He'd tell himself later it happened without his knowing it. But that was a lie. He knew it the minute he saw her hang back up those red silk curtains in the shuttle. Knew what it meant.

She was getting ready to open for business again. Open her arms, open her legs for any man who had the coin.

Any man but him.

And that just didn't sit right. Not this time.

He stood there in front of her open door for a good long while, taking in her handiwork. His last temptation, right in front of him. Cross over that line, and no coming back. No pretending things could go back to how they were.

No easy way out.

She’d turned and smiled at him, wearing just a red silk kimono robe. Red that matched those curtains. He wondered if that was deliberate.

And then there he was, right on the edge of that line he’d lied to himself he’d never cross. Fought it like hell until he was too tired to fight it any longer. He’d been at Serenity Valley. He knew a losing battle when he was in the middle of one.

Her reality was everything he’d hoped and feared she’d be for near on two years. And when he finally tasted her, he temporarily banished the ghosts of every man who got there before him.

Only two people in that room were her and him. Except this time, he really meant it.

She made quick work of his shirt and suspenders. He reached for the tie on her robe and hesitated.

One quick pull and everything changes. Lines blur and shift and unravel.

And then, with a quick tug and a whisper of silk, that line vanished. He wondered why it had mattered so much as he stared at her golden skin and rose-tipped breasts. Had to be a reason why, but he couldn’t remember. Not when she was all sighs and moans under his fingers and tongue.

The all-too-familiar tightness in his groin brought him back to reality. Except this time, he could tell the difference between his own hand and hers, as she freed him from his pants. Her hand on him was far more preferable.

As was her mouth, as she slid down his body, pulling off his pants in the process. He started to unravel his own self under her tongue.

Not like this. Not with him standing and her on her knees. Not how he wanted it for their first time. Not like all the others.

He finally, gently pulled away and helped her to stand. Guided her to the bed covered in that same shade of red. Laid her out and returned the favor she’d done for him. Kissed her afterward to let her taste herself on his lips.

The ache in his groin was even worse than in his dreams of this moment. It took all of his tattered self-control to stop right before the point of no return, but he had to get her acceptance one last time. He fancied a brief notion that none of the others had taken the time to do so, before she silently nodded.

Then it didn’t matter. None of it did, save for the sharp reality of her around him, taking him with her as she rocked in time to his thrusts. Sweet Buddha, no woman should ever feel so good. Yet somehow, she did, guiding him onward to forget why he’d fought so hard not to have that moment.

When that moment hit and she gave him release, everything went to that shade of red. The curtains, the sheets, everything.

The last temptation ripped away from him. As he caught his breath, he asked himself if he cared any more.

No answer.