She hurried past the pantry and slipped inside the alcove. She locked the laundry room door, her fingers trembling, and pressed her back against the door to the porch. Even though she knew this was a game, an undeniable zip of fear buzzed through her. Grant wouldn’t harm her in any kind of serious way, but she wasn’t under the impression he’d go easy on her either. The thought only served to make the achy pulsing between her legs more unbearable.

She strained her ears, trying to listen for his heavy footfalls. She doubted the man could walk softly even if he tried. There was a distant squeak—probably the office door opening. He’d probably try the laundry room any second. She looked around for anything to use to distract him, but all that was in there was a basket full of unfolded laundry. She grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of running shorts off the top and slipped them on. He’d never expect her to go outside since she’d been half-naked, but this could give her the element of surprise.

She reached behind her and turned the knob on the door to the porch, keeping her eyes on the other door and doing her best to not make a peep. When the knob gave, she backed onto the porch, never taking her focus off the kitchen door. One, two, three steps and she’d be to the screen door that led to the backyard. She spun on her heel, ready to bolt, and slammed smack into the hard wall of Grant’s chest.

Before the scream could even exit her throat, Grant turned her, clamping a hand over her mouth. The noise came out a pitiful, muffled sound.

“Going somewhere?” he said, his breath hot against her neck.

Not ready to lose so easily, she jammed her elbow into his ribs and tried to wriggle free. But he was too damn strong for her to even get an inch of space between them. He gripped her harder.

“Now you’re just pissing me off, princess.” He dragged her back into the laundry room and kicked the door shut behind him. “If you play nice, I won’t have to get rough.”

She grabbed for the hand he had locked over her mouth and dug her fingernail into his cuticle—a self-defense move her brother had taught her.

“Son of a bitch!”

His hand dropped, and the moment’s distraction let her slip free. She vaulted back through the door to the kitchen, an angry cowboy hot on her heels. When she took the turn into the living room, she thought she had enough of a lead to make it back to the bedroom, but before she hit the hallway, he grabbed hold of her shirt and yanked her backward. He caught her before she landed on her ass, but soon she was on the floor anyway. He pinned her down on the rug, belly down, knee against her back.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t be cooperative.” He yanked her shorts and panties off in one rough tug, then tore her T-shirt, a long rip down the back.

The sound of the tearing and his handling of her had every sensory system in her body firing. Her mind tumbled into that place where thoughts went quiet and sensation took over. She struggled beneath him. “Please, please don’t do this. You can take whatever you want from the house.”

His dark chuckle was almost unrecognizable as he unhooked her bra. “You think I’m in here for a fucking TV, princess?”

“I have money in my closet,” she said on a whimper.

“I don’t need your money.” Something wound around one of her wrists, then he was shoving her knee under her, and the same scratchy material wrapped around her thigh—rope. “What I need is this tight, virgin ass of yours.”

A hard tremor moved through her. She tried to move, but her wrist and thigh were now anchored to each other. He gave her the same treatment on the other side until she was left with her ass in the air, knees spread wide, and the side of her face pressed into the rug.

Breath rasped through her lungs as she fell into the moment, surrendering to him, her desire for him swallowing any lingering fear. Her clit throbbed from neglect, the soft rug caressing her nipples and only ratcheting up her desperation further. “Please.”

He stood, his shoes coming into her peripheral vision. “Why do I get the feeling you’re no longer begging for mercy but begging for me to fuck you?”

“Because I am. Please.”

He crouched down and wrapped a hank of her hair around his fist, lifting her head ever so slightly. “You know how hot it makes me to hear you beg so nicely? I may even let you enjoy it now.”

He released her hair and stood. The sound of his belt buckle raised goose bumps on her sweat-slicked skin. She peeked upward to find him peering down at her as he doubled the belt over and tucked the metal part in his hand. He smiled a smile that could simultaneously melt her insides and break her open, then he stepped out of view.

Even knowing it was coming couldn’t prepare her for the blow. The belt landed across her ass, sending a rocket of stinging pleasure curling up her spine and down her legs. She cried out, her hands yanking at the ropes and inadvertently spreading her thighs wider.

Another swat came and grazed her exposed sex, jolting her and almost sending her into instant orgasm. Her back bowed, her head shaking back and forth like a restless horse trying to break loose. “Oh, God.”

He hit her again and again, but she lost count of the lashes when the hot pain softened and blurred into the intoxicating rush of pure adrenaline and pleasure. Her pussy throbbed and her skin felt tight all over her, like she had too much sensation to hold in one body. She wanted to beg, to scream, to cry…to love him.

“I can’t wait any longer for you, baby. You’re driving me fucking crazy.” The buckle hit the floor with a clang and the sound of a zipper filled in the space between her breaths. Then he was there behind her, his palms and mouth gentle and nurturing where he’d been brutal seconds before. “I need to be inside you.”

Her verbal abilities had slipped into the part of her brain she didn’t have access to at the moment, but nothing in the world sounded better than that. She tilted her hips upward, a silent appeal.

Cool liquid touched her backside, Grant’s fingers massaging and spreading lube he’d apparently brought with him. “Just relax for me, princess. Let me in.”

She didn’t think she was capable of fighting the invasion even if she’d wanted to. His finger pushed inside her, one then another, and a moan spilled out of her. He worked her backside with one hand and moved the other to her clit. She squeezed her eyes shut, the pleasure almost too overwhelming to process. Methodically and with tortuous patience, he coaxed her body to cooperate, to open to him. As soon as she thought she’d explode with orgasm, he’d back off her clit and ease her down. If she could’ve formed the words, she would’ve begged—shamelessly and profusely.

But soon he’d hit his own limit and he shifted into position behind her, untying her hands so she could brace herself and then spreading her even wider. His cock pressed against her, the blunt head feeling impossibly huge in comparison to the fingers he’d been using. “Relax and push against me, baby. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She breathed through one final whip of anxiety, then did as he said, mentally and physically accepting him. He moved through the last bit of resistance, and then he was gliding inside her, stretching her, setting off a circuit board of nerve endings that had her nails burying into the carpet and her body quivering with edgy need.

“Oh, Jesus, Charli,” Grant said, his voice full of grit. “I want to take my time with you, but damn, you feel good.”

She swallowed past her parched throat, her own words barely a whisper. “Please don’t make me wait too long.”

“Ah, hell,” he said, draping himself over her back and hooking his arm around her hip. “That’s a request I can definitely grant.”

His fingers found her clit and stroked as his pelvis tapped her backside, his cock buried fully inside her. She reared up, and a strangled moan that she didn’t even recognize as her own filled her ears. Grant sped up, his thrusts matching the urgency pulsing inside her. Her head sagged between her shoulders and she went down to her elbows, all her strength going toward holding back the dam of sensation threatening to overtake her.

“Please, please, please,” she said, a mumbled string of unintelligible, desperate words pouring out of her.

He pinched her clit and switched from nice and easy to commanding—his dominance fully unleashed. “Come for me, Charlotte.”

He fucked into her with long, spine-arching thrusts, rocking her against the floor and pushing her to a place she’d never visited before. Wretched sounds scraped past her throat as the need wound inside her, tighter and tighter, until she thought she’d die of sensory overload.

Then Grant moaned her name, and the erotic sound of his own loss of control pushed her over the cliff and sent her plummeting into orgasm. Tears pricked her eyes, and she screamed through the overwhelming surge of pleasure, the waves crashing against her over and over until she felt him empty inside her.

After a few panted moments and murmured words, he slipped out of her.

She melted into the floor, not sure she ever wanted to get up again. He kissed her shoulder, her hair, the top of her spine. “That was so, so perfect, Charlotte. I’ve never…” But he seemed to be struggling with intelligent speech as well. “Thank you, just thank you. You’re amazing.”

All she could do was sigh in response.

He laughed softly, his obvious affection rolling over her and wrapping around her. He laid his shirt over her quickly chilling skin. “Stay here, darlin’. There’s a hot bath with your name on it. I’ll be right back.”

Charli lay there snuggled against Grant’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat and enjoying the scent of her soap on him. Even after all that had transpired in her house tonight, it felt so normal, so right, lying there in her bed with him. Maybe she didn’t crave candles and soft music, but this—this she ached for. She hadn’t really had a chance to be like this with him yet, to simply cuddle and enjoy his presence.

For a moment, she let herself imagine that this was real, that he would sleep there beside her all night, that they were in a real relationship. But even with her system utterly exhausted, her logical brain wouldn’t let her go there. He’ll never be yours.

He traced his fingers along her spine with a languid motion. “What’s on your mind, freckles? Your muscles have gone tense.”

She frowned, staring at their intermingled shadows on the far wall. “It was nothing.”

“No. Tell me.”

She sighed. Did he always have to be so damn observant? She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let herself fall deeper tonight. But her best intentions had been left somewhere between her bedroom and laundry room. Beyond the electric physical connection they’d shared tonight, when he’d put her in the bathtub afterward, his expression soft, his words tender, she’d plummeted into the abyss. He’d probably chalk it up to bottoming out after their intense scene, but she knew better. She needed to tell him the truth. Put it out there.

She closed her eyes, drumming up the nerve. There was only one thing she could say. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“What?” The rise and fall of his breathing paused beneath her cheek. “Why?”

She pushed herself up on her elbow. It was hard to look at him, but she wasn’t a coward. If she was going to be honest, she’d do it to his face, would jump off the cliff and suffer the consequences. She took one long, deep breath, then said what she’d been thinking for far too long. “Because I’m starting to wish this was real.”

He winced.

Actually fucking winced.

The reaction, though not shocking, was like a rusty knife twisting into her chest. She managed a derisive smirk. “Exactly my point.”

“Charli.” He sat up on his elbows.

She rolled fully away from him, wrapping the sheet around her breasts. “Don’t even bother, Grant. I don’t need the speech. This is not your fault. It’s mine. You never pretended this was anything different than what it is.”