The late afternoon sun beat down on the pavement, and Sabrina’s lungs burned with a familiar, welcome fire. Her ponytail swung like a metronome with each stride, but her focus wasn’t on her pace or her breathing. It was on the man running beside her.

Chris’s t-shirt was dark with sweat, plastered to the solid planes of his back and chest. Every time he pushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead, the defined muscle of his arm flexed, and Sabrina’s mouth went a little drier. God, he is a masterpiece.

“You’re pushing it today, Sabrina,” he said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the rhythm of their footfalls. “Trying to kill me before my fortieth birthday?”

“Just keeping you on your toes, Chris,” she managed, her own voice thankfully steady despite her hammering heart. “Wouldn’t want you getting soft.”

He shot her a grin, a flash of white teeth in his sun-kissed face. “Not a chance.”

They finished their loop, slowing to a walk as they reached their starting point, the quiet cul-de-sac where they both lived a few houses apart. Chests heaving, they stretched against a lamppost. Sabrina watched the way his running shorts clung to his powerful thighs, her skin buzzing with a heat that had nothing to do with the exercise.

Now or never.

“I’m parched,” she said, the words out of her mouth before she could second-guess them. “I’ve got some cold water. And a shower. If you… if you want to cool off.”

Chris stopped stretching. He turned his head, his gaze intense and unreadable. The air between them, already thick with humidity, suddenly crackled with a new, dangerous energy. He took a step closer, the scent of his sweat, clean and musky, washing over her.

“Is that an invitation, Sabrina?” he asked, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

She held her ground, tilting her chin up to meet his eyes. “It is.”

He didn’t smile. He just looked at her, his eyes dark with an understanding that made her knees weak. Then, he simply nodded. “Lead the way.”

Her apartment was cool and dim. The second the door clicked shut behind them, the space felt impossibly small. The polite veneer of their jogging partnership evaporated, leaving nothing but the raw, thrumming tension.

“Water?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Later,” he murmured.

And then his hands were on her waist, so sure, so firm, spinning her to face him. He didn’t kiss her. Not yet. He just looked down at her, his chest rising and falling, his gaze dropping to her lips, then back to her eyes.

“I’ve thought about this,” he confessed, his thumb stroking a slow, burning circle on her hip bone through her leggings. “Every damn time we run. Watching you move. Wondering.”

“Me too,” she breathed out, a shudder of pure want rocking through her.

That was all the permission he needed.

His mouth crashed down on hers. It wasn’t a gentle, exploratory kiss. It was a claim. A release of all the pent-up weeks of sidelong glances and casual touches. His tongue swept into her mouth, tasting of mint and sweat and pure, undiluted man. Sabrina melted into him, her hands flying up to tangle in his damp hair, pulling him closer. Her back met the cool wall of her entryway, and he pressed his body against hers, the hard ridge of his erection a blatant, thrilling pressure against her stomach.

He broke the kiss, his breath hot against her cheek. “I need to see you. All of you.”

His fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings and underwear, and in one swift, fluid motion, he peeled them down her legs. The cool air hit her heated skin, followed instantly by the searing heat of his palm cupping her. She gasped, her head falling back against the wall. Oh god.

“So wet,” he growled, his fingers sliding through her slick folds with an expert pressure that made her legs tremble. “All for me?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her hips bucking against his hand. “Only for you.”

He kissed her again, swallowing her moans as his fingers found her clit, circling it with a torturously perfect rhythm. Her world narrowed to the friction of his calloused fingers on her most sensitive skin, the crush of his lips, the weight of his body holding her captive against the wall. Pleasure, sharp and bright, coiled deep in her belly.

“I need to be inside you,” he rasped against her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse point. “Right now.”

He fumbled with his own shorts, pushing them down just enough to free himself. Sabrina looked down, her breath catching. He was thick and hard, and the sight of him sent a fresh wave of desire crashing through her.

He lifted her leg, hooking it around his hip, and with one powerful thrust, he was there. Filling her. Stretching her in the most exquisite way. A strangled cry tore from her throat, a mix of shock and utter bliss.

“Fuck, Sabrina,” he grunted, his forehead dropping to hers, his body going still for a moment as he let her adjust. “You feel… unbelievable.”

Then he began to move. It was not the gentle, rhythmic pace of lovers. It was raw, and primal, and utterly consuming. Each thrust drove her hard against the wall, the force of it rattling the frame. He held her gaze, his eyes locked on hers, and the intensity of it was almost as overwhelming as the physical sensation. She could see the pure, unadulterated pleasure on his face, the hunger, the need.

Her own pleasure built rapidly, a screaming pressure threatening to shatter her. She clawed at his shoulders, her nails digging into the damp fabric of his shirt. “Chris… I’m so close…”

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice guttural. “I want to watch you come.”

The command, the possessiveness in his tone, was the final trigger. Her climax exploded through her, a violent, shuddering wave that clenched around him, milking his length, pulling a guttural groan from deep within his chest. He drove into her once, twice more, his own release hitting him, his body stiffening as he spilled himself inside her with a ragged cry.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, pressed against the wall, panting, slick with sweat, utterly spent. The only sound was their ragged breathing. Slowly, he softened inside her, but he didn’t pull away. He kept her pinned there, his body a heavy, welcome weight.

He finally lifted his head, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face. “That was a hell of a cool-down.”

Sabrina laughed, a breathy, overwhelmed sound. “We never even made it to the water.”

His eyes darkened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “The shower’s still free. I’m not nearly done with you yet.”