He jerked up her shirt. Shoved her bra out of the way, and those nimble fingers of his curled over her nipples. Squeezed.

Miranda bit back a moan and her hands tightened around him. God, but she wanted him inside and—

A growl built in his throat. Her gaze snapped to his and she found his burning stare flickering between a man’s lust and an animal’s wild need.

Then he stepped back, breaking the heated contact between them, and she could have yelled in frustration, could have—

“My way.” The words seemed barely those of a man.

His hands were on her wrists and he yanked her forward so that Miranda tumbled off the edge of the desk. Her feet hit the floor a little too hard and she stumbled. But then he was holding her tight. Shifting her body, spinning her around so that she faced the scarred desk and—

“Brace your hands.” A gritted order.

He was right behind her. Her body slid forward. She put her hands out automatically, palms slapping flat against the wooden surface of the desk.

“Cain, what are—”

Her skirt was lifted. No, shoved up. Cool air skated over her thighs. Then his fingers were between her legs. Stroking her through the damp crotch of her panties. Long, hard strokes that made Miranda bite her lip and rise up on her tiptoes.

Good, but not good enough.

“Cain.” A demand this time. His way, her way, she didn’t care. She just wanted him.

His fingers slipped under the edge of her panties. One long finger pushed inside her, knuckle-deep. Her hips arched and she thrust back against him, needing so much more than that touch.

She needed deeper.

She needed more.

Miranda tossed back her head. “I need—”

With his left hand, he jerked the collar of her shirt to the side, baring her flesh. His mouth locked around her shoulder. The edge of his teeth pressed against her in a sensual bite that had her gasping.

His finger retreated. Thrust. Retreated. Then he was curling his hand over her panties and yanking them down.

The panties landed on her black sandals. She kicked off her strapless shoes—and the panties fluttered across the floor.

His mouth pressed tightly to the flesh of her shoulder. A warm swipe of his tongue. A kiss. His hands spread her thighs ever wider, and he pushed her farther over the top of the desk.

A rustle of foil reached her ears as he readied himself. Then the wide head of his erection pushed against the moist opening of her sex. A controlled thrust.

Not what she wanted.

And Miranda was damn sure that really wasn’t “his way.” She rolled her hips, rocked back, and took him in as deep as she could.

His hands slammed down next to hers. His claws were out, and they dug into the wood.

And he began to thrust.

Not so controlled.

Deeper. Deeper. Harder.

Miranda closed her eyesand tried to hang on for the ride.

The desk inched forward with his thrusts. Wood scraped. He was pistoning behind her, driving so fully into her that she felt totally possessed.

Joined.

He was all around her, his scent thicker, richer than before. His nails had dug deep into the desktop. His teeth pierced the flesh of her shoulder.

Not pain.

Just pleasure.

Not like Paul. God, no, never like that—

The climax caught her hard, spiraling through her body and stealing her breath as her sex spasmed.

His cock seemed to swell even more inside of her, and he thrust aggressively into her. The wild rhythm of their lovemaking continued, even as the climax rose, crested, his cock continued to tunnel deep into her flesh. So hard. So damn good.

Her hands lifted, caught the width of his forearms. Her breath was panting out, her upper body almost completely splayed over the desk, dangerously close to the edge of the computer.

And still he took her. In strong plunges, in demanding thrusts. Again and again.

When the second climax hit, their release erupted at the same moment. A hard ball of pleasure blasted through her, and Cain shuddered behind her, driving into her core one final time, then stilling against her.

A heartbeat was pounding, racing far too fast. Hers? His?

Miranda didn’t know, and at that moment, she didn’t really care. Her head dropped onto the desk and her hands fell from his.

He wrapped his arms around her then. Kept his cock buried inside of her and nuzzled her neck.

And damned if the man didn’t let out what could really only be called a purr. A very, very masculine purr of satisfaction.

A sound she felt like echoing, and would have, if she hadn’t been struggling to catch her breath.

Umm. She rather liked doing things his way. But next time, she wanted to be in charge.

Her way.

Her head turned to the side, and she stared at his claws. Slowly, the claws shifted away, until only a man’s hand, with close-cropped nails, remained.

Amazing.

“I should have gotten you naked.” His voice was husky and the words were murmured close to her ear.

Naked. Now that would have been a good plan.

“I’ve been dreaming about those sweet breasts of yours, and I didn’t even get a taste of them.”

A feeling of heady power swept through her. “Maybe next time.” Oh, but she did love the feel of that skilled tongue on her flesh. Teasing her nipple. Licking her.

“Or maybe right now.” He slid out of her, and her sex tightened in an automatic reflex to keep him inside.

Too late.

He eased off her, and, taking a deep breath, Miranda pushed up and turned to face him.

His lips were parted, and she could just see the edge of his strong, white teeth.