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The compliment was so heartfelt that she giggled. “I’m sure you know what you’re talking about, having seen a few hundred pairs.”

He spoke with quiet authority. “Trust me, they don’t all taste like yours.” Lowering his head, he took one on his tongue. She watched in the faint light. He spared her a glance and uttered one word. “Delicious.”

He drew his tongue slowly over her breast again. She shifted beneath him, unable to stop watching his slow assault, unable to keep from pressing her hips against the part of him she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about.

“I want to see you.”

“No.” He continued working his way from one breast to the other.

Her hands were in his hair, and she wasn’t sure whether to guide him or pull him back. She was dying a little, but in a very good way.

“Why not? Is it tiny?” she teased.

He made a choking sound in the back of his throat. He lifted his head and peered at her through a million dark lashes.

“You tell me.” His smile was predatory when he nudged her entrance.

She gasped. Definitely not tiny.

“Then let me see it,” she argued with all the conviction she could muster. Which wasn’t much.

Against her lips, he muttered, “I’d rather you feel it.” Then he pushed into her a few inches.

The guttural sound that came from her lips was less feminine, more animal. As if he’d awakened some primal part of her. He had won this argument. Clearly. He knew it, too. He grinned as he slid in deeper, pulling an answering moan of satisfaction from her throat.

“Have it your way, Black.” She arched her neck.

“I am.” Buried to the hilt, he paused, stretching her, filling her. “Lily. Finally. Out of my dreams…”

The words penetrated her heart, which was off-limits. This was about her body, and his, and how good they could make each other feel. She cupped one rounded shoulder and then traced the deep lines of his abdominal muscles. He was a dichotomy of sensations at once—hard and soft, strong and gentle.

She wrapped her legs around his hips and dug her heels into his ass, savoring every inch of him as he slid home again. He blew out a breath as he dropped his forehead to hers.

“In a hurry?” he growled.

“No.” Maybe.

The slower he moved, the more time she had to feel things she shouldn’t be feeling. As boundary lines went, hurrying this along was a pathetic attempt at drawing one. But there had to be one if they expected to be able to face each other in the office on Monday morning.

“I’m not hurrying.” True to his word, he kissed her gently, his tongue tangling with hers while he moved. His pace was slow, intentional. Each mind-numbing slide wound her tighter. On a low, barely-there whisper, she sighed her praise.

“So good.” She expected a quip, a joke, a dab of levity for the most intense moment they had ever shared. Instead he dropped his head into the crook of her neck and laid his mouth over her leaping pulse as they found their unhurried rhythm in the dark.

She trailed her fingers along his back, reading the ridges of his spine like Braille, and committing him to memory. If they had only these stolen moments in this pocket of time, she was going to savor them. So she paid attention to the hard feel of him gliding between her legs, the way his chest hair tickled her breasts, and the sound of his truncated breathing.

Bracing his weight on one arm, he brushed a few strands of her hair aside and kissed her cheek. He skimmed his other palm down the side of her body, his movements unrushed. She heard the word “please” exit her lips.

“Really, really like it when you beg.” He rocked into her, his fingers drawing a line from her hip to the curls at the junction of her thighs.

Once he was there, he knew what to do. How much pressure to place against the most sensitive part of her, how to coordinate his thumb with the forward thrust of his hips as he drove into her again and again. It was a delicate dance he’d mastered, and the rewards were hers.

“Say my name again, McIntire,” he dared her.

“Black.”

“My first name.” He sped up his hips, quickened the pace of his fingers.

She was close. So, so close. It’d been too long since she’d allowed an orgasm to build. And her vibrator was a pale comparison to the real thing. Her body bucked.