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Noah shifts so I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me. “Unlike you,Iactually slept on the plane.”

“You know, I just had a thought. It’s harder for someone to kill us if we stay locked in our room until dinner.”

“An astute observation.” Noah slides his hand up my side, his fingers warm through my shirt. “But what will we do all afternoon?”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” I pull his mouth down to mine, but he resists.

“I didn’t have time to shave this morning,” he apologizes. “I’m scruffier than usual.”

I run my hand over his shadowed jaw. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?” His eyes meet mine, the moment intimate.

“Yeah.” I tug on the back of his neck. “Now kiss me.”

I don’t have to ask him twice. Our mouths meet, both of us a little desperate. We’ve been waiting so long and?—

A knock sounds at the door.

Noah pulls back, breathing hard, looking a little murderous.

“Can we ignore them?” I whisper, running my hand over his back.

But the nuisance knocks again.

Noah swears and sits up, abandoning me and stalking into the main room.

He pulls the door open, blocking the doorway with his body so I can’t see who’s in the hall. But I can hear her, and she’s saying something about clothing.

No.

Not yet.

Notnow.

“We’ll meet you out front in ten minutes,” Noah promises, and then he shuts the door and returns to me.

He looks as frustrated as I feel. “We have to go to our fitting.”

“I don’t want to.”

A smile steals across his face. “I don’t want to either, but we don’t have a choice. We can’t wear shorts to dinner.”

“If you say so.” I stand, stretching, missing the bed almost immediately. My T-shirt tugs up, showing off a strip of my midriff. It’s not an accident.

Noah crosses the room, claiming my sides mid-stretch, his hands landing on my bare skin. I jolt, surprised by the heat.

He dips his head low, his mouth close to my ear. “Tonight.”

That’s all he says, but the promise in his voice makes my knees soften.

Very aware of how he affects me, Noah steps back, releasing me, his honey-brown eyes on mine and a knowing smile on his lips.

My fangs press at my gums, so eager to break free.

When Noah steps back, my hand darts out, wrapping in his T-shirt, holding him in place. His eyebrows fly up, and his smile grows. He presses into me, suddenly in charge.

“Careful,” he warns. “We don’t have time for the game you’d like to play.”