“It’s called a pancake,” I say, pushing it toward her as she draws her coffee cup closer to make room for the plate.

Bria scoffs. “I know what a pancake is, Eli.”

The sound of my name on her lips echoes in my head. She’s never called me anything but Kaplan outside a moment of intimacy. A blush warms my cheeks but I try not to let it show, which isn’t hard as Bria’s still eyeballing the food with endearing wariness. “Generally, they’re for eating. Sometimes for throwing. Or burning to use as dog food. I’m just getting a jump on your request to find better treats for Duke.”

She looks up at me as though I’ve just thrown her into prison. “It’s…a lot of sugar.”

“What’s wrong with sugar?”

“I can’t eat that much.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Special occasions only,” she says evasively with a grin of secrets.

“Ah. So it’s won’t. Does breaking into my house and being fucked all night until you fall asleep with a cock in your pussy not count as a special occasion?”

Bria clamps her lips between her teeth, a laugh begging to be let free in the shimmer of her eyes. She’s the most unusual combination of regimented and reckless. She’ll sneak into my house and wait in the dark in her lingerie with my retired police dog, but she won’t break what is clearly a self-imposed rule and eat a pancake lathered in syrup.

“You didn’t answer my question, sweetheart,” I say as I cut into a piece of her pancake with my fork and push it around in the syrup. She leans back as the fork makes a sweeping pass close to her lips before I put it in my mouth. I give her a mischievous, lopsided smile and her gaze darts down to my dimple. My eyebrows climb in an unspoken request for her to answer the question.

Bria shrugs, grinning around the lip of her mug.

Insolent woman, my darkness whispers deep within.

I slowly set my fork down and then pull the coffee cup from her fingers. She looks at me like she can hear the whisper growing louder in my thoughts. It tempts me with all the things I could do to her. I keep hold of her gaze as I grab the end of a strawberry and roll it through syrup and whipped cream. “I think you just made a critical error, Bria Brooks.”

“Did I?” she asks, amusement laced in her voice. I sense her muscles tensing. My mouth waters.

“You did.” I stand straighter and take my first slow, careful step toward the end of the island.

Bria shifts on her stool, her eyes sparkling as she places one foot on the floor. There’s no move she can make that I won’t notice. “And what mistake was that?”

I take another step, the strawberry poised between my finger and thumb. Whipped cream and syrup drip down my hand. Bria slides from her stool.

“You thought the games were over.” With one more step, I’m at the end of the island. Bria’s grin is the most vibrant shade of wicked I’ve ever seen. “Run, sweetheart.”

Bria squeaks and takes off toward the living room, leaving a wake of laughter behind her. It’s like blood on a game trail. I want to devour every sound that comes out of her mouth.

Bria bolts for the hallway to the bedrooms but I catch her around the waist and she squeals. There’s no doubt in my mind after the library that she could lay me out on my ass if she wanted to, but she only squirms, making my impossibly hard dick even harder. I haul her off her feet, the strawberry still in my raised hand, and carry her to the sectional couch in the living room where I dump her onto the cushions.

“You remember your safe word?” I ask as I pin Bria’s thighs open my knees and push her chest down with my free hand. She nods, that devious smile still lighting up her face. Her tangled hair spreads across the grey upholstery, her skin is flushed and glowing. A dark giggle bubbles past her lips when she squirms in my grasp. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Good. Now come on, baby. Open that pretty mouth and let me give you something sweet.”

Bria absolutely cackles and my heart splits in two with the overwhelming need to make her do it again. I chase her mouth with the strawberry as she tilts her head in every direction. The whipped cream and syrup drip onto her skin and leave a trail across her cheek that I lean down and lick off with a slow pass of my tongue.

“You are a terrible influence, Eli Kaplan,” Bria says as I manage to swipe a streak of whipped cream across her lips. I don’t miss the hitch in her breath when I lick it off. “And coming from me, that’s saying something.”

“I guess you might as well just give up now in that case.” I take a bite of the strawberry and hold it on my tongue as I lean in and press my lips to hers. The flavors of Bria’s coffee and toothpaste swirl with sweetness as I convince her to open for me. When she finally does, I push the piece of strawberry into her mouth and she sighs with delight.

“Good girl,” I say when I pull back and she smiles. I’m riveted to the movement of her lips as she chews and swallows. She sticks out her tongue for another piece. When I move to put the rest of the berry in her mouth, she shakes her head and trains her gaze to my lips. “I take that back. Wicked girl.”

A guileful grin sweeps across her face. “Give me another bite and I’ll be good.”

I let out an incredulous laugh. “Something makes me think you haven’t been good a day in your life.”

I take another bite of the strawberry and lean down, kissing Bria with increasing force until she relents, letting me pass her the fruit. But the kiss has already ignited the inferno burning between us. There’s no stopping this time.

I toss the rest of the berry somewhere across the room. I break our kiss to press my lips to her jaw and my fingers into her mouth. She licks the syrup and cream from my skin. When she sucks on my fingers, I bite her neck and she only sucks harder. “I thought you said you’d be good,” I whisper before I nip her earlobe, my fingers working at the buttons of her shirt.

“My mistake,” Bria says through a moan as I kiss her neck.

“Not only did you just lie, but you’ve worn this damnable shirt with a thousand tiny buttons. What the fuck.” I give up fumbling with the shirt and lean back to rip it open, buttons pinging across the hardwood to reveal a cream-colored lace corset with gold piping. It dives below her jeans in a tantalizing display of craftsmanship that I want to tear apart with my teeth.

For a moment I can’t move.

The most stunning, most cunning, most beautiful and brilliant and brutal woman I’ve ever known is lying trapped beneath my flannel-covered knees. She plays every game and wins. And now here she is the next morning, as sweet as syrup, and she’s wrapped herself up like a fucking goddess. I drag my hand down my face and cover my mouth to keep my confessions from tumbling from my lips. “Jesus fucking Christ, Bria. What are you doing to me.”

“Only what you’re doing to me, Dr. Kaplan,” she says with a smile that fades as quickly as it appears, leaving only heat and want in its wake. “Letting me out of my cage.”

A sharp breath fills my lungs.

I lose myself in the next beat of my heart.

Bria’s fingers pull at my waistband in desperation as I undo the button of her jeans and tug them down her legs, revealing a gold pattern of ribbons holding the corset in place with no obstructions to her sex. I pull her pants off and throw them to the floor as she grips and strokes my erection, lining me up to her silken folds.

My hands frame Bria’s face. I watch every change in her expression as I push inside her. Need. Desire. Longing. Pain and pleasure.

“This,” is all I can manage to say as I run my hand down the fabric encasing her body. I trace the line of decorative piping that skims her hip as I glide within her. “Yes.”

“Unnecessary fabric,” she agrees with a nod, following her words with a breathless moan as I thrust in steady strokes, pushing deeper and deeper until she takes all of me. If she’s sore from last night she doesn’t let on. Her eyes close and a crease appears between her brows and it’s only bliss that I see, bliss and a need to be filled with everything I can give, no questions asked. So I do. I rock in long, gliding strokes and devour every inch of her skin that I can with my lips.