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I arch into his touch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he whispers in my ear.

Pressing his palm down between my shoulder blades, he eases me forward on the bed and leans over my back to capture my mouth in a searing kiss that has my toes curling as he grinds into me from behind.

I angle my head to deepen the kiss, desperate for more, and his tongue tangles with my own.

I’m tired of living from list to list. Just this once, I want to scribble outside the lines, take risks… take what I want.

And what I want is him.

I push my ass out against him, wanting more, and his arm wraps around my middle, holding me up. But maybe it’s better this way, less personal.

“Fuck this. Eyes on me.” He flips me once more. This time, I’m on my back, and he climbs between my thighs like he belongs there after sliding my panties down my legs. “I fantasized about doing this very thing when I handed these back to you earlier.”

Heat floods my core at his confession.

He eases me backward and climbs between my legs, careful not to break our connection, a part of him always touching a part of me like he’s afraid I’ll slip through his fingers.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands.

“You,” I respond breathlessly.

He lines up at my entrance and searches my face one last time for any trace of doubt. He won’t find it. I want this. I need this.

“Shit. Condom,” he groans.

“Tote. Bag. Floor.” I try to form a complete sentence, but it’s so hard to think with his hard cock brushing my thigh.

He leans over and grabs the bag, dragging it up to the mattress. I blindly stick my hand in and feel around for every box I can.

Cold meds.

Band-Aids.

Condoms!

I practically throw him the box, and in record time, he’s rolling on protection and poised at my entrance.

Anticipation crackles in the air between us. He grabs my hips, and I can’t take it anymore. I lift them to meet him, and his eyes widen with pleased shock as he thrusts to meet me, driving in.

“So fucking tight,” he groans.

My nails rake down his back as my body adjusts to the size of him.

“Is this okay?” I can tell he’s holding back, but I don’t want him to be gentle.

“It’s more than okay. Please—” I whimper into his mouth. He pulls my leg up, and I wrap it around his back, pulling him closer, taking him deeper.

I feel the scratch of his beard on my cheek.

It occurs to me as I’m crying out that I wish I knew his name so I could scream as he takes me…

Faster.

Farther.

Deeper.