Luke needed her.

She'd never been the kind of woman who looked for broken men to try and heal. But Luke wasn't just any man. He had always been special. Even when she wished he wasn't.

“Okay,” she whispered. “I won't.”

Pleasure flared in his eyes, but instead of his mouth coming down on hers again, hot and hard and hungry, he released her wrists and a moment later his strong, warm fingers were stroking her hair, the tops of her shoulders, the backs of her arms. Like a cat, she rubbed against his hands.

For how rough he'd been with her dress, considering how tightly he'd held her to him, now his touch was gentle. But still all-consuming.

And with the real world completely suspended on its axis for one night, it was the most natural thing in the world to look at him and say, “I've always thought you were so beautiful.”

But it wasn't enough to say it, she had to feel his beauty, had to get inside it, become a part of it. She raised her hands to his face, pressed her thumb to his lips, her other hand stroking the light stubble across his jaw. More words floated into her brain and she knew how good it would feel to say them aloud.

“I've wanted to touch you for so long, from the first moment I saw you.”

She waited for a flash of regret at telling him a truth she'd hidden from him for so long, but it never had a chance to come. Not when his eyes were burning with desire as he looked down at her, his hands now at the small of her back, pulling her even closer. And then he was turning his face into her hand, his tongue brushing against the tip of her thumb.

Her heart raced beneath his lips as he moved to circle the pulse point on her wrist with his tongue. She could feel herself melting deeper into him, completely losing the thread of where she ended and he began.

She shivered almost violently at the pleasure of it, closing her eyes and sinking deeper into the wonder of being with Luke.

Thinking how much she wanted this, how good it felt, the word, “Finally,” left her lips.

Going up onto her toes, she stretched her neck up so that she could rub her cheek against his. And again, that innocent brush of skin against skin, jaw against jaw, was one of the most sensual experiences of her life.

She wanted more.

More. More. More.

Utterly overwhelmed by the waves of ecstasy washing over her, she realized that she was already right there, on the verge of climax.

So good.

Better than she could ever remember feeling. With nothing but his mouth on her wrist, one hand on her hip, his taut muscles pressed along hers, she was nearly at the peak, on the verge of falling over the edge at the slightest additional provocation.

Amazingly, at the same time, she felt that she could hang in this moment forever, sensually suspended in time.

It was instinctive for her to try to grind herself against him, to try and crest the peak that was right there before her. She'd always been in charge of her own pleasure, and none of her lovers had ever tried to get between her and a climax.

But Luke clearly wasn't like any lover she'd ever had, because instead of helping her come, he moved her wrists back to his hands and shifted her away from him, just far enough that she was left panting with need, close enough to the edge to practically be able to taste it.

She opened her mouth to beg him to let her come, but with only a look he reminded her that she had promised not to fight him.

And, God, it was a turn-on to let him be in control.

“I want you naked,” he growled and she would've ripped her dress all the way off, but he still held her firm. And then, he was kneeling before her, pressing his mouth into her bare stomach, dipping his tongue quickly against her exposed belly button.

“So damn beautiful,” she heard him murmur again against her skin.

It felt like all the blood in her body was pooling between her legs. She was throbbing, aching.

Just the thought of Luke stripping off her panties had moisture slipping and sliding from her body. But, shockingly, it seemed he wasn't in a hurry anymore. Leisurely, his mouth moved across her stomach, his lips sucking, his tongue sliding against first one hip bone and then the other.

With nothing but the gentle press of Luke's mouth against her belly, she was nearly there.

Frustrated by his slow pace, she silently begged him to move his mouth lower, lower, lower while she rocked her pelvis against him.

“Please,” she begged. “That isn't where I need you.”

But he acted as if he hadn't heard her plea and as his tongue continued its slow swirls of pleasure against her skin, she remembered the look in his eyes when he'd begged her not to fight him tonight.

Her thoughts swirled in a jumbled fog of arousal, her brain working so much slower than it usually did, as if she wasn't taking in enough oxygen.

Was this what he meant when he'd asked her if she was ready for 'this'? Had he been asking her if she could physically withstand letting him tease her mercilessly?

And did he expect her to hand over complete control of her body to him?

But as his mouth continued to kiss and taste and nip at the skin across her stomach, she realized that none of the answers really mattered. She'd been waiting for five years – no, a decade or more - for this moment to come to fruition. And now that it was here, she would willingly walk down whatever path he wanted to lead her down.

Deep down, she knew that Luke Carson was destined to give her great pleasure. Bigger and better than she had ever dreamed was possible.

And, if dreams really did come true, maybe he'd give her even more than pleasure.

Maybe he'd give her love.

Finally lulled into Luke's new slow pace, into the dreamlike state of being held steady by his hands and rocking her abdomen softly against his sweet mouth, into the fantasy of loving and being loved, she wasn't at all prepared for him to abruptly drop her wrists and rip her dress completely in two.

Chapter Five

Luke had never seen anything—or anyone—more arousing.

With Janica nearly naked before him, he remained on his knees and looked his fill. She was thin, but not at all too thin, her hips curving out slightly from her small waist, her breasts exactly the right size for his hands. His mouth. For him to slide his cock between.

Later, he silently told his cock, which leapt at the idea of getting near her breasts.

At getting near her period.

Beneath her dress, now messily ripped down the middle and lying on the wood floor, she wore only a thin pair of silk panties. His moment of surprise over the daisy yellow fabric—he had assumed they'd be black or blood red to go along with the oversexed image she put out, rather than a sweet patch of innocence—barely had time to catch hold in his brain.