Anna Whitt’s hair is bloody amazing. It’s a sin she keeps it held back all the time. It’s like heavy, golden silk falling around her, and her face is in absolute bliss as she runs her hands through it.

Must touch it . . .

Hot, raging longing fills my every cell. Blood pumps so fiercely in my ears that I cannot hear the beast pawing the ground, but I know it is, because I’m salivating. When she glances at me I quickly look down. I think she might’ve caught me.

She flicks through some pages and I can’t make out what she’s muttered.

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

I’m afraid she’s about to order me off her bed, but instead she goes on about the summer poetry assignment. Passion is spouting from her pores and I sit up. I can’t wait to throw my poetic genius at her.

She goes on and on, oblivious of her own beauty as she waves her fists and purses her lips in indignation. “The beauty of poetry is that it can mean different things to different people at different times. . . . It’s wrong to dissect poetry like this!”

She throws down her paper, breathing hard, and I suddenly cannot recall a single line of poetry I’ve memorized. All I can think about is touching her. Taking a chance that she might slap the shit out of me, I cup her face, surprised how hot her soft cheek is in my hand.

But she doesn’t smack my hand or move away. She stares at me, and I stare back.

This girl.

I am no match for her.

“Seriously,” she whispers. “You’re doing that bedroom-eyes thing again.”

Bloody right I am.

All at once we’re both crossing the space, crashing in a blaze of lips, ready and seeking, needing and wanting. God, it’s that epic feeling again. Like I will die if we can’t devour each other and become one. I’m awash in her pear and freesia scent. It tantalizes my every sense.

Our mouths embrace. I’m losing myself, just as I did the other night, and I can’t stop it from happening. This is like no lust I’ve ever experienced. It is all-consuming the way her tongue licks at mine, greeting, teasing, inviting me in further. And so I go.

She kicks her school things to the floor, and I know this is happening.

I must have more of her.

My mouth pulls away, landing on the slight saltiness of her neck. The moan she lets out swells inside my ears and I am flipping her, cradled so perfectly by her legs, ready to own her. There’s hunger in her dark eyes as she feels me pressing on all the tender places where no other bloke has ever been. She’s gasping and making the sexiest little noises.

I’m surprised when Anna starts to pull my shirt up, but I quickly help, reaching over my head, grabbing it and yanking it off. I go for the top button on her shirt, and when she doesn’t stop me I hurry through them, desperate to see and feel as much of this girl as I can. Her shirt and undershirt are finally off in a flick of arms. I’m all but growling as my chest and stomach touch hers, hot and smooth, and our mouths meet once more. I want to savor every moment. She feels incredible underneath me, skin to skin.

The feel of her hands grasping at me—knowing she wants me as I want her—is incredible. I am going to take my time with her, and it’s going to take all night.

And then I remember with a pang of disappointment. “What time will Patti be calling?”

“Not for an hour,” she whispers.

Far too soon. “That simply is not going to be enough time.” I don’t want any distractions, but I’ll take what time I can get. I flip us again so she’s on top and I have better access to remove her clothing. I’m leaning partly against the pillows and headboard, and Anna sits across my lap. She takes my lead so perfectly on everything, letting me be in control. Trusting me and going with it.

I have to be careful on this next part because she freaked last time I went near her chest. I will not go for the grab. I concentrate on her shoulders, kissing the smooth skin, and working her bra straps down. Going slow is driving me mad. I want her naked ten minutes ago. I can’t remember the last time I’ve gone this long or wanted something more.

I feel for the back of her strap but then decide to leave her bra on. As much as I want her completely naked, I’ve known since the night we met that she’s self-conscious of her chest size. Completely ridiculous, of course. I’ll leave that discovery for later.

When Anna scoots down on me and curls her hips against mine, I go momentarily blind with lust. My control is slipping much faster than normal. Time to meet the arse I’ve been desperately dreaming about.

One hand goes around her back and I lift my hips, turning us over so she’s lying on her back again. I move down, kissing a path along her breastbone, down to the soft mound at the top of her bra. As if begging me not to stop, Anna’s hands push into my hair.

Ah, God, this is unbelievable. At every moment I keep expecting her to stop me, but she never does. I move down her stomach to her gorgeous belly button, kissing and tasting every inch. When I get to her shorts I look up and her eyes are shut. Her whole body is fluid, squirming and ready for me.

Take her.

But . . .

Does she know what she’s doing? She mightn’t be thinking clearly. . . .

Doesn’t matter.

My body is screaming. I’m so close. This is what I’ve wanted. I won’t stop now.

With one flick, the button of her shorts is undone. My hands slide under her back and she arches for me. I love the responsiveness of her body, so completely in tune with mine. I lick the skin I’ve just exposed and she sucks in a massive breath.