. She climbed again with him, and the twisting spiral path tensed her muscles, stopped her breath, and teased her with each inch as she moved closer to release.

It was a raw combining of needs, rough and primitive, and she reveled in the honesty of their lovemaking as sweat slid down his forehead and her nails dug deep into his back until she exploded. Pleasure broke over in waves, and she heard him cry out as he joined her, and in that moment they were one.

He slumped and rolled so she sprawled on top of him, her cheek against his slick muscled chest, her hair spilling over her face, her arms wrapped around his waist. No thoughts claimed her in this moment, and she treasured the deep peace as she let herself go, safe in his embrace. She slid toward sleep as he held her tightly.

…

Nick inched out of bed, careful not to wake his wife, and padded naked out of her room to search for some clothes. He threw on a Yankees T-shirt, remembered their deal, and exchanged it for a plain black tank with a pair of sweat pants. His lips curved as he remembered her glee when the Yanks failed in the playoffs. He went down the stairs and started the coffee, pausing to watch the sun struggle up over the mountains in the early morning light.

He considered this marriage officially consummated.

Nick rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and tried to think rationally. He sure hadn’t thought last night. Not that he had any regrets. Surprise flickered through him at the realization. He’d wanted Alexa for a long time, and last night proved why. Everything was different with her. The way her body fit his, the way her pleasure satisfied him. He loved the way she looked into his eyes and dragged her nails over his back and experienced multiple orgasms. He loved the way she screamed his name. They had reached for each other many times through the hours, their hunger insatiable. But it wasn’t just the physical that made the encounter so mind-blowing. It was the other connections, to her mind and soul. The way she let him see her vulnerability, the way she let him in when no promises had been made, no words spoken.

She scared the hell out of him.

He poured a mug of the steaming brew and took a moment in the kitchen to gather his thoughts. They needed to talk. Their relationship had reached a fork in the road, and after the last hours in her company, he didn’t know if he could turn back. His original intention to avoid sex had been about avoiding emotion.

Wasn’t possible anymore. He had feelings for Alexa: some desire, some friendship. Along with other elements he wasn’t able to name.

At the end of the year, he still intended to walk away. There was really no other option. A real marriage with kids wasn’t in his future. But for now, they could enjoy each other instead of fighting the attraction. He was positive Alexa would be able to handle it. She knew him, knew he wasn’t capable of making a true future commitment, but realized his emotions delved deeper than a casual roll in the hay.

He nodded to himself, pleased with the outcome. Yes, they’d explore this intense attraction for the upcoming months. Crazy for them not to grab the opportunity.

Satisfied with his logic, he poured his wife a cup of coffee and started up the stairs.

…

Alexa mushed her face deep into the pillow as the reality of the situation hit her like a freight train.

She’d slept with her husband.

Not once. Not twice. But at least three times. Too many to term it a crazy mistake. And too wildly intense to chalk it up to a one-nighter.

My God, she’d never be able to keep her hands off of him again.

She groaned and forced herself to look at the situation with some neutrality. Hard to do when her thighs ached and the scent of sex clung to the sheets. She still tasted him on her tongue, still felt the imprint of his fingers on her body. How could she possibly be expected to move on and pretend last night never mattered?

She couldn’t. Therefore, she needed a new plan.

Why not keep things the way they were?

She sighed deeply and tried to analyze her emotions with the coldness of a surgeon making the first cut. Yes, the pact clearly stated no sex, but that had been to protect both of them from turning to other partners. What if they just continued as is? Could she handle it?

They wanted each other. She believed his desire for her now; his body had clearly told her what her mind denied. Last night had been much more than sex, but a strange co-mingling of friendship and respect and need. And…

She slammed the barrier down on that scary thought and moved on.

Okay, so what if she suggested they continue to sleep together until the year ended? They’d maintain their friendship and put an end to the horrible sexual tension, while enjoying one another for the next few months. Yes, her deepening feelings for him terrified her. Yes, she may get her heart broken when he walked away. But she knew him, knew he was so hung up on his rotten upbringing, no woman would earn his trust.

She didn’t have false expectations.

Alexa ached to take a risk. She wanted him in her bed, wanted to take what she could for this short time and at least have the memories. She was safe because she had no illusions.

Her gut lurched at her last thought but she ignored the warning.

Then the door opened.

Nick hesitated, coffee mug in hand. A faint blush stained her cheeks at his intense stare, and she casually slid one naked leg under the barrier of the cover and rolled to her side.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” she repeated. An awkward silence beat around them in the typical morning after episode. Alexa motioned toward the coffee. “For me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He moved toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he handed her the mug, watching as she took an appreciative sniff of the rich Columbian roast. She sighed with pleasure after a taste.

“Good?”

“Perfect. I hate wimpy coffee.”

His lower lip twitched. “I figured.” He didn’t say anything for a while as she drank. He seemed to wait for an opening, but Alexa figured he couldn’t ask her if she slept well since they had hardly closed their eyes.

His male scent rose to her nostrils like a mate seeking her own. He hadn’t showered. The thin black tank left his arms and upper chest exposed, and his pants hung low on the waist, giving her a glimpse of burnished skin and a tight stomach. A raw heat tingled between her thighs and she shifted slightly on the bed. Damn if she wasn’t becoming a nympho with this man. One more time and she’d need a cane to get into her bookstore, but her body didn’t seem to care.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

She blinked and tilted her head upward. A lock of blond hair slipped over his forehead, and his jaw was darkened with stubble. She noticed he kept his attention on her face rather than the slippery sheet that kept falling down and revealing her breasts. Usually shy, a twinge of mischief danced through her with the need to test his control. She stretched in front of him to place her mug on the side table. The sheet tightened, then surrendered as she loosened her grip. The air rushed over her naked breasts and teased her nipples into tight peaks. She pretended not to notice and answered his question.

“Fine. My muscles are a bit sore, though. I need a hot shower.”

“Yes, a shower.”

“Do you want some breakfast?”

“Breakfast?”

“I’ll cook something once I get dressed. You don’t have to go into the office today, do you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay. What do you want?”

“Want?”

“Yeah. For breakfast.”

She propped her head up with one hand and studied him. He swallowed hard and tightened his jaw, as if desperately trying to pay attention to her words instead of her half-naked body.