He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost control like that. Actually, he could—it had been with her.
Only with her.
A strange emotion rushed over him—a vulnerability he hadn’t felt since he was a kid. He could lose control with her, but did she do the same?
Or was it that she was always in control? Always keeping her secrets from him.
He cleared the last vestiges of passion from his voice and said, “Our conversation isn’t over.”
She arched a blond brow. “What conversation?”
“The one in which you really tell me about yourself,” he said. “Who you are, what you do...”
Now, after that mind-blowing release, she wouldn’t be able to distract him with sex. She would have to answer his questions.
She must have realized it, too, because an emotion passed through her dark blue eyes, and it looked an awful lot like the vulnerability he was feeling.
No. It was even more intense than vulnerability.
It was fear.
What the hell was she so scared of revealing to him?