He buries his face in my neck with a muttered curse, and the dark room is filled with the sound of our harsh breathing.

Then I wind my legs around his waist and he goes wild. One hand continues to hold my wrists as the other slides down my hip, under my butt. I helplessly twist my wrists above my head, wanting to touch him, but he holds me in a vise, leaving me completely at his mercy as he drives me up almost to the headboard.

“Jesus, Olivia.”

In response, I turn my head, scraping my teeth down the side of his neck, smiling wickedly as it spurs him to an even faster pace.

I’ve never been like this before, wanton and wild, but it’s like he’s tapped into another side of me that I didn’t know existed. Gone is the girl who thought she wanted sweet words and gentle kisses. I only want him.

“More,” I whisper. “Please.”

Paul groans in response, releasing my wrists so that his hands can go to my knees. He presses my legs apart wider apart before lifting his head slightly. Just enough to look down at me, his blue eyes burning a dark slate gray.

Then he rotates his hips once, twice, pressing against me in just the right way. I’m closer to coming than I realized, and the way his pace increases, I don’t think I’m alone on the precipice.

I realize then how much we’ve lost ourselves in the other person. Enough to get stupid.

“Paul.” With my last bit of sanity I claw frantically at his shoulder. “Condom.”

He freezes. “Shit. Shit.”

I try not to moan at the loss of him as he moves to get his jeans and digs through the pocket.

“Seriously?” I ask with a breathless little laugh as I hear the familiar sound of ripping foil. “You carry that around?”

He rolls on the condom and gives me an unapologetic grin. “Every day since the first night I fingered you in my bedroom. I thought it was wishful thinking, but I’m really glad that it’s not.”

Then he’s inside me again, his palms on the inside of my thighs as he keeps me open and deliciously exposed.

His hand moves to where we’re joined, his thumb finding my clit, moving in tiny, tight circles, and I swear to God, I go blind.

And then I explode with a loud cry I barely recognize as my own.

Seconds later, my hands are once more above my head. My breath still shuddering, I’m pinned to the bed in every possible way as he moves harder, faster, his eyes locking on mine until he squeezes them shut. His face is the picture of ecstasy as he comes inside me with a harsh gasp.

Afterward, the weight of him crushes me, but I welcome it, my hands moving possessively across his broad back, holding him to me as we both ride out the aftershocks.

Neither of us speaks, which is just as well. I don’t know what the hell we’d say.

Wow.

Oh my God.

Do it again.

Paul finally moves, brushing my shoulder with his lips before moving into the bathroom.

I’m cold without him, so I muster the energy to pull back the covers. I contemplate putting on pajamas, or at least underwear, but my body seems to be even less inclined to work than my brain, so instead I curl up naked beneath the sheets.

When he comes out of the bathroom, I instinctively tense, bracing for him to leave without a word, or worse, say something ass**le-ish like thank you.

Instead he hesitates just outside the bathroom door. He looks . . . nervous. Not because of his nakedness, obviously, because he seems just fine letting it all hang out there (and may I just say wow on naked Paul Langdon).

And then it hits me. He doesn’t know if he’s invited to stay. And he’s too scared to ask.

l lift a corner of the covers in silent invitation.

He’s beside the bed in three steps, sliding under the covers and pulling me to him. His kiss is both sweet and urgent before he lies on his back and moves his arm to the side, making a nook for me. I happily settle in.

I have yet to speak. I’m still trying to figure out what happened to me. Trying to figure out what it is about this guy that brings out my shameless side.

He too is silent, and for a moment I think he’s asleep, but then he turns his head slightly, his lips on my hairline. “Are you any better at cuddling post-orgasm, by any chance?”

I smile against his chest. “Nope.”

He lets out an exaggerated sigh. “One of these days I just might have to tie you up.”

“You mean it?” I say it in a coy, teasing way, but once my brain actually goes there, I have a full, almost unbearably erotic visual of me tied up beneath him as he licks all over my body. And then maybe him tied up beneath me, so I can do the exploring . . .

Paul lets out a little laugh. “Olivia Middleton, I do believe that you’re slightly wicked under that good-girl exterior.”

“Only with you,” I say, glad he can’t see my flaming cheeks as I make the admission.

He’s silent for several seconds, and when he speaks, I can tell he’s smiling. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Paul

I’m having déjà vu. The good kind, in which you wake up to a gorgeous woman in your bed.

Only this time is about a thousand times better than the last time Olivia slept with me. This time she’s naked. This time I spent all night making love to her. This time she’s in my bed not to keep my nightmares at bay but because after we thoroughly tangled her sheets for the third time, sometime around 3:00 a.m., she let me carry her to my bed, which is bigger.

Although the extra space does nothing to contain her nighttime sprawl. So not everything’s changed.