She elbowed him with as much dignity as she could manage.

"What I meant was...tell me what you did for fun when you were younger. Before Victor. Even you were a teenager once. You must have done something for fun. Music. Parties. Boys."

Boys. Olivia cleared her throat, because it was clogged with the secret that there hadn't been any boys. Not really. But he'd touched on something important. She had had a life before Victor, even if it had been a rather innocent one. "I used to Rollerblade. I liked country music. I played softball until I was fourteen. And...I loved amusement parks."

He looked at her.

"Roller coasters," she clarified.

"Roller coasters? Really?"

"Yes."

"Well," he said. "All right then. I think we know what our next assignment is going to be. Are you free on Sunday?"

"Why?" she asked warily.

"Because I don't have another full day off until then, and we can't do Elitch Gardens in two hours."

Olivia opened her mouth to protest, then realized she had no idea why she'd say no. She hadn't been on a roller coaster since college, and why not? Because Victor hadn't liked them. How pitiful was that? She'd seen the ads for the new coaster at Elitch Gardens. It looked amazing. "Okay. Yes. Sunday it is."

A streetlamp caught them in its glow, and Olivia glanced up to see Jamie's hair still mussed from her grip. She'd done that to him, and satisfaction filled her up at the thought.

Maybe she wasn't so boring, after all. She certainly wasn't boring around Jamie. So maybe his question was more significant than it seemed.

In the end, maybe Victor had been the one who wasn't any fun. He hadn't liked roller coasters, after all. Or country music. Or batting cages. Or board games. Or baseball stadiums. Or zoos.

Olivia had liked all those things when she was younger, and then... And then she'd met Victor.

But that wasn't fair. She'd been twenty-two. It had been time to grow up, hadn't it? She'd finished college. She'd been an adult. And adults did adult things like going to cocktail parties and attending the opera. Adults read important books and discussed politics and worked hard at supporting a spouse's career.

Victor's career.

So maybe she hadn't been boring. Maybe she'd just been so busy trying to be what Victor had needed that she'd been...less. Less than everyone else. Less than those girls who caught his eye and held his attention.

Screw him. All this fun she was having, all this time with Jamie... Olivia hoped she was becoming more like herself every day.

"I didn't want to teach," she blurted out, saying into the dark what she couldn't say in a brightly lit room. "I never even thought about being a teacher. I wanted to work on restaurant start-ups. I wanted to have my own business. The excitement of it. The risk. The challenge. That was how I wanted to have fun. Before."

Before Victor, she meant. Before she'd acted like every other stupid girl in the world.

Jamie nodded, not saying a word, and she was happy about that. Happy, because saying it had felt good and she didn't want to ruin it with figuring out why. She didn't want to delve into cloying regret tonight.

When they came to the sidewalk that wound through her apartment complex, Olivia began to worry about what would happen next. Not the sex. She'd acclimated to that pretty quickly. But this part, this awkward transition part, she didn't know how to deal with. Should she invite him in? Should she just assume he'd follow her? Did she have to make it clear she wanted him to stay? Would he spend the night?

Olivia couldn't believe people did this all the time.

"I'm impressed," Jamie said. "You haven't checked the time once."

"I don't want to know how late it is."

"It's late," he said as they stepped up to her door. "Very late."

Oh, God, did that mean he wanted to stay or go? How could she be so doubtful after they'd nearly had sex right on the street?

"Jamie," she said as she opened the door. "It's late, b-"

"Let me stay," he urged, curving his arm around her waist before she could even turn back to him. "Let me stay." He pressed against her back, his body fitting perfectly to hers.

"You're kidding, right? I was going to lure you in and lock the door behind you."

"Thank God," he murmured, his mouth already searching out her neck. "I can't keep my hands off you."

Olivia dropped her purse to the floor and turned into him, reaching for the buttons of his shirt as his mouth found hers. It seemed weeks since she'd been in his bed. Months. She pushed his plaid shirt off his shoulders, then slipped her hands under his T-shirt. His skin felt five times hotter than hers as she slid her arms around his ribs. When she dragged her nails along his back, he jumped.

Too impatient for slow exploration, she pushed his shirt up. "Are you ticklish?"

"A little," he said, his voice muffled by the cotton as he dragged the shirt the rest of the way off. She was busy tasting the heat of his chest. "Mmm," she hummed, making his skin jerk. "Just a little ticklish?"

"Maybe more like a medium amount."

"God, that's so cute. How did I not notice before?"

"You were busy mauling me?"

"Right," she whispered, distracted by the feel of the crisp hair on his chest. When she moved her hands down his sides, he shivered. "Sorry. I was only..." Olivia was too excited to keep speaking. Instead of explaining, she unbuckled his belt and popped open his button-fly jeans, one...slow...button at a time.

"Did I mention how cute you are?" she asked, eyeing the bulge in his black boxer briefs.

"You may have said- Oh, Christ."

She couldn't fit her fingers all the way around him past the fabric, so she gave up and slipped her hand beneath the band. "Ticklish?" she asked when he jumped.

"No," he answered. "Not one fucking bit."

"Mmm." Even now her fingers just barely met around his shaft. Cute didn't come close, not once you got below the belt. Below the belt, Jamie was glorious.

She stroked him, and he kissed her, his hands gliding along the neckline of her dress, easing the knit material over her shoulders and down her arms. She stroked him again, kissing him harder when she felt the slick wetness at the head of his cock, rubbing it down over his shaft and making him groan.

"Let's go to bed," she whispered. Jamie nodded and started dragging her backward. She couldn't believe she could manage to laugh and be so incredibly aroused at the same time, but she found herself giggling. "That's the kitchen," she said, sad that she had to let go of him so she could turn him in the right direction.

Jamie grabbed her hand and hauled her to the bedroom. "That's a tall bed," he muttered when he saw her big four-poster bed.

"I know. It's-"

"Perfect. Come here."

"What?"

He tugged her dress the rest of the way down, trapping her arms for a moment. She hadn't worn a bra tonight. In fact, she'd purposefully left it off, and now she was damn glad, because Jamie ducked down and drew her nipple into his mouth without any hesitation at all. Still trapped, all she could do was throw back her head and feel.

"You're so sensitive," he said softly, his breath whispering ice over her nipple. "I love that."

She shivered and wished, just for a moment, that her hands were free to cover herself. Her breasts were nothing to look at. Nothing at all. But he kissed her one more time as if he really did like them. Then he peeled her dress all the way off before turning her around.

She blinked in surprise, and her eyes widened in shock when he put a hand between her shoulder blades and gently bent her down. Her thighs were against the edge of the bed, and with his hand pushing her forward, she had no choice but to lean over.

Her hands touched the mattress, then her stomach. Then her cheek. She spread her fingers wide and held her breath, waiting. Finally, Jamie's hand smoothed down her back. He caught the edge of her panties and pulled them down in one easy motion.

She was completely exposed to him now. Naked, but for her heels. Open in front of him. Her heart beat so hard she could feel it like a drum in her ears. Beyond that pulsing rush of blood, she heard the faint shift of fabric, the soft thump of his shoes hitting the floor, the rustle of a condom wrapper. And then his hand gripped her hip.

Olivia closed her eyes and laid her cheek flat to the bed. This felt almost...impersonal, yet that somehow made it more intimate. She felt incredibly vulnerable, waiting for him to have her.

She expected him to simply push into her and braced herself for the shock of it, but apparently he had different ideas. She felt his fingers slide along her, tracing a slippery path to her clit. She gasped at the touch, her eyes fluttering open, then widening. She was stunned to find herself staring right at an erotic picture.

Not a picture. Her mirror.

And there she was, bent over and helpless, half her face hidden by the deep red comforter. Jamie stood behind her, totally nude, cock standing thick and proud. She expected to meet his gaze in the mirror, but apparently he hadn't noticed it. His head was bent, his eyes narrowed at the sight of her, as his hand- "Ah," she cried, watching her own face go tense as he slid two thick fingers inside her. His face went tight, too, as he slowly worked his fingers in and out, in and out. Olivia watched it like a movie, amazed to see her own face, her own body, being used like this. His fingers slid out, and Olivia held her breath as he reached for his cock. He wrapped his hand around it, pushing the condom farther down as he eased closer. She felt the nudge of his head as she watched his grip spread wider over her hip. He dragged himself along her sex, sliding against her clit in one slow, delicious stroke.

Olivia gripped the comforter, digging her fingers into the down, biting her lip until it went numb. He never once looked up. He was busy watching his shaft work against her. Her hips jerked when he pressed against her clit again, and she imagined what she must look like, so wet and swollen.

Finally, he notched the head against her and pushed in slowly. His jaw jumped with tension. The skin over his cheekbones was tight and flushed. Olivia let her breath slowly out, as if her body needed to make room for his. He stretched her until she was filled up with him, uncomfortable in the most perfect way. Long seconds later, his hips were snug against her ass, and she was panting against the pressure.

Olivia edged her feet a tiny bit wider. Jamie pulled her hips back, tilting them up, arching her back a little farther. He eased slowly out of her, then plunged deep. When she cried out, her eyelids fluttered shut, but she forced them back open. She didn't want to miss a second of this, so she bit her lip and clenched her hands and watched as Jamie Donovan fucked her.

He was a gorgeous machine, all tightening muscles and tanned skin as he steadily drove himself deeper and deeper, each thrust turning his jaw to granite. And the whole time, his eyes blazed as he watched himself fuck her.

For Olivia, it was a like a movie. A filthy, pornographic movie, except that it was her starring in it. Her. And she could feel everything...every stroke, every thrust. She wanted to scream, but she only whimpered and held tighter and tighter.

His hands slid higher, shaping her waist for a moment before he steadied his grip on her hips again, his fingers digging harder as his movements grew more brutal.

"Oh, God," she whispered. "Oh, yes. Harder."

His gaze flickered up to her face, and his expression grew even fiercer. It was all too much. The sight of it so wrong and so arousing. Olivia felt everything inside her curl tighter and tighter, and her clit felt so hard it hurt. She'd never come like this, from just sex...no touching, hardly any foreplay, just her being used like a sex object.

"Jamie," she whimpered, as pleasure grew close to pain for one endless moment.

"Yes," he urged, his fingers digging in, adding to that pain until it all broke open with a wrenching shift that made her scream and scream until her voice turned to a rasp.

"Oh, God," she panted. "Jamie. Oh, my God."

"I can't..." he groaned. "Olivia, I..."

Her eyes cleared just in time to see his grimace of awful pleasure, and then he was coming, his muscles pressing against his skin as he drove himself into her. Afterward, he held his body perfectly still, his grip easing by slow degrees. Olivia allowed her body to relax as she stared in stunned exhaustion at their reflections.

His eyes finally opened, and he watched her for a long while before his brow furrowed and he followed her gaze to the mirror. Their eyes locked and Jamie's jaw dropped.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

"Yeah," she whispered. "I know."

"How did you... What...?"

She raised her eyebrows.

He looked down at her body, then back at the mirror. "Why the hell didn't you tell me there was a show?"

Olivia began to laugh. She shook so hard that Jamie finally let her go so she could sink into the mattress. Her sex felt cold without him.

"Okay, we have to do that again. Not fair, Olivia."

"It looked like you had a pretty good view from where you were."

Surprise flashed over his face, chased by a cute pink blush. "Yeah, you're right."

He grabbed a tissue to ease off the condom, then collapsed onto his back next to her. "I don't give a damn about how much fun you are or aren't," he said. "Whatever you want to call it, you are fucking amazing."

She poked him with her elbow. "Shut up."

"I'm serious. That was... That was hot. For me, anyway."

Olivia turned toward him, easing her knee up his thigh, pressing her body to his side. Jamie tucked his arm beneath her head and she settled tight against him. His messy hair called to be touched, so she ran her fingers through it, smoothing it until it sprang back into wild waves. "You've changed everything for me. I mean that."

His eyes didn't hold a hint of laughter when he met her gaze. She realized then that his green eyes almost always danced with amusement, but now they were dark and serious.

"I haven't-" she started, then realized she'd been about to reveal too much. She didn't expect this to last, and she didn't want to scare him. "It's been a long time," she said instead. "And I wasn't sure..."

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth for a careful kiss. "It's been a while for me, too," he said softly.

"It has not," she scoffed. "We're working on completely different time frames."

"I'm serious. I'm not that guy. Not really. Not now."

"Jamie. I've seen you. You practically glow when you get near women."

Keeping her hand tucked in his, he pressed her fingers to his chest. "I like women. I'm not denying that."

She didn't hold that against him. Oh, she felt a pure, hot coal of jealousy for everyone who'd experienced this pleasure with him, but she couldn't resent it. Who would ever turn him away? Who could have that strength? "Well, I'm not as experienced as you," she whispered. "And you've made this very easy. So, thank you."

He shot her a suspicious look. "You're not planning on giving me a plaque and sending me on my way, are you?"

"No!"

"That sounded a little like a farewell speech."

"No, it was just a celebration. I promise."

Jamie eased up, balancing himself on his elbow so he could look down at her. His gaze rose, and she turned to meet it in the mirror. They watched each other for a long moment. It seemed easier to let her feelings show at this distance, so she let him see how it felt to her when he dragged his fingers slowly down her throat, over her chest, to the faint rise of her naked breast. He traced her nipple, eyes locked with hers the whole time as she let the vulnerability rush over her. He made her feel warm and sexy and nervous and sad. All of it.