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“Yes,yes.”

One hand cups my face, and a part of my brain scrambles backwards at the intimacy. The fight it takes not to pull away cools me down long enough to prolong her pleasure. I slide my hand down her sleek back and tease her puckered hole.

I wait till she breathes out and plunge my finger inside her ass. Her insides clench hard around me. Stars explode across my vision and it’s all I can do to hold on.

“Oh God, I’m coming, Mason. Oh.” Her breath locks in her throat, and she begins to unravel in a series of convulsions that is spectacular to watch.

Her tight sheath milks me, and I feel the detonation from the soles of my feet.

“Shit, I’m there, baby. I’m going to fill you up.”

Her broken cries release me from the precipice, and I plunge into pleasure. My cock throbs with furious spurts as I flood her insides. Her arms welcome me, and we tremble skin to skin.

When we can breathe without panting, I gather her up and climb the stairs to my suite.

Foregoing the shower, we collapse into bed.

“That was amazing. Thank you,” she says in a drowsy voice.

I kiss her forehead but don’t respond. A few minutes later, her sweet, heavy weight tells me she’s fallen asleep.

My gaze fixes on the ceiling, and I ignore the panic flaring through me. I feel raw and exposed and I don’t know how to cover myself up. I try to shut myself off, but the bolt won’t connect.

I remind myself that I have nothing worth salvaging inside so it doesn’t matter if the floodgates tear me wide open.

I remind myself that this is only temporary. Nothing is happening here that won’t right itself when I’m back in Roraima. I breathe deep and open my mind to the dense and wild silence of the Amazon.

All I smell is Keely’s warm body and intoxicating scent.

On the ceiling of my mind, big red numbers count down loudly from ninety-five. When it reaches sixty, I growlFuck you,close my eyes and bury my face in Keely’s hair.

18

KEELY

I jerk awake in the middle of the night. I’m disoriented for a minute in the pitch blackness. As memory hits, my eyes flash wide open.

I’m alone.

When I put my hand on his pillow, Mason’s side of the king-sized bed is cold. I try not to freak out at the crazy thoughts swirling through my head. After what happened to me six years ago, I’ve never fallen asleep with a stranger. And although he told me a few eyebrow raising, deeply personal things last night that I suspect very few people know, he’s still a near stranger. Which makes falling asleep in his bed, in his house, a stupid thing to do.

I move around in the darkness and turn on the bedside lamp, then make sure I’m really alone in the room.

There may be a perfectly good reason why Mason’s not here. Maybe he woke up with a crazy idea for another contraption or sexy robot assistant, and he just had to get on it before he lost it. I get like that sometimes.

Or maybe he’s an insomniac. Seriously, there could be a thousand different benign reasons why he’s not in here with me.

Chill, Keely.

I sit up and look around the stylishly minimalist room. Nothing in here tells me what time it is. My purse and phone are both downstairs so there’s no way to check. I slowly lie back and put my head on Mason’s pillow. His scent fills my nostrils, and I smile at the delicious aches in my body.

After my five-month long dry spell and a good few years of mediocre sex, I’ve well and truly hit it out of the park with Mason.

He’s given me the sort of sex women write in girly fonts in their diaries and brag about to their less lucky girlfriends over cocktails.

Bethany is going to get an earful the moment I’m out of earshot of Mason Sinclair and his sexy, eavesdropping robot.

Crap, the robot…