The thought made him smile even as he burned. It was that sensuality he planned on catering to tonight.

Crossing the room without bothering to turn on a light, he set her on the bed with her feet dangling only inches off the floor. Then he stepped back and watched as she all but melted into the butter-soft comforter, her body relaxed, her eyes closed.

He looked at her for long moments, her figure hazy in the dim light flowing in from the hallway. She was beautiful. Perfect. His c**k kicked and twitched at the thought, reminding him that she was the only one who’d come so far.

He had plans to change that, and as she rolled to the side, murmuring “The light,” he figured she was more than on board. A mere glance of his fingers against the base of his bedside lamp had a dim, rosy light filling the room.

“I want to see you,” she said, reaching for him.

“Not as much as I want to see you.” He settled on the bed next to her, rolled her to her back. Pulled her arms above her head and just looked at her for a while.

Finally—long seconds after he’d expected her to—she jerked against his restraining hands. “Hey,” she said. “It’s my turn to touch you.”

“Soon.” But he let go of her wrists, allowed his hands once again to wander to the plumpness of her br**sts. “You’re amazing.” He squeezed a nipple, smiled in delight as it hardened instantly beneath his fingers. “Absolutely unbelievable.”

“I could say the same about you.” She arched into his hand, her eyes drifting closed as the pleasure once again found her.

But he wasn’t letting her go that easy, not this time. “No,” he said, tugging insistently at the hard bud. “I want you to watch. To see.”

Her eyes opened lazily. “I’ve already seen it. When you’re ready to let me see you, let me know. I’ll be all eyes.”

“Really?” He stood and shed his black T-shirt in record seconds. Then sank to his knees in front of her. “Spread your legs.”

“Already?” she asked, jacking up on her elbows. “I want to feel you—”

“Oh, you will, sweetheart. You will.” He knew his voice was harsh, strangled by the desire ripping through him with each shallow breath. But he couldn’t help it, any more than he could help the hands that moved of their own volition and settled on her thighs. He forced her legs apart, demanding her obedience before she could give it to him. Then he leaned back and simply looked at her.

He never would have figured her for a thong girl, not the tough-as-nails detective he’d researched so carefully. But here was the proof, the black lace Brazilian thong cupping her sex like a lover. Nestling between the folds of her pu**y as he was so desperate to do.

Reaching out, he trailed a finger along the edge of the undergarment, relishing each gasp and shiver his journey elicited. “Tell me,” he said as he leaned forward until his hot breath was only inches from her beautiful mons, her sexy clit. “Do you have more of these?” He pulled the waistband out and allowed it to snap back against her stomach with a satisfying smack.

“Yes.” It was a gasp, and a barely coherent one at that.

“Good.” He smiled at her, let her see the wicked promise in his eyes. Then leaned forward and with his teeth, ripped the thing to shreds.

Dear God, was all Genevieve could think as she stared at the torn remnants of her most comfortable underwear.

Dear God, what was she doing?

Dear God, how was she ever going to survive this night? Cole was shameless, shameful, and he made her feel the same.

“Please.” She lifted her hand to his hair, tangled her fingers in the cool midnight strands. “I need you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he answered, nipping at her inner thighs with his teeth. Electricity shot straight from the bites to her clit, making her crazy. His next words made her crazier still. “Every way you can take me, you’ll have me.”

His tongue darted out, traced her slit in one long, slow sweep.

She nearly came off the bed, her body out of her control for the first time in her life. “Cole!” The cry was low, keening. A plea for him to stop, to continue, to do something—anything—to relieve her of the sensual misery he had thrust her into.

But he ignored her, simply sat back on his heels and prepared to feast. His need was red-hot now, his c**k threatening to burst. But he fought back the desire, sublimated it. She would come for him again, come against his mouth this time. Only then—when she’d lost all control—would he give in to the lust driving him to the brink of madness. Only then would he let himself cl**ax.

Clamping his hands on her upper thighs, he pushed her knees wide enough so that he could wedge his shoulders between them. Whispered to her of everything he was going to do to her. And then leaned forward and thrust his tongue as deeply inside of her as he could reach.

She went wild, her body thrashing against him. Her hands clutched his hair, her legs spasmed and she screamed as she arched against his mouth.

He held her still, stopped the bucking of her h*ps with a heavy hand on her stomach and continued to take her higher. She was delicious, intoxicating, the sweetest honey he had ever known, and in that moment he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

“Cole!” It was a plea, a demand, a cry for surcease, but he couldn’t stop. He had to have her, had to taste every drop of her sweetness, had to experience every shudder and cry she could give him. Stroking deep, he concentrated on hitting every sensitive spot she had, worked to take her higher than anyone ever had before.

When she was just about there, when she was sobbing and pleading and he sensed she couldn’t take anymore, he pulled his tongue out of her luscious warmth. Slipping his hands beneath her ass, he lifted her up, opened her wider, and closed his teeth gently around her clit.

Her body arched violently as she came, bucking so wildly that she almost dislodged him. But he held on, used his tongue and teeth and lips to ride her through one cl**ax to another and another.

He was a man possessed, utterly enchanted by, completely addicted to the exquisite feeling he got from giving her pleasure. He could stay like this forever, his c**k throbbing, his mouth buried in her hungry, sweet, incredibly responsive pussy. Making her come could be his new obsession.

Sliding first one finger and then another into her, he nearly lost it at the unbelievable perfection of her body. She was tight, hot, her muscles clenching in a rhythm he could feel resonating all the way to his dick.

Genevieve bit her lip, tried to stop the screams rising within her. But it was no use. She was going insane. Cole was driving her completely, around-the-bend, no-holds-barred insane. His tongue was everywhere, pushing her from one orgasm to another and another. And his finger was thrusting inside of her, stroking her G-spot and then pulling out while he sucked at her cl*t until she had gone beyond individual orgasms, was instead moving from one cl**ax to the next in a never-ending stream that became one long orgasm without beginning or end.

She fought to hold on to sanity, to break the hold Cole had on her. But he was pushing her into the bed, the palm of his hand massaging her stomach while his long fingers played over her mons.

She lost the ability to talk, to think, to breathe. He was taking her over completely, making her his in this most intimate, most violent act. Conquering her until she no longer knew who controlled her body, until she gave up everything she was and could be to him.

“Cole, I can’t take it. I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, his tongue circling her cl*t and sending her higher still. “You’ll take more and more and more until there’s nothing left. You’ll take everything.”

And then he bit her, and her body went spinning into space, the pleasure beyond anything she’d ever known before. Beyond anything she’d even dreamed existed.

Digging her hands into his shoulders, she held on for dear life. Desperate for something solid to keep her anchored. Desperate for Cole to help her find her way out of this maelstrom of sensation and emotion he had thrust her into.

But there was nothing of the savior in Cole, only the need to brand her in a way he didn’t understand. He’d had a lot of women, had used his fame and charm and looks to take whomever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

But Genevieve was different, a primitive voice in the back of his head warned him even as it urged him on. As it pressed him to touch her everywhere, anywhere, to mark her so that she could never forget whom she belonged to. She was more than he’d ever thought he’d find.

Thrusting his tongue inside of her, he sent her over the edge to one final cl**ax before skimming his mouth across the curve of her hip to the flat plane of her stomach and the sunburst tattoo that encircled her navel. Unable to resist, he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of her waist, relished the cry she didn’t try to hold back. He soothed the hurt with his tongue and lips before pulling back.

“What—” she asked, dazed. Confused. Her body trembling in the aftermath of so much pleasure.

His balls were on fire, his c**k burning with the need to bury itself in all that heat. Flipping her onto her stomach, he reached into his nightstand and snagged a condom. Rolled it on. And then, intertwining his fingers with hers, he wrapped their hands around the iron slats of the headboard—her hands covering his—and thrust into her from behind.

She cried out, arched wildly, tugged as if to free her hands from his grip. But he held on, covering her with his body. Sinking his teeth deep into her shoulder to hold her still as he pounded into her again and again.

He was rough, as he’d intended to be, any gentleness he’d had in him used up by the long, sexy minutes of eating her out. But he made sure that every cry he pulled from her was of pleasure, made sure that every stroke into her body took her one step higher.

He rode her hard and fast, slamming her into the mattress again and again. Each thrust was a frenzy of raging need, each stroke a declaration of control and ownership.

And she was eating it up, her muscles clenching more and more tightly around him as she begged for more. He kneed her legs apart so he could go deeper, driving his c**k so hard and deep inside of her that she’d never forget the feel of him. Never forget who was in control.

Sobbing, Genevieve dug her fingernails into his hands, hanging on for dear life as his powerful thrusts moved her up and down the mattress. “You have to—you have to,” she gasped, her body shaking uncontrollably as she clenched her pu**y even tighter around his dick.

He saw stars and his body screamed for relief. But he refused to give up, to give in. She would come one more time.

Easing his teeth from her shoulder, he licked the marks and whispered, “No, sweetheart, you have to.” Then followed the words with a desperate lunge inside of her. “Let it take you, sweet Genevieve. Let it have you.”

She screamed, her back arching beneath him like a bow as the waves exploded through her, her pu**y clenching around his c**k again and again. Gritting his teeth, he kept up the hard, steady strokes until sweat streamed down his body. Until his muscles—and his cock—cried out for relief. Until yet another orgasm whipped through Genevieve and she screamed his name while she came.

Only then did he let himself go, the release that swept through him so strong and violent that for a moment it was like death itself.

Chapter Three

Genevieve woke up slowly, her well-used body aching in places she hadn’t known could ache. But Cole had been insatiable throughout the night—they both had—reaching for each other again and again as evening spun into night and night into dawn.

How many times had she come, she wondered as she stretched languidly. More than enough to keep the nightmares at bay. Well, it was hard to have nightmares when your brain was almost complete and total mush.

Was it possible to come too much? She pondered the question as she reached a lazy hand across the bed for her lover. Because she wouldn’t mind one more—