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She half expected to see steam rise off the mattress. The friction of his pants against her bare skin and burning stare combined to light her nerve endings on fire. “Let's get you out of these pants and inside me.”

When she unbuckled his belt and slid down his zipper, his head came off the mattress. His hands didn't move but his body trembled. It was as if his muscles ached to take over.

Not happening
. She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He groaned and flopped back down. “Faster.”

Of course that made her slow down even more. She slipped her hands under his hips and worked the pants and briefs over his ass and down. With every inch she uncovered, she stopped to place a kiss on his skin. His stomach. The base of his cock. The top of his thighs. By the time she reached his knees his body shook.

“You're killing me,” he ground out.

She smiled against his calf then finished the delicious unveiling. “That's the idea.”

Making sure to give him a show, she moved down the bed and bent over in front of him. Pulling his shoes and socks off, she treated him to a long look at her breasts. Even stopped to touch them while he watched.

The noise he made sounded a lot like a growl. “Oh, come on.”

She glanced up and saw he'd raised his body up on his elbows. She knew her time for running the show was almost up. “Condoms?”

“Nightstand.” He motioned with his head.

She stood at the end of the bed and gave him her best you're-not-listening glare. “Lie back down.”

He didn't move. “Are you going to climb back on top of me if I do?”

The man insisted on negotiating everything. It's as if he couldn't help himself. “Only if you're a good boy.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I thought you wanted me to be dirty.”

“That would make you a
very
good boy.”

He dropped back so fast she was surprised he didn't bounce against the mattress. To reward him, she took long strides around the bed and bent over, giving him a nice shot of her ass.

“You are so damn beautiful.” His gaze traveled down to her legs. “Every last inch of you.”

She took a minute to return the favor and look him over. From the broad chest to the flat stomach to the muscled legs. For a man who spent most of his days behind a desk he took care of himself.

And she couldn't ignore the very impressive part of him. “I can see your appreciation.”

He lifted his hips off the mattress. “I've pretty much been in this state since you made your offer in the club.”

“That must have made work difficult.” She plucked a packet out of the drawer and dropped it on his chest.

“Why do you think I kept tracking you down and running my hands up your skirt?”

She crawled on top of him, throwing a leg over him and going slow as she brushed her skin over his. “Every time I put on underwear I think of you.”

She ran her hands over his arms until her fingers threaded through his. In this position, her hair drifted over him and her mouth met his. The kiss blew through her, grabbed her and took hold. She felt him in every cell and wanted him with every part of her.

When she lifted her head, his expression was almost pained and his breathing unsteady. “Two things.”

She had to smile at the shake in his voice. “Go ahead.”

“Stop wearing underwear when you're near me.” He lifted his head and gave her a hard fast kiss. “And put me inside you. Now.”

“What if I'm not ready?” She so was. Wet and hot and churning inside.

“Touch yourself.”

His gruff voice sent her heartbeat racing. “You
are
very dirty tonight.”

“With you, all the time.” He nuzzled her neck. “I want to watch.”

She rolled the condom over him, loving the way his eyes closed and his body flinched when she took advantage and squeezed her hand around him. “You are so ready.”

“Yes, now it's your turn.” His voice cracked.

Lifting up on her knees, she crawled up higher on his body, making sure he had a great view for the show. Straddling his stomach, she opened her legs nice and wide and slid a finger through her wetness. Back and forth, over and over, until her hips jerked.

His skin flushed and his hands balled into fists next to his head. “Slip it inside.”

She didn't pretend to be confused. Two fingers slid around her clit before one plunged deep inside. Her body moved in time with the pumping and her head fell back. The touch felt so freeing.

“Fuck. That's it.”

She opened her eyes in time to see him come off the mattress and put his arms around her. With a spin, she landed on her back and he pulled her arms over her head. Fingers slid through hers as his cock skimmed along her wetness.

“I can't wait.” The words came out of him on heavy pants.

She couldn't deny him. Didn't want to. “Do it.”

When he still waited, she slipped her legs around him and dug a heel into his back. The man had the ultimate green light and he did not waste it. He rubbed against her, then entered her in one long stroke. She'd barely adjusted to his size when he slipped out and plunged in again.

She grabbed onto his shoulders. Her body accepted his as he pushed in and out. The bed moved under the force of the thrusts. Their bodies rocked back and forth on the comforter. He kissed her neck, squeezed her fingers and angled his hips until her vision blurred.

The extended foreplay took its toll. The orgasm hit her before she was ready. Energy rolled through her and she flushed with heat. Just as her breath caught, she felt him stiffen on top of her. His head dropped to the space between her neck and shoulder and his pace quickened. She inhaled one last time and clenched her muscles tight, and her body let go.

Her last thought was that this night was worth the wait.

Elijah picked up his cell then put it on the desk again. Tomorrow he'd move in to Bast's downstairs apartment. He'd take a step that meant moving on. While living in the cheap hotel, not having furniture or possessions of his own, he could pretend it was temporary. That he'd somehow get back into Wade's bed.

That was before fucking Shawn showed up again.

The fucking asshole.

But that kiss. Eli closed his eyes and remembered every second.

He wiped his hand over his mouth. Could still taste Wade. Feel the heat pour off him as their bodies touched. A flood of memories sent his mind racing back to the days before. The sex. The comfort of living together. The simple things, like eating breakfast or watching a movie.

They'd been in this bubble where Eli couldn't leave the condo and Wade ventured out only to work. The enforced closeness made their relationship move in double time. And that's what it had been. A relationship.

They argued a lot at the end, almost always about Becca. Over Eli's worries about her being in the building and being a traitor. Those fights colored everything. Eventually destroyed it all.

Eli spun his phone around, letting it thud against the wood as it turned. When it stopped he swiped his finger over the screen and entered the lock code. Finding Wade's number only took a second since he was right there in his favorites. One call, maybe a pathetic hookup for old time's sake, like with that kiss. Something to hold on to the bond.

But Wade had made it clear it was Shawn's turn now. He admitted he'd go there next. That the kiss meant good-bye.

With a groan, Eli swept the phone off the desk and heard it crack against the floor. Now he'd need a new phone. He'd already been given a new life and a chance not to be on the run. It should have been enough.

It wasn't.

•   •   •

It didn't take long for Bast to realize Kyra left the bed and he had to go searching. The delay in satisfaction made him grumpy. The warm bed upstairs called. The time he had her on her hands and knees, a palm pressing her back down as he entered her, kept running through his mind. Taking a second run at that position appealed to him.

The memory led to his dick getting hard. Made him wonder why the hell he bothered pulling on his briefs to go downstairs. When he found her, he'd likely take her. He had a condom in his hand just in case. Which, the more he thought about it, had a creepy vibe.

He got to the bottom of the steps and rounded the banister to head toward the kitchen. A flash of movement caught his attention and he stepped into his library instead.

For a second he just stood in the doorway and watched her. She hummed as she reached for a book on a high shelf. The stretch had his dress shirt riding up and flashing her impressive ass. God, her body fucking killed him. So tight and the fluid way she moved had his cock in a permanent ready-to-go state.

As if she sensed him, she turned and pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “Did I wake you?”

That smile, so warm and full of life. He wondered how he kept away from her for as long as he did. He wasn't the scouting-for-younger-women type. He preferred women who knew the score. Enjoyed sex and a good time.

But with Kyra he didn't get easy and smooth. She demanded time and attention. She refused to be forgotten or left in a corner or used only for sex. They'd reached an understanding and she'd somehow pushed him while still following the spirit of the thing.

He should be panicked and ready to bolt. Instead, every minute with her made him want another. The sensation scared the hell out of him, but he wasn't ready to back away. Not this soon.

“You didn't.” He stepped farther into the room and closer to her. “What are you doing down here?”

“Checking out your library.”

The whole scene struck him as ridiculous. Her wearing his mostly unbuttoned shirt and him in his underwear.

When he laughed, she hugged the book tighter to her chest. “What?”

“Sounded like a euphemism.”

“For sex? I think you're obsessed.” She set the hardcover on the shelf and leaned against his desk with her hands balanced on either side of her thighs.

The way she stretched her long legs out in front of her. Those dark red toenails . . . she had to know what the lounging did to him. “With you? Definitely.”

“I got that from the groaning and shouting an hour ago.”

“That was you.” The sounds she made as she came would stay in his head for weeks. So earthy and guttural. So damn hot.

“Yes, it was.”

She shifted and the edge of the shirt slipped up, revealing the very top of her thighs, and his gaze zoomed right there. “You're still not wearing underwear.”

She flashed him. “Didn't bring any.”

“Good.” He walked over to the book she abandoned and put the condom down to study the spine. Seemed her taste ran to the classics. “You can borrow anything in here.”

“This is amazing. Growing up I didn't really have books.”

He couldn't imagine that. His parents filled the house with books and educational videos. They sent him to special classes and all the best schools. When a grade dropped to a B in a class, he got stuck in hours of tutoring with specialists. The Jamesons were all about proper. Even after they divorced, his mother kept up his father's strict standards. She eased up the reins now and then but once Bast lost her the expectations from his father for his only son rose even higher.

Then Bast got divorced. But not quietly, as his dad insisted. That led to the end of any father-son bond other than the one his old man turned on and off for show.

“I'm assuming there wasn't a lot of extra money to go around,” Bast said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible.

“Have you heard about what life with my father was like?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He watched her foot swing back and forth and guessed this wasn't an easy topic for her.

Jarrett had filled Bast in long ago about Wade's home life. Bast had stepped in more than once to keep Wade out of trouble and watched over Kyra from a distance. But that didn't mean he knew every detail. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

“He didn't spend money on books. On anything for us, really.” She stared at the shelves as her gaze traveled over the books' spines. “I remember discovering the library at school. My breath jammed up in my throat and I wanted to race around the shelves touching each one.”

“I'm trying to imagine you as a little kid.” She was so fierce and headstrong. Maybe she picked it up as a means of survival.

Bast knew from Jarrett that she wouldn't take money from Wade for school. She worked, she got loans. She took time off to collect what she needed and didn't ask for help. He admired her independence, that she never complained about getting a raw deal in the parent department, even though she certainly had.

“I was all long legs, constantly tripping over things. And bad teeth.” She laughed. “So crooked and messed up because I never went to a dentist. It cost me, with Wade's help, a fortune to fix them a few years ago.”

His dad qualified as difficult but Bast never worried about the basics. Never had to scrape together money for textbooks or to pay to fill cavities. “I'd like to kick your father's ass.”

“Prison didn't change him. I doubt anything could.”

That sounded like they still had a relationship, and that couldn't be right. Wade broke off all contact and insisted she do the same when her father tried to pull her into his scams. “You still see him?”

“I'm speaking in global terms.” She waved him off. “But I remember the librarian, this fabulous older woman named Mrs. Pillard. She'd set aside books for me to read and I'd sit there through lunch, when the doors were locked and no one was supposed to be in there, and cuddle up in a corner of the stacks.”

The lifeline was something but she deserved more. “When did you eat?”

“Food didn't matter.”

The urge to protect her surged through him. She didn't need him fighting her battles but he wanted to step in with fists up. “Maybe I should kick your father in the teeth instead.”

“You grew up with books.” She stood up and went wandering. Her fingers trailed along the edge of the desk and over the computer monitor. She fiddled with the pens lined up by the blotter.

She moved with such grace she mesmerized him. “Yeah. Lots of books and expectations.”

“Were you a bad boy as a kid?” She smiled as she said it.

“A typical one, I guess. The school was strict.”

Her head popped up. “What does that mean?”

“I went away to boarding school. Came home on holidays and when my dad needed me for a work event.” The bitterness filled his mouth. He was gone when his father dumped his mother for a younger version. Gone when his mother died two years later from breast cancer.

“I know it sounds weird, but going away and not being in my father's house was my childhood fantasy.”

“Compared to your home life, I bet it was.”

She went to the fireplace and studied each photo on the mantel. “You didn't like it.”

“Not really a fan of being shuffled around and forgotten.” He shifted around to face her. He'd answer just about any question to keep her talking. To get to keep watching her.

“You're a nester.”

Not really a word he associated with his life or personality. “Is that a good thing?”

“You like home and hearth. You're connected to friends and work and when you're not with either, you want to be here. Where it's comfortable.”

“Good guess.” The assessment nailed it. He didn't hang out in bars or look for women in clubs. He worked and ate with one of his partners, or with Jarrett and hung around the house. When he dated, it was short-term and usually with a woman he already knew.

No surprises. No uncontrolled reactions. Nothing that made his blood simmer until he met Kyra.

“An informed one, maybe.” Her gaze bounced from one corner of the room to the other. “You're not that hard to read. For example, I bet this is your favorite room.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You're in every inch of it. The house is organized and impressive but the desk looks like a real person works here. The stack of newspapers and magazines on the side.” She sent him a heated look. “I like that you go old-school for your news, by the way. It's sexy.”

Christ, her mouth kicked up and her eyes grew warm and his dick went into countdown mode. “Then I won't cancel the subscriptions.”

“The photos with Jarrett and . . . other people. Not sure who.” She leaned in closer as if studying them then stood up again and pointed to frames on the wall above the mantel. “These look personal. Like, I'm wondering if you took the photos rather than purchased them. Knickknacks you've collected. Books with turned-down pages, which means you've read them rather than just stockpiled them because they looked good in the room.”

The inventory bordered on spooky. She got every fact right. “Impressive.”

“It's homey.” She rushed her hand over the top of the leather couch. “The house is big and expensive, located in a hoity part of town, but still comfortable.”

“Hoity?”

“You have a driveway with a garage. Normal people, even those who live in Georgetown, do not have a driveway in DC.”

“You have an interesting definition of hoity.” Though he had to admit he picked this place over two others because of the garage. Paid too much for the house, too.

“It looks like the guy next door has a driver. And I'm pretty sure I saw a woman in a traditional maid's uniform open the door across the street.” She walked to the front of the room and pulled back the heavy curtain he closed each night for privacy. “I almost feel like you should have snuck me in through the servant's entrance . . . I'm assuming you have one of those.”

The words piled up until they tripped an alarm in his brain. He spent most of his life ducking from the type of women who wanted to land a rich guy with a pedigree of sorts. Kyra seemed to want the exact opposite and merely tolerated his financial status as an unwanted characteristic that came along with him.

So, he had to ask. “Does the money bug you?”

She shrugged. “It adds a barrier.”

Not the clearest answer but he got the point. Now he wanted her to understand his position on the topic.

“Not for me. The ‘who are your parents' and ‘what school did you go to' thing is not on my radar.” Two topics many DC types, married and not, put a lot of stake in.

“No, I guess not. Jarrett doesn't act like a crazy rich dude either. I think you're the same. Grounded despite all the flashy stuff.”

Bast decided to take that as a compliment. “Jarrett has a lot more money than I do.”

“Really?” She whistled. “Damn.”

Bast could have stopped there. Should have . . . “And thank you.”

“For what?”

“Seeing through the bullshit to the man beneath.” Not everyone could. He'd learned that the hard way.

With that sexy smile and seductive walk, she came back to him. His shirt hung off her shoulder and barely hugged her breasts.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “The man beneath is pretty hot.”

“We should see.” His hands slipped under the shirt to touch the bare skin of her waist.

“What?”

“How hot I am when I'm underneath you.”

She ran her fingernails at the edge of his hair, right by his ear. “Wow, that was quite the segue.”

In a short period of time he'd learned that she liked to touch him. It was like a subconscious gesture. One he loved and had already come to count on.

He massaged her back. “Well, I do make my living using words.”

“I can totally tell.”

“I'm prepared to say some really dirty ones to get that shirt off of you.” He let go of her only long enough to grab the condom off the bookshelf.