“Hmm…” He kissed the angry little scar once more and then placed another kiss over her wildly beating pulse. “I like you like this.”

“What?” She arched her back, thrusting her breasts into his hand.

He plucked her nipples, grinning when she gasped. “Standing naked in front of my sink.”

A soft laugh lit up the kitchen. “Are your blinds closed?”

“Of course.” He moved his hips against her rear, groaning in her ear. “If I saw you like this every fucking day, my life would be perfect.”

“Every day?” Muscles tensed against him, and he cursed under his breath.

Not wanting to give her time to dwell and obsess over that comment, he curved his hand around her throat, guiding her head back, and kissed her. As he licked his way into her mouth, he pulled out the tie.

“Close your eyes.”

She pulled back a little, brows lowering as she looked over her shoulder at him. “Why?”

He grinned. “Trust me. You’re going to enjoy it.”

A moment passed and then she exhaled roughly. Closing her eyes, she folded her arms under her breasts. “What are you up to?”

“You’ll see. Keep them closed.” Tying the blindfold around her head, he felt his cock jump at her soft inhale that followed. He likie. He likie a lot.

“Chandler?” Nervous excitement filled her voice as she lifted her hands, her fingers hovering at the edges of the blindfold.

He turned her around and his gaze moved over her body, smiling as the dusky rose tips of her breasts tightened. “You’re beautiful.”

“I’m completely naked and blindfolded, and you’re dressed.”

“True.” He captured her next words with his mouth. He wouldn’t be dressed for long. “You ready for me?”

She bit down on her lip, nodding slowly.

Gripping her hips, he lifted her up. Girl was damn smart. Wrapped her legs around his waist and blindly found his mouth. Taking her to the kitchen table, he sat her down. She squealed as her bottom hit the cool wood. Stepping back, he soaked in the sight of her. She gripped the edges of the table, her thighs spread, and he could see her glistening between her legs.

Something about the way she sat there in blind trust, mixed with the realization of how deeply his feelings ran for her, drove him wild. He wanted to drag this out, to slowly seduce her, but waiting would surely kill him.

“Chandler?” Her chest rose swiftly, and he groaned.

Tearing off his clothes, he went for her. Claiming her mouth in deep, wet kisses, moving down her throat, blazing a path to her breasts and lower still, where he got all up in her with his mouth and tongue. The taste of her drove him crazy, to the very brink. She came, her hips rocking against him, his name a throaty cry on her swollen lips.

Chandler’s hands were shaking as he tugged her off the table, guiding her down to her knees. The beauty in what happened next was that he didn’t need to say what he wanted. Threading his fingers through her hair, he moaned as her hot mouth closed around his cock.

She sucked—she sucked hard, taking him as deep as she could, running her tongue along the underside of his length as she cupped his balls, massaging them the way he’d showed her he liked.

“Oh fuck!” he groaned, hips pumping as she gave his balls a good squeeze. He didn’t want to come like this. No, he wanted to be deep inside her.

He needed to be there.

Pulling himself away, he caught her by the arm and pulled her up. His body was shaking, his cock throbbing, as he flipped her around, bending her over the table. He spread her legs as he wrapped an arm under her, lifting her up onto her toes. Running a hand down her spine, he stopped just above the firm globes of her ass.

“I can’t wait,” he said, pressing against her until just the head of his cock parted her folds. “This is going to be rough.”

She lifted her head. “I can take it.”

A bolt of pure lust shot through him, and fuck if hearing that was like a beautiful chorus in his head. A guttural sound came from deep in his chest as he thrust forward, seating himself in her. She cried out at the deep penetration, arching her back. Sliding out a few inches, he repeated once and then again, in and out, until he couldn’t take it anymore and lost all sense of rhythm. He slammed into her as he bent over, sealing his chest to her back. The table scratched across the floor and he dropped his hand from her back to her hips, his fingers digging in.

“Oh God,” she moaned, moving back against him frantically. “Chandler!”

Her tight walls convulsed around him and that was it. All she wrote. He dropped his head to the nape of her neck, his hips pounding forward as his release exploded through him. Fuck, it wrecked him. She wrecked him.

An eternity passed before his legs felt strong enough to stand on their own. He pulled out of her and turned her around. After untying the tie, he held her close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his forehead to hers.

She was trembling, eyes closed and hands balled into little fists against his chest.

Concern radiated from him. “Are you okay?”

Alana nodded but didn’t speak.

His heart thundered in his chest. He had been rough. Fuck, they’d moved the heavy oak table a good foot. “Did I hurt you, Alana?”

“No!” Her eyes flew open. A faint flush stained her cheeks. “Quite the opposite. It’s just that it was…wow. I think you screwed a few of my brain cells out of me.”

Tipping his head back, he laughed. “Screwed a few brain cells out of you?”

“Yeah.” She smiled as she peeked up at him through thick lashes. “I like it when you…”

He was already getting hard again. “When I what?”

She ducked her chin, adorably shy. “When you kind of lose control. I like it.”

Oh fuck, he needed to be in her again. “I like it, too.” Placing the tips of his fingers under her chin, he lifted her gaze to his. “And I love it when you lose control.”

Her mouth opened, as if she was about to deny that, but he kissed her before she could deny what was so obvious. He wanted her upstairs and in his bed, but they got sidetracked on the stairs, and he ended up between her thighs, his arm along her back, taking the burn of the rocking motions.

Later, much later, they made it to his bedroom. Both of them were exhausted, and he felt like he’d run a marathon.

He lazily trailed a hand up and down her spine. Each time he reached the slight curve of her lower back, his fingers brushed the swell of her ass and she’d shiver. Of course, he kept doing it.

She nuzzled her cheek against his chest, letting out a content sigh. “What you did downstairs, on the table people eat at, wasn’t very appropriate.”

Chandler chuckled deeply. “What is it about you and appropriateness?”

Her lips curved up. “I’m constantly lecturing people on appropriate behavior, so I guess I’ve always felt like I should behave that way.”

“Felt?” As in past tense. His brows rose.

She laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think I could ever be appropriate with you.”

His heart jolted like he’d slammed a shot of moonshine and he murmured, “Damn straight.” And then he gathered her as close as he possibly could, making a silent promise that no one was going to get near her and hurt her again.

Chapter Fifteen

Alana woke Sunday, muscles sore in a pleasant way, and for the first time in many years, she wasn’t looking forward to Monday morning. She wanted another week of Chandler and his fingers, his tongue, his mouth, and everything about him.

Smiling like a total goober, she rolled onto her side and into the spot Chandler had occupied minutes before. Stretching out, she smoothed her hand over the sheet. His cell phone had gone off, waking both of them. He hadn’t answered. Instead, he…he’d made love to her, sweetly and slowly, bringing them both to a shattering climax.

The phone still rested on the nightstand, untouched.

Hopefully it wasn’t an emergency, because Chandler was downstairs, making breakfast again. She should really get her lazy ass out of bed and take a shower, but her bones felt like jelly.

Mmm. Shower. She would never think of bathing the same way again.

A sudden knot of unease formed under her breast as she flopped onto her back. Her eyes were suddenly wide, fixed on the ceiling. She mentally tallied up the week—the sex, the conversations, the food.

Damn, Chandler could cook.

Nothing about what they had been doing was casual. Unless it was a one-week stand instead of a one-night stand. Or a one-job stand?

Smacking her hands over her face, she groaned. She’d barely spent any time thinking about what brought them back together. And that had to be pretty stupid. Someone out there wanted to scare her, maybe even hurt her, and all she’d been doing for the last week was getting screwed every which way from Sunday and playing house.

Instead of feeling regret, she felt a smidgen of satisfaction, and that alone made her feel a shit ton of dread.

She sat up, holding the sheet to her breasts as her gaze flickered around the room. The past week…well, it had been wonderful, but it had to come to an end. Her heart lurched painfully in her chest and the dread turned the blood in her veins to ice. When everything was said and done, where did it leave her and Chandler? Her heart wanted to say there’d be a future but her brain was telling her heart to shut the fuck up, because it wasn’t as hopeful.

Climbing out of bed, she searched for her clothes before realizing she hadn’t worn any into his bedroom in quite some time. Sighing, she picked up his shirt and slipped it over her head. A dull ache flared in her shoulder at the movement, easy to ignore, and by no means stronger than the feeling in her chest.