Every time he closed his eyes, a strange image of Annie in trouble took on such realistic tendencies it seemed surreal. Sick of his own company, Tyler decided a walk would do him a world of good, clear his head, and help to get his mind off his tomboy gone rogue.

     Once the idea appeared, it became a fixation. No choice, no dragging his feet, he had to get out of his apartment. Either he needed hallucination treatments or a curt, gravelly female had taken up residence in his brain and urged him to hurry and get his butt moving.

     The elevator, not ever on his floor, awaited him with the door open and no one else inside. He shivered. Strange and stranger! The ride down lasted only seconds. When it slowly opened, a nightmare unfolded. One look at his Annie clinging to her evening’s escort and his rage superseded common sense. Without thought, he ripped her from the scumbag’s groping fingers and shoved the conceited-looking, puffed-up character against the wall. All Tyler’s six feet two inches of anger intimidated. He watched the coward evaluate, then shrink back.

     Within seconds the smooth prick spoke. “Anna had a bit too much to drink. I was seeing her safely home.”

     “Not a problem. I’ll take her up,” he growled. By this time, Tyler had a supportive arm around the wobbly woman. He looked down at her. “Say bye-bye to your date…Anna.” His spitting out her newly chosen name would have set worry bells ringing, if she’d been in her normal state of mind. Blitzed out of her head, she just jiggled her fingers and said, “Bye-bye, date.”          

     With everything happening so fast, Tyler knew Annie hadn’t had a chance to fully appreciate the change in her situation. One minute she was leaning drunkenly against the slimy character whose hands were all over her body, while her unfocused eyes gazed at him adoringly. The next minute, Tyler had taken over.

     As the elevator doors closed, leaving Sergio shrugging off his disappointment, a fuming Tyler lifted Annie into his arms.

     At ease, Annie wrapped her arms around him, snuggled her face into his neck, and then sighed. His familiar expensive cologne, one of her gifts that he regularly used, seemed to soothe her. “I love how you smell.”

     His anger fled the moment he became aware that she sniffed at him like a small kitten. His legs almost buckled when he felt the tip of her tongue lick him, and then press a tiny kiss over the wet spot.

     The groan started deep, frustration forcing it out, chasing away his righteous snit. At her door, he lowered her to her unsteady feet, but she refused to unwind her arms from around his neck. They clung, her body glued to his.

     He reached up for the hidden key she kept stashed above her door, while balancing her with one arm. The lock took forever to get opened. Not that she noticed. Busy familiarizing his ear with her lips kept her amused. Swinging her back up and into his arms, he kicked the door closed behind them and carried her carefully into her bedroom, a room which seemed to have undergone huge changes since the day he’d helped her paint the ivory walls.

     Pillows of all shapes, in all shades of turquoise, some beaded, some embroidered, were strewn helter-skelter over a new satiny brown duvet. He swiped at them one-handed, clearing a space as he lowered her body to the side of the bed, letting her flip backwards. Trouble was, she had his neck imprisoned by her strong, clinging arms, and she wasn’t about to let go. He fell over her, half covering her body.

     “Please,” she whispered. “Kiss me. I have to be kissed at least once tonight, I just—have to.” She pushed upwards, thrusting her breasts against his chest.

      Her desire sparked his, and her admission that she hadn’t yet been kissed assuaged most of the gut-wrenching rage he’d felt at seeing her in the arms of another man. Besides, he couldn’t resist her pushy invitation. Drunk or not, his name on her lips would go a long way to restoring his humor.

     “Honey, do you know who’s with you? I need to hear you say my name.”

     “Of course I know, silly.” She giggled inanely.  “It’s Dick.”

     He stiffened and tried to pull away, but she held fast. Her grip couldn’t be broken without hurting her, and that was out of the question.

     “Tyler, I’m kidding.” She stared up into his eyes, dewy softness mixed with sultry invitation. Her needs were clear; she wanted him. But his needs were just as clear. Not this way.

     God knew how long it had been since he’d had a woman, and here she was offering him every man’s dream. But taking advantage of her drunken state didn’t sit well with him. It wouldn’t sit well with her, either, in the morning. He knew it, even if right now she didn’t.

     He slowly began to rise, halted again by her gripping arms. Tired of waiting for him to take the initiative, Annie shocked him by lifting herself, twining her arms tighter around his back, and fusing her lips onto his.

     She was sweet. So sweet! Her inexperienced mouth caressed like a little girl. Small puckered kisses zeroed in on his hunger. She struck at his nose, cheeks, lips, wherever she could reach. And her wiggling body reached zones he’d forgotten were so quickly aroused. He closed his eyes, savoring her attempts at seduction. 

     Obviously frustrated by his lack of co-operation, Annie became more inventive. He guessed she’d sensed him stalling, and so she doubled her efforts to get him involved in her love play.

     Arching her body fully, she pressed herself into him, and sinuously rubbed her breasts against his chest. Without breaking this rhythm, she secured her one leg over his and thrust her heat up to rub his hardness.

     Like a Venus flytrap, she’d engulfed him. Good intentions flew out the window. His hoarse voice whispered her name over and over as his restraint dwindled, then disappeared completely.

     When his lips captured her wandering mouth, he drained her passion, then felt it refill and overflow. She panted. She groaned. And she whimpered his name in tune to his litany of hers.

     She grabbed his hand, placed it over her breast, then with her guiding his fingers she forced him to surround the swollen mound. His lips soon followed his hands, and he breathed deeply through the flimsy material over the exact spot that stood hard at attention. Her inexperience, overcome by the alcohol, disappeared. With both hands, she held his head to her and whispered in his ear. “Oh, God! Tyler, that feels so good. Touch me.”

      Her throaty voice ramped up his ardor, but he had to slow down or explode. He backed away and looked down at her beautiful, perky nipples pushing against the silk of her dress, and then he searched her face. Sensing his eyes on her, her eyelashes swept upwards a fraction at a time, and he combusted from the fervent expression her smoky blues reflected.

     “Tyler, pleeasse! Don’t stop. Kiss me again. I love your kisses.” Caught in the throes of passion, her body undulated with each word. He watched as her mouth opened a fraction in order to suck in her bottom lip so her teeth could bite down on the plump pinkish mound. Small hands rubbed his upper body but were not quite adventurous enough to slide lower. Still, instincts buried deep propelled her to again mash her hips against his.

     They’d fit together in the same way a well-oiled gun fits into its holster. No doubt whatsoever. When the moment came for him to slip inside her, into her wetness, it would be like coming home at last.

      Fast losing control of the situation, and of his convictions, he tried to think.  Heaven and hell’s advocates sounded in his head.

     “I need her.” From his bad side!

     “I can’t.” Good side just had to get his two cents in there.

     “I bloody want her more than my next breath.” Come on, bad side!

     “It’s not right.” Gravelly-voiced idiot side? Where did she come from?

     Devil and angel warred with each other while he awaited the outcome—totally in support of his hell-bent buddy.