“Again.” His voice is husky and filled with sensual promise.

“You like that?”

“Yeah, baby, I do.” His hand tangles in my hair and he yanks my head back so hard my eyes tear. With his other hand around my waist, he pulls me tight against his body. I sense a shift in the crowd around us, and then people surge toward the stage, leaving us alone at the bar.

“You drive me f**king crazy.” With a nip, he parts my lips, and his tongue sweeps inside, searching, possessing, teasing, until my knees tremble and my body turns liquid.

“Remember that night we met?” he murmurs against my lips. “We f**ked against one mirror and watched ourselves in the other and you told me it was how you imagined it would feel to have sex in a crowd?”

“That was a good night.”

“The night I met you was the best night of my life.”

Before I can respond, he deepens the kiss. Our tongues tangle, teeth clash, lips bruise. Lust, raw and ragged, tears through me, and I can only cling to his shoulders and hold on for the ride.

“We’re gonna do it now.” His voice deepens to a growl. “We’re gonna make that fantasy come true.”

“Maybe not here.” But a few minutes and multiple shoves of angry fans later, we are in the shadowed alcove leading to the equipment room. Doors in back. Walls on the sides. And an entire warehouse of screaming fans in front of us. If the band could see past the glare of spotlights, they would have a front row seat to what’s about to go down, and if anyone turns around and takes more than a casual glance, they would be able to see us too.

Jake presses me up against the doors, his broad back hiding me from view. He slides his hand under my T-shirt and his thumb brushes over my nipple, already peaked and aching under my bra. Lightning zings straight to my core and I gasp into his mouth.

“Been thinking about your br**sts all day and how I didn’t give them proper attention.” His hands ease up my shirt and he shoves up my bra.

“Jake…” But my protest comes too late. My br**sts tumble free into his waiting palms.

A fresh burst of energy hits the crowd as the band starts a new song. The warehouse pulses and throbs with the first roll of the drum. The venue must be over capacity, because even at the back, there is little room to move. Not that I want to move. Plastered against Jake’s body so tight I can feel the beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his chest, the steel of his erection pressed against my abdomen, suddenly there is nowhere else I want to be.

He releases me with a low groan and then his hands trace my curves, over my hips, down to the edge of my skirt. Easing it up ever so gently, he traces lazy circles up my inner thigh. “I wanna hear you scream, baby.”

“How about your surprise first?” I slide his hand to the front and draw it up under my skirt.

Jake sucks in a sharp breath as he strokes his finger over the fuzz-free curve of my sex. “Bare. For me.”

“For you.”

He gives me a devilish smile, all crinkled eyes and rakish charm, and rests one forearm on the wall beside my head while his other hand explores, his fingers spreading my folds, easing my legs apart. “Open for me.”

A naughty thrill of sensation floods my body and I inch my legs apart. “When you talk like that…say things like that…it makes me so wet.”

“I know.” He dips his fingers between my thighs and spreads my wetness up and around my clit, tearing a moan from my throat.

“And I know you’ll like this even more.” He kicks my legs farther apart and glides his fingers along my wet folds, parting them, exposing my hidden depths. My brain fuzzes at the intimate touch while around us the crowd roars.

“Oh God. You’re right.” I slide my hands over his shoulders and thread my fingers through his soft, silky hair.

He eases one finger into my center, swollen and throbbing, and I almost come right then. My body stiffens then arches toward him, my fingers gripping his shoulders so hard I’m sure I’ll leave bruises. But I can’t deny the delicious thrill of his touch where the risk of being seen is so high, the danger so great, and the pleasure so intense.

“I want to hear you.” He withdraws his finger then thrusts it in again, deeper this time. “I want you to come all over my hand. I want you to scream because I made you scream and you wanted me to do it.”

Coiled tight, I rock my hips against his palm, seeking just the barest touch on my swollen nub to send me over the edge, but he keeps just out of reach, leaving me to grind against his fingers until I am ready to scream with frustration.

Jake gives a satisfied growl. “You like f**king my fingers, knowing any moment someone might turn and see what a dirty girl you really are.”

“Yes.” My head drops against the wall, my body trembling.

He rubs his fingers along my inner walls, pushing deep, deeper than I imagined fingers could go. My tension builds, but every time I near my peak, he slows his pace until I’m squirming and whimpering and begging for release. My hands are no longer gentle in his hair. Instead they are claws, dug into his shoulders so deep nothing could pry them away.

“You’re tight, baby. So damn tight. I want so bad to be inside you.”

His erotic words shoot me right to the edge. Stiffening, gripping him, my body burning, I whisper, “Make me come.”

He presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “You’ll come when I want you to come.”

My brain fuzzes and my sex clenches around him. Jake kisses me softly, gently while his fingers pump hard and deep and fast inside me, an overwhelming dichotomy of sensation. I don’t know whether I should cry or moan or whimper or shout or beg. All I know is my body is coiled tight, tighter than it’s ever been, and the need for release is so strong it borders on pain.