As his tongue tangled with hers, she slid her hand down his chest, past his stomach and lower, where her fingers found him hard and throbbing. She wrapped her hand around the thick shaft, reveling in the sudden catch in his breath.

She began stroking him. “Did you think about this when you used to lay awake at night?” She ran her thumb over the engorged head in smooth circles.

He closed his eyes and groaned. “Fuck, yes . . .”

She slid her hand down to the base and cupped him as she whispered in his ear. “Did you think about me using my mouth, too?”

“Christ,” Jack muttered, and before Cameron knew it she was on her back with him kneeling between her legs. He yanked off her shoes before she could protest.

“As hot as those pointy heels are, I’ve got enough scars on my body,” he told her, his breath quick.

“I’ve got condoms in my nightstand,” Cameron said, so ready she was practically panting.

“So do I. Many.”

“Let’s get one of them. Now.”

Jack reached over and yanked the drawer open, nearly pulling it off the track. He quickly found what he was looking for, and the sound of a wrapper being ripped open was music to Cameron’s ears.

“Let me put it on you,” she said urgently.

“If you do, this might all be over before we get started.”

The sight of him rolling on the condom got her even more worked up and she began arching her hips, needing him. “Jack . . .”

He moved over her. He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. “I’m right here,” he soothed in her ear. She felt him between her legs, hot and hard and ready. He inched into her slowly, filling her.

“Spread your legs, baby—let me in,” he urged. She did, and he moved deeper into her, then deeper still, and began a slow, tortuous rhythm. He held one of her hips with his free hand, gliding in and out as he pinned her to the bed. She took his achingly smooth thrusts again and again, and he brought her right to the edge, then backed away, holding her suspended there for what seemed like an eternity. She moaned his name, frantic to touch him, but he held her wrists against the bed. He slowed and withdrew from her nearly all the way, teasing her with shallow thrusts.

“Please, Jack . . .” she finally begged.

He let go of her hands, and when she looked up she saw that he was as close to losing it as she.

“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he rasped.

She did, and he plunged all the way into her.

“Oh God, Cameron, you feel so good,” he groaned.

She slid her hands up his back and tightened her legs around his hips, urging him deeper, needing him to fill her the way only he could. Her br**sts crushed against his chest as he pounded into her, harder and faster, then he shifted his hips, hitting the spot that would drive her over. He slid his hands underneath her bottom, holding her against his thrusts.

He stroked her possessively. “I love being inside you, baby . . . For three years I’ve wanted to make you mine. Now I want to feel you come around me.”

That was all it took. Cameron gripped his shoulders and cried out as she reached her peak and exploded, holding on to him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Jack pumped long and hard as the throes of her orgasm gripped him tightly, and he followed her over. She opened her eyes just in time to see the moment when he surrendered all control, her name a strained whisper on his lips as he shuddered and moaned and thrust deep one last time before crashing down on her.

They both lay there, trying to catch their breath. With his head buried in the pillow next to her, muffling his voice, Jack spoke first.

“Wow.”

Cameron turned her head, pressing her cheek against his.

“My thoughts exactly.”

FOR ONCE, JACK was glad he had a hard time sleeping for more than a few hours at a time. He woke up, saw that it was still dark, and checked the clock on the nightstand. Not even 4:00 A.M.

Cameron lay on her side, curled against him. Both of them were naked. After their first round, she’d slipped on her underwear and his shirt, a look he’d found extremely sexy, especially when paired with her tousled hair. So sexy, in fact, that—well, he’d warned her what would happen if she wore those kinds of outfits around him . . .

He worried that he’d been rougher the second time around, although he held her mostly responsible for that, too. As if wearing his shirt and black silk panties hadn’t been bad enough, after he’d stripped them off her she’d pushed him onto his back and used her mouth on him in what had to have been the single greatest torture he’d ever been subjected to. She had licked, stroked, and teased until he’d been so completely out of his mind that he’d flipped her over onto her knees and taken her that way, not stopping until she moaned and cried his name and collapsed onto the pillows.

He couldn’t get enough of her.

It scared him a little, because he’d never before felt this way about anyone. Nearly thirty-five years old, he wasn’t exactly innocent—he’d slept with his fair share of women, some he’d even met while working undercover. But all of his relationships had been casual—and he’d made that abundantly clear going into them. In the past, he’d always used his job as an excuse to avoid getting serious with anyone. Now he realized that with the right person, he wouldn’t want an excuse.

Jack leaned in, whispering her name softly. He knew he was a greedy, selfish bastard to wake her up, but he loved the reassurance of their intimacy, what it said about their relationship without either of them actually having to say it. Not to mention, it had been a couple of hours and she was lying next to him naked. He could either sit there in the dark with a hard-on, or he could do something about it.