Hands still gripping her ass, Van walked them both to her bedroom and laid her out on the full bed that didn’t look like she slept in it much.

Pulling out of her slowly, gritting his teeth when she moaned, Van ran his hand down her bare legs.

“Bathroom?”

“Next door over.”

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Don’t move? Irene felt pretty confident that wouldn’t be a problem. She couldn’t move. It was called paralysis and she seemed to have it at the moment.

For the first time in her life, Irene understood why people insisted on having sexual intercourse. And why women insisted on having sexual intercourse with Van Holtz.

Good thing she hadn’t discovered this much earlier in life. She’d never have become a Rhodes Scholar or gotten her third PhD. Instead she’d have spent more time “boning like a madwoman,” to quote Jackie.

Perhaps it was a shifter thing. Something built into their genetics. She’d always wondered exactly what antics went on over in Jackie’s room anytime Paul spent the night. She loved her friend because she didn’t try to make a lot of noise, she didn’t flaunt her relationship with Paul. But there were nights where things seemed to get seriously out of hand. On those nights, Irene went back to her office or labs to get work done. But in the back of her mind, she always wondered what exactly Paul did to her friend to make Jackie so . . . happy.

Well, now she knew.

Irene sighed, her eyes drifting closed. Finally. It was done. They were done. Van Holtz got what he wanted and so had she. Now she could focus on her work and forget about him.

Her bedroom door opened and Irene didn’t bother to open her eyes. She didn’t need him to give her excuses for why he needed to leave.

But he didn’t leave. Instead a warm cloth wiped across her vulva, carefully cleaning it. She forced herself not to frown, not to even acknowledge what he was doing.

“Sorry about that,” she heard him mutter. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Irene began to respond to that when Van Holtz suddenly buried his face between her thighs.

She gasped, her eyes flying open and her hands grabbing the back of his head.

“What . . . what are you doing?”

He looked up at her from between her legs. “I’m eating you out. No one’s ever done that for you?”

All she could do was shake her head while watching him, her eyes wide.

Van Holtz grinned. “Cool. I’m your first.” Then he dived back in.

Irene leaned back, her hands still dug into his hair, and stared up at the ceiling. The man licked and sucked, taking his time. Irene kept hearing whimpering and finally realized it was her.

“God, Irene. You taste so damn good,” he groaned.

Irene frowned. “In what sense?”

Vanlooked up at her again, one eyebrow raised.

“What’s that look for? I’m just asking. Seems an odd thing to say.”

“You think too much.”

“Yes, well—”

“We need to put a stop to that.” Van grabbed hold of her ankles and bent her legs back to her chest, then pushed them wide open and went back to what he was doing. Another orgasm, more powerful than the last, tore through her and Irene cried out, incoherent words and some ancient Greek spilling from her lips. She didn’t pass out but there were definitely some nonsensical moments there.

When she could think again, she realized Van Holtz had taken off all her clothes and had removed his as well. Now he lay next to her, his head resting in the palm of his hand, while he stared down at her.

“You okay?” he asked, his free hand idly tracing circles across her stomach and chest.

“You need to go.”

Van Holtz tensed but he didn’t leave. “Why?”

“I’ve got so much work to do,” she admitted honestly, even if it still was an excuse to outright panic. Now that the passion had died, Irene didn’t feel comfortable with the whorish creature she’d become only minutes before. She had responsibilities. Commitments. She couldn’t shirk them simply to have mindless, useless intercourse with this man and his perfect body.

“I see,” he said simply. “How about we do this.” He reached down and pulled the comforter over their bodies. “Let’s take a quick nap.”

“And what will that do exactly?”

“You look burned out, doc. A few minutes’ sleep will do you good. And I’m still a little too wound up to drive. Okay?”

Irene turned on her side, away from him. “Fine. Although your twenty seconds were up ages ago.”

“Duly noted, doc.” Van Holtz chuckled as he settled in behind her.

Irene woke up and immediately glanced at her clock. Not even eleven o’clock yet. Perfect. She could get a ton of work done now. She stretched and Van Holtz moved beside her. Although she might be tempted, she wouldn’t rush him out into the night. Instead she’d leave him to get some sleep while she went back downstairs and . . .

Grabbing hold of the big hand slipping between her legs, she turned and faced a wide-awake Van Holtz.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t bother answering her as he latched onto her nipple and sucked while a probing forefinger slipped inside her and began to stroke in and out.

“Wait—”

Two fingers were enthusiastically pushed inside her and Irene’s back arched, her hips desperately rocking against his hand. Then his thumb pressed against her clitoris and she exploded, her entire body shaking and heaving against his.