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“We can,” he murmured against her mouth, his breath a hot puff of longing. “We can do anything we want. I’ve never met anyone who needs to be held and loved as much as you do, Harper. Well, it so happens that you’ve got a man here with strong arms made to keep you safe. With so much love inside him that it’s just busting to get out. It’s all for you, minou. No one else I’d rather give it to.”

“We should be in my bed right now. I should be kissing your breasts, sucking your nipples, tasting your honey. I should be sinking inside you slow and hot and so deep that you’ll be begging me to make it fast, then make it last. I should be feeling your sweet grip on my cock, and I bet you grip hard, Harper, ’cause you’re the kind of woman who takes no prisoners. I should be squeezing that gorgeous ass of yours while I pump in and out, looking for that spot that’ll light you up. I need you to know that in another universe, this would be a done deal, and the only thing stopping me from making you mine is that in this universe, my current employment situation stops me from making good on all the dirty things I’m dying to do to you. You understand?”

“Hockey is not for pussies. Technically, it’s defined as a sport. Words like play and game get thrown around liberally to shield its true nature: hockey is warfare with water breaks. In the rink, you have over two thousand pounds of brute force clashing with whittled clubs, a rubber disc that could crush a larynx, and knives attached to feet. Let’s not pretend there’s anything civilized going on here.”

“You're not giving up on this, are you?" His voice was a raspy murmur, so low she had to inch closer to be sure she wouldn't miss another precious word out of his mouth. Precious, because of the story, she insisted. Everything happening right now-breathing, thinking, speaking, being-felt fraught. And exciting. This emotion racing through her veins was the most alive she'd felt in years.”

“Grief is embarrassing for most people. They want to think it has a set timetable, that one day, it will go away and you’re ready to live again. Everyone has been telling me that sex is a great first step. That it will open up the floodgates of emotion. That it will heal me.” She waited, her heart in stasis, knowing what would come next. Dreading it. “I don’t want to be healed, at least not in a way that makes me forget about them. I know that’s unhealthy, but I can’t help how I feel. Holding on to the pain keeps me connected to them.”

“A lot of people would jump at the chance to be seen with me, y'know." Her expression was pitying. "Poor Superglutes, aren't you getting enough attention from your millions of Instagram followers? Is it lonely being adored by all your fans?" "Very! All they see is this amazing body and gorgeous hair and beautiful cheekbones. Sure, I'm hilarious and great in bed, but do they appreciate it? Do you appreciate it?”

“For the last three years, he’d held his body as taut as a bowstring. He couldn’t imagine ever feeling at ease again. That was one more reason why the notion of sex with someone new was so difficult. Letting go like that required a level of surrender he wasn’t sure he had in him to give. Trust in another person to see you at your most vulnerable and not take advantage.”

“Staying level with Tess was going to require fast thinking, which was mighty difficult considering all the blood he needed for said thought processes was now hurtling south. “What would this job involve?” “Only one task. Make. Me. Believe.” “That I’m your fiancé?” Cue her smile, sly and sexy. First time she’d let him in on that action, too. “That you want me more than your next breath.” If she moved forward a couple of inches, his boner would make her believe.”

“What do you think for dinner? I know it’s important I don’t show you up.” Something soft and red filled his lust-hazed vision. “With this first one, I can’t wear a bra because it’s backless…” She swapped it out for something dark. “…but this second one is a little low-cut. Bra or no bra?” Think, man, think. The fate of the universe depended on the answer to this question.”

“I could just as easily have taken the train.” He shut his eyes, just long enough for a movie of a Tess-induced train riot to screen on the backs of his eyelids. Fists flying, teeth broken, friendships destroyed as men vied to get closer to her lush body barely covered in that incendiary French maid outfit. And now he was turning hard again.”

“An inappropriate attraction to your friend’s fiancé was grounds for disbarment from the Woman Club. Neither did it make a lick of sense. He was uncouth, uneducated, uncivilized. All of their conversations back then had been unholy bicker fests where they charged from the opposite ends of the spectrum, determined not to meet in the middle but to rip pieces out of each other on the drive by.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Emma murmured, her words soft, but fierce at once. “Sometimes you have to take what you need and hope the other person can handle the invasion.” “Invasion?” “That’s what love is, isn’t it? Families, friends, lovers. It’s an invasion of each other’s space, minds, hearts. Someone’s always jockeying for control. For it to truly work, there has to be equality. Each side has to be strong enough to handle it.” Invasion. An oddly perfect way to describe it. “Yet again, I ask, who are you, Emma Strickland?”

“But you just got laid. Very well, I might add. Isn’t that enough to tide you over for a while?” “Maybe for a woman. But if a man doesn’t use the goods, they shrivel up—” She rolled her eyes. “—and now that I’ve realized what I’ve been missing, and you’ve done such a great job getting me back up on the horse, for which I’m immensely grateful, then I think I’m ready to spread my wings.” He motioned to the wing spreading area. His groin. “This really shouldn’t go to waste, now, should it?”

“The words hung in the air like dense weighted objects waiting to crash. Her breath hung with it. He should have frozen, pushed her away, anything but what he did. He kissed her gently on the top of her head. Tears welled in her eyes, and she burrowed closer into the safety of all that warm skin. He was naked, yet she was the one completely and utterly exposed.”

“Hauling a deep, make-me-feel-sexy breath, she pinned on what she hoped was a coquettish smile, turned as smoothly as her bulky gown allowed, and found her previously pleasure-filled sightline newly blocked by sixfoot- and-change of home-grown Texas assholery. This particular example happened to have thick, wavy hair as dark as his heart, deep, soulful eyes as blue as the garter still circling her thigh, and a face that made angels weep. Probably after he’d screwed them senseless, knocked them up, and abandoned them with a wink and a smile.”

“He fingered her nape, massaging his sensual intent. “I’ll give you whatever you want whenever you want it. Any time of day, you need relief, just crook your finger and I’ll crook mine. Against you, inside you, deep as you need it. If I’m not around, text me and I’ll come, ready to make you come. For one week, I’ll fulfill every fantasy on demand and get you off so many times we’ll break records.”