“Not yet,” he said, his voice harsh, pulling her through the haze, pushing her climax back.

He removed his hand from her hip and put it between her legs, just near where their bodies were joined, his fingers tracing her clit, sharp, hot need assaulting her as he did.

“I want to give it to you,” he said, his eyes intense on hers as he continued to stroke her. The combination of his touch along with the feeling of him inside her was almost too much to bear, but now she was fighting her orgasm.

Because she wanted to stay like this. On the edge. In this moment of beautiful torture.

He took his hand away and she gasped, then lifted his fingers, the tips touching the edge of her lips. Then she looked at him, leaned forward and sucked both deep into her mouth.

He swore, short and hard, never looking away. She ran her tongue along the edge of his forefinger and he pulled her down, hard, thrusting up inside of her as he did. That was enough. To push her from the edge into the abyss.

She shuddered, leaning forward, palms braced on the bedspread as she rode out the climax, waves rolling through her, leaving her breathless, shaking and on the verge of the kind of emotional breakdown she never allowed herself. Ever.

He let out a harsh breath, his grip on her tightening, his muscles shivering as he found his own release, his stomach muscles contracting and expanding beneath her.

She waited until it was over. Until he was relaxed. Then she rolled away from him, lying on her back, her arm over her face, her eyes shut tight behind it, trying to gain her balance. Trying to find her center or whatever. But she was firmly...off center, so that just wasn’t going to happen.

He’d tromped all over her center. Left his big, standard-issue boot prints all over it.

She was wrecked.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close and she moved her arm, blinking, shocked by the fact that he was touching her, that he wasn’t halfway out the door. But no, he was leaning in, his head pressed to her breasts, his breath hot against her skin.

She lifted her hand and traced his jaw with the tip of her finger, his stubble rough. There was something undeniably male about it. Undeniably sexy.

What was it about him? Why did he make her feel so much?

She shook all that off, trying to catch her breath. Trying to pull herself out of the emotional well she’d fallen into. This wasn’t like her. She didn’t get moony and weird. And she didn’t sleep with guys after sex. She was too busy getting dressed, saying goodbyes and getting back to her own space. Or pushing them back to theirs.

Well, she wasn’t going to sleep with Eli. She was just going to rest for a second while she got her bearings, and then she would remind him that he needed to get back to his place stat.

He moved his hands over her curves until she could feel herself melting into the sheets like a candle pressed into a flame.

Man, she was pathetic.

And all she wanted to do was sleep. Or turn over and lick him. All over. Oh, yes, that was what she wanted to do. Lick every inch of Eli Garrett until he was shaking. Until he was hard again. Until...

There was a fearsome-sounding scratch and a sound that was closer to a caterwaul than a meow at the door.

She jumped, the sound breaking hard through her fantasies.

There was more scratching, this time on the carpet beneath the door, followed by more angry feline noises.

“Oh, you damn cat!” she growled, wiggling out of Eli’s hold and sitting up. And she was almost grateful Toby had come to the rescue then, because it had saved her from revealing her fairly intense neediness.

She stood and looked down at Eli, who was staring at the ceiling, all naked and muscle-y and as hot as ever. Then she turned and went to the door, flinging it open. “What?”

Toby sauntered in, and his eyes seemed to go straight to Eli. “Don’t judge,” she said to Toby. “You don’t have balls. You don’t know what this kind of drive does to a person.”

Eli laughed, a deep, male sound that was much more relaxed than he generally was. “Do you always talk to your cat?” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed and she was sort of struck dumb by the whole display.

His body in motion, regardless of the motion, was a beautiful thing. And naked? It was mouth-dryingly, pantie-dampeningly beautiful.

“Yes, yes, Eli, I do talk to my cat. And please be advised,” she said, crossing her arms beneath her bare breasts, “that I won’t allow for anti-cat speech in this house.”

“Anti-cat thoughts?”

“Forbidden. The thought police are here. Assimilate or be destroyed.”

“I didn’t understand any of that.”

“It’s a good thing you’re nice to look at.”

“Nice to touch, too, I hope,” he said, standing and walking toward her.

Her heart stuttered. “Do you have to ask?”

“Doesn’t hurt to be told.”

“Touch. Taste. All of the above. I very much enjoy the many attractions your body has to offer.”

“Possibly the strangest compliment I’ve ever received.”

“Well, that gives me a new target to aim for. Something weirder than that.”

“I look forward to it.” He bent down and picked up his clothes, shaking them out, tugging his underwear and pants on.

Her heart sank. She was so much more disappointed by the fact that he was leaving than she should be. She’d just been thinking she needed to get rid of him. Reclamation of space and all that.

But now he was vacating her space. And that was different.

At least it felt different for some reason.

He tugged the tan shirt on over his head and collected the overshirt and tie, and put them into the bag the condoms had come from. Then he went for his boots. And she just stood there naked and watched, which was hugely stupid but she couldn’t really bring herself to stop watching him. Or to move and get dressed. She didn’t want her lacy underthings or her dress back anyway.

She wanted jammies. And she wanted to cry a little bit.

She felt like an alien being with way too many feelings had crawled into her ear and then chewed his way from her brain stem, down her neck and into her chest, where he’d made a comfy home and decided to force his emotions on her.

Yes, that was what she felt like. Foreign, and completely out of her depth. And she just wasn’t used to feeling that way. She kept herself out of situations that made her feel this way for a reason.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, all casual and like his skull hadn’t been cracked by the thundering pleasure that had just rolled through them both.

“Uh...okay.”

“I can’t stay,” he said, not looking at her.

“No,” she said. “No, I know. I mean, I wasn’t going to ask you to. I was going to ask you to leave, actually. But I didn’t have to because of the cat, and then you got up, and now you’re going so I didn’t have to.”