Plus it was going to be a cold day in hell before he took her to the dump he lived in.

Shit, if he didn’t get a release soon, he was going to lose it.

In his pants.

“Show me the way,” she moaned.

Grabbing her hand, he led her through the crowd. And as he passed by the booth where Novo was giving Boone a lap dance—and quite possibly his very first hard-on—Craeg spared a wave at the female and got one in return.

As well as a very knowing look.

The private “bathrooms” were underneath the partial second floor to the north, and as they entered a dimly lit, black-walled hallway, he discovered countless closed doors. Discreet Occupied signs were flipped in the first seven they went by. Eighth was a charm.

Holding the door open for her, he growled as she passed him by to enter the little tiled room. There was a toilet stall, a sink … and a bench—and the squat, tight space was surprisingly clean. Then again, there was a sunken drain in the middle of the floor and a sprinkler head in the ceiling.

They probably bleached ’em after every night.

Making sure the door was locked properly, he grabbed her and pulled her against him, his greedy palms getting into her clothes, feeling the fullness of her breasts, the smoothness of her ass, the heat, the wet fucking heat of her core. He was kissing her out of control already, and she was kissing him back, and God, you’d have sworn they hadn’t spent three hours just that morning getting each other off on the phone.

In person, though—in person was where it was at.

And then she was backing up, drawing him with her, taking him to the sink.

With the grace of a dancer, she put her ass on the counter … then she drew her knees up and propped her high heels against the narrow walls of the alcove.

Giving him a stunning view of her black thigh-highs and her smooth, slick, bare sex.

“You know what I want,” she said. “And for once, it’s not your mouth there.”

Swaying on his feet, he was really goddamn aware that the moment had arrived: His willpower was down to a stump, his sex drive was a roaring engine that wasn’t letting him think properly, and fucking hell … what he was looking at.

“Are you sure?” he mumbled. While he started undoing the front of his jeans.

“Do you want me to beg?”

“No, because I’d start coming right now.”

He glanced around and didn’t see any cameras. But that didn’t mean the fuckers weren’t somewhere hidden. “I wish there was another place we could do this.”

“Like I care where we are.”

With that, she undid her blouse, pulled it open, and popped the cups of her bra down so they offered her breasts high and tight to him. Her blond hair was all around her shoulders, her blue eyes were at half mast, and as she ran her tongue over her lips, the tip of his cock tingled like it was going to explode.

“Please,” she moaned, arching like she was in agony.

And that was all it took.

As his erection punched out of the open fly of his jeans, he took the heavy weight in his hand and closed the distance between them. Shit, he couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Not the sex part; God knew he’d done that before.

It was the sex-with-her part that was getting to him.

Especially as he saw his head right next to everything he wanted. Shutting his eyes briefly, he wanted to say something to make it right for her, look at her in a way that showed he recognized this was a big deal for her, do anything that would turn this experience with a redneck in a club into the reverent, worshipful event it was going to be on his side.

“Yes, I want this,” she said softly. “I want this with you—only with you.”

Lifting his lids, he stared into her hypnotic eyes—and something strange happened. Against the backdrop of the muffled bass beats and the hundreds of humans and the burning desperation pumping in his blood, he felt an abrupt slowdown.

Make this count, he told himself. Make this special for her.

Bringing his head to her core, he brushed his flesh up and down her sex—and she jumped, then bit down on her lip with her fangs.

Her thighs began to tremble. Her breathing quickened. Her scent got heavier, headier.

With a groan of his own, he parted her sex—but he couldn’t keep that up. He was about to orgasm all over her.

Arching above her, he supported his weight on his free hand.

“I’ll go slow,” was the last rational thing he said.

Paradise was so ready for this, her body both fluid and tense with anticipation. And then she felt him brush against her heat and she nearly orgasmed.

There were so many reasons not to do this, so many reasonable arguments why she should wait for a better moment, a better time, a more stable place in her life and Craeg’s. But if the raids had taught her one thing, it was that time was a luxury no mortal could afford to squander.

And her father’s words to her before she’d left had resonated not as the warning he had meant them to be, but as the statement of a goal she needed to embrace.

She was in love with this male. Yes, she hadn’t known him long, and yes, it was crazy, but no, she had never felt anything close to this connection and what else would you call the emotion? And no, she couldn’t control whether Craeg would stay or if he would go tomorrow night, next week, next month, next year—but he was here with her now.

And that was more than she’d ever expected.

Abruptly, a slight pressure registered, the blunt head of him pressing in. And then he was stroking the top of her sex with his thumb, driving her insane, making her feel that fizzy, exciting, burning heat that she now knew was the precursor for the release her body was hungry for.