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Shay blinked, annoyed with herself that she was turned on by something so simple. Everything this man did lit her up like a light.

“Show me what you got in your hand.” He flicked his cigarette butt aside.

She tucked her hands behind her back.

“Shayla,” he chastised. The way he purred her name, in that growly, sinful bedroom voice, sent a rush of heat to her pelvis—so strong, she had to cross her ankles and press her thighs together. He held his hand out in request, scarred palm skyward. “Give it here.”

“Give what here?” she breathed, nearly tripping over her feet as she uncrossed her ankles and backed away. Her heart pounded harder, the heat in her most intimate areas intensifying?—

Gods, she had to get away from this man. Now. Right now.

“I know you pride yourself on your thieving skills,” he said, that deep, throaty voice giving her full-body shivers, “but you gotta admit, stealing from a twelve-year-old kid is a new low.”

He took a step toward her. She took a step back. Pebbles dug into her bare heels as he backed her into the parking lot.

“Give it here, pup,” he said again, beckoning with a gentle curl of those inked fingers. She was pretty sure he’d done that exact movement inside of her at Motel 58—the technique that had made her fracture like a lightning bolt and whimper his name.

Now, she made a small, embarrassing noise in her throat. “No.”

“Shayla,” he said again, in that same growly tone.

“Stop that.” Her voice came out weak. Breathy.

He cocked his head. “Stop what?” Those gold-flecked eyes danced.

“Using that tone.”

When he spoke again, he did not stop using that tone. “Why?” He advanced on her, a wolf on the prowl. “Does it turn you on?”

She backed away. “Nothing about you turns me on,” she lied.

A smile tugged on the corner of his mouth, his gaze dragging down her body with appreciation. “I’d be offended, if you weren’t such a terrible liar.”

He lunged?—

Shay bounded to the left, back onto the sidewalk—but he was upon her before she could escape. The breath left her lungs in a gasp as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his muscled body, her back colliding with his front so hard she let out an,“Oof!”

“Give me the bottle,” he growled, his breath warming the shell of her ear as he reached for the bottle with one hand, his other arm ensnaring her waist.

“If you can catch it, I’ll let you have it,” she said, moving the bottle this way and that. He kept reaching, his hand closing around open air.

“Shayla,”he warned.

“Roman,”she fired back with the same attitude.

The hard arm around her waist tightened, tugging her so flush against his body that she felt something big and firm digging into the small of her back.

She knew better than to think that was his gun.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?” she said around a wild gasp, keeping the pill bottle forever out of his reach. Gods, she wanted him inside her right now. She had to get away from him, before she did something stupid?—

Her eyes blackened as she summoned her illusion magic.

She slipped out of his grasp and skipped away on her tiptoes like a fairy, the band tee she wore swishing against her hips.

He blinked at her, dumbfounded.

“Did you forget who you’re dealing with?” she crooned with a triumphant smile. She held up the bottle in victory. “Lookslike I win.” She turned her back on him. “Better luck next time, Shadows.”