His arms drape by his sides, but his stance is confident and determined. He’s staring at me with complete intent, his look telling me I’m about to melt with pleasure. I should leave, but as much as I think I need to, as much as I’m battling with my sensible side to run, I don’t. Instead, I run my eyes down his jean clad thighs, noticing the bulge at his groin. He’s absolutely turned on, and judging by the coiled pang of desire that has just sprung into my stomach, so am I.

My body clams up with panic, battling between my conflicting sides – the sensible side, telling me to get the hell out of here, and my dangerous side, pleading with me to stay and take what he wants to give. This is wrong. I was just chatting to his girlfriend downstairs. Well, not chatting. Chatting would imply that it was a friendly converse – it wasn’t.

My debating brain has got me shifting my position as I part my lips to draw a steadying breath. I flex my neck.

‘Relax, Ava,’ he soothes me quietly. ‘You know you want this.’

I almost laugh. Who wouldn’t? Look at him. I stand motionless, the only visible movement is my heart hammering out of my chest, and it increases tenfold when he slowly begins to walk towards me, his eyes fixed on mine.

When he’s a few feet away, his fresh, minty scent engulfs my nose, sending my body involuntarily rigid. I don’t know how I manage it, but I keep my eyes to his, lifting them to maintain contact as he nears, until he’s standing before me. He’s as close as he can be without physically touching me. If there’s a Def-Con One version of high alert for the human body, then I’m in it now.

‘Turn around.’ he orders gently.

I conform without even a thought or hesitation, slowly turning away from him as I puff my cheeks out and clench my eyes shut. What am I doing? I didn’t falter in the slightest. My shoulders are tensing, anticipating his touch, and no amount of mental encouragement to relax is paying off. The only sound breaking the screaming silence is the heavy breathing coming from both of us. I stand for a few moments, then go to turn and face him again, but I’m stopped in my tracks when two firm, warm, slightly shaky hands rest on my shoulders, keeping me from following through on my intent. His touch makes me flinch, and he releases one hand slowly, as if to ensure I’ll stay still. My loose hair is gathered into his hand and released to fall down my front. In my own private darkness, I can hear my head demanding I run away, but my body has a whole other agenda. It’s defiantly ignoring any instructions from my brain. His hand returns to my shoulder and slowly massages my tense muscles. The feeling is divine, my head rolling in appreciation as a small sigh escapes my lips. The pressure increases, and I soak up the delicious movements of his talented hands as I feel his hot minty breath getting closer to my ear. I shudder, moving my face towards the source. I know this is inviting, but right at this moment, I’ve lost all sense. I want more.

‘Don’t stop this.’ he whispers, the vibrations of his voice propelling shockwaves throughout my body. I’m physically shaking. It’s way beyond my control.

My breath catches at the back of my throat. ‘I don’t want to.’ My voice is unrecognisable. I can’t believe he’s captured me like this; I can’t believe I’m accepting this.

‘It’s a good job. I don’t think I’d let you.’ He presses his entire front against my back, his mouth dropping to my ear. ‘I’m going to take your dress off now.’

My nod of agreement is almost non-existent, but he catches it and answers by nipping my earlobe, which only assists in raising the relentless pressure in my already throbbing core.

‘You’re too fucking beautiful, Ava.’ he purrs, skimming his lips across my ear.

‘Oh god,’ I lean back into him, his erection throbbing through his jeans, pulsing into my lower back.

‘Do you feel that?’ He circles his hips. I moan. ‘I’m going to have you, lady’ His words are spoken with absolute conviction.

I’m a complete slave to them. I know he’s bound to have had practice in this area; he must have the gift of seduction down to a fine art. I’m not in denial. Women must be falling at his feet on a daily basis. He’s a well-trained master, seeing and taking what he wants, but it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Right now, I’m here for the taking, with no conscience and no indecisiveness. Caution has been wholly and absolutely thrown to the wind. What harm can it do?

I feel his index finger start at the base of my back, trailing a slow, definite stroke up the centre of my spine, causing my head to roll freely. I plead with my hands to remain at my sides, when all I want to do is turn and devour him, but he’s already stopped me from turning to face him once. He clearly likes to be in control.

As he reaches the very top of my dress, he grasps the zip and places his hand on my hip. I jerk. It’s my ultimate tickle spot and any friction on my hip bone, or the hollow above it, sends me through the roof. Squeezing my eyes shut, I use every ounce of willpower I possess to disregard the contact. It’s hard, but the sheer size of his hand splayed across my hip grounds me, keeping me immobile.

The zip of my dress slowly lowers and I hear him gasp at the exposure of my bare skin. He removes his hand from my hip, and I’m stunned when I miss the heat immediately. But then I feel both hands slide under the material of my dress and rest on my bare shoulders. His fingers flex as he pushes my dress away from my front before slowly dragging it down my body, letting it fall to the floor.

His breath catches, and I thank everything holy that I put on decent underwear. I’m stood in my bra, knickers and heels, and at the complete mercy of the Adonis looming behind me. What the hell am I doing?

‘Hmmm, lace.’ he whispers. My waist is griped and I’m lifted out of the pooling dress before being turned to face him. In these heels, my eyes are level with his chin and with a little flick upwards, I’m focused on his full, beautiful lips and wishing he would lay them on mine. I’m swiftly losing my self-control and my conscience has long left the building. I’m wanton, and with this man, easy.

He lifts a hand to my breast and circles my nipple through my bra with his thumb, his gaze focused on his movements. My nipples tingle at the contact, lengthening behind the material of my bra. A small smile plays at the corners of his lips. He knows the affect he’s having on me. He introduces his index finger and tweaks the stiff nub, causing my breasts to throb, becoming heavy, aching mounds. I’m completely rapt by this man studying me so closely, working me up into a shaking, desperate mess. I still can’t believe I’m doing this, but damn, can I stop it?

I watch as he brings his other hand up to palm my other breast. I can no longer keep my hands off of him. My arms lift and my palms settle on his chest. The warmness and firmness hitches my breath. I start to trail my finger down the void between his pecs, smiling to myself when I feel him flinch under my touch and groan low in his throat. Before I can make the most of the access to his body, he turns me back around, and I want to cry inside.

‘I want to see you.’ I breathe.

‘Shhhh.’ He hushes me, unclasping my bra and running his hands under the straps.

He lowers them down my arms, letting it drop to the floor, before his hands find my breasts and knead deliberately. He continues to breathe hot, heavy breaths in my ear.