Eden didn’t do second dates.

Not ever.

Like never, ever.

She wasn’t built for them or for commitment or for anything that resembled a relationship. Been there, done that, got the lousy, souvenir T-shirt. She’d married young, divorced really young, and the only thing that crappy relationship had given her was a taste for how sweet her freedom could be.

So now if she saw a man and liked him, she had him.

No judgment, no censure or self-loathing. She took what they were willing to give for one night and moved on.

Except for Damon Wood. He was beyond hot and she definitely liked him. But she hadn’t had him.

Because she knew if she did once would not be enough.

Damon was a photographer by trade and since Eden was a former model, their paths had crossed plenty. He was professional, sexy as sin, and could have her in stitches at the exact wrong, or depending on the shot he was after, the exact right moment. So aside from his killer personality and gorgeous body, his photographs of her were her favorites.

As in she cherished them.

More than that, she dreamed about him—about Damon in her bed, against a wall, on the kitchen counter, the shower. And maybe . . . she dreamed about him in her life.

For more than one date.

As thus, she’d never dipped into the pool that was Damon Wood and never would. No way, no how, no—

Then their paths crossed, she had a weak moment, and he ended up naked in her bed.

And wouldn’t leave.