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Helpless, as if his gaze holds me captive, I shake my head, but my stare never wavers.

He lifts my legs on either side of his hips, and I lock them behind his back, taking him deeper than ever before. Next, he cradles my face in his hands. The intensity of his eyes, the raw, scorching need burning from his gaze scald my senses.

“For ten fucking years, I’ve wanted you. Waited for you.”

Each phrase, he punctuates with another demanding thrust into my body, another nudge at my heart and soul. He stretches me wide, scraping every sensitive nerve in my channel.

My body trembles with need. My mind spins. All this time, he thought about me? For the last week, Mysterious and Noah, the same man? That thought alone is enough to blow my mind. But to think that he’s wanted me for ten years…

He covers my mouth with his, and I give in to sensation, not having the will or the strength to resist. Just like his cock, his tongue slides deep, taking total possession. I’m too aroused, too aware of this man, to refuse.

“I love you.” He looks right into my eyes, pushing deeper into my body, as he says it. “I’ve always loved you.”

His words illuminate every dark corner of my body, echoing through my heart. And I burst into a million pieces, exploding all around him, rocketing up to a hot swirl of stars, bright lights, and searing pleasure that slams me with every pulse of my womb.

Noah tears his lips away and tosses his head back on a dark groan of pleasure, roaring as he fills me one last time and releases inside me.

One look at his flushed face tells me he’s not only given me pleasure, but his heart. A bit of his soul. That expression says that he intends to take mine as well.

I fear he already has.

Chapter Ten

Lying with my head pillowed on his chest, I listen to his slowing heartbeat. Heavy lassitude winds through my limbs. Tangled together, Noah and I are both damp with a sheen of sweat. Bliss runs sweetly through my body. Despite my best intentions, I’ve fallen for him hard.

He’s my mystery man. He’s been sneaking into my house, stealing into my body with torrid passion time after time. And those words of love he’d uttered just before my orgasm…totally stunning. The shock and disquiet puncture my lazy satisfaction. Euphoria slowly deflates.

Noah turns his gaze to me, intent and questioning. Uncertainty creeps in. I don’t know what to say.

He wants me to be happy about his revelation. To laugh and say yes to more. I want that too…but I’m not ready for love and devotion with anyone, even Noah. Especially Noah.

He’s all drive and single-minded intensity, all plans and strategic execution. He’ll turn that dedication and ability on me… and if I’m not careful, I’ll be a goner. What am I saying? Where he’s concerned, I already am.

Bad move. Sure, I want him. I’ve fantasized about being his…but that’s not reality. His declarations of love aside, it will be a matter of time before he dumps me for a calendar model or some other twit who has more in her bra than her head. And where will I be? More alone than ever. Completely brokenhearted. No thanks.

Even knowing that, I’m reluctant to let him go. I should, and I will. But not yet. And no wonder. He can drive me to insane heights of pleasure. He’s sexy, sharp, steadily employed, kind—everything I want. Good with my girls, fun to hang out with.

He claims to love me, despite being three weeks out of a relationship with Misty and her silicone pom-poms. Is that possible? Maybe…but probably not. He cooked up Mr. Mysterious to get near me. Because he thinks he loves me? More likely, because I was a challenge. Noah loves to conquer anything difficult and beat the odds. Maybe he saw me as his ultimate quest if he’s actually wanted me for ten years.

I sigh, trying to process this unexpected development. What comes next for us?

The question scares the hell out of me. The likely answer terrifies me even more because I want to stay and give us a chance. But in the back of my mind, the voice of reason starts asking questions… How long before Noah’s something shiny and new—probably with a D cup and great legs—snags his attention? Noah has left a long string of women in his wake. There are so many I could probably wrap them around Texas Motor Speedway—twice.

Wait. He’s already talked about another woman, the divorcée. Noah claimed to love that woman, too. If so, why is he in bed now with me, professing his devotion? The bastard is emotionally two-timing me, and the tingle of my orgasm has barely worn off. Damn it, he seemed so sincere when he whispered that he loves me. Unless…

Oh, holy hell! I’m the divorcée. He isn’t in love with two different women or cheating when he sneaked into my bedroom, stripped me down, and buried himself deep enough inside me to reach my soul. In fact, he’s been talking to me—about me. Not just talking, lying about another woman. And using my own advice to orchestrate my surrender.

A hot wash of anger burns away the last of my pleasant satiation.

I said I wanted excitement and a spicy sex life. So he dressed up as Mr. Mysterious and gave me pleasure way beyond my expectations. I told Noah I want someone steady. He fits that bill, too. I want someone good with my girls. He invited them to swim, grilled them some of their favorites, then made solemn little Emma smile. In short, he listened to every word I said and tailored a courtship just for me.

Put like that, I’m not sure whether to be stunned, flattered, or pissed as hell.

I sift through my memories of our conversations, and my heart stops. Everything he told me he wants with his fictional divorcée—marriage and babies and love… He said he loves me, but what does he know about love? What does he know about staying with a lover beyond the orgasm?

Nothing.

I suck in a ragged breath. A lasting relationship between Noah and me? Highly unlikely. He’ll get bored and leave. That’s inevitable. If a professional cheerleader can’t hold his attention, how is a woman with ten additional years and stretch marks from two pregnancies supposed to manage?