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Wanted him.

She let him go, but he didn’t go far, one arm draped over the car door, staring at her with those warm eyes. He licked his lips slowly, tasting her, and said, in a voice she hardly recognized, “What was that for?”

“For—” She couldn’t think of a single thing to say, and suddenly it came to her, foolish and charming and strange. “For not hating me.”

He reached down and fitted his hand along her cheek. His thumb brushed over her damp, parted lips. “Who says I don’t?” he asked. “Sometimes.”

“Are we going to sit here all night?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

“You’re a complete bastard.”

He smiled. It was such a satanically beautiful smile that she felt herself light up inside, light up and burn, and he stood, shut her door and walked around to the other side.

“I’m taking you someplace special for dinner,” he said as he backed out of the garage.

“Is it quiet?”

“No, it’s very loud. Mariachi bands. Small children screaming. People talking on cell phones. And there’s a buffet—”

She grinned. “Sounds perfect.”

He was staying at the Marriott, the nicest one, and valeted the car and ushered her into the lobby with a hand at the small of her back. Like they were about to dance. Guided her to the elevator and pressed the button for the ninth floor.

She watched him in silence as the floors flashed by.

“The restaurant’s on the ninth floor?” she asked.

“Best in town,” he agreed. “Very exclusive.”

They didn’t touch. He led her down the carpeted hall once they’d arrived on the right floor, down to a door at the end of the hall, and opened it with a flourish.

It was a suite. A nice one, with a king-size bed and a respectably sized bathroom and a view.

He shut the door, watching her.

“Where’s the food?” she asked.

He reached over and swung open the minibar. Tiny little bottles of liquor. Miniature champagne. Candy bars.

“Screw the food,” she said, and then he was on her, hands in her hair, pushing her back against the wall, and she couldn’t believe she’d ever thought he was weak, because there was no way on earth she had the strength to push him away, not now.

Not ever.

His hands moved under the jacket, trailing fire, tugged the hem of her shirt free and found a path beneath it. She gasped into his mouth, arching against him, as his palms stroked over her breasts and circled her nipples into hardness, then slid around to the small of her back to pull her tighter against him.

His mouth was hot and hungry and all over her, all over her neck, traveling down, tongue tasting every pulse point as she gasped for breath.

He moved her hands back, pinning them up against the wall, and she felt something fierce and hot shudder through her. Something powerful.

He felt it, too, and raised his head to meet her eyes. This close, his eyes were enormous, hot, full of something too dangerous and too violent and too perfect.

She moaned and let her head fall back, surrendering.

Just … finally … for the first time in her life … surrendering.

Everything we do matters.