“Jase,” she said, the neediness of her tone almost enough to make her cringe. Let me make you forget your inner wounds. Let me feel what I haven’t felt in years: pleasure.

“Brook Lynn, I can’t—I shouldn’t. I—”

He turned abruptly and stalked back into the kitchen.

She pushed out a shaky breath. Despite what had happened outside—or maybe because of it—her fascination with this man hadn’t lessened. She imagined his warrior hands all over her, his mouth following in their path, and nearly slid off the couch.

He was a puzzle. He was damaged by his past. He had secrets, and he would die before he admitted he needed her. He may not have realized it, but he’d leaned into her every time she’d put her hands on him, his body telling her what his expression and tone had not.

But...there was Jessie Kay. There was also the date she had with Brad, the one she’d thought to firm up later today. However, they hadn’t actually set a date, so she could get out of it pretty easily.

Should she?

And what about Jase’s stance on happily-ever-afters?

The guy was clearly more of a fixer-upper than she’d ever realized, and she’d sworn off fixer-uppers for all of eternity.

The end result might make all the work worth the effort.

She rested her head on the back of the couch and closed her eyes, picturing Jase and Brad side by side. What she wanted versus what she thought she needed. Passion against compatibility.

She imagined Brad trying to kiss her and shied away from the image.

She imagined Jase trying to kiss her and moaned for more. Fire ignited in her veins as her nipples drew up tight and arousal dampened her panties.

A few minutes later—surely that was all the time that had passed—she felt as if she was floating...floating...gently stretching over a cloud.

“Sleep, angel.”

“Jase.” A breathy sigh escaped her as she realized he had carried her to bed. “Want,” she admitted, hovering somewhere between awake and asleep, where nothing but sensation existed.

“You’re going to be the end of me, I know it.” Strong but gentle hands smoothed over her brow, warm and callused, comforting, but just as she leaned into the heat, it vanished.

Her eyes popped open. The bedroom was dark, all the lights out, and though there was a crack in the blackout curtains, no sunlight seeped through. Hours must have passed. But even in the gloom she could make out the strength of Jase’s silhouette—he hadn’t walked away.

“Come back,” she begged, reaching for him.

She heard a soft curse before he shucked his shirt and pants and climbed in beside her, surrounding her with his heat once again. She snuggled close, loving the feel of his skin against the exposed parts of her. Warm, mint-scented breath tickled her scalp. The scent of soap and musk filled her nose. Tingles danced over her, driving her to move against his hard-as-stone body. She couldn’t not move, a week’s worth of pent-up desire desperate for an outlet.

A broken moan sounded in her ears. “Brook Lynn, honey. You have to stop...what you’re doing... You have to...”

“Can’t.” Her limbs were heavy, achy, her body writhing, writhing of its own accord, searching for release.

He gripped her hips to still her with his strength.

Every bit of willpower she possessed was needed to roll to her other side, away from him—before she started up again, despite his grip. Even that innocent action was too much for her sensitized nerves to tolerate, and she moaned.

“Go to sleep,” he said.

“Yes. Okay.” But how could she with him so close? She needed to leave, and she would, just as soon as her body was under her control again. Deep breath in, out. In. Out. Good. Gradually, the ache eased, but rather than hopping up and driving home, she found herself drifting off...

...and dreaming of kissing Jase, writhing against him, touching him...

...and waking up however long later facing him yet again, panting, his hand draped over her rib cage, just under her breast. She went still. The heat and ache were back—only stronger.

He was awake, his expression tight with tension. His body tense.

“Jase,” she said. Why wouldn’t this stop?

“I tried to resist,” he rasped, the ragged quality of his tone making her shiver. His hand inched up, coming closer and closer to cupping her breast.

Would he do it?

A blush heated her cheeks. She remembered writhing against him...and couldn’t blame it on a dream. “I don’t... I mean, I...” Her voice was so breathy. “Jase.”

His gaze hooded and his hand finally conformed around her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple. His voice lowered. “Do you want me to take the edge off, honey?”

He meant...he wanted to...

Her blush deepened. “I...”

“Let me.” He cupped her backside with his other hand and pulled her closer. As he wedged one of his legs between hers, his tongue thrust inside her mouth.

Every cell in her body melted, practically fusing her against him. His erection— Oh, oh! Long, thick and right where she needed it. She arched into him, rubbing. He grunted his approval, swiping his thumb over her nipple a second time before he tangled his fingers in her hair, fisting the strands. He angled her head to kiss her deeper, harder.

Sweet sensation poured into her and filled her up, chasing away the loneliness that had always seemed to plague her.

She wished the room were brighter. The need to see Jase’s chest, to explore every ridge of muscle, every design etched in the skin that so fascinated her, proved overwhelming.