She wanted him on her.

In her.

But first . . . she leaned forward and lightly licked one of his ni**les, her own tightening in sympathetic response as he hissed in pleasure. What was it about this man? He should have been ordinary, yet she couldn’t get enough.

The salt of his sweat tasted like hot, animal sex. She wanted more.

His hands slid down to her butt, and before she realized what was happening, he’d scooped her up so she was straddling his waist. Julie wrapped her legs around him in response, and she nibbled at his lip. “Bedroom?”

“Shower,” he ground out. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“I did. I do.” But no longer was getting clean her main priority. She wanted to be wet and slick and naked.

“Nice bathroom,” she said as he eased open the door with one shoulder and slid her to her feet. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached into the enormous glass-enclosed shower to turn on the water.

“Off,” he said, gesturing at her clothes.

For the first time since he’d publicly propositioned her, she felt shy. Her shirt was dangling around her neck like a sweaty scarf, the elastic from her bra was pushing her boobs down in the entirely wrong direction, and oh gawd, when was the last time she’d trimmed her bikini line? She’d never had unplanned sex before, and usually a wax was part of the pre-date process.

“Julie,” he growled. “Don’t you dare go getting all squirrelly on me now.”

“I’m not squirrelly,” she muttered as she pretended to struggle with the drawstring of her running shorts. “I’m just—”

But Mitchell saw right through her, and before she could finish her sentence, he stepped toward her and shoved her shorts down to her ankles.

“Cute panties,” he said, smiling at her very practical blue polka-dot briefs.

She scowled. “I know they don’t scream sex. But you try running in a thong.”

“I could care less what your underwear looks like.” He pointed at her crotch, then at the floor. “Get them off.”

Deliberately Julie ignored the order, and instead crouched down to remove the shorts dangling around her ankles and to untie her shoes. She might not be perfectly clean and smoothed, but there was no way she’d stand before a man in no underwear while she was still wearing sneakers and sweaty athletic socks.

“Happy now?” she asked as she stood back up and began to wiggle out of her underwear.

Then her mouth went dry. Oh, my. Mitchell Forbes was naked.

He wasn’t the least bit shy, she noted as he threw his clothes in the general direction of his hamper and stepped into the shower.

“Care to join me?” he asked, grinning out at her from the steam.

Julie chewed her lip for half a second before she was tearing at her sports bra and tank. It was now or never.

“Ohh,” she moaned as she stepped beneath the warm spray. For the briefest of moments, the pleasure of the hot water on her sore muscles was so intense that she almost forgot about Mitchell.

Then his wet, hard body pressed up behind her and her eyes popped open.

Mitchell wasn’t about to be forgotten.

Hot soapy hands slid up her sides and then around to her front, where they paused just under her br**sts. She squirmed into him, and she thought she heard him mutter something hot and harsh before sliding his hands over her aching br**sts.

“Julie. What the hell are we doing?” he whispered in her ear.

She felt a stab of relief. So this wasn’t normal for him either. She liked that she made him lose control. Liked even more that he made her lose control.

“We can figure it out later,” she whispered over her shoulder, putting her hands over his and pressing his palms against her aching br**sts. He very slowly, very deliberately squeezed her ni**les. She gasped.

“You’re sensitive,” he said as he brushed the tips lightly with his fingers.

Julie tried to turn around to face him, but he held her close and nudged her forward until her cheek was against the cool tile wall.

“You’re a water hog,” she gasped, her ni**les getting even harder as her body chilled slightly. Being sandwiched between the heat of Mitchell’s body and the cold wall made her want to rub against him. So she did.

Mitchell hissed and squeezed her ni**les harder.

“Are you clean yet?” he asked roughly.

Her eyes opened slightly in dazed confusion. Clean? She was halfway to orgasm, and he was going OCD on her? Then his hand slid down her front and rubbed her there, and suddenly she didn’t care if she was ever clean again as long as he didn’t stop.

His hand continued to circle and stroke until it slipped downward, and without warning, one hot, slick finger slid inside her.

“Oh, God,” she moaned. She was riding his hand now, desperate for release. “Mitchell—”

The hand disappeared at the same time as he fumbled for the soap and washcloth. He scrubbed himself clean in record time before taking his time with her, dragging the soapy washcloth over every inch until she was ready to beg for more.

Finally he flicked the water off and grabbed a towel from the rack, managing to get them both only partially dry before she hooked a hand behind his head, pulling it down to hers and flicking her tongue across his lips. He swore, dropping the towel and scooping her up as he walked her out of the bathroom the same way he’d walked her in. Only this time they were skin to skin.

They fell roughly to the bed, and Julie slid her hands restlessly over his shoulder, beyond caring that she was bedding the subject of a future article on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

His big hands slid over her body until they were stroking her inner thighs, and her legs fell open for him.

“Pill? Tested?” he asked gruffly, his expression tense with desire.

She nodded. “Yes. Mitchell, now.”

But he wouldn’t hurry. His hands cupped her butt and squeezed.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She met his blue eyes and gasped as he slowly entered her, never once breaking the gaze. Nobody had ever used eye contact as a bedroom move before, but it seemed to intensify every feeling.

Still, Julie waited for the inevitable sense of letdown. She’d always been all about the foreplay. Once that was over, she’d always found sex just a tiny bit ho-hum.

But there was nothing dull about having Mitchell moving inside her. His hands gripped her harder, lifting her hips to meet his firm thrusts.

It felt impossibly good, but . . . “Mitchell,” she said hoarsely. “I can’t . . . you know, like this.”

It was a painful admission, one she usually didn’t make, for fear of seeming greedy. But damn it, she needed release.

He leaned forward and kissed her softly. “Can’t you?”

One arm slid up by her head as he supported his weight on his elbow while the other hand slid to her moist folds. Julie almost rolled her eyes because guys always thought this worked and it was almost always awkward, but then—oh. Oh!

“There, please.” She wanted him to speed up, but he apparently knew her body better than she did, because he kept the same rhythmic circular motion until her world shattered into a million pieces.

Slowly his hand slid away as he let her come out of the stratosphere before he kissed her softly and began to move again. Julie wrapped her legs around his waist and met him thrust for thrust, wanting him to find the explosive pleasure he’d given her.

He pushed into her harder and faster until she felt him stiffen and shudder as he called her name.

Mitchell collapsed on top of her, his ragged breathing matching her own.

As if she needed proof that he was one of the good ones, he rested his weight on her only for a moment before rolling to his side so she could breathe.

She considered dashing to the bathroom to fix the worst of her sex hair and do a little delicate cleanup. That was what she would normally do.

Instead, she rolled into him, nuzzling her nose against his chest. He ran a shaky hand over her mussed hair, and she smiled in satisfaction.

But as the orgasmic euphoria began to fade, her mind kicked into overdrive. What now? Was this the right time for the where-are-we-going chat? When did normal, relationship-seeking girls ask that question? It seemed sort of soon, but then the sex had been sooner than expected too.