“I knew it was you,” he continued. “And I knew you were going to be my intern assistant.”

Fury stiffened every muscle. “Well. That’s just wonderful. This gets better and better.”

I had to fight which way my emotions were swaying, noting peripherally that there was little difference between anger and desire. They were both strong emotions that took hold of you, threatening to command your every thought and action—and not necessarily in your own best interests.

“It was poor judgment. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry you had sex with me?”

He shook his head, his eyes trailing to my lips.

“I’m not sorry about the sex. I am sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner that it was me.”

I swallowed, trying to decide how to take this information, unable to think of anything to say or even determine how I felt about it.

“I still don’t regret it, though. I make it a habit of never regretting hot sex.”

“You thought it was hot?” Here I went again, desperately seeking validation. Had my past left me that much of a wreck?

He seemed shocked by the question. “Of course.”

My gaze dropped to his mouth and I licked my lips. Something flared in his eyes. The seconds stretched and he didn’t move. I tilted my head, bringing my mouth closer to his. God, I wanted to feel that scruff grazing across my skin. “Well, you already know how I feel about it...”

His eyelids drooped. I reached up and slipped my fingers through his hair like I’d been aching to do for days now. With the pad of my thumb, I traced the outline of his ear. His eyes snapped shut and he took in a shaky breath.

“I should…probably go…” he whispered.

The following few seconds were a little blurry. I couldn’t, for the life of me, say who leaned in first, but next thing I knew my arms were hooked around his neck and his lips were pressed to mine, devouring me. His fingers wound through my hair, which he used to pull me flush against him. His tongue darted frantically in and out of my mouth, and my hands moved to his hard chest, grasping at his shirtfront.

Beneath the shirt, his body felt like granite. God, he felt so good, smelled amazing, tasted delectable. I wanted to start peeling my own clothes off for him. His sharp whiskers grazed my skin as he kissed me—across my face, my earlobes, my neck. His mouth travelled lower, settling in my cleavage.

“You are so goddamn beautiful,” he muttered, and a surge of something rose inside me that I couldn’t quite explain—power? Joy? I couldn’t catch my next breath. My fingers threaded through his hair so that it stood up in a messily attractive way. Was there anything about this man that wasn’t smoking hot? I bet he woke up looking disgustingly sexy first thing in the morning. A burst of heat surged between my legs at the thought of waking up beside him, our bodies clothed only in the bed sheets, the memory of those whiskers scraping across my skin.

“Jordan,” I whispered.

His hand went to the back of my neck, gathering my hair at the nape. I felt his fingers close into a fist and then he pulled my hair tight. The slight jolt of pain made me suck in my breath, even as my desire surged. With a tug, my head tipped back, exposing more of my neck to his delicious sandpaper kisses. The feel of his rough cheeks against my skin was driving me mad.

“I can’t get that night out of my mind,” he ground out as he kissed his way all over my neck and exposed chest. “I think about it all the time.” His fist tightened again in my hair as if with renewed frustration. “How hot it was to fuck you. All I can think about is how much I want to do it again.”

My lips found his earlobe and sucked it inside my mouth, grazing it with my teeth. He let out a tight breath. His hand dipped under my shirt, smoothing over my stomach, painting a swath of fire in its wake. His mouth dropped to my chest and immediately clamped over my nipple through my shirt. My back muscles tightened and I arched, pushing against him, hot desire zinging through me, burning hotter than that gas fire in the living room.

Every nerve ending on every square inch of my skin was alive and aching for his touch. But I couldn’t—we couldn’t.

His mouth was now at the base of my neck, biting and sucking, and his hands were underneath my shirt, holding me against him. Mine were pressed against his hard chest, and the feel of his taut muscles made my eyes roll back into my head. I was delirious with desire for him. And yet—

“Jordan…”

He continued to slide that spellbinding mouth across my collarbone. Over my bra, his thumbs rubbed my nipples, bringing them to pebbled, aching points.