"I thought this was against the rules," I scoff. "You can't call me."

I can hear the sound of a deep sigh. "I can call you if I want to speak with you, Mirella."

I scrunch a dish cloth, my hand a fist. "Oh...how convenient. You can bend the rules, at your leisure. But when I might have a problem with them, it's a big to-do."

"Obviously, I've upset you. I didn't-"

"I'm sorry, but I've gotta go."

As I press "end call," I look up to see Claire, juice box in hand, staring at me, slack-jawed. And I realize she's overheard everything. I try to replay my end of the conversation in my head.

"Oh...it was...just...grandpa," I stammer. "You know...grandpa."

She stares at me, wide-eyed. "Why were you screaming at him?"

"Uh..." I stammer. "It's okay now. It's all better, sweetie."

My cell rings again. The man is really starting to annoy me.

"h.e.l.lo."

"Mirella...just listen to me..."

I don't dare scoff, in Claire's presence. "Yes."

"I miss you." His words are soft. "I was so torn-up last night."

Please.

"I'm sending a car later tonight, and I want you at my loft."

Who does he think he is?

I look over at Claire, who's at the table drawing funny faces on people in my Redbook. "I'm not a pizza. You can't just order me to be at your place whenever you get a craving."

"Don't you want to be with me?" he asks, his tone laced with uncertainty, vulnerability.

I do want him. I'm not only hurting him...I'm hurting myself.

"I do," I admit, my words a whisper.

"Then you'll come?"

Suddenly, I'm so easy. I've never been easy.

I bite my lip. "Yes."

Weston kisses me in the elevator, a hungry kiss, but soft. His tongue explores my mouth, and I moan at the sensation. I don't think there's anything on earth I enjoy more than his kiss. I could kiss him for hours.

When we're finally in the privacy of his suite, he presses me against the wall, and pins my arms above my head with a hard grasp. His kiss takes on a whole different dimension-it becomes more aggressive, wilder. He bites my bottom lip-it's deliciously painful.

"How's this for properly pinning you against a wall?" he asks me between kisses. He's pushed all my b.u.t.tons. I'm just about to explode.

He trails his tongue along my jaw line. "Tell me I'm better than him."

I want him to kiss me, just like this all night long. I'm torn-I don't know if I'd rather just make out all night or go all the way.

He pulls at the waistband of my dress pants. "Tell me," he almost growls.

"You are. You're amazing."

"I wish you were mine," he whispers in my ear. "I could have you anytime."

I am taken aback by his words. I wish he were mine too. I've wished he were mine a thousand times.

I reach for his soft cashmere shirt and pull it over his head, revealing his delicious body. I slide my tongue down his chest to his navel and swirl it around his belly b.u.t.ton. He moans, and I love the sound. He's so delicious-I just want to eat him up.

I pull his belt and reach for his fly.

"You're eager again, little b.u.t.terfly," he says, his voice playful. I free his erection, and take him in my mouth. He groans a little. I revel in the sensation of giving him pleasure.

He drags his fingers in my hair, pulling-the pain deliciously bearable. "That feels amazing," he breathes, barely audible, "but," he says, pulling me back up, "I want to be inside you."

I want that too.

I pull his pants down all the way and slide off his shoes, even his socks. He's completely naked for me, a specimen of a man. "I like you like that."

He laughs. "Well, one of us has too much clothing on." He kneels down and grabs my waist in his arms. He kisses my belly-his lips fall on the soft material of my frilly top.

He undoes my fly in one swift move, and peels my pants down, taking my panties along. He lands a sweet kiss on my curls.

"You don't need to worry. I'm not jealous. I know this is just s.e.x."

His hands glide along my legs. He slides off my wedged heels. The feel of his soft hand around the heel of my foot lights me up. I want him so badly.

"I'm just here for a good f.u.c.k..."

He smiles up at me-a wicked smile. "At your service..."

I hold his face, the hard angles of his jaw feel solid in my hands. I pull him for one last kiss before I reach for his satchel where he keeps condoms.

I put on the condom, and he tries to a.s.sist me, but I bat his hand away. "I've got it. I'm in charge of this ride."

He laughs. "Are you, now?"

I trail my hand across his stomach and push him against the wall. He's absolutely right...this is just s.e.x. And I should start to act like it. "My turn to be in the driver's seat." I smirk.

He's so much taller than me-I need to stand on the tip of my toes to kiss him. His lips are soft and warm. I reach for his shoulders and push him down. "Slide down...all the way."

His back glides down the wall. He looks up at me, desire in his eyes.

I kneel down and straddle him.

I rub myself along his shaft-it already feels so good. "I know this isn't the most comfortable position. But this is about my pleasure tonight. And you're going to rock my world."

He laughs a little. "I'm feeling a little used, Mirella."

"Are you complaining?"

"Never," he insists, his lids heavy. "Not at all."

I look straight into his eyes and ease him into me slowly. He closes his eyes, and I close mine. I push into him deeper, and we're completely connected.

"I love it like this." I rock back and forth slowly. "You're so deep inside me."

He mumbles something unintelligible, nibbling at my ear. He's. .h.i.tting just the right spot, and it drives me to ride him harder and faster, my legs rubbing against the scratchy carpet. The floor is so hard, but the resistance is what makes it so d.a.m.n good.

I ride him intensely, chasing that mind-blowing o.r.g.a.s.m I see in my near future.

"Mirella..." he breathes.

"Take me there," I beg, my teeth trailing along his jawbone. I can feel myself so near, and I can tell it's going to be explosive.

"Kiss me," he pleads. "I want to be kissing you when you get there."

He holds my face in his hands. My lips search for his, and our tongues tangle.

He pushes harder into me and finally brings me to the edge.

I moan into his mouth.

The waves of ecstasy hit me, and it's so good, it's almost painful. He moans into my mouth loudly, reaching his own climax. His fingers dig into the flesh of my cheeks, but the pain feels wonderful.

I will never get enough of this.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, trying to catch my breath. My legs hurt like crazy, and I'm sure he's completely uncomfortable too.

"Are you all right?" I ask, slightly embarra.s.sed.

"Glorious," he replies with a hint of laughter in his voice. "You like it down and dirty, don't you?"

"There's nothing like a good old romp on the floor once in a while."

He pulls the sweaty strands of hair from my face and kisses the tip of my nose. "You sure gave us quite a workout."

"I know," I say, exhausted, lying on him. And as uncomfortable as we are, I don't ever want to move. "I love the way you make me feel," I whisper, my face still buried in him.

"Me too, Mirella. Sometimes I feel like I can't live without it. You're like a wicked itch I just can't seem to scratch enough."

I don't respond to his words-they're too powerful.

He couldn't have said it better.

That's exactly what this feels like.

We move over to the bed, and Weston insists on taking my top and bra off and having me completely naked in his arms. He kisses my moles and spots-every single one of them-I think he's obsessed with them. I love it, but I don't understand. One minute, he's treating me with such tenderness, and the next, he's telling me to back off. This push and pull is so confusing.

He nibbles at my hipbone and trails kisses along my side, moving slowly up to my shoulder. "I wonder how many freckles you have. This perfect little mole right here," he tells me as he kisses it, "I was obsessed with it the first time we met."

I smile at him. "Really? Why?"

"I don't know. It just kept disappearing and reappearing, hidden under the strap of your dress. There it was. Or it wasn't, depending on the way you moved, almost like it was dancing."

I laugh, thinking he's completely lost his mind.

He traces circles around the much-loved mole on my shoulder. "You know, it was me...it was me who chose you and Gabe."

My breath catches.

I look over at him. His eyes are serious. "What do you mean? I thought it was Bridget. She was all over Gabe."

He nods. "Bridget was the one who chose the first two couples. She's always initiated the whole thing in the past. But this time, it was me," he confesses. "I wanted you."

His words manage to make both my heart warm and my s.e.x heat up-there's something so erotic about the admission.

"I know I shouldn't tell you this," he admits. "But I wanted you to know."

"When did you know you wanted me?" I ask him, curiosity filling me.

"The first time I saw your smile. Before we even sat down together."

"Wow," is all I manage to say. I can't quite believe his words.

"You tried to hide that lovely smile, covering it with your hand. I could tell you weren't quite at ease with yourself. And I thought that was such a shame."

"I've always hated my smile. I have the hugest gap I've ever seen. You could drive a Mack truck through the thing," I joke. "I don't understand why you like it so much."

"Because it's what makes you beautiful, Mirella. It's the imperfections that bring character. It's what makes you interesting to me."

"That's easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect," I argue. "You are the most gorgeous man I've ever met. Your teeth are perfect."

"Please...don't remind me. Thanks to three years of orthodontics...head gear and everything."

I laugh. "You wore head gear?"

"Yep. It was horrible. It goes without saying I didn't have many friends."

"Poor boy. I've been thinking about fixing my smile," I admit. "The dentist says all I'd need is nine months in those invisible braces, and I'd look like everyone else."