She laughed at his stories, liking him more with every passing course. And when the questions came her way, she deflected them like she always did. But this time, she felt a pang of something she couldn't identify. She wanted to share her stories with him. As if she knew that he was interested in more than her body, in more than what she could do with her mouth, her hands, her vagina.

He was interested in her.

She'd never met anyone like him before. And even though horror movies were never nearly frightening enough, even though a dark night and a dimly lit street had never made her cower with fear, Sam's honest appreciation scared her to death.

After dinner they went back to his house. He stripped off her dress, her panties, and carried her to his bed. "I'm going to find out who you are;' he said as he lay above her, "whether you want me to or not" She should have left him right then. She should have gotten out of bed and told him thanks for the fun, but the only thing she wanted more than to turn tail and run was for him to take her to heaven one last time.

SEVEN

SAM WASN'T INTERESTED IN KINKY OR WILD. Right now he wanted to go slow, take his time. To love her right, the way she deserved to be touched, cherished. To explore the mystery that was Vanessa. She thought she was straightforward, but in fact he discovered something new at every turn. He shifted onto his side, the top of his thigh barely touching the side of hers. The swell of her left breast curved into his chest. He didn't move his hands to touch her, he didn't bend down to kiss her. He just looked.

"Haven't you seen enough?" she asked. "I've practically been naked since the moment we met." She meant for her words to be challenging, but all he heard was the uncertainty behind them. "I was a painter then' he said. ''And now?"

His eyes held hers. "I'm a man:'

A flush washed over her tanned skin and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth. He watched the plump, red flesh disappear behind her teeth, and he ached to taste her.

"I'm not used to this' she said, and he admired her for admitting it. "When you were painting me it was-" "Different."

She shifted under the weight of his gaze, turning to face him.

He knew he'd sculpt her in clay from this memory. He couldn't stop his thumb from brushing lightly over her eyebrows, moving softly across her eyelids as she closed them, stopping on her lips, learning the texture. Soft and warm and wicked.

His hand moved over her chin, down to her throat,' and he held it there, feeling her pulse race, then relax, beneath his touch. Being with Vanessa like this, stroking her skin, wasn't about sex.

And yet he'd never been so aroused.

His fingers brushed over her collarbone, finally finding the swell of her br**sts. A part of him wished he could continue like this without giving in to how much he wanted her, but he was just a man. He leaned his head down, and she sucked in a breath as his hair brushed her chest.

Her nipple was warm and hard and sweet in his mouth. His tongue made lazy circles over the peak, and he felt her strong fingers thread through his hair, pulling him closer.

With his mouth busy, captivated, his hand continued its journey down the flat plane of her stomach, out to the curve of her hip, and then back in, to the center of her. She arched her hips into his hand and he slipped in, one finger sliding over her hard, slick clitoris. Her legs opened wide. He accepted her invitation, pushing one thick finger into her tight pu**y. She moaned and his mouth got jealous of his hands, so he ran kisses down her torso until he found that patch of skin between her legs that he couldn't resist. And then his tongue was there, licking, stroking, rubbing, and she was twisting beneath him. He pulled her body closer and settled between her legs, her calves resting on his back. She moaned again, but this time she was past desperation, and he sucked her clit in between her pu**y lips as his fingers drove slowly in and out of her cunt.

She was coming now, so beautiful, so perfect, and Sam knew that he loved her. Even as he mounted her, even as he drove into her, even as she cried out his name and he took her lips in a brutal kiss, he knew that she would fight against his love with every weapon she could. And he would let her.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her solid warmth close. This was the moment he would hold on to for as long as it took. Eventually she would come around.

Until then, however long it took, he would not give up.

WAKING UP IN SAM'S BED was good. He was warm and hard, but safe. His smell was spicy, dangerous, yet comforting. She wanted to make her way down his body, one kiss at a time, but at the same time she wanted to stay wrapped in his arms forever.

God, she was making herself sick. She knew better than to think that she was actually in love with him. More like she was in love with his cock. And his glorious mouth. Not to mention his hands. His eyes weren't bad either. All he needed to do was look at her and she turned into a quivering mess of orgasm. This had been a weekend to remember, that's for sure, but she was already chomping at the bit to get back to the city.

Okay, so that was a lie. She was surprised by how comfortable she was with the pace of life in Napa. There was definitely something to be said about a life in the country. Even stopping to chat every five minutes with another local, since Sam pretty much knew everyone in the valley, had been fun. San Francisco was so big that she hardly knew her neighbors.

It added up to one clear thing: She needed to get out of here.

ASAP. Say thanks for a good time, cut ties, then leave as quickly as possible.

But he wasn't her worthiest adversary for nothing. Because he was one step ahead, anticipating her flight. Before she could give in and let herself relax into his strong arms one last time, he flipped her onto her stomach, her arms behind her back, her wrists held tightly beneath his strong grip.

The part of her that should have felt fear instead felt lust. Pure, brazen desire. She'd never let a man overpower her before. And none had ever dared try it. Until now.

Only Sam would know that being conquered was what she wanted. What she needed. She turned her head from the pillow to find a pocket of air, and he slipped something silky and cool over her wrists, binding them as firmly as his hands had a moment earlier. His hands left her arms and slid, roughly, up her rib cage to her br**sts, smashed into the mattress by his weight. He cupped and squeezed her tits, and his breath blew hot on her neck as he said, "Has anyone ever taken your control away, Vanessa?"

His whispered words made her wet, so much wetter than she'd ever been. But she didn't answer. She couldn't admit that he was winning, even though he was. He could do anything to her now-anything-and she'd be the one begging for more.