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Ihad made a terrible mistake. Possibly several. The first was asking Gunnar Blackwood for an orgasm. I was a one-and-done woman. One orgasm, a pleasant release, and then I was ready for everyone to get off me and preferably out of my room.

The first orgasm Gunnar had given me had been unlike any I'd ever experienced. It hadn't simply happened between my thighs. It had gone through me. My toes had curled so hard they cramped. My thighs had shaken until the bed frame rattled. My stomach had clenched until I couldn't breathe. The sensation had raced up my spine, tightening muscles I hadn't been aware were participating in the festivities. For several long seconds, there had been nothing but heat and pressure and Gunnar's weight pinning me exactly where he'd told me to stay.

I'd loved that part almost as much as the orgasm.

No man had ever told me what to do. Men asked. Men hoped. Men waited for some indication that they'd pleased me and tried desperately to do it again.

Gunnar bossed me around. And I liked it. I liked his weight holding me down. I liked the command in his voice. I liked being told to stay still almost as much as I liked doing something to test whether he could make me.

He could.

Gunnar didn't retreat when I pushed. He didn't become flustered when I sassed him. He pushed back. After I came down off the orgasmic high, he did not retreat. He pushed his fingers back into me, searching for another one. And found it.

The second climax didn't strike so much as seize me. My body tightened beneath him before breaking into helpless tremors. The pleasure felt contained this time. Like an explosion inside a small space that reverberated back in on itself. My pulse thundered in my ears. Heat rushed beneath my skin, followed by a shiver so violent that my teeth clicked together.

I couldn't decide whether I wanted to melt into the mattress or crawl out of my own skin. Possibly both.

Gunnar's weight remained over me. Solid. Unyielding. Containing all the shaking pieces until they slowly settled back into place.

And there it was again. That feeling. That he could handle me.

Physically, there had never been any question. But as my heartbeat returned to something resembling normal, an infinitely more dangerous thought occurred to me. Maybe Gunnar Blackwood was smart enough to handle me, too.

"You're going to be a squirter."

I had no idea what he was talking about. I couldn't form the words to ask. Didn't much care what they meant.

Gunnar released my wrists and moved away. The mattress dipped as he settled beside me.

I lay there staring at the ceiling. Free. My arms were free. My legs were free. Gunnar wasn't holding any part of me.

I could breathe. I could think. I should probably rest. Instead, I had the sudden, overwhelming urge to run. Which was ridiculous. I was in a bedroom. There was nowhere to go. More importantly, there was nothing to run from.

I remembered the forest. The cold air against my fur. The ground disappeared beneath my paws. Gunnar was somewhere behind me. Hunting me.

I remembered knowing he would catch me. Something deep inside me had come alive. Because he wanted me enough to chase me. Because I could run as hard as I wanted and he would still come. Because when he caught me, he would take over, and there would be nothing for me to worry about. I could lay my burden down for him to pick it up, for him to pick me.

But I couldn't tell him that's what I needed. I wasn't insane. Like some needy woman who needed a man.

I turned my head to face him. He was beside me, relaxed. Not watching me. Or perhaps pretending not to.

This was stupid. Juvenile. Completely unnecessary. And yet…

I bolted off the bed.

I made it three steps before an arm hooked around my waist. I shrieked as my feet left the floor. A second later, my back met Gunnar's chest.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Getting away from you."

He tensed for a moment, and I realized my miscalculation. He was still caught up on our wedding night when he'd burst my seams open. Beside my ear, his nostrils flared. He smelled it. The brief time it had taken me to run, my arousal had increased.

Slowly, he set me down on the floor. The moment my feet touched the ground, I twisted in his arms. Gunnar let me turn and get a few steps away from him before he hauled me once again to his chest.

It was as if we were testing each other. Him testing to see if he got the question right. Me testing to see if he would keep giving me the answer I wanted.

He turned me until I was facing him, but he didn't release me. I shoved his chest. Nothing happened.