"Please," she begged, even though he’d already dropped the soap so that he could pinch her erect ni**les between each thumb and forefinger.

"Shhh," he soothed against her earlobe before he nipped at it.

A hard shudder worked through her as he slid one hand back down to her belly, and then down lower still, until the damp curls between her legs were tickling his fingertips. They moved together in perfect sync, her legs opening wider just as his hand found her flesh slick and so damned hot that he didn’t have a prayer of holding back one more second.

He quickly spun her around and pressed her against the tiles with the weight of his body as he ripped open the condom, only stepping back enough from her luscious curves to shove the latex down over himself. And then he was lifting her up so that she was wrapping her arms and legs around him, and he was thrusting into her in one hard stroke that stole the breath from both their lungs.

She was small but strong as she pulled him closer. Every time they were together, he vowed to be more careful with her the next time. But need had him spiraling out of control again, and apart from protecting her soft curves and the back of her head with his hands against the tile, he couldn’t do a damned thing to stop himself from pounding into her, or from kissing her hard enough to bruise her lips.

Yet again, she surprised him not only by taking everything he gave her, but also by encouraging him to go further. Because instead of crying out at the rough way he was taking her with absolutely no finesse or gentleness at all, her soft laughter ricocheted through the shower. Even as her inner muscles tightened down around him and she used her strong thigh and arm muscles to work herself over him, the beautifully wild woman in his arms was not only smiling...she was actually laughing out loud with clear joy.

Every time she laughed, Rafe felt it in the center of his chest. But never more than now, when what should have been fast, furious lovemaking had turned into something else entirely. Something that eased the tightening in his chest even more than loving her had last night.

Before Brooke, sex had only been about momentary pleasure.

With Brooke, he finally realized how much joy there could be in it, too.

"I love the sound of your laughter," he told her, and he was smiling, too, as he covered her mouth with his. He was amazed that even as laughter turned back to moans and gasps, the joy that she’d wrapped all around him never let go, not for one second.

When her body exploded in climax, Rafe didn’t have a prayer of holding back his own release. And why would he, when nothing had ever felt better than jumping off the edge with her?

They clung to each other for several minutes afterward as they both worked to catch their breath, and when he finally put her back down on her feet, she was grinning up at him.

"That was awesome!" She sounded just the way she had when they’d ridden his motorcycle into town, utterly exhilarated and thrilled by her discovery of what a rush speed could be.

Rafe agreed wholeheartedly—making love to her in the shower had easily been the most awesome moment of his life—but at the same time, he couldn’t push away another chorus of self-condemnation over the way he kept losing control with her.

"What are you doing to me?"

She reached for his jaw with one hand and stroked it. His wet stubble rasped under her fingertips. "Well, right now, I’m going to shave you." She went on her tippy-toes to move her mouth closer to his. "We can figure out the rest later."

He didn’t know how she did it—how she took something that could have been so complicated and made it simple. Easy.

Right.

She had him sit on the tiled seat at the back of the shower and filled her palm with shaving cream. All it took was the soft brush of her fingers over his neck and jaw for him to grow hard again. Damn it, he couldn’t let himself take her again.

Misinterpreting his grimace as concern, she said, "I promise I’ll be gentle," and then she was picking up the razor and moving her legs on either side of his so that her gorgeous chest was right at tongue level. Did she know how much she was torturing him as she tilted his head back so that she could run the razor over his neck?

He’d done a lot of wild things in his life, but he’d never thought one of the wildest would be having the most beautiful girl in the world straddling him in the shower while she shaved him, her lower lip between her teeth in deep concentration.

The only thing that stopped him from grabbing her and tugging her all the way onto his lap—and the erection that wouldn’t quit whenever she was near—was knowing how bad she’d feel if her hand slipped and she cut him. He was more than willing to shed a little blood to have her again, but he forced himself to keep his hands resting lightly on the outsides of her thighs as she deftly moved the razor up to his jaw.

When she was done, she quickly rinsed him clean with water from the shower spout. She leaned down and rubbed her cheek against his. "Mmm, so smooth."

No longer needing to worry about the razor, he stood up, shut off the water, and took her with him from the bathroom into the bedroom, both of them dripping as they hit the bed and fell on it together. He’d never trusted any woman to do something as intimate as shave him, but with Brooke it had felt like the way things were supposed to be. Just as it did when he rolled them over so that she was straddling him on the bed and he could nuzzle her br**sts with his freshly shaven face.

"Mmm," he murmured against her sweet-smelling skin, "so smooth."

She was laughing at the way he’d used her own words on her as he grabbed another condom from beside the bed, then pulled her down over him. He could feel her joy in the throb of her inner muscles against him with each burst of laughter from her lungs. He wasn’t a teenager anymore, and after having her twice in less than twelve hours, he should have been able to last this time.

But the way Brooke looked riding him—beyond gorgeous with her head thrown back, wet hair streaming down her back, lost to ecstasy with her hands gripping his forearms—crushed any control he should have had. He could feel every catch of her breath, every gasp of pleasure when he thrust into her and hit just the right spot.

He wanted to watch her come, but he needed to taste her more. Sitting up, he slid his hands into her wet hair and kissed her. He’d never experienced need this fierce, this consuming. All that existed was Brooke, the smooth slick of her tongue against his, the grip of her hands across his shoulders as her climax hit her hard enough that all she could do was press her cheek against his and hold on tight.