He stretched out in the chair, gesturing widely with his arms. "I like everything. I'm equal opportunity. I like a woman on top, I like to be on top, I like a woman on all fours, I like her bent over, I like her up against the wall. I'm good with reverse cowgirl, sixty-nine, inside, outside, upside-down," he said, and her eyes widened with each suggestive term. Oh, he was having too much fun rattling off all the things he liked, because he was being one hundred percent truthful. Everything rocked when you were into a woman. "Blow jobs, hand jobs, going downtown, spankings, ropes, scarves, handcuffs. Fingers, toys, beads, blindfolds-you name it, I'm your man. If it happens naked with a woman I want, I like it, and chances are, I'm making her cry out in pleasure," he said, arching an eyebrow playfully at the last line. It was cocky, and he knew it, but let her have an orgasmic image in her mind.

Casey grabbed at the neckline of her tank and tugged it away from her chest. "Whew. Someone get me a fan," she said with a wink, and he laughed.

But one thing he didn't like hearing about was her trying to change for some guy. Because this guy didn't deserve her if he wanted her to be someone other than herself. He was about to tell her when she moved even closer, and grasped his hands, sending electric sparks through him. God, the slightest touch from her was such a turn-on. When he was alone later in his room, he'd be thinking of all the omnivorous ways he could consume her. He'd be picturing running through every option on the list he'd just shared.

"I have a crazy idea," she said, her blue eyes lit up with mischief.

"Is it feeding you cake? Because we tried that and it didn't work."

She shook her head, and bit her lower lip briefly. "Teach me," she breathed out, and all the air swept out of his lungs. He froze, as shock spread through his body in a nanosecond.

"Teach you what?" he asked in a wobbly voice as he began to recover the power of speech.

"Teach me how to let go. Teach me how to give up control."

He shoved a hand roughly through his hair, and swallowed. His throat was dry. He grabbed for a glass and downed the rest of his water. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. I'm not kidding. I know it sounds crazy. But maybe it's not crazy. I'm the head of a damn sex toy company and I don't know how to give up control. Maybe because I'm surrounded by all these toys. Because I've learned every detail of my own body and what I like, and how to turn up the setting higher, or adjust the vibration lower, or thrust harder, or tease more, to yield the result," she said, laying out her pleasure-seeking clinically like it was a math problem, when to him it was a vision of sensual beauty-her on the bed, legs spread, learning the intricacies of her own body, a territory he longed to explore intimately. "And now, when I'm with a guy, and God knows it's been a long time since that," she said with a scoff, "it's so hard for me to let go of the reins I've been holding onto for so long. But I want to learn. And we're friends. I trust you completely, and it would never ruin our friendship because there would never be anything more."

"You want me to give you lessons in seduction?" he asked, making sure he wasn't imagining this. Because he'd had these sort of dreams before.

She straightened her spine and shook her head. "I don't want lessons in seduction. I want lessons in submission."

Holy shit. Screw the New Orleans heat wave. It was a certified scorcher in this small little bistro. His neck was hot, his jeans were tight. His mind was operating in overdrive. He started to open his mouth to speak, but everything was a jumble.

She brought her hand to her mouth, covering it. "Shit," she muttered. "That was a ridiculous thing to ask. Completely presumptuous. You're probably not even attracted to me. Forget I said it." She backpedaled as she clearly misinterpreted his silence.

"I assure you, my attraction to you is not the issue. I think the bigger issue is-are you attracted to me?"

"You're handsome," she said, her lips curving in a sweet smile as she locked eyes with him. "You're very, very handsome, Nate."

Handsome was good. He could work with handsome. And because he didn't even want her to ask the question about herself, he preempted her. "And for the record, Casey, you're absolutely fucking gorgeous."

She beamed. "Thank you. So will you do it then? Will you teach me? Or is there some bro code you won't cross because of my brother?"

He laughed at the notion of Jack Sullivan having a problem with the two of them. That simply wasn't Jack's style. He didn't issue hard and fast rules about anyone's love life, or say things like don't touch my sister. He wasn't that kind of guy. "Jack's not like that. You know that as well as I do."

"I know. He's not a rules guy."

Hell, Nate wasn't either. He wasn't even that ticked off when his college buddy Bryan had hooked up with his own sister, Kat, especially since those two were happily married now. Not that marriage was on the table in this scenario with Casey. Nor was a real relationship either.

Sex was on the table.

Sex was what he wanted.

He wanted nothing more than to teach her, to take her, to please her. But something nagged at him. A relationship that was far more important than a bro code would ever be-his relationship with her. "I don't want to ruin our friendship," he said because as much as he wanted her, he didn't want to lose her.

"I don't either. That's why this is perfect. We're friends, and we're not trying to be anything more. You're in between women. I'm not dating Grant yet and won't even have dinner with him for a month because he's going out of the country. So we have this little block of time, and no one gets hurt because we know exactly what it is. And when we're done with your . . ." she stopped and tilted her head coquettishly, ". . . tutoring, we go back to being just friends. You're not the committed type, so this is perfect. It can never be more than it is, and therefore neither one of us can get hurt. Perfect. Business. Arrangement." She finished by brushing one palm neatly against the other.

He shook his head, impressed with her negotiating style. Direct and downright enticing.

Still, were they really going to attempt this? His analytical mind began to turn it around like a Rubik's cube. On the one side was their friendship. On the other was his desire for her. But if they went in with eyes wide open and expectations clearly laid out from the start, they'd be fine, right? She was a woman who deserved a man who could commit, but she wasn't asking him to be that man. She was asking him to show her how to get down on her knees.

Fuck analysis.

With that image in mind, there was only one answer, because this was heaven-this was his chance to have his hands and tongue on the woman he'd lusted after, fantasized about and dreamed of, and still keep her in his life as a friend. This was the chance to drive her wild with pleasure and know that the next night, next week, next month they'd still be in each other's lives. This was having your cake and eating it too.

"You want this, Casey? You really want this? No feelings, no strings, just lessons?"

"Yes. There's no reason this won't work perfectly. I mean, except for the fact that it's one-sided. I'd be getting a lot more out of it than you would. What can I do for you?" she asked, so damn earnest and cute.

He laughed once more. "Trust me. I'll be getting plenty out of it."

Namely, he'd be getting her out of his system, and once he did it would be even easier to be around her. Maybe he wouldn't be in a state of constant arousal every time they went to the movies or dinner.

"Are you sure?"

"Casey. You're going to need to stop questioning me," he said in a commanding tone. "That's your first lesson. The next one starts now."

CHAPTER FOUR.

New Orleans, evening . . .

He threw the napkin on the table and reached for her hand. Her expression was one of complete surprise. "Dance with me."

Her lips quirked up and she seemed to understand what he'd done. Given her an order. She nodded demurely and he led her to a small sliver of a dance floor, near where the woman with the microphone was singing a Billie Holiday number. He pulled Casey in close. She tensed briefly, as if unsure where to rest her hands, whether on his shoulders or waist. He planted them firmly on his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around her sexy, slim waist that fit perfectly in his hands.

"Just relax and let me lead," he said, whispering in her ear, a waft of her tropical scent drifting by his nostrils. She shivered briefly against him, and that nearly did him in. He stayed strong, swaying gently, guiding her in slow, sensuous moves. "I'll show you how to let go, but you have to trust me. And that's where it starts. With trust. I'm not a Dom, you're not my Sub-we're not going to join a BDSM club, or sign a contract. But I can show you how good it will feel when you give up control."

She breathed in sharply, as if acclimating to new air on a distant planet. "Why do men like a woman to give up control? What is it about the lack of control that men like so much?"

"It's not that they like a lack of control. But a man wants a woman who gives herself to him. He wants a woman to melt into his arms, to get aroused from a kiss on the back of her neck," he said, and traced a fingertip gently under her hair, watching her reaction as she drew in a breath. "It's the hand on her arm." He trailed his fingers down her bare skin to her elbow as he leaned in to whisper, "Or warm breath near her ear." She gasped, and he kept going. "He wants a woman who's so turned on, she'll nearly beg for it. He wants her abandon. He wants to be the only one to make her feel that way."

She parted her lips to speak, but he shushed her with his fingertip against them. God, he was so tempted to let her suck on his finger right now, to watch her simulate a blow job, to let her show him what she could do. But that would come later. He needed to kiss her first.

That is, after he teased her.

"At some point soon, some point very, very soon, I'm going to kiss you," he said, watching the expression in her eyes shift to a heady kind of desire. Her fingers curved into his shoulders, holding on tightly to him. "You're going to close your eyes," he said, and then her lids fluttered closed. "And you're not going to know when it's coming. You're going to want it. Your body is going to be crying out for a kiss," he said, his voice husky and raw as her chest rose and fell, and she moved closer to him as they swayed. He cupped the back of her neck, watching her response to every touch, from the way her lips parted as he threaded his hands through her hair, to how she leaned back into him, almost relishing the way his fingers ran slowly through those soft, wavy strands. A sigh came next, a desperate needy sigh, and a barely-there arch of her back, her body seeking out more contact. "But I might not kiss you yet. I might run my hands down your arms," he said, then did just that. "Or maybe I'll stop telling you what I'm going to do."

He swore she murmured a no, but then her sounds were swallowed by a sexy gasp as he dipped his mouth to her chest, kissing her above her breasts. Immediately, she reached for him, her hands shooting around his neck.

He tsked her, moving her hands, gently but firmly, to his shoulders. Then he yanked her closer, so their bodies were snug and neatly aligned. He pressed his groin against her hip, letting her know how immensely turned on he was. A small moan escaped her lips, and her reaction thrilled him. Gently pushing her hair off her shoulder, he pressed his lips in a soft, sweet kiss on her collarbone. She wriggled closer as he mapped a path up her neck, the tip of his tongue tasting her as he found her ear, then nipped on her earlobe.

"And only then, after I've teased you, after I've made you think the kiss might come at any second, will I actually kiss you. But you'll need to say please."

"Please," she whispered and her voice was so barren, so strung out with need that he knew he'd succeeded at his first mission. Not a lesson, but rather his driving goal to turn her arousal meter way past high.

"I need you to keep your hands on my shoulders, Casey. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes."

"No place else. Got it?" he asked, and it pained him to ask her to hold back. But this was what she wanted. To learn how.

"I promise to be good," she said, on a sexy smile as she dug her fingers into his shoulders to emphasize that she was listening.

"You're such a good student," he whispered.

She licked her lips once, and he took his time, wanting to memorize every second of his first kiss with the woman he'd lusted after for years. Her cheeks were flush, her lips were open, and her expression was so damn inviting. He ran a finger against her lips, eliciting another small gasp from her. He couldn't wait any more. Their lips met, and for the first few seconds it was soft and sweet, a gentle taste and tease. It was an exploration-her lips, her mouth, her breath that ghosted over him. She tasted like chocolate cake, and he relished every millimeter of her lips, tugging on her bottom one, then nipping the top with his teeth, making her want him. Making her want so much more. His hands trailed down the bare flesh of her arms, and he felt the goosebumps rise on her skin, all from the teasing, taunting kisses. The swell of her lips, the curve of her mouth, the sweetness of her breath-all of it collided in his senses, along with his heightened awareness of this intensely sexually aware woman who was now asking him to take her to new places and explore unchartered territory.

It never occurred to him that they wouldn't kiss well. It had only ever occurred to him that they would kiss excellently. Passionately. The kind of kisses that demolished your grip on the here and now, that sent you spinning into blissful oblivion.

"Do you want me to kiss you more?" he whispered hotly.

"Yes," she said on a hypnotic nod.

"What do you say?"

"Please," she murmured, as she pushed against him and he felt the heat between her legs.

His mind took off, imagining how silky hot she'd feel when he touched her. "I only have one goal now. To give you the kind of kiss that makes you hot and wet and desperate for more."

"Oh God," she said, then his tongue found hers, waiting, ready, so fucking eager.

There was no pause. No transition. The speed simply shot to the stratosphere. Their mouths united in a hot and hungry fusion. Part of him wasn't thinking at all; he was only feeling all this desire that swamped his body. Then another part of him was thinking intensely about how he was finally kissing her, and it was better then he'd imagined as their mouths crashed and their lips came together in a greedy union that overpowered his brain and took hold of his mind. He didn't care that they were in a bistro, and others might be watching. He couldn't care because she kissed him back hard and passionately in a sweet devouring of the senses. He stopped controlling her and let her go wild as she laced her hands into his hair, grasping, pulling, tugging. She was so fiery, so intoxicating, and it was like being buzzed on the kind of kisses that only spelled one thing, flashing like a neon sign advertising hot sex, coming soon.

She ran her fingers through his hair, her hands curling around his skull. She rocked her hips against him, and soon this was about to become a very indecent public display of affection on the tiny dance floor in the bistro. He barely cared though as she moaned into his mouth.

It wasn't going to be easy to teach her to let him lead all the time when he wanted this kind of wildness from her too, this kind of abandon as she grabbed at his hair, her fingers greedily diving in and holding on.

But he was determined to give her what she'd asked for, so he reached for her hands, gripped them tightly and brought them down to her waist.

He stepped away. The look in her eyes was hazy. She was panting.

The loss of contact with her lithe, eager body was a cold glass of ice water thrown in his face. But he had a better plan.

"You stopped," she said, on a pout.

"You're not learning if your hands are all over me. So you'll need to get down on your knees," he said, and her eyes flared with a wild awareness of what he was asking. "My room. Now."

CHAPTER FIVE.

New Orleans, night . . .

He slammed the door shut behind them in one firm push. The sound of it clanging signaled a change in him. The dark look in his eyes and the stony set of his lips thrilled and scared the hell out of her too. She'd never seen him like this. Of course she'd never seen him like this. But she never even knew he had this side-a man staring down the woman he planned to claim.

He didn't speak. He simply pointed. To the floor. Holy shit. He was serious. "You want me on my knees?" she asked, her eyes wide.

"You want to be on your knees," he corrected, his confident, sexy voice sending a hot spark through her. She'd been on her knees. She'd given blow jobs. She wasn't inexperienced. She knew sex inside and out and upside-down. She'd read books on kink, quirks, fetishes, and Kama Sutra. But never had she asked a man to take control like this. And never had she thought she'd like it. But her body didn't lie. Not when the aching between her legs intensified as his hands moved to his belt, and he slowly, purposefully, took his time taking it off. Loop by fucking loop.

Like a man in control. He could do anything with that belt. He could tie her hands, swat her with the non-buckled end, or none of the above. She didn't know and that was part of the allure.

She watched him take it off.

Oh God, her mouth was watering. This was Nate. This was her good friend, and he was stripping off his belt and flicking the leather on the floor of his hotel room.

A suite on the top floor of the hotel he operated, this room was designed for pleasure and luxury. The white bed cover was pristine, but so enticing, and the sliding doors to the bathroom were mirrored. She caught a brief glimpse of her reflection. Her blond hair was loose and curly already; the humid June weather hadn't been able to work much voodoo magic on her tresses that were naturally on the wild side. The strap on her tank had slid down her shoulder. She looked like herself, except for one thing-the desire in her eyes. She knew her own body intimately, understood precisely what made her tick, tingle and heat up, but she'd never seen her own eyes when she was this turned on. She wasn't sure she'd ever been this turned on. But when he'd kissed her at the restaurant he'd set her heart to flames, scorching a path of pleasure from the center of her body all the way to her fingertips.

Somewhere inside her lived the slightest morsel of fear. She wasn't afraid of Nate, but perhaps she was afraid of herself. Unsure how she'd feel if she liked submitting as much as she'd liked the way he'd kissed her, as if he owned her pleasure.

Completely.

The room was near silent-the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning.

She stepped backwards. He moved closer. She continued towards the bed. He stalked over to her. She felt like prey. Judging from the intensity in his gaze she was the most succulent meal he'd ever wanted. She stopped when the back of her legs hit the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"You told me to kneel," she said, her voice wobbly.

"I told you to kneel. I didn't tell you to move."

"Oh," she said on a swallow. She wasn't sure how far the game went.

He pointed to the floor. "Here."

She began to kneel, but he grabbed her, pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her, then tucked his fingers under her chin so she was looking at him. "Hey, this is us now. Are you okay?"

She breathed a sigh of relief, so glad that he'd asked. And admittedly, a bit more turned on that he had. "Yes."

"Do you still want this?"

She nodded. "I do."