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It was a stalwart woman who didn’t climax then and there. Because she wanted to fuck Campbell True more than she’d wanted to fuck anyone in her life.

Easing into her in deviously gradual degrees, he clenched his teeth as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple and across his cheek. “Ever had”—he swiped the moisture away with his shoulder—“a rug burn, Hellcat?”

“Yep.” She sighed as he slid another tantalizing inch, her arms snaking around his back for leverage. “Mmm...but never an orgasm during sex.”

Like a storm breaking, as if her words had taken him over the edge, Campbell splintered. Capturing her aroused cry with his mouth, he grasped her buttocks and pulled her flush against him, pelvis to pelvis. Reckless, he buried himself to the hilt, driving deeper with each thrust.

“You’re so goddamn tight. So wet,” he rasped, his words almost a growl. “A perfect fit.”

Long, precise thrusts moved them across the floor, her shoulder knocking the wall, the rug bunching beneath her. When his mouth found her breasts again—his hands everywhere, cradling, teasing, demanding—she could only manage a breathless whimper, fingers twisting in his hair.

Pure pleasure consumed her as he filled her, again and again. Lifting to meet him, she matched the deliberate rotation of his hips, the increasing urgency of his pace.

Her orgasm started low in her belly, spiraling outward to her toes, her fingers, her scalp.

A prolonged, high voltage stretch.

“Let it ride,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot, his words strained. “Don’t try to manage it.”

She blossomed more than anything in her garden.

Glorious, soaring, unrestrained freedom.

His weight her only tether, wonderfully lewd, carnal .

They were moist skin and desperation, mindless, bundled passion.

When he reached between their bodies, she wondered what he could possibly do that he hadn’t already done.

Na?ve girl. Her clit sang beneath his touch.

Okay. Oh . Amazing .

Her scream wasn’t horror-movie worthy, but it was loud.

“I thought you might like that,” he breathed into her ear. “Maybe a little faster...harder...will seal the deal entirely.”

The second climax shocked her. Floored her.

Or possibly it was a delayed continuation of the first—an aftershock.

A frenzied sensation, like a reckless dash into the street when you’re not sure if cars are coming, it was quicker, sharper than the first. Maybe it caught him off guard, too, because her response—urging him to his back and riding him like she was chasing the sensation—sent him soaring, a rocket shooting into the sky.

His eyes closed, hoarse groans slipping from his lips, his body curving into hers.

The incredible thing was, he didn’t take control, try to steal the moment from her .

He just circled her waist with his long, slim fingers, anchoring her as he ground his pelvis against hers with each upward thrust.

He let her lead.

Their shouts echoed off the walls, desire thickening the air.

Gasping, beseeching, demanding. She didn’t know which of them did what, and she didn’t care.

Her ears buzzed, her skin sizzled, her mouth went bone-dry.

Time meant nothing, reason even less. It was terrifying and thrilling all at once, leaping from a great height and trusting he’d catch her.

The intensity of her release, both of them, stole her breath, stretched her wide—not just her body, but something deeper, something she hadn’t realized she’d been guarding.

This felt like the kind of more she hadn’t planned on.

In the back of her mind, she heard Campbell tell her he was close, or there, or coming with her. Groaning, he brought her hips to his as he arched his back, his voice raw as his words rolled through her. You’re beautiful. Unparalleled. This is magic.

Sharing this with him was the beautiful thing. The shimmering vulnerability clinging to his skin only made her yearn, made her wonder how much deeper they could go and still keep their promise.

Casual. No strings. Uncomplicated. One night.

When this felt like anything but simple.

Complications. One area where she had experience.

Floating back to earth, Fontana collapsed atop him. “I feel like I’ve been pulled through a keyhole,” she murmured, instead of voicing what she was really thinking.

He mumbled a husky reply, eyes closed, chest rattling like an overheating engine. His arms dropped to his sides, his body trembling with every beat of his heart, drawing her into its rhythm .

Her breath seized. She’d felt the same pulsations in his cock, buried deep inside her.

“Hot,” she whispered, rolling off him, shaken.

The floor was cool and stuck to her skin. She considered running through the yard to bring her temperature down, taking a few laps around the gazebo. Except that would require clothing, and she didn’t have the energy to get dressed.

She didn’t have the energy to move .

They’d ended up a few feet from the starting line, off the rug, which was now tangled under her left leg and his right.

Her hair was a matted clump hanging down her back, her toes cramping, her lips completely numb.

The air smelled dank and carnal, so grossly appropriate that she took another gulp, locking the memory in place.

She might never do this, like this , again.

Euphoria hit her, a wave of belated bliss.

“That was fun.” Straddling him, she tossed her head back with a laugh. “Really fun.”

His lids fluttered, his gaze full of both amusement and exasperation as it searched hers. “ Fun ?”

Close enough to discern—and finally in the right mind to think clearly—she realized his eyes were more amber than brown, warm and expressive rather than cool and unyielding. The swirling color of whiskey sliding down her throat, rolling through her body.

He wasn’t all arrogance and wealth, talent and intrepidity.

There was a genuine person underneath the bluster, if you looked hard enough to find him.

And you had to look hard.

This realization made Fontana like him. A little.

Campbell’s gaze left her face to glide down her body. Something about the smoldering, intensely focused way he studied her twisted her up inside, made her imagine pinning his arms over his head as she rode him to completion .

She sighed. As if she needed another infusion of heat.

Flustered, Fontana traced a bite mark on his shoulder. “I gave you a hickey.” She caressed a patch of reddened skin beneath his earlobe, then pressed her lips there, catching the salty taste of him on her tongue. “One here, too.”

A smile curled lips swollen from her kisses, those adorable dimples jumping into play. “Care to give me anything else?”

She shivered as goosebumps broke out along her arms.

Surely, it was the stormy breeze sweeping through the hallway window, not the feel of his cock hardening against her thigh. Or the callused palm covering her breast, thumb teasing her sensitive nipple in a deliberately devastating stroke.

When she started to rise, he grasped her hips and pulled her back, throbbing center to throbbing center. Moist, hot, greedy want shimmered off their bodies. “If you give me a second, I might be able to go again.”

“Again?” she whispered, dazed and delighted. She’d never gone again .

A ragged breath ripped from his throat—a choked half-laugh. “Your enthusiasm is doing crazy things to me, Hellcat. I can’t explain, because it’s new to me. I think I can only show you.”

She was amazed she could make Campbell lose himself, make him blind with yearning.

He did the same to her. So, all told, it was fair.

“I had one already.” She shrugged weakly, her face heating. “You know, during . That might be it for me.”

Just in case he’d missed it.

“ Two .” His body shifted beneath her, restless. “Both times, your pussy gripped my cock like a vise. It was hard to overlook.”

She shivered as the lingering sensations from them rippled down her spine. “Two, then. ”

“According to you”—his wide smile was all self-congratulatory male—“two more than you had during sex before.”

“Arrogant beast, there’s no reason to?—”

Laughing, he dragged her down, kissing her until she melted like molten wax over him. A calculated strategy, if she’d ever seen one.

A calculated strategy she loved .

“I’ll help you comprehend the critical need for another,” he said, his promise a burning vow in her ear. “Third time’s the charm.”

“Good things come in threes,” she added faintly, trying not to let his dreamy smile transport her places it shouldn’t.

But he was so appealing, sprawled lazily beneath her in sexual splendor—his skin slick, the delicious scent of him embracing her, his taste dense on her tongue. Too tempting, by far. And now that she knew how he could make her feel, how he touched her, how he liked to be touched…

Having power, any power, over such a fascinating person was addictive.

“On the count of three,” he whispered, rolling her to her back and settling between her thighs. When he sucked her nipple between his lips, siphoning the last of her denial, she rose to meet him—hips arching, mouth finding his.

Absolute capitulation.

As the rational world crumbled around her—exposed, vulnerable, her body mislaid—Fontana struggled to secure her mind.

And lost.