When we reach the door to my room he stops and turns me to face him, leaning down and kissing me. His lips press softly against mine, one hand behind my neck and the other resting on my hip. He nips my bottom lip between his teeth before breaking the kiss and taking a half step back, running his hand across his jaw and lower lip. “Good night,” he says, a heated spark in his eyes. Then he turns around and starts walking back to the elevators.

What. The hell?

“Where are you going?” I whisper-yell it at his retreating figure, because it is late and this is a family-friendly hotel.

He stops, turns, but doesn’t walk back. There’s three or four feet separating us when we should be naked with nothing between us besides a thin layer of latex covering his cock.

“My room.” He points a thumb over his shoulder toward the elevators. “First date. I’ve escorted you to your door and kissed you good night accordingly.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I’m pretty sure my jaw is on the floor.

“No?” He raises one brow in challenge. “I assumed coming in was off the table on a first date. I seem to recall you mentioning it in your litany of first-date rules.”

“For normal guys. You’re not normal.”

“So I’m special? Or odd?” He rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and cocks his head to the side. I don’t miss the grin that sneaks across his face either.

“Are you trying to make me beg? Besides, they were guidelines, not rules,” I add as I stand taller and lift my chin in defiance, arms crossed over my chest.

“Ah, guidelines. So they’re optional then?”

“They’re guidelines. You know, to guide. Like a suggestion, not a law.”

“Ahh. I see.” He nods but he’s still not moving. “I do rather like the idea of you begging, love. Now that you’ve mentioned it.” He takes one step towards me and stops. “Invite me in, then.”

He really is making me work for this.

“Would you like to come inside?” The words come out softer than I intended, more seductive, and I blush at the double meaning and tap the keycard in my hand against my forehead with a tiny groan.

Jennings grins, studying me with mirth-filled eyes, then steps forward and takes the key from my hand.

“Undress,” he commands the moment the door clicks shut behind us.

“Just like that?”

“I can do it for you if you’d rather.”

“Okay.” I shrug. “You do it.”

He pauses, appearing caught off guard for a moment, and then a slow smile covers his face. He stops in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt and meets my eyes. I think he’s stealing my three-second eye-contact trick and being on the receiving end, let me tell you, it’s very, very effective. My breath is caught in my throat and I feel on the verge of trembling when he closes the short distance between us and stops. He runs a single fingertip across my collarbone and I feel it—everywhere. My pulse races, my nipples harden and I’m so wet he could take me right now with ease.

“You continually surprise me, love.”

“Do I?”

“Indeed.” His lips replace his fingertip and I shudder. Then he moves to my earlobe and nips the shell with his teeth before removing my earrings, first from one ear then the other. How that’s erotic is beyond me but the gentle touch of his fingertips as he slides the loops free from my ears is having an effect.

“I like it.” I pause for a moment, unsure of saying this out loud. “I like it when you take charge. When you’re a little bossy.” Heat floods my core just hearing myself say it and I fidget both for relief and out of awkwardness. Is it weird to admit that?

“I know,” he replies with amusement in his tone and my gaze snaps to his. He winks.

Holy crap, that does things to me.

“Would it be embarrassing if I came before my clothes are off?” Because it’s a real possibility.

“Not for you, no. It’d be embarrassing if I came before your clothes were off, though, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah. Sorry about that, by the way.”

“About?” he questions as his hand skims the hemline of my dress, his fingertips stroking the outside of my thigh.

“Sorry that you can only come once while I get to come multiple times. It’s hardly fair, is it? I never realized that it was possible. I mean, I knew it was possible for some women, like porn stars and sexual-type people who are gifted or just lucky, but I didn’t know it was possible for me.” Oh, my God, stop talking.

I can’t see his face but I hear his soft laugh in my ear, his breath warm against my neck. “Happy to provide an education, love.” He kisses the spot where my neck meets my shoulder and I shiver. “Turn around.”

I turn, my eyes on the window. The sheer curtain is covering the window for privacy but the blackout curtain is still open, allowing the parking lot lights to filter into the room.

The zipper of my dress is making the slowest progression down my back in the history of zippers. Inch by lackadaisical inch. I’m hyper-aware of him standing behind me, the descent of the zipper and the heat of his body driving me slowly insane.

Then he’s slipping the material from my shoulders, the fabric sliding down my arms and over my hips. Jennings crouches behind me with the material around my ankles and instructs me to step out before he rises with the dress in hand. It makes a barely audible whisper of a sound as it lands on the dresser and then he’s back, gathering my hair and sweeping it over one shoulder and caressing the other with his lips.

The clasp of my bra gives way beneath his fingers and is quickly discarded on top of my dress, his lips never leaving my neck. His chest presses to my back as he pinches my nipple. I gasp, my head falling forward to watch his hand cupping my breast and twisting the nipple between finger and thumb. His other hand is splayed across my lower stomach, holding me to him. The buttons from his shirt press into my back and I grind my ass against him, reassured to feel that he’s as affected as I am.

Then his hand dips into the front of my panties and I moan. I wasn’t expecting it and the mere skimming of his fingers over my skin has me saying a silent prayer he’ll give me the relief I’m aching for.

“I adore how wet you are for me,” he murmurs into my ear while his fingers slide through my slit, dragging the moisture to my clit.

It feels a little obscene, watching his hand dip into my underwear. Dirtier, somehow, than if I was simply naked. I can’t take my eyes off the sight, his thumb visible above the waistband while his fingers delve below.

I grind my bottom harder against his erection and am rewarded with him increasing the pressure with his hand, pulling me tighter to hold me still. The result is more friction exactly where I need it and I buck my hips against his hand with the limited amount of movement available to me because I still want more. More pressure. More contact. More Jennings.

His cock is rock hard against my bottom. I imagine it straining against his pants, eager to be inside of me, and I emit something resembling a groan. I’m so close to release.

He slips two fingers inside of me and I bite my lip. So close.

“You’re awfully assertive for a woman who just told me she likes to defer control.”

I grin, knowing he can’t see it. “I know, it’s just that I’m so fond of your hand.”

“I can tell. You’re riding it so shamelessly my cock is getting jealous.” He pinches my nipple again and I clench around his fingers. “You’re soaking my hand, love. I’ll have to suck my fingers clean when you’re done.”

“Jennings.” I exhale his name in a rush. My thighs tense and the pressure builds to the point I don’t think I can take any more. I feel so uninhibited with him, like the only thing that matters is enjoying each other, and it’s the most incredible turn-on I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve still got my head tilted down, watching the motion of his hand as he works me. Watching as his thumb slips under the waistband of my panties and presses against my clit, as he curves his fingers inside of me and nips my earlobe with his teeth, and I shatter.

I’d be on the ground if I wasn’t pressed so firmly against him because my legs are useless. A strong arm wrapped around my ribcage keeps me from going down as his other hand pushes me to ride the orgasm longer than I knew was possible.

When the wave subsides, I test putting weight on my legs before stumbling, a little orgasm-drunk, from his grip as I turn to face him.

“Holy crap, how are you still fully clothed?” I blink at him, trying to recall how we got here. “Like how is it possible that I just came that hard when only one of us is naked?”

“You can take off the knickers now.” His eyes are on mine as he unbuttons his shirt, his movements steady and unhurried.

That’s right. I’m not even completely naked. I hook my thumbs into the material and slide them over my hips until they hit the floor.

“Hand them to me,” he instructs.

I grab them from the floor and feel my face flush as I hand them to him, which is ridiculous after what he just did to me. Yet it’s still sort of mortifying to hand him a pair of panties that he just helped me make extremely damp.