After all those nights he pictured doing this in his mind, today it would happen. He would finally be able to touch and taste her everywhere. He’d finally be able to fuck her hard and fast. For real this time.

No longer solely in his imagination. It would be so much safer for him to keep her there. But,damn, what man didn’t want his fantasies to come true? What man didn’t act on those fantasies if the opportunity presented itself?

It should be him. He shouldn’t want it.

She was young. His subordinate. He’d worked with her father. A man who could crush his career. And he still remembered her as a kid.

Worse, she got off on butting heads with him.

She was all fucking wrong for him.

But what if wrong was right?

Because he had thought his ex was the perfect woman for him. Until she wasn’t. Until her true personality was revealed. Until their relationship turned toxic.

And worse, that toxicity affected his kids.

For fuck’s sake.Was he really trying to come up with a valid reason for them to do this? To make this mistake and act like it wasn’t one?

He was so fucking torn.

She was that piece of pie he shouldn’t eat because he was already stuffed full from dinner. He knew he should say no, but ended up eating it anyway. Worse, regretting it later.

But,damn, it tasted good while eating it.

And,damn, she tasted good despite the fact she only recently woke up and didn’t have time to brush her teeth. Or the fact she just drank some of that mess she considered coffee.

He didn’t give a fuck. Neither did his cock.

Her groan shook him from his wandering thoughts, and he focused on the woman smashed against him.

The woman he rocked his hips against like a horny fucking dog.

Her nipples were so hard, he could feel them through both of their T-shirts. It was time to get rid of those two layers of cotton and go skin to skin. To feel her heat and softness without a barrier.

When he lifted her off the floor, her arms hooked around his neck and her legs circled his waist. He hoped like fuck that miniature horse wasn’t in the way like a speed bump when he walked blindly toward the bedroom, their lips still locked because he couldn’t get enough of her mouth.

Somehow he made it through the kitchen and into Fletch’s bedroom without breaking any bones or causing any bruises.

The second his boots hit the carpet, he let her slide down his body and a groan of his own surrounded their clashing tongues.

When he finally ended their kiss, he pinned his forehead to hers, gathering his breath and his scattered brain cells. “Jesus,” he whispered.

In a husky voice, she said, “You said your name was Crew.”

“Always have to be a goddamn smart ass.”

“It takes one to know one,” she countered.

He cursed himself and stepped back. That phrase alone reminded him of just how young she was. Only starting out in both her life and her career while he already had years behind him in both.

He was a divorced father of two teenagers.

She was single, childless and still thought she could change the world.

They couldn’t be more different.

But why the fuck was he analyzing this? He never did this kind of thing when he was about to have sex with other women.