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He drew back.

“Don’t stop,” she said and he took the hand she held out to him, kissed the palm, then yanked off his shirt. Toed off his boots. Unzipped his pants, got them off along with his shorts.

His erection sprang free. He was big. It had always been a point of stupid male pride, but now he was bigger than ever and hard as stone, harder than he’d ever imagined a man could be.

She was already pulling off her shirt and he tore it from her hands, dropped it, shoved down her scrubs as she stepped out of her shoes.

He stopped just long enough to look at her.

She was naked under the shirt and scrubs. And beautiful.

More than beautiful.

Her lovely rounded breasts. The sweet indentation of her waist. The elegant curve of her hips. And those legs. Long enough to wrap around him as he took them both on an endless ride to the stars.

He was moving too fast. He knew it. Knew it…

“Hurry,” she said, and he was lost.

He took her in his arms. Backed her against the wall. Bent to her and sucked one sweet rosy nipple into the heat of his mouth while his thumb played over the other.

She was moaning. Saying his name. Rising towards him, wrapping one leg around his.

He lifted her. She wrapped both legs around his hips.

“Alessandra,” he said in a hot, hard voice.

She looked at him, her eyes as dark as the sea, and he drove into her.

She cried out, sank her teeth into his shoulder, and he felt her womb convulse around his dick.

He rocked into her again. Felt her coming again, and he put one hand between them and caressed her swollen clitoris as he thrust deep inside her.

She was moaning. Sobbing. Saying his name, Tanner Tanner Tanner again and again and again, and no woman had ever said his name like that, had ever felt like this, had ever made him feel like this, and he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t wait, couldn’t do anything but let go, let go, and soar with her into a place where nothing mattered except this.

* * *

Slowly, very slowly, he became aware of things.

The sound of her breathing. The feel of her against him, her skin silky and hot. The glorious smell of her, of sex and woman.

He knew he had to move.

His body was pinning hers to the wall and he was much too heavy for her. His leg ached. It was a miracle it hadn’t given way.

Yes, but summoning the energy to do anything just didn’t seem possible.

She sighed, whispered something. His name, maybe. He couldn’t tell, couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of her heart and his.

And, gradually, the voice in his head saying, Jesus H

. Christ, dude, what did you do?

“Alessandra. I’m—” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m—“”

“Do not,” she said fiercely, “do not say you’re sorry.”

Sorry? Hell, no. How could he be sorry about what had just happened? Slowly, he lowered her to her feet and pressed his forehead to hers.