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Slowly, he removed his hand and started to set her down, but she reached for his belt. She needed all of him. He grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

“Are you sure?” he asked with earnest. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

“I’m sure,” she responded, and meant it.

As if something in him was unleashed, he pressed her against the shelf even harder. The sound of his belt opening made her stomach tighten in anticipation. And then she felt the hard length of him against her. He whispered the contraceptive spell and slowly pushed inside her. She inhaled sharply at his size. There was no way he was going to fit.

“Breathe,” he commanded between his teeth. “I know you can take it.”

A physical impossibility, Mira thought.

“Winters, breathe,” he repeated.

This time she exhaled deeply, relaxing against him as much as possible. Slowly he pushed all the way in.

He cursed under his breath. Then he moved inside her, slow and deep. Her hands gripped his shoulders, feeling his muscles flex under his jacket with each thrust.

When they were both used to the sensation, his movements increased. She arched her back, taking him even deeper. Her head fell back, and she let herself just feel it all. The way he thrust into her relentlessly. How his breath became increasingly heavy and he cursed every so often as if barely holding on himself. Then his teeth sank into her exposed neck, gently, but she felt it leave a mark.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned as his tongue licked over where his teeth had just been.

He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms around her back, carried her to a table, and laid her down. His kisses seared through her like a branding.

With one hand, Dawson grabbed his bow tie and undid it.

“You take me so fucking well,” he growled as he pushed deeper into her.

One hand braced next to her on the table, while the other dropped the strap of her dress as his tongue and lips trailed down her collarbone. He moved the fabric of her dress out of the way until his tongue swirled around her nipple. Mira arched against him, leaning into his touch. She gripped the back of his neck, and even through her glove, she could feel the heat from his skin. Despite the cool winter air coming through the window, he was burning up.

“Please,” she moaned, unsure of what she was even asking for.

For some reason, he seemed to know. His movements became even deeper and harder. Almost punishing. It was exactly what she needed. He didn’t go easy on her. He took control. Made her take it.

“Come for me.”

Heat pooled in her as she watched the tendons in his neck strain with each thrust. Here in the darkness, she allowed herself to let go. To be consumed by him.

Her hips bucked and then she convulsed around him.

When the last jolts went through her body, he allowed himself to follow her over the edge. His movements picked up speed until he emptied himself in her with a deep groan.

Breathlessly, they locked eyes for a moment, caught in each other’s trap. But when he pulled out of her, she snapped back to reality.

What had she just done? What was she thinking? She pushed herself off the table, adjusting her dress, searching the floor for her underwear, and ignoring Dawson next to her, tucking his shirt back into his slacks.

“Looking for these?” he asked with a grin, fishing her underwear out of his pocket.

She snatched them back from him. “This is never going to happen again.”

He remained silent as she dressed, and she avoided any eye contact with him. The adrenaline from her orgasm still beat through her. Her orgasm from him. What was wrong with her?

When she was sure her clothes were back in place, she marched to the exit. She had the doorknob already in her hand when Dawson said, “They still do.”

She paused and turned around at the cryptic message.

He fastened his belt buckle. “You asked, so I thought you’d want to know.”

“What are you talking about?”