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“What do you want?” I sob.

He doesn’t reply, but bends and lifts me against his body. I put my arms around him, anticipating the tender warmth of his embrace.

Instead, he lays me out on the soft area rug stretched across my bathroom floor, covers my body with his, and fills me with his cock in one hard thrust.

“I want to give you what you’re after. A good fuck. Another orgasm.”

The grip of his fingers on my hips conveys the hint of anger that haunts his voice. His words hurt. And yet…I can’t stop my body from reacting. After a handful of times inside me, Mysterious already knows how to wring an honest response from me with every quick lunge of his hips and torturously slow withdrawal.

Friction, heat, desire all claw at me. But there’s more. I lift my hips in welcome, throw my arms around him and kiss the hard line of his jaw in atonement. My affection has no effect on him. He continues to pound away at me, lifting me from the rug with each ferocious thrust into my body.

“Don’t be angry,” I rasp out, though finding coherent words in a sea of pleasure is damned difficult.

“I’m not angry. I’m aroused.”

I don’t believe him, but he robs me of the ability to protest when he rolls one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Pleasure shoots straight from the sensitive tip all the way down to my sex, which clenches in hunger. He growls and repeats the action.

God, I’m getting wetter by the moment. Hotter. The man can drive me to the brink of sanity so quickly. I’ve never reacted to Tim or any other man this strongly—ever. It’s exhilarating. It’s scary as hell.

I can’t catch a breath, can’t stop myself from responding to him, can’t prevent the burn from racing through my body and setting my blood on fire. I can’t keep from wrapping my legs around his hips and inviting him deeper. And when his palm skates down my side, over the curve of my hip and settles between our bodies, I can’t hold in my whimper.

My head swims dizzily as he traps my clit between his fingers, gives me a gentle pinch, and plunges his cock in to the hilt. “C’mon, Lauren. Come for me. Come!”

At the sharp need his touch and his growled command induces, I obey—and explode. Shards of light, heat, and colors assail me. I dig my nails into his back as I clamp down on his cock, milking him, igniting every nerve ending I’ve ever felt—and a few I haven’t known exist.

Then he pulses, stiffens, roars… and joins me in climax.

We share ragged breaths and racing hearts and tangled limbs. And I can’t deny a tug toward the man. He moves my body, without question. And he’s admitted to loving me. Why? I have no idea who he is. And I’ve used him for my pleasure. Granted, he’s taken some too, but not happily. The anger in his voice, in his touch, is clear. Guilt tugs at me.

Tonight, I meant to say no. To tell him to leave and not come back. A pair of mind-boggling orgasms later… it’s too late.

Shame burns, even as the desire to touch him grows. Why? I’ve dubbed him Noah in my mind, and I don’t want to let go. I’ve given myself to him completely—again.

Now, I’m going to have to pay the price by putting an end to this. It isn’t fair to take ecstasy from one man while thinking of another.

My conversation with Kat comes rushing back. Fine time… Now I recall. I’m supposed to tell Mysterious that I want someone else. But gee, after sucking him off and then spreading my legs for him so submissively on the bathroom floor, what are the odds that he’ll believe me?

I sigh, screw up my courage, and open my mouth to let him down without hurting him. Instead, he withdraws from my body and stands in one fluid motion. Suddenly, I feel cold.

The rustle of clothing tells me he’s getting dressed.

I frown. “You’re leaving?”

He stills. “You ready for another round?”

Yes. No. Hell, I’m confused. What do I want? I search myself… This is bad. I just wanted him to touch me, hold me. In his arms I feel desirable and sexy, like I imagine a woman in Noah Reeves’s bed would feel.

But I want him to actually be Noah. It isn’t going to happen.

“I didn’t think so,” he mutters.

“You’re just going to go?” I blurt.

A moment later, he grabs my wrist and loops something around it, then drags my arm upward. He’s affixed me to my own towel bar. Before I can cuss at him, he snaps a blindfold over my eyes.

“Yep. I offered you more last time. Everything, in fact. You made yourself clear. Sex. Just sex. I got the message. You got fucked. I’ll see you next time I have an itch to scratch.”

His words horrify me. “You son of a bitch. That’s low. That’s lower than low. I never meant⁠—”