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She covered his hand with hers. "I'm willing to give this a try if you are."

"I think you're amazing," he said, never breaking eye contact as he turned his hand over and threaded his fingers through hers. "And I'm honored you want to try this with me."

Damned if tears didn't well up in her eyes and she blinked rapidly. "I'm the lucky one," she said, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. "Thanks for being so patient with me."

She heard him murmur, "You're worth the wait," as he stood and gently tugged her to her feet.

They didn't speak as they walked hand in hand into the bedroom. When she caught sight of the bed, a little frisson of fear slithered through her. What if she disappointed him? And herself, yet again?

She'd come so far. Was it worth dredging up the inevitable feelings of inadequacy?

"We'll take this slow," he said, switching off the lights so the neon from The Strip many floors below bathed the room in a gentle glow.

"Okay." She didn't move as he grabbed the hem of his polo shirt and peeled it overhead.

Held her breath as he undid the button on his jeans and unzipped, pushed the denim down his legs and stepped out of them.

Curled her fingers into her palms as he toyed with the elastic of his boxers.

"Don't stop," she whispered, not wanting to break the spell that had enveloped her the moment he started to strip.

With his skin dappled in colored light, his leanness accentuated by zero body fat, and enough muscles to make her fingers itch with wanting to explore, he was breathtaking.

"All the way, huh?" He eased the boxers down, and her breath caught.

He was big. Thick. And jutting toward her with pride.

"You're beautiful," she said, finally gaining the courage to move.

If this guy could strip for her, she could do the same.

But as she popped the first button on her skirt, she stilled. He'd see the scars. He'd know. And he'd judge her, like she judged herself every freaking day.

"What's wrong?" He took a step toward her and she held up her hands. Yeah, like that would ward off the sight of that much perfection.

"Can we do this my way for now?" Her hands dropped to her sides as she crossed the short space between them. "I want this to be about you tonight."

A tiny frown creased his brow. "Do you want to stop?"

"No." She knelt in front of him, heard his sharp intake of breath.

"Babe, you don't have to—"

"I want to." Glancing up at him, she said, "Please?"

"Fuck," he muttered, looking more tortured by the minute. "As if I'm going to say no."

She smiled and flicked her tongue out, grazing the tip of his penis.

"Oh man…" He rested his hand lightly on her head. "But I want to please you."

"This will please me." She wrapped her hand around the base of his cock and squeezed lightly. "Besides, the more horny I get the better, right?"

He managed a garbled response as she sucked him into her mouth. Swirled her tongue around him. Licked up one side of his shaft and down the other. Alternating speed. Faster. Slower. Her hand pumping him at the same time as she sucked.

"Fuck, that feels good." His hand fisted her hair, tugging on her scalp, urging her on. She didn't need the encouragement. Blowing Wyatt made her throb with wanting him and to give him pleasure empowered her like nothing else.

As she picked up tempo she cradled his balls with her free hand, tugging lightly, using her thumb to press just behind.

He came on a load groan, his final frenetic thrusts making her jaw ache. She didn't care, as Wyatt withdrew and sank to the floor in front of her.

He cradled her face, staring at her like she'd given him the greatest gift on earth. "That was incredible. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Oddly shy with the way he kept staring at her, she wriggled back a little. "Do you mind if I leave?"

Surprise flickered in his eyes as he opened his mouth to respond and she pressed a finger to his lips. "I've got the big competition in two days and I need to get some sleep."

"You can sleep here," he said, gesturing at the bed. "I don't snore, if that's what you're worried about."

"I'm more worried about being unable to resist you and being kept up all night." She cupped his cheek. "I know I keep blowing hot and cold. And I seriously wanted to go all the way with you tonight. But most of my problem? Up here." She tapped her head. "And I need to focus on us one hundred percent when we end up in bed, not have my mind wandering."

He grimaced. "You think I'll be that bad?"

"I think you'll be stupendous." She kissed him. "But I'm the one who's a screw up so I need my head in the game."

His mouth downturned a little. "Don't take this the wrong way, but have you ever thought over-analyzing could be making it worse? That you need to stop thinking and start feeling?" He palmed her breast, tweaked her nipple through her top. "Too much assessing may be making you tense?"

"You're probably right." Though it was so much more complicated than that. If only it was as simple as turning off her voice of reason and going with the flow. "But I need to leave."

He hesitated, before nodding, his reluctance to let her go obvious. "Okay. I'll give you a few days to get your competition out of the way."

He stood and helped her to her feet. "But after that, sweetheart? It's no holds barred."

High on post-comp adrenalin, and the certainty she'd nailed it, Ashlin bounced into Burlesque Bombshells, eager to tell the girls how she'd done so she could catch up with Wyatt ASAP.

He'd given her the space she'd asked for, with no contact bar a brief text this morning wishing her luck. But that hadn't stopped her thinking about him almost every second of every day. It hadn't been so bad when she'd been rehearsing her ass off but the last few nights, after she'd gone to bed early, he was all she could think about.

She'd missed him. Missed him in a way that made her edgy and uncomfortable.

She didn't need an emotional connection with the guy trying to get her rocks off, but that's exactly what had happened. Because she didn't miss Wyatt's flirting or physical attention. She missed
him
. The way he made her feel with his attentiveness. The way he said what he meant. The way he looked at her, like nothing she could say or do would disappoint him.

How wrong he was.

As she entered her office to drop off her bag, she spied a cascade of flowers on her desk.

Not a bunch of flowers. No cliché roses. But an exquisite cream ceramic pot, covered in turquoise swirls, with an orchid plant in it. And not just any orchid. A four-foot high plant with pale pink orchids tumbling from stems.

It must've cost a fortune, but that wasn't what had her heart sinking.

A potted plant signaled permanency. Something she couldn't throw away, not like a bunch of flowers that withered and died within a week or two.

And if there was one thing she didn't want in her life right now, it was to be stuck in anything resembling permanent.

She reached for the card, knowing it had to be from Wyatt. A permanent kind of guy. His house in a small town pretty much proved that.

Hell, was he becoming too invested in them? Did he want more?

Nothing he'd said had indicated as much. Two weeks, casual dating, had been his stipulation. But Wyatt was a thinker. What if he'd been thinking too much about them?

She slipped the card from the envelope and stared at the embossed words.

CONGRATS ON NAILING THE COMPETITION.

NOW STOP THINKING, TAKE TIME TO SMELL THE ORCHIDS, RELAX AND LET'S TAKE THE NEXT STEP.

Her breath caught. The next step? Oh no, as she suspected, Wyatt wanted more than she was willing to give.

The card slipped from her fingers and as she grabbed it, it flipped over. Revealing more words. That made her laugh out loud in relief.

AND THAT NEXT STEP IS NAILING YOU.

She laughed so hard her abdominals twanged. The card was so Wyatt. Serious tinged with humor. Thoughtful, yet blunt.

And she wanted him more than ever.

A knock sounded at the door and she yelled, "Come in."

Expecting Chantal or Miranda, she slipped the card back into the envelope and tucked it into the base of the plant, glancing up when she heard the door close and the lock flick.

"So did you?" Wyatt propped against the door, a quintessential hipster in tight denim, white T and caramel suede bomber jacket. "Nail the comp?"

"I did." She couldn't keep the smug grin off her face.

"Then I guess it's time to nail you." He advanced toward her, the determination in his greedy stare as he devoured her from top to bottom making her chest tighten.

"Here?" It came out a squeak.

"I can't wait any longer," he said, his hands spanning her waist. "Staying away from you these last two days have killed me and I'm done taking cold showers."

Turned on by this new take-charge Wyatt, she tossed her hair back. "What happened to this being all about me? About making me wait?"

"Fuck that." He hoisted her onto the desk. "I'm just as guilty as you of over-analyzing, so let's change the plan." He stepped between her legs. "Starting now."

Before she could answer his mouth covered hers, hard and demanding. No more gentle coaxing. No teasing. Wyatt kissed her with the pent-up frustration of a guy who wanted her. Here and now.

Their tongues tangled as he nudged her knees apart. He grabbed her butt and dragged it to the edge of the desk. Pressed her clit against his hardness.

She moaned as he ground against her, his tongue plunging into her mouth, mimicking what she wanted him to do to her.

He tore his mouth from hers, his eyes wild as he unzipped her workout sweatshirt, almost tearing it in his haste to get it off her.

She shrugged out of it, tossed it aside, her pulse skyrocketing as his mouth fixed on a nipple through the cotton of her sports bra. He bit gently and she arched toward him, wanting him to feast on her.

As she made incoherent sounds, he lifted his head, staring at her in wonder, as if he couldn't believe his luck.

She knew the feeling.

His fingers snagged the bra straps. Dragged them down. Inch by torturous inch. Until her breasts spilled out.

"Fuck me," he murmured, cupping them in his hands. "Beautiful pink…" His thumbs skimmed her nipples repeatedly until she squirmed.

When his mouth enclosed one and laved it, she almost shot off the desk. He suckled, hard, sending shards of sensation shooting straight to her clit. Making her yearn in a way she'd never dreamed possible.

"Wyatt, please…" She strained against him, needing him inside her. Now.

"Soon," he said, transferring his attentions to her other nipple while his hand insinuated its way between their bodies.

He pressed his thumb against her clit and she undulated a little, craving relief.

"Oh God, yes," she said, a second before a pounding at the door made them jump.

"Hey sweetie, open up. Tell me what happened at the comp."

Ashlin grimaced and mouthed, "Miranda," as she contemplated ignoring her friend so she could be fucked on her desk.

But as Wyatt looked at her with a raised eyebrow, Ashlin knew the opportunity had passed.

She’d been lost in the moment, mindless with wanting Wyatt, but now that reality had intruded it would take her a while to get her head back in the game.

She needed to be swept away by lust to stop over-analyzing her failures. And sadly, that wouldn’t happen in her office now with Miranda on the other side of the door.

"Sorry." She slipped her bra straps up and shrugged into her workout top, zipping it up as she headed for the door. "Raincheck?"

Wyatt winced and glanced at his groin. "Got a cold shower with my name on it around here?"

Ashlin smiled and pointed at her desk. "Take a seat behind it, she won't know what we've been up to."

After Wyatt shielded his lower half from view, Ashlin opened the door. Miranda took one look at their faces and halted.

"Uh-oh. I interrupted the horizontal shimmy, didn't I?"

Ashlin didn't risk glancing at Wyatt. Her scorching hot cheeks would spontaneously combust if she did. "Come in."

Miranda smirked and shook her head. "We can chat later."

"Stay." Wyatt stood and Ashlin knew if she glanced at his groin she'd giggle. "I just popped by to confirm you're all coming to Kurt's party tonight."

"Wouldn't miss it," Miranda said, her knowing smile waning a little. "Though tell that Australian brother of yours if he criticizes my jewelry again I'll knee him in the balls."

Wyatt guffawed. "Fiery."

Eager to deflect Miranda's attention, Ashlin said, "Sure you haven't got a crush on Steele? Because you only fire up for the ones you like."

To her surprise, Miranda blushed. "Wyatt, your girlfriend's full of BS."

Ashlin waited for Wyatt to correct Miranda, to say she wasn't his girlfriend. Instead, he grinned, his bemused gaze swinging between the two of them.

"I'll see you both tonight," he said.

He brushed a brief kiss on Ashlin's cheek before bolting out the door, leaving her to face an inevitable interrogation, when all she felt like doing was running after Wyatt so they could finish what they'd started.

"Nice flowers." Miranda strolled into the office and touched a petal. "That guy's in love and you're just as much of a smitten kitten."

"Don't be silly." Ashlin left the door open deliberately, hoping her friend would get the hint.

Miranda pursed her lips and made mock smoochy sounds. "Considering you've never brought a guy here, let alone done him on your desk, means you're so into him."

"It's a physical thing." Ashlin shrugged, wondering if the lie sounded as hollow to Miranda. As if Wyatt accepting her labeled as his girlfriend hadn't freaked her out enough.

"Yeah, right." Her friend wolf-whistled. "Deets, please. Length? Width? Endurance?"

Ashlin made a zipping motion over her lips. "I need to head home and get ready for this party."

"Me too, honey, but we've got time." Miranda glanced at her watch and stood so fast she wobbled a little on her precarious heels. "Maybe not. I want to look ravishing tonight."