“I could eat that pussy for hours and never get tired of the way you taste,” Daniel tells me, and his fingers skim up my spine again. “Love your honey on my tongue and the way you shiver when I touch your clit. So, yeah, I fucking loved it.”

I tremble a little at the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry. I guess that was a silly question.”

“Not silly,” he says to me.

“Mike didn’t . . . he . . .”

“Can we not talk about Mike when you’re spread on top of me?” His hand stops moving along my spine, and the closed look on his face makes me realize I’ve hurt his feelings.

I need to make this better. So I lay back down on him and curl up against his hard chest, my cheek pressed against his heart. “I’m sorry. Mike’s my only real experience . . . before. And I’m starting to realize now that it wasn’t very good.”

He pats my back. “S’okay.”

“You ever have bad sex?” I ask him. My head feels deliciously comfy on his chest, and his nipple is a mere inch or two away from my face. I lift my fingers and begin to trace circles around it. Daniel’s got a dusting of chest hair all across his pectorals, but I like it. It feels warm and a little fuzzy against my cheek.

“Shit yeah. Who hasn’t?” His fingers move along my spine again, and after a moment he says, “I once banged a girl—a base bunny—who called me my sergeant’s name the entire time. We were both too drunk to care but, I admit, it kinda shriveled my dick when I sobered up. Never touched that ass again.”

“Because your feelings were hurt?” Poor Daniel.

“No, because Sarge was fucking disgusting. Man was seventy if he was a day, bow-legged, dentures, and the worst damn breath. Kinda insulted that she mistook us.”

I giggle at that, because I picture a girl mistaking this breathtakingly gorgeous man for that and it seems absurd. “Maybe she was really, really drunk.”

“Shit, I sure hope so. He had these bizarre caterpillar eyebrows that looked like they were ready to crawl off his face.”

I’m laughing now, all tension gone. He sounds so very disgruntled.

He chuckles underneath me, clearly pleased by my response. “Damn, Regan, but you have the prettiest laugh. I think I need to hear that more often.” And his fingers caress my cheek.

Just like that, my laughter dries up and I’m feeling relaxed and good . . . and even more blatantly aware of Daniel’s cock pressing against me. He’s ignoring it, but it’s obvious he wants me. And suddenly, I want him, too. I want to see if I can have sex with this man without freaking out. Oral sex with him had been amazing, but now I’m greedy and I want more. How good would flat-on-your-back, sweaty, pounding sex be? My wavering courage tells me that if I ride Daniel, it’ll be safer to get up, easier to run away.

But . . . I also wonder what it’d be like if Daniel was in charge. Would I lose my cool the moment he covers me? Or would I be too busy having the best orgasms of my life to even care?

Do I want to try? My fingers slide away from his nipple and move up to his mouth, and I trace his lips with my fingertips.

He inhales sharply, and his tongue reaches out to flick against my fingers. A low groan escapes him. “I can still taste you on your fingers.”

“Do you like it?” I ask softly.

“Makes my dick harder than a rock.”

I give my hips a little shift, rocking them against his erection. “I can tell.” My voice is becoming breathless with excitement. “Do you have condoms?”

“Yep.” No pretty words, no questioning if I’m sure or not. Just a solid affirmation. It’s handled. For some reason, that makes me smile. Everything’s always handled with Daniel. When I’m with him, it’s harder to spin out of control. He’s got me. I like that.

So I sit up a little and shift forward until my lips can reach his. I kiss him, because I like kissing this man. My mouth plays over his, the kiss light, gentle, and totally controlled by me. His lips brush over mine, his tongue flicking against my own, and it feels incredibly good. So good that I want to try and go a little further.

I roll off of him and my hands drag at his shoulders, trying to pull him over me. But Daniel sits up and gives me a wary look. “Regan, you sure—”

I nod. “Keep kissing me, okay? I’ll let you know if I freak out.”

“All right.” He shifts his weight, and then his chest is pressing against mine and his mouth covers mine again.

I can feel the old fear flickering in the back of my mind, and the urge to start counting off horror movies rises. But then Daniel’s tongue brushes against my own and pleasure returns. I make a small noise of protest when his mouth pulls away from mine, but he’s only pressing light kisses along my jaw, tickling me with their touch. And that’s all right, too. It’s tender and loving and nothing like the horrible experiences I’ve had in the past.

“You’re so beautiful, Regan. So fucking beautiful it drives me crazy.” His hands slide over my body, caressing me, and his leg moves between mine. His movements are slow and easy, clearly designed not to startle me, and I appreciate his thoughtfulness. It’s like he knows this is a huge moment for me and that I could go either way: either scared of sex forever or move on past my trauma.

I want to move on. More than that, I want to move on with him. I tilt my head back, exposing my neck for his mouth to move over, and it feels so good as he scrapes his teeth along my sensitive skin. I gasp when his mouth latches onto my earlobe, and he tongues it then lightly sucks on it. A moan rises from my throat and my nipples ache; my ears are really sensitive.

“You like that?” he murmurs into my ear as I cling to him. “You want my tongue sliding all over that sweet little ear of yours like I did your pussy?”

Daniel’s a dirty talker, and it’s a little crazy at how erotic I find it. For some reason, him describing what he wants to do to me is as effective as his touches on my body. I cling to him, burying my fingers in his short hair as he gives my earlobe the same treatment he gave my clit a short time ago—and it’s making me as crazy as that did.

“Can I touch your breasts, Regan?” One hand skims my side even as his mouth continues to make love to my earlobe. “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

But I do want him to. It’s enough that he asked, and it’s enough that his mouth keeps nibbling and sucking on my earlobe to remind me that this is about making me feel good, not about taking from me. I press my hand to his free one and move it to my breast, giving him silent encouragement.

His groan of pleasure is in my ear. “You’ve got the sweetest little tits, Regan. I bet they’d fill up my mouth nicely. I bet those nipples are as juicy as your pussy. Are they?”

I gasp and nod, whimpering some sort of answer in my throat. Daniel’s relentless make-out assault is reminding me of the old days back before Mike and I started sleeping together, back when foreplay was fun and not thirty seconds of squeezing before Mike decided he wanted sex. Back when it was about me.

And I like it. I like it so much that when Daniel’s head slides down and he tongues my nipple, I moan his name aloud. “Oh God, Daniel.”

“That’s right, fighter baby,” he murmurs against the tip of my breast. “It’s all Daniel. And Daniel loves your body. I want to put my mouth all over it.” And he nips at the peak in his mouth, as if teasing me with what he wants to do. “Do you want that?”

“Yes,” I moan, clinging to him. When Daniel moves his attentions from my neck and ear down to my breasts, it’s as good as when he was tonguing my pussy. He lavishes attention on each one, brushing his fingers over my skin and teasing me, then devouring my nipples with hot, needy kisses and nips of his teeth. Just when I think I can’t stand it any longer, he moves over to my other breast and gives it the same attention, his fingers toying with the aching nipple he’s left behind.

By the time he comes up to kiss me again, I’m wild with need, panting his name, and my hips are rocking against him. I need to have sex with him. “Condom,” I whisper.

“Be right back.” He kisses me again for so long and so hard that it’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to forget the condom and to get inside me, but then he rolls off the bed and jogs across the room to his pants. I rise up on my elbows, watching as he pulls out his wallet, removes a condom, and then carefully checks the expiration date. “Whew. Just in time.”

For some reason, this strikes me as funny. That a man as sexy and dangerous as Daniel would have a condom in his wallet for so long that it’s close to expiring. I stifle my giggles, but he hears them anyhow.

“Not what a guy wants to hear when he’s rolling on a sock, sweetheart,” Daniel tells me, ripping open the package.

“Sorry,” I say, trying to smother my laughter, but I can’t seem to help it. Daniel’s the last person in the world who would have a deflated ego.

He smooths the condom down his length and returns to the bed, careful to approach me in slow, steady motions. He eases his body down onto the bed next to me again, leans over, and cups the back of my neck as he begins to kiss me once more.

I respond to his kiss with a hungry one of my own, and soon we’re making out all over again and I’ve nearly forgotten about sex—except for the feel of his cock pressing against my hip and the aching need deep inside me.

A moment later, Daniel moves back on top of me and I part my legs, welcoming him between them. His weight settles there and he kisses me for a moment longer, then hitches one thigh up around his hips, moving me into position. Still, he kisses me, and still, it’s all right.

“You can back out, fighter baby,” he murmurs against my lips.