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should have finished you before we fucked.”
    She relaxed into the situation. The worst had happened. She’d tried and failed to have sex the way most women did. She might as well accept that failure and allow herself to enjoy his touch now. He clearly knew what he was doing. In a matter of seconds, he had her back to breathless and throbbing. She wouldn’t interfere.
    “Better?” he said.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “You’re not going to stop me this time and tell me what to do, are you?”
    “Nuh-huh.”
    “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said.
    “Brent?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Stop talking.”
    To his credit, he did. To his even greater credit, he’d found the exact pressure and rhythm to use on her clit to send her into the heavenly plateau just before orgasm. She wouldn’t have to try for anything here. No reaching or visualizing or having to force herself to relax. From here on, she needed only to let him continue to work his magic. He showed no inclination to stop but continued the press, press, press that would soon have her flying to the moon.
    She hadn’t made a mistake coming here. Everything would turn out right. She’d have this orgasm and another and another. Already, she’d come so close. She ought to fight it off—let the moment linger—but in the end, the pleasure was too intense to resist, and she had to surrender.
    The sensations wound in on themselves, tightening to a ball in the pit of her belly. One more second and another, and she’d burst. The climax built and then exploded inside her, rushing everywhere as her hips jerked upward and she cried out. The spasms traveled the length of her pussy, crashing over each other. Brent stayed with her, still pressing and drawing the orgasm out. When she finally finished, he moved his hand and let her float off on her own personal cloud. She only vaguely registered that he’d pulled her against him again and that the scent of honey clung to both of them.

Chapter Two
    B RENT HAD HIS hands full with this one. He lay, holding Angela, and let her enjoy the postclimax glow. He’d worked with nonorgasmic women before but not with any who could light up like a torch and then close down just as quickly. He’d been so sure she’d been ready as he fucked her. She’d almost come from the oral sex, and she’d made all the right noises and movements when he’d entered her. He couldn’t have misjudged her so badly. So what in the hell had gone wrong?
    Most women who came to him with lack-of-response issues simply hadn’t had a good enough lover yet. And they hadn’t given themselves permission to buy toys. Angela Carter could obviously climax. She’d just done a bang-up job of it in response to his finger. She must have some twisted psychology he hadn’t encountered before. They’d get to the bottom of that the minute she rejoined the living.
    After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, although they didn’t focus immediately. When they did, she stretched her arms over her head. “Wow, that was . . .”
    “You want to talk about what just happened?”
    “My orgasm?”
    “Before that,” he said.
    She sat up, cross-legged, and stared at the comforter for a moment. “I guess we’d better.”
    “You shouldn’t have told me you were going to come if you weren’t.”
    She still didn’t look at him. “What would you have done? Stopped?”
    She had him there. She’d really turned him on, right from the second he’d walked into Madeline’s office and spotted her. He cared for all his clients—he had to, or he wouldn’t be able to do what he did with them. Each had her own beauty, and each tugged at his heartstrings in her own way. But a tall woman, like Angela, always sent his imagination to long limbs wrapping around him and sighs directly into his ear. The moment he’d met her, his mind had gone through all the implications and possibilities, but then she’d bit her lip. She’d signaled vulnerability, probably unconsciously, and that always