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Damned if Britt wasn’t kissing Agent Julia O’Toole. Again. Despite his best intentions. Despite knowing how dangerous this whole thing could be. To himself. To her . He was kissing her.

Or…maybe she was kissing him.

It was hard to tell.

Half his brain was yelling, Stop! End this before it burns out of control!

But the other half of his brain? Oh, that half was screaming something else entirely. Something that started with oh and ended with yeah and had a hell thrown in there somewhere in the middle.

He liked the second half of his brain much better than the first half. Decided the second half was obviously the intelligent half, and the first half could go take a flying leap.

Of course, the choice of which half of his brain to listen to went up in a puff of smoke when Julia opened her mouth wider to the press of his tongue. It was the sweetest of invitations. The sexiest of requests. One he didn’t refuse.

He did the opposite of refuse, in fact. He jumped in whole-hog , as his father had liked to say.

Their sweet, soft kiss became a fight for supremacy. Their lips and teeth devoured. Their tongues clashed. Their hands tugged in desperation.

It was like they warred to get closer. Battled to experience all the other had to offer.

And what Julia offered was unbearable softness. Unbelievable warmth.

She was liquid silk in his arms. Her mouth was like hot sugar that melted against his tongue. The smell of her, that festive scent, like cherries and almonds and hot vanilla, tunneled up his nose and reminded him of the holidays.

It made sense, he supposed. Julia O’Toole was Christmas morning, Thanksgiving dinner, and Easter Sunday all rolled into one diminutive blond package. She was the sweetest gift and the greatest prize and…something more. Something he couldn’t name.

All he knew for sure was that he wanted more, more, more . More of her taste. More of her touch. More of her mind and body and soul.

No matter how hard he pulled her against him, or how strongly she clasped him to her, it wasn’t enough. Wasn’t close to enough.

He wanted to dissolve into all her warmth and softness. Wanted to lose himself in her. And good lord, maybe she was clouding his memory, but he couldn’t remember anyone ever being this hot. Anything ever being this fast. This crazy.

She sucked his tongue, laving along its length with her own. He nipped at her luscious lips, kissing and stroking over and over. And all the while, they rocked against each other. Rubbed against each other.

He could feel the hard points of her breasts rasping against his chest. Feel the heated dew that slicked her skin as her passion rose in direct proportion to his own.

She was flint and he was steel. She was flame and he was tinder. Together they were a conflagration. A wild, ferocious inferno that would soon burn out of control if he didn’t throw some water over the blaze.

At the rate they were going, it would all be over in minutes. He’d rip off those flannel pajama bottoms, release his raging cock, and pull her into his lap. He’d impale her onto himself and fuck up into her hot wetness over and over again. It would be hard and fast and…

Holy shit!

How had he ever thought he could deny himself this woman? How had he ever thought he’d be satisfied to simply watch her from the shadows?

They'd been destined to come here from the moment they set eyes on each other. To come together. From the first time they’d shaken hands, when their fingertips had touched and electricity had sparked, that invisible thread had been pulling them inexorably closer, steadily drawing them to this very spot.

This… This was meant to be. They were meant to find each other and know how hot passion could burn. They were meant to fire hot and flame out, like a shooting star.

The low moan at the back of her throat seemed to reverberate down into his balls, making him highly aware of how tight and heavy they were. It was enough of a distraction to have some good sense returning.

If this was all it would ever be, if all they had was this one night, he wouldn’t rush.

He would revel.

He would do everything he’d been dreaming of doing. He would touch every part of her. Taste each inch of her. Make her finish with his fingers and his mouth and his cock until every orgasm she had going forward reminded her of him.

Yes, even though he wasn’t the one for her, he wanted to be the one she remembered. The one she thought about on nights she was alone. The one who filled her fantasies when she rubbed herself to completion.

Maybe that was selfish. Maybe a better man wouldn’t want that for her. But he didn’t care.

All that mattered was making this night count.

All that mattered was making her his for these few, fleeting hours in the hopes she’d carry him with her through all the years to come. Because he knew he’d be carrying her with him for the rest of his life.

Pulling his mouth from hers took all the self-control he could muster. Then, he pressed his forehead to hers as their ragged breaths mingled.

“Don’t stop.” Her warm words feathered over his hungry lips.

“There’s no way I’m stopping.” His voice sounded like he’d dragged his vocal cords over shattered glass. “Not unless you tell me to. And if you do, I’ll likely walk funny for the next three weeks.”

She pulled back to study him. The firelight showed her eyes weren’t one shade of brown but hundreds. Caramel and toffy, chocolate and butterscotch. He could spend a lifetime looking into her eyes and never name all the sweetness he saw there.

“Then why did you pull away?” she whispered, her cheeks rosy with the warmth of passion.

“Because we’re going too fast. I don’t want to miss out on anything. I want to experience it all.” He brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “Will you let me?”

Her throat worked over a hard swallow. When she exhaled, it was ragged and smelled of hot chocolate. “I’ll let you do anything you want, Britt.”

“Then come with me.” He stood from the sofa and offered his hand.

She accepted without hesitation, and he felt a punch of satisfaction. When she obediently followed him to the pallet in front of the fireplace, lying down atop the soft quilt per his whispered instructions, he felt a wave of lust. But it was the moment she lifted a hand, silently beckoning him to join her, that made him feel something entirely new.

Something he’d never felt before.

He recognized it for what it was, though. And he wasn’t proud to admit it wasn’t a modern or an enlightened emotion. It was animalistic. Primal.

He wanted to claim . He wanted to mate. He wanted to possess her body and soul until every inch of her was imprinted with him. He wanted…

Her.

That was the simple truth of it. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his whole damn life. And every second he wasn’t touching her, wasn’t kissing her, wasn’t making her moan his name in ecstasy, was time wasted.

Quickly crossing to the bedroom door, he shoved the wooden doorstop beneath the crack. It wouldn’t stop the bedroom’s occupants from exiting the room, but it would slow them down enough to allow Britt and Julia to cover themselves.

Then he turned to make his way back to the pallet and the woman who waited for him with open arms and a vixen’s smile.