“No. I got what I need for the piece.”

“Well, if I’m not your instructor then my rule about not flirting with students wouldn’t apply.” His fingers snuck next to hers so gently she wanted to check and see if they were really there. But she wouldn’t look away. His thumb caressed the back of her hand, sending electric waves up her arm and down her spine. His hands slid next to hers on the counter, then glided over the top with just enough pressure to hold them in place.

His gaze locked with hers. He stared straight into her eyes with an intensity that nearly buckled her knees. The attention made her feel fragile, womanly, powerful. All her life she’d wanted someone to look at her that way.

A look that felt like a proposition. More tempting than she’d dreamed, yet something scary buzzed around him. Ben Cannon was more dangerous than she’d ever considered.

Her stomach constricted as her breaths got shorter and shorter. She knew this feeling. This was the panic that made her run that night. And he’d barely touched her.

“Sit on the counter.”

Questioning, protesting was not an option. What would she be fighting anyway? His hands stayed on hers as she pushed herself up; his stare made it impossible to break eye contact. Barely on the counter, his hands skimmed her thighs, pushing the shirt up to her hips.

“You smell so good.” His face brushed against hers when he leaned forward. She could hear him, feel him, smelling her hair. Yet she knew that wasn’t what he meant at all.

Jillian closed her eyes and tried to think. Maybe she could if she didn’t get lost in his eyes again. That look was the one she saw in her fantasies. The ones where she’d beg him. Which was sounding like a better idea every second.

She pressed her knees together, trying to wrap her head around just what was going on, just how he was making her wetter than the rain.

His hands splayed over her hips, his thumbs brushing back and forth over her hipbones. A shiver went from her hip, up her spine, then back down until it vibrated between her legs. He knew what he was doing to her, he had to know.

Parting her legs slightly, Jillian leaned closer to him, breathing against his ear. “Kiss me.”

Taking advantage of her position, Ben parted her legs completely and pushed his body inside, pulling her to the edge of the counter and against him. Still, he kept his face right by her ear, his mouth out of reach.

“Where?” The word floated through her spinning brain.

She knew exactly what he meant, what she wanted to say in response. But could she? Did she dare?

“Did you change your mind?” His face nuzzled into her hair. She felt his breath against the skin behind her ear. How could his breathing raise the level of sexual intensity?

Jillian shook her head a fraction of an inch, not wanting to move from the position. She licked her lips, readying to taste his again. Would he remember? It unnerved her to think that he already did.

The soft whisper of his laugh electrified her skin. His thumbs circled her hipbones again, then slipped under the edge of the lace panties she wore. Black lace that matched the damp bra she’d been too nervous to remove. Did she want him to see?

“Just a kiss, please.” Begging. And she didn’t care. She’d explode if he didn’t kiss her, detonate if he tried anything more.

She kept her eyes closed, reveling in the sensations. He threaded a hand through her hair, then fisted it against the nape of her neck. He pulled, tilting her chin, parting her lips. She could taste his breath, but she wanted more. So much more.

His lips grazed hers, gentle only for the briefest moment. He captured her mouth like he owned it. A wet slide that intoxicated her until her mind shut off. She couldn’t think, only feel. Every woman should be kissed like this. Often.

His tongue hungrily invaded her mouth, artfully seducing her entire body. Jillian did not even try to match his bruising fervor. There would have been no point. This kiss was hers to enjoy. She’d made her claim on him long ago.

His hand traveled up from her hip, finding her lace-clad breast with ease. There was no way he could miss how her nipple strained against the lace, reaching for his touch. Her own moaning crashed about her ears. The kiss, the feel of his hand on her breast, the absence of it when he released her, the pressure of his hand on her hip, pulling her against him. He’d know how on fire she was. For him.