When I slip into the creamy leather passenger seat of Liam’s black Mercedes S-Class that evening, I almost jump right back out. It’s not the $100k car that has me reeling, but the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a black t-shirt with a faded band logo on it.

I, on the other hand, expecting to have dinner at a nice restaurant, am wearing a short red dress I found on clearance at Nordstrom, my tiny diamond solitaire necklace and matching earrings, and strappy sandals I borrowed from Karina.

I look amazing.

My date looks like he just rolled out of bed. And as much as my primal brain purrs at his dishevelment and wants to drag him back into my apartment, my modern sensibilities are annoyed as fuck.

“When you said dinner, I wasn’t expecting a taqueria.”

A smile twitches his lips. “Hello, Eden. You look lovely this evening. And we’re not going to a taqueria.”

“Where are we going, then?”

He nods at my legs, one of which is still outside the car, my foot braced on the curb in readiness to bolt. “Close the door and you’ll find out.”

My eyes narrow. “You’re enjoying my discomfort, aren’t you?”

“Very much.” A grin finally breaks free, sparkling in his bright eyes. “Now close the damn door. I’m taking you out.”

“Oh,” I say flatly, “you’re one of those.”

An eyebrow twitches. “One of what?”

“A Neanderthal who thinks women like being bossed around.”

Less than a second after the words leave my mouth, I regret them—and the shot of booze I’d downed to quiet my nerves.

Liam’s smile softens as his gaze narrows with glittering intent. The car suddenly feels smaller, the space between us paltry. He hasn’t moved, but his presence seems to swallow me. Cocoon me. Inside my belly and between my legs, a need I haven’t felt in a long, long time ignites.

Liam’s eyes are crystal clear and oddly knowing, like he has a window into my mind and can see exactly what he does to me.

Maybe he can.

He makes a soft noise in his throat, close to a growl. “I was teasing, which you know. But as for your assumption, there’s a time and a place for that, don’t you think?”

Impossible to ignore the subtext—this man wants to take me to bed. I honestly don’t know if the prospect excites or terrifies me more.

I keep my composure. Barely. Thank God that when Karina found out I was letting a strange man pick me up, she insisted I share my location for the evening. If I don’t check in by ten, she and Raul are going to hunt me down. They may not look that tough on the outside, but I know better.

“How about we start with dinner?” I ask, closing the door and buckling my seatbelt.

“Excellent idea.” He flashes me another grin, then puts the car in gear and accelerates away from the curb.

I take advantage of his distraction, shifting in my seat to study him. I was right, he looks even more at home in jeans and a t-shirt than he does in a suit.

Who is this guy?

“So, Liam, what makes you the big bucks?”

His eyes flicker to me and back to the road. “I’m in acquisitions.”

I wait for more, but there’s nothing. “Well that’s vague.”

He laughs. Loudly. Weaving confidently through the light traffic on the I-10 toward Santa Monica, he laughs like I’m a comedian here for his amusement.

Am I?

It occurs to me that perhaps he’s purposefully playing with me—that he enjoys finding and pushing my buttons. Maybe it’s his specific brand of emotional kink. Maybe he prefers me combative, pushing back and challenging him.

I like it too. The push and pull. It’s as familiar as my grandmother’s apple pie.

Let’s play, Liam Rourke.

“What kind of acquisitions?” I demand.

His answer comes fast. “Anything important enough to warrant acquiring.”

“Are we talking companies, art, artifacts, drugs, guns, or humans?”

He shoots me a look of disbelief. “Are you joking?”

My expression stays blank. “I don’t know, am I?”

Something flashes in his eyes. I wouldn’t call it anger, exactly, but it’s close. Eyes back on the road, he murmurs, “Just as I hoped.”

“What is?”

“You. You’re exactly how I hoped you’d be.”

No longer in control—playing right into his game—I tense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He glances my way, a smile spreading as he sees how irked I am. “It means only that I’m very glad you said yes.”

My retort dies on my next breath. Shaking my head, I release a little laugh. “There’s something seriously wrong with you.”

“Yes, there is,” he says pleasantly. Turquoise eyes slant to me. “Go ahead and ask.”

“Ask what?”

“The question burning a hole in your head.”

I blurt, “What do you want from me?”

All traces of humor leave his face. He doesn’t look at me when he says, “More than I should.”

That makes two of us.

I don’t say it, but it’s there. The flavor of my silence, my sudden arousal. Will you be cruel, Liam Rourke?

I study his mouth, firm now. His eyes, so vivid. Unnaturally blue, like the waters of a postcard paradise. The thick, muscled arms. Broad shoulders testing the confines of his shirt.

I am afraid.

I am electrified.