“That’s good,” she said, “because I’d rather die than give up that part of our relationship.”

He reached over, cupped her leg just above her knee where the dress had ridden up to reveal a mile of succulent thigh. “Our relationship means a lot to me, too, baby.”

Moonlight glinted off crystalline blue irises he couldn’t help but fall in.

Honk.

A flash of another car’s lights. Driving. Right.

“You just said the R word without vomiting. I’m impressed,” she said. “But you mentioned fears of your own.”

He nodded. “The more you come to mean to me, the more I’m certain I’m going to lose you, and I hate it. If you leave me, Harlow...”

“Now you’re thinking the worst of me. You won’t lose me, Beck. I’m yours for the taking.” She unbuckled again and leaned over to nibble on his ear. “Pull over, and let me prove it.”

He let go of her knee to grip the wheel, his knuckles soon bleaching of color. “Are you sure?”

He could feel her nod against his skin. “I want you, and I don’t want to wait.”

He whipped the car to the side of the road, edged deeper into the trees. When the engine died, the dash lights faded, darkness sweeping over them. Their deep, panting breaths filled the car, a fine film already rising over the windows.

“I can’t ever get enough of you.” He lifted her over the console, and as she straddled his waist, he said, “I want you so much I probably need therapy.”

“How about immersion therapy?” She rubbed against him, pulling a ragged groan from him. “Get inside me. I’ve been so empty without you.”

He was already hard as a rock, but her words careened him toward the edge, affecting him more intensely than the touch of any other woman. “I don’t want you empty, baby.” He wedged a hand inside her panties and found her hot and damp. Perfect.

She tugged at his fly, the heat of her palm meeting his swollen flesh. He could only rasp out a tattered, “I want you on the pill soon.”

“Yes. Tomorrow.”

He shucked his jeans to his knees and yanked down the top of her dress, freeing her breasts. He tore at her panties, saying, “I’ll buy you new ones.” As he thrust a finger deep inside her, he crashed his mouth into her. Fire raged in his blood, flickered over his skin.

Desire shouldn’t be this ferocious, this consuming. He’d always been able to walk away at any time, naked or not, inside a woman or not. But he couldn’t walk away this time, didn’t want to. He had to get inside Harlow, had to fill her, brand her, lay siege to her. Lay claim. His life depended on it.

In the shadows, her eyes glittered like diamonds as she pulled away to say, “Where’s the condom?”

“Pocket.”

Next thing he knew, she was digging inside it. A moment after that, the sound of foil being ripped masked his panting breaths. She arched back long enough to roll the latex down his swollen length, every touch propelling him to a new level of need.

He gripped her hair, stilled despite the agony, and peered into her eyes. “We’re together officially, Harlow. Say it.”

Melting over him, she nipped at his bottom lip. “We’re together. Now...always.”

“Always,” he echoed, and gripped her hips, placed her at his erection’s tip, and thrust up while she drove down on him. There was a moment of sweet relief, her inner walls clenching him with wet heat, and he knew he was finally where he belonged. But the relief didn’t last long, the relentless madness coming back to haunt them both.

“Beck.” She dug her nails into his scalp and kissed him, hard and dirty, taking his mouth the way he was taking her body—laying claim.

He swallowed her moans, her sweet little purrs that sounded both pained and carnal. Bracing her knees wider at his waist, she took control of the rhythm, hard and fast, using him for her pleasure, and he loved it. Loved the feel of her. Loved the strawberries-and-cream smell of her. Loved—his mind shied away from his next thought, even as his body edged ever closer to satisfaction because of it.

Refusing to go off first, he worked his hand between them. When he reached her drenched center, he pressed. She cried out, began to rub in seeking circles against him, just to get closer. And when up and down failed to do a good enough job, she rotated her hips left and right, the pressure on his swollen shaft absolute perfection.

“Beck...faster...”

“That’s it, baby. That’s the way.” Harder and harder he pressed against her.

What began as a little tremor soon swept through her like an avalanche. She came, shouting his name, and with a roar, he followed her over the edge, pouring his climax into the condom.

He wasn’t sure how long they quaked together, or how long passed before they calmed, but he cherished every second. He held her so tightly he was almost afraid he was hurting her. Almost.

“That was...”

“Only the beginning,” he finished for her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

GOING DAYS WITHOUT physical intimacy with Beck, all because Harlow had feared their relationship would fall apart afterward, had been stupid. Beck was right. They had to trust each other, and they had to share with each other. They wouldn’t survive otherwise.

After their explosive encounter in the car, he drove her to the farmhouse. He led her into his private bathroom, where they showered, cuddled in bed together, and talked in hushed, secret tones.