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He runs a hand over his mouth, his eyes lingering on the freckles across my chest, my heaving cleavage, and my hardened nipples beneath my bra.

“Last chance to back out.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then let your hair down.”

I do, auburn waves tumbling around my shoulders. I feel a flash of vulnerability, standing here half-naked, my cheeks flushed. But Robbie reaches out and brushes a loose strand from my cheek, gentle as anything.

“You’re beautiful, Cat.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and for once I’m speechless.

His voice turns rougher. “Take off the bra.”

I do, letting it drop to the floor.

He looks at me—really looks. His eyes roam over my bare skin, lingering on my chest in a way that makes my nipples tighten even more. The heat in his gaze is almost as tangible as a touch. Only when I’m squirming under the weight of it does he finally reach out and cup me in both hands, his thumbs grazing over my nipples. I gasp and arch into him.

“Quite the handful you’ve got here, McIntyre,” he murmurs, making even my surname sound sexy.

He sits on the edge of the bath and pulls me close, and suddenly his hot mouth is on my breasts, his stubble brushing exquisitely against my bare skin. He licks, nips, and sucks at my nipples until I’m trembling all over.

I bury my fingers into his black hair, surprised by how silky and smooth it feels. He lets my right nipple go with a pop then sits back to examine the results of his handiwork—my breasts now pink, the nipples redder from his attention. It’s like he’s marking me in some way. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever experienced.

He stands and pushes me firmly against the bathroom wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to his heated body. Then he steps back and eyes me with a commanding look that has me ready to do anything he wants. I’m basically putty in his hands. It’s like that night in the woods, when he took control so decisively and left me aching for more.

He pulls his vest over his head in one swift motion, revealing his broad chest. His nipple ring glints in the bathroom light, and those mesmerising tattoos snake across his skin like secret stories. I drink in the sight of him, not knowing where to focus first.

My eyes trace the raven on his left biceps, wings raised as if about to take flight from a branch. A chain with a broken link wraps around his upper chest, its detailed metalwork appearing almost three-dimensional against his skin. On the side of his neck, a belladonna flower blooms. Beautiful but dangerous, just like the man himself.

I reach out to touch the chain, but Robbie growls and grabs my wrists—first one, then the other—and pins them over my head with one big hand. His eyes lock on mine—hungry and intense—and I go utterly still, savouring every delicious moment of surrender.

Robbie’s mouth claims mine again, fierce and hungry, his erection pressing insistently against my lower abdomen, the tension between us almost unbearable. But when I writhe closer, he pulls away, leaving me aching. I whimper in protest.

And then . . . his hand slips inside my joggers. “Christ, Cat, you’re soaked,” he groans in my ear. His thumb circles my clit, his fingers sinking into me. “So tight. You’re going to squeeze my cock like a vice once it’s inside you.”

The combination of his words and touch sends me over the edge. I clench around his fingers, my body shuddering with release.

Robbie looks down where his hand disappears between my legs. “Wait, Cat . . . are you . . . ?”

Rather than respond with words—couldn’t if I wanted to—I cry out. Robbie watches my face, mesmerised.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” I gasp, the aftershocks rippling through me. Honestly, I didn’t even know it was possible to come that quickly with someone. Guess there’s a first time for everything.

Robbie releases my wrists and slips his fingers from inside me. “Never apologise for coming, Cat.” He kisses me softly, then drops to his knees.

My breath catches. “What are you doing?”

He yanks my joggers and knickers down. “Going to eat you out, obviously.”

“But . . . I’ve just come!” I protest, half laughing, half shocked.

“And you’re going to do so again,” Robbie says matter-of-factly, more to my pussy than me. He hooks a leg over his shoulder then buries his face between my thighs.

His tongue is hot and hungry on me, flicking over my already sensitised clit with a skill that turns my legs to jelly. I gasp, one hand fisting his hair, the other gripping the sink for balance.

“Oh, Robbie . . . yes!” The sounds tumbling out of me are unfiltered: breathless whimpers, desperate pleas.

“Christ, you taste good,” he mutters before diving back in. His hands keep my hips pinned against the wall exactly where he wants me while his mouth works me relentlessly.