“Have you tested it out?”

A mental image of a naked Caden pressing her body to a wall and taking everything he wanted from her burned across her brain. She’d written that nearly forty-eight hours ago.

Sydney sighed in disappointment. “Yeah. I don’t think it works.”

With a gasp, Caden sat up in his darkened room, bathed in sweat. Oh dear God. That had been the most vivid dream of his life. Of all the times to have X-rated dreams, why now? And why about Sydney Blair?

Closing his eyes, he relived her greeting at the door wearing a wisp of lace hardly worth mentioning. What happened next—wild against the wall after she stripped slowly for him—was straight out of his fantasies.

He could have that tonight, have her. Now. She’d offered a mere two days ago and would have gotten naked with him that moment if he had accepted her proposition. There were a thousand reasons he shouldn’t and only one that compelled him: that bloody mating instinct that told him he’d found his “the one” and screamed at him to take her.

Exhaling, still trying to recover his heartbeat, he looked down at his erection in the shadowy dark. Insistent. Painful. Fueled by the oldest magic there was.

Bloody hell.

He wouldn’t sleep again tonight, not while he ached and his blood was on fire and visions of Sydney against him burned into his thoughts. He could endure a sleepless night; it wouldn’t be his first. But tomorrow, he’d have to face Sydney at the office, his brain continually tripping over all the delicious ways in which she’d clawed his back as he thrust deep into her in his dream. He knew the musky scent of her arousal, the faint tang of her skin, the throaty groan she made when she came, and the peace of being with her and knowing she was safe and whole. And his.

Closing his eyes, he lay back in his empty bed. Thinking about Sydney this way wasn’t going to help him get back to sleep or deal with her tomorrow. He turned to the clock. Eleven p.m.? He sighed, frustration cutting him like a razor.

Bloody hellacious day. After verbally boxing with Sydney, he’d come home exhausted yet thrumming with sexual energy. All day, thoughts of stripping Sydney of her evil little skirt and finding out exactly what she had beneath plagued him. Once at home, however, the need for sleep had pulled him under. He’d crashed into bed around seven. The previous two nights, he’d slept nearly twelve hours. Very unlike him. So was having erotic dreams and waking up after a mere four hours of sleep because his body demanded her.

Go to Sydney, something in his head whispered. You ache for her. She wants you.

“And then what?” he muttered to the empty room. He still had to work with her. And after what Lucan had endured, he didn’t want a magical mate, especially one intent on exposing Mathias.

But Sydney haunted him. He wanted—needed—to feel her naked under him, to know she was his. He was bloody obsessed. To make matters worse, his transition was coming.

Obviously, magic wasn’t going to leave him alone. His change from man to wizard wasn’t coming tonight, but it was coming soon. There wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it. If male and born with the magical gene, somewhere around thirty, you transitioned and you endured. His birthday was in eight days.

Caden shivered in the November chill, despite his overheated body. He reached for the blankets and groaned when they brushed his naked cock. The sensation made him grit his teeth and fist the blankets. The ache nearly flattened him with need for Sydney.

Madness. He had to stop this. Had to put her out of his mind, douse his sex drive, get some sleep so he could function tomorrow.

Reaching beneath the covers, he took himself in hand and stroked his turgid length once. Again. Again, rapidly picking up speed and pleasure. After his dream, it didn’t take much, and he soon felt ready to burst. A vision of Sydney, bare and wanton, blazed across his mind as his muscles tensed. His breathing ratcheted up; his hand moved faster. He dug his heels into the mattress and arched as the need detonated into a bliss that had him shouting at his peak.

As the orgasm subsided, he cursed, still panting. He was every bit as hard and needy as he had been before masturbating. Visions of Sydney still gyrated in his head. Yet he was so damn tired. Drained.

He closed his eyes, and the dream came back.

“Touch me,” she whispered in his slumber. “Here.” She guided his hand over her breast, inviting him to toy with her hard nipple. “And here.” She brought his hand all the way between her legs, to where she was moist and burning and ready.

Again, he wrapped his fingers around his erection. Like steel, as if his orgasm had never happened. Jerking his hand away, Caden cursed. He didn’t want more self-pleasure; it wouldn’t help, not when he craved a certain redheaded reporter and her honest, intelligent grit.

Damn magic for ensuring he couldn’t ignore his feelings for Sydney.

He rose and took a quick shower, tossed on a T-shirt, jog pants, and trainers. Then he hesitated.

He couldn’t just cross town in the middle of the night, pound on Sydney’s door, and demand sex. It made no sense, especially after he’d raised her suspicions. She might even refuse to let him in her flat.

If he made love to her . . . well, the whole event was fraught with personal danger, magical landmines. He refused to take a mate and risk Lucan’s fate. So he couldn’t kiss Sydney, taste her at all. Nor could he risk this job. He needed this job too badly for his mission to fail merely for a shag.

But what he felt for sassy, smart Sydney was more than sex. Far more. He connected with her in a way he couldn’t explain, and Caden feared that, once he had her, the random women at the pubs he’d been using to balance his sexual energy would no longer do. Already, his fixation on Sydney frightened him.

Definitely, he should stay home. Undress, go back to sleep, stop thinking about the sharp, sexy redhead. He raced to the kitchen of his little rented flat near the paper’s offices. Shadows darkened the room, faintly illuminated by London’s lights. There, on the counter, were his keys. He needed to leave them there, refuse temptation.

In his dream, Caden had been unable to resist Sydney. What he felt now was ten times stronger.

With a curse, he grabbed the keys, shoved them in his pocket, then stormed out the door.

After midnight, Sydney unfolded herself from the couch and stretched. Lace and silk cupped her torso, the ribbon laces of her mini-corset rubbing the soft flesh between her breasts. The tiny sheer thong hugged her hips. She adored the feel of soft, feminine things against her skin. But her exposed cheeks ‘round back were a bit nippy. Time for bed, anyway.

Grabbing her robe from the arm of the sofa, she made for the hallway with a yawn. Her next installment of the magical war story would run later this week. She hoped she’d taken the right approach in rewriting it as Caden suggested before turning it in. Contrary to Holly’s opinion, Sydney did think the angle made a difference.

All night, she’d thought of Caden. She’d half-expected the diary to work. Hoping that tonight was the night, she’d donned her sexiest lingerie, but as she’d told Holly, Aquarius’s claims that the diary was magical seemed to be crap.

She took two steps down the hallway, before someone banged a fist on her door. Frowning, she darted for the foyer. Her telly was off and she didn’t have a yappy dog, so whoever stood at her door couldn’t be complaining about noise. Maybe someone needed help?

Racing the last few steps to the door, she called, “Who is it?”

“Caden. Open the door, Sydney. Now.”

Her surprise was quickly washed away by that voice. A bit angry. Insistent. And dripping sex. She shivered.

Her jittery fingers closed around the lock and unlatched it, then fumbled to grab the knob. Before she could turn it, the cold metal rotated in her palm and the door flew open.

Caden filled the doorway, breathing hard, his entire body tense. Those blue eyes lit on her mouth like a laser. Hot. Sydney tingled.

Clearing her throat, she struggled to find her voice. “Why—”

He kicked the door closed. The crash boomed in her little foyer, resounding in her ears, echoing her racing heart as he reached behind his head, gathered his baggy white shirt in his fist, and yanked it over his head. Tossing it to the floor, he stood silently. Watching. Primed. His muscled chest and shoulders rose and fell with each hard breath. His abdomen rippled. Veins and tendons stood out across his forearms and hands.

Her mouth was agape, and she couldn’t stop staring. Oh my Lord, she’d known he was gorgeous, suspected he was well put together. But this male animal was far more than she bargained for. Dangerous. Pushed to the edge.

Sydney had never wanted any man more. She swallowed.

“You know why I’ve come.”

If she hadn’t guessed by now, his sexual growl told her everything.

Had he reconsidered her proposition? Or was it even possible the magical book had persuaded him?

“What about a fling being unfair to me because you’re returning to Dallas?”

Those burning eyes of his lit a path of fire from her face to her breasts, then . . . between her legs. She felt his stare like a physical caress, as if he’d reached out and rubbed his fingers over her flesh. Sydney steadied herself on the table beside her. Her robe, once slung over her arm, floated to the floor.

“I . . . can’t stay away. God knows I tried. Do you want me?”

She shouldn’t. This was mad. Dangerous. “Yes.”

His gaze skated over her lingerie once more. “Take it off. All of it.”

“Here?” Her voice squeaked, and she cursed herself. She was never meek, never backed down, and rarely showed vulnerability. She also didn’t sleep with men she’d never dated. But Caden . . . apparently, she had a whole new set of rules for him.

He lifted a brow, stepped closer, and reached for her. Sydney got the distinct impression that if she didn’t get her silky things off fast enough, he’d dispense with them quickly—and without a lot of care, just like the fantasy she’d written in the magical diary. Her womb clenched at the thought.

It took her two tries, but she plucked at the tie between her breasts and loosened the soft corset. Breathing ragged, she shimmied it over her hips, exposing her breasts to the cool night air and his rapt gaze.

He zeroed in on the hard tips. Usually a pale peach, tonight, for Caden, they were a deep coral. His possessive stare made her ache.

With a new lover, she often worried they’d find her smallish breasts disappointing. The way Caden’s gaze latched onto her, and he clenched his fists as he stepped closer made her insecurity evaporate. The worry was replaced by pure heat—a wall of it as his chest loomed close and his temperature rivaled an inferno.

“The rest,” he growled, eyeing the nearly transparent thong with malice.

A thrill zipped up her spine as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her little panties and lowered them down her thighs, over her calves, until she kicked them away, leaving her entirely exposed.

He took a step closer, then another, and placed his palm flat against the wall beside her head. His chest brushed hers, scalding hot. Sydney gasped.

“Touch me,” she whispered. “Here.”

Trembling, she guided his hand over her breast. A moment later, his thumb and forefinger put delicious pressure on her nipple. Her breath caught as the cascade of hot tingles sizzled through her body, lighting her up. Her head slipped back to lean against the wall. She closed her eyes. This was her fantasy, only better.

“Look at me.” His voice was a rumble in the shadows. He stood, brightened only by the little lamp on her foyer table, just enough to highlight his serious six-pack and the molten demand in his eyes.

Caden nodded his approval, and a fresh wave of delighted surprise swept over her. Until today, she’d always thought of him as controlled, of having his emotions buried. Now, he strained against his own leash, the edges of his restraint frayed. One unexpected move, and he might unchain a whole mountain of alpha male on her. Goodie.

“And touch me here.” Latching onto his wrist, she ushered his hand between her legs, where she was moist and burning and needy.

He seemed more than happy to accommodate her, his fingers dipping into her slit to gather moisture, then rub it over her clit. Their gazes locked as an aching ball of tension clenched low in her belly. Awareness of him lapped at her as the sensations he gave overwhelmed her. She gripped his arms, reveling in the taut, solid feel of him as his fingers filled the aching emptiness inside her. Yes, she needed this. Needed him.

He pumped his fingers into her, catching that spot high and inside that had her clawing his back, panting his name, hoping she never had to let him go. How could he do that in two minutes or less? And could he please do it again?

“If you don’t want me to fuck you now, you have three seconds to say no.”

Sydney didn’t hesitate. “I said yes when you walked in the door.”

He took a deep breath, air filling his chest, his massive shoulders rising like he was preparing for something big. Then, in a few short movements, he plucked at the drawstring of his pants and toed off his trainers. No boxers or tightie whities for him. Everything about the sight was impressive.

While she was still staring, he crouched in front of her and placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on the flat of her abdomen, then wound up her body to suck and nip at the hard tips of her breasts. He gripped her thighs in his large hands as his mouth marched up to the column of her neck. She arched to give him better access, and he laved her with hot kisses that feathered a shiver all down her spine.