It was easy to be swept away by the power of his personality . . . by his intense attractiveness. By the time she sat in the passenger seat of a fierce-looking, ebony Montand convertible, reality hit her.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” she told him, smoothing her ruffled hair out of her face as he zoomed out of the parking garage. She’d never known a person to make such tight hairpin turns so effortlessly.

“What about?” he asked unconcernedly.

“I found out about you buying my apartment complex.”

He brought the car to an abrupt halt in the garage.

“How did you find out about that?” he demanded, eyebrows slanting.

“That friend’s father who I told you about? The cop who was going to help me with my deadbeat landlord?” she clarified hotly, all of her confusion and irritation over the discovery blazing high in her suddenly. “Why did you do that? And why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged slightly. “Because I thought you might react like this.”

“Of course I would. And will you answer my question? Why?”

He began driving again. “I didn’t intend to originally. When you told me about your trouble with your landlord, I had someone at my office look into it, just to see if I could nudge your owner into fixing all the stuff at your place.”

“You shouldn’t have done that. I could have taken care of it myself,” she said, scowling. He continued like she hadn’t spoken.

“The person I had working on it reported to me that Arthur Tamborg, the owner of your apartment complex, was in some seriously dire personal and financial straits and wasn’t responding to most phone calls. I had a look at his financials and decided the apartments he owned weren’t a bad investment. It was his lame management that was tanking things. So I decided to take the properties off his hands. I promoted somebody in order to manage, made a decent personal investment,” he paused while he paid the parking attendant, “and you got everything fixed on your list,” he said a moment later. He gave her a swift sideways glance before he pulled onto Wabash Avenue. “Why is that such a terrible thing?”

“So your decision to buy the apartments had nothing to do with me personally?”

“It related because I originally looked into Tamborg and the properties because of you, but after that, it was strictly business. It was a good investment. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think so,” he said, his gaze trained on the road.

“And it’s not going to make any difference whatsoever that you’re my landlord after we . . . after our time together is over?”

“Do you really think I’d try to hurt you somehow through your lease?” he asked, eyes flashing.

“No,” she admitted.

“I’m not your landlord. I won’t be even remotely involved in the day-to-day management of the apartments. That’d be the responsibility of the new property manager I hired.”

“I guess I don’t have any control over who buys or sells the place one way or another,” she conceded. “It just seems odd, that’s all. That you own my home.”

“Would you rather Arthur Tamborg was back?” he asked levelly as he crossed the bridge over the river on Michigan Avenue. Emma noticed several pedestrians doing a double take and staring at Vanni in the sleek, badass convertible.

“No,” she stated, frowning in memory of her dealings with the unresponsive landlord.

“Then there you have it. This way, if any other problems should arise at your apartment, you’ll get immediate results.”

“Just like everyone else who calls in with a problem,” she clarified.

“Of course,” he said smoothly as he pulled onto a side street. Emma studied him suspiciously, but she couldn’t locate a crack in his armor.

“Are we good?” Vanni asked her a few minutes later after they’d parked the car and walked down the sidewalk of a quiet, tree-lined street.

Emma looked at his profile. He caught her stare, and she couldn’t help but smile. It was hard to be miffed at him when her heart was doing cartwheels over seeing him again. He looked so tall next to her, so male . . . so beautiful.

“Just don’t do me any special favors,” she warned, forcing the smile off her face and replacing it with what she hoped was a forbidding glance.

He halted her by grabbing her hand and stopping. “What if I want to?”

Her fierce look faded at his sudden intensity and quiet question. “I meant in regard to owning my apartment complex. I don’t want any tenant favoritism.”

He gave a small smile and stepped forward. Her breath stuck on an inhale when he put his hands on her waist and the fronts of their bodies brushed together ever so slightly. “For now, you’re mine, Emma. I won’t have you struggling in any way if I can stop it. I’ll show you all the favoritism I want to,” he said before his mouth covered hers. She softened and heated beneath his kiss, his words ringing in her head.

For now, you’re mine.

By the time he lifted his head and stared down at her a moment later, she’d completely forgotten why she’d been irritated with him, or even that she stood on a city street lined with brownstones interspersed with shops and businesses. His sleek, demanding tongue and addictive taste had made her forget. He lightly caressed the shell of her ear, and her sex tightened with desire.

“It’s kind of hard to not show you any favoritism,” he murmured and Emma swayed forward, entranced by the heat in his eyes and his singular scent. “Are you going to complain more if I take you into that store right there and spoil you a little?” he nodded down the block. Emma turned to see where he indicated, her expression freezing when she saw the renowned department store on the corner. It was so exclusive and expensive that Emma had never even dreamed of stepping over the threshold, let alone shopping there.

“I don’t really need to go shopping, Vanni,” she said, backpedaling from what she’d said at Macy’s. “I was just passing the time when you found me.”

He began to walk down the street and she followed, her hand in his. “Trust me, if we didn’t need to do this, I wouldn’t be here right now. I’d have you at the Breakers in bed.”

“But I can’t—”

“You said you needed a dress and swimsuit,” he reminded her. “You’ll definitely need some new things for the trip.”

Emma sighed in exasperation as they entered the crosswalk.

“What?” he asked.

“I haven’t even spoken to Mrs. Ring yet about taking time off. Just because you act like something is going to happen doesn’t mean it will,” she said chuckling, both irritated and amazed by his absolute confidence.

“You’ll speak to Mrs. Ring tomorrow, and we’ll fly out on Tuesday,” he told her patiently. “You’ll see. It’ll be fine. And once we’re in France,” he nodded toward the department store, “you’re definitely going to want a new dress or two. Or three. This is more than just a race, it’s a social event that lasts almost a week.”

Emma glanced at the famous glass entrance to the department store. “But I can’t afford to buy things here, Vanni.”

“That’s all right,” Vanni said, reaching for the door and opening it for her. He met her stare steadily. “You’re with me.”

She shook her head, refusing to enter. He frowned.

“It’s a very simple thing, Emma. Do you want to come with me to the race?”

“Yes . . . if I can get off, that is,” she said fervently, dreading the idea of missing another week of their time together.

“If you think you’ll feel comfortable attending some of these events with me without any new dresses, then I’m fine with it. I was thinking of you in offering this.”

“Vanni,” she muttered under her breath, moved by his thoughtfulness and generosity, but torn. She glanced again anxiously at the name of the department store over the gilded entryway. If Mrs. Ring did grant her the time off and she indeed ended up going with him to France, he was correct. She’d look horribly out of place standing next to him in the extravagant European playground of the French Riviera. She didn’t want to embarrass him.

And they only had so much time together, after all . . .

He put out his hand.

“Come on. Just a couple of dresses, and then we’ll have some time to ourselves.”

“Okay,” she conceded, taking his hand.

The dressing room in the store was the size of her bedroom, featuring a lounging area with a sofa, coffee table, two armchairs, and an enormous, movable triple mirror. The friendly, chic middle-aged saleswoman, whose name was Sophia, escorted her into the changing lounge while asking her questions about fabric preferences and sizes. When Sophia asked her the names of her favorite designers, Emma gave her a wry grin.

“I doubt you’d find any labels from my closet here.”

Sophia’s smooth expression didn’t falter. “Not a problem. We’ll just introduce you to some new ones then.”

A younger associate peeked her head into the door and asked Emma what she’d like to drink.

“Nothing, thank you,” she told the young blond woman, a little flustered at the unexpected question.

“Bring her a tea service, please, and me as well,” Vanni instructed. Emma turned in surprise. He’d followed them into the women’s dressing lounge. Was there any place he wouldn’t tread with complete confidence?

“I’ll wait for you out there,” he told Emma, pointing to the lavish sitting area that was part of the lounge. They’d passed it on the way in, so she knew to what he referred. He directed his attention to Sophia. “Please bring her out so that I can see the ones that are worthwhile.”

“Of course, Mr. Montand. I’ll be right back with some selections for you to start on,” Sophia told Emma. “Just have a seat and relax.”

The young blond salesgirl returned first, carrying not a cup of tea, but an entire service including a pot of tea, a tiered tray of small sandwiches, fruit, scones, jam and cream, and a glass of champagne. Despite Emma’s awkwardness in the surroundings, she realized she was hungry and sampled one of the sandwiches and then a strawberry. A few minutes later, she sat on the couch with the teacup in her hand and a scone melting on her tongue, watching wide-eyed as Sophia breezed in with an armful of dresses.

“What about this one first?” she asked Emma, holding up a stunning mauve strapless gown. Sophia waved the dress over a sort of pedestal. Much to Emma’s amazement, a video popped up on the mirror of a gorgeous, slinky model strutting down the runway wearing the precise dress Emma was about to try on. She gasped.

“Is there a chip in the dress?” she asked Sophia, standing.

Sophia grinned. “Yes, a tiny one on a tag. Our customers like to see the outfits we sell professionally modeled.”

And the store likes to see their merchandise purchased, Emma thought amusedly as she began to shuck off her clothes. It was a brilliant sales maneuver. How many customers actually pictured themselves in the gorgeous model’s shoes when they donned the dress?

She suddenly wished she’d put on a fancier bra and underwear set when she’d set out on what she thought would be a solitary, run-of-the-mill trip downtown this morning. Little had she guessed her solo trip to Macy’s would end up like this.

“Oh my goodness,” Sophia said, eyes going wide as she turned from hanging some dresses on a rack. At the woman’s exclamation, Emma cringed where she stood in her bra and underwear. Were her undergarments that bad? Then she realized where the woman stared and her hand flew to her throat. “Is that a Prisatti angel?” Sophia asked, her tone hushed and thick with awe.

“I . . . I don’t know. It’s a petit ange. It was a gift,” Emma said, letting her hand fall.

Sophia met her stare, a smile starting on her mouth. “From him?” she asked, glancing sideways in the direction of the sitting room where Vanni waited.

“Yes.”

Sophia gave her a lucky you smile. “It’s a Prisatti angel. They’re extremely rare, handmade by a man named Angelo Prisatti, an Italian jeweler who lives in France. He only makes a few a year, the metalwork and etching is exquisitely detailed, even under a microscope. Prisatti insists on approving of the wearer himself. Their spirit has to match the essence of the piece he makes . . . match up to his standards, in other words. Otherwise, you’d see every spoiled rich girl in the world wearing one.”

“I’ve never met him,” Emma said. “Maybe it’s not a Prisatti angel, after all.”

“He must have altered his expectations for Montand,” Sophia said with a knowing smile. “Because that’s definitely a Prisatti angel.”

Emma absorbed this amazing bit of news. It didn’t surprise her that it was an extremely valuable necklace—she could have guessed that just by its unique, delicate beauty. What bewildered her was why Vanni would have taken pains to acquire such a rare piece for her.

As the rack in the huge, ornate dressing room began to fill with not just dozens of dresses, but resort wear, hats, shoes, belts, and accessories, Emma’s confusion about Vanni’s gift had to be moved to the back burner.

“I really just need a dress and maybe a swimsuit,” Emma told Sophia uncomfortably.

“These are the items Mr. Montand indicated,” the woman overrode her with pleasant politeness. “Here, let me help you with that,” she said, moving behind Emma to zip up the gorgeous creation she’d just put on—a stunning green halter dress that came with a short jacket. When Sophia had zipped her in, she stared at her reflection in awe. The dress did amazing things for her figure. It made the gold of her hair look especially rich and vibrant and her skin gleam. She looked . . .

. . . fantastic in it.

“Oh my,” Sophia said, stepping back and grinning. “This is definitely one to show Mr. Montand, don’t you think?” She set down a sinfully sexy pair of strappy sandals in front of her. “Leave the jacket,” the saleswoman directed when Emma reached for it after she’d buckled the sandals around her ankles. Emma saw the sparkle in Sophia’s brown eyes. “He’s not going to want it on you. Trust me.”

Emma’s cheeks went hot, but she followed a beaming Sophia out of the dressing room. Vanni was sitting in a Louis the XIV–style armchair, reading a newspaper, his tea service set out next to him on a circular table. Despite his T-shirt and jeans, he looked every bit the insouciant, confident prince of the palace.

“Well? Stunning, isn’t she?” Sophia said.

Vanni glanced up as Emma came to a stop. His expression didn’t change that much as he looked at her, but something in his eyes made the burn in her cheeks amplify.

“Well?” Emma asked when he didn’t say anything.

“That one. Definitely that one,” he said, his mouth set in a rigid line as he went back to his reading.

Sophia looked ebullient as she gave Emma a wink. With a sinking feeling, Emma thought she knew why. Emma had cringed upon seeing the price tag on the dress.

She would have thought she’d blush less each time Sophia indicated the outfit was worthy for Vanni to see. Instead, the heat in her cheeks only seemed to mount every time he glanced up and considered her with a stare that was both cool and assessing and scorching hot at once. She was embarrassed to admit it but she was actually becoming aroused by those dispassionate-seeming perusals that really didn’t feel remotely aloof at all.

She walked toward him wearing a fantastic ivory cocktail dress that gave the illusion of transparency without actually being sheer, along with several ropes of pearls and matching pumps. Emma especially loved this one. It was an updated, sexier version of something a glamorous 1920s flapper heiress might wear on a jaunt across Europe. Vanni looked up and froze in the action of folding his paper.

“That’s it,” he told Sophia briskly, his mouth hard. “We’ll take them.”

“Which ones, Mr. Montand?” Sophia asked eagerly.

“All of the ones I’ve seen.”

“Vanni—” Emma started to protest.

“Did you bring her swimwear and lingerie?” Vanni asked Sophia, cutting her off.

“Yes, sir.”

“Choose several weeks’ worth of items for her. We’ll take one of the swimsuits now, but have the rest delivered to this address,” he said, handing Sophia a business card and what appeared to be a credit card.

Emma gave him a helpless, annoyed glance over her shoulder as Sophia bustled her back to the dressing lounge. The sales associate was all smiles as she helped Emma undress. Three other associates entered, each of them leaving with armfuls of garments and teasing Emma about how lucky she was. She had a feeling they were referring to the man sitting out in the sitting area more than they were the dream wardrobe he’d just bought her without a second thought. Sophia followed them a moment later carrying the final load. Emma picked up her bra—she’d had to remove it to do several of the dresses justice. She’d speak to Vanni about this privately. They’d agree to one dress, two if he said it was required given the events at the race, but—

In the reflection of the mirrors she saw the door open. Vanni walked in and shut the door behind him. Emma turned around, instinctively covering her bare breasts.

“Vanni?” she asked, her confusion mounting when she saw the single-minded intent gleaming in his light eyes.

He twisted the lock on the door.

“What are you doing?” she asked incredulous when he stalked toward her.

“It’s all right,” he assured, his nostrils flaring slightly as he glanced down over her. He reached for her hands and lowered them deliberately. Her nipples prickled and pinched tight beneath his stare. “Please don’t ever cover yourself from me,” he said.

“But . . . but what about Sophia and the others?” she asked numbly.

“They won’t be coming back for a while.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

His gaze flicked from her breasts to her face. “Because I made sure of it.”

There. Just like that. Whether she liked it or not, Sophia and her band of sales associates were definitely going to remain absent, and they’d keep anyone else from wandering into this dressing suite, too. Why? Because Vanni Montand had proclaimed it to be his desire.

Emma didn’t speak when he reached up and put his hands on her shoulders, skimming his hands over her skin. She trembled as that familiar heavy pressure settled in her lower belly and sex. It felt so good.

“Do you know why I’m back early from my trip?” he asked her, his hands rubbing the back of her shoulders before they swept down her back. He pulled her against him. She moaned helplessly at the delicious sensation of pressing against his length, her erect nipples crushing against a soft shirt covering dense muscle.

“No,” she whispered, reaching up to grab his shoulders. She suddenly felt very weak.

His hands slid beneath her panties. He cupped her buttocks and massaged them. Emma felt moisture surge at her core. He nuzzled the hair near her ear and she couldn’t stop herself from shuddering in excitement.

“Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he breathed out. “You’re haunting me, Emma.”

“You never even called,” she said, pressing her cheek to his chest. God he smelled so good. He felt so good. What he was telling her made the sweet, hot pressure in her sex mount.

“I thought calling would make it worse,” he said, lowering her panties over her ass to her thighs. His hands made a lascivious journey across her hips and bottom. “Why didn’t you call me?” he growled softly before he kissed the opening of her ear. Emma gasped and tilted her head back to meet his stare.

“I thought calling would make it worse,” she repeated breathlessly.

His handsome mouth curled into a small snarl. “I don’t appreciate being tortured. That’s just what it was, too, having you paraded in front of me like that.” He pushed her tighter to him and dipped his knees. Emma’s breath caught when he pressed his cock to the juncture of her thighs.

“It was your idea, Vanni,” she reminded him dryly.

“That didn’t make it any less of a torture session,” he hissed, his mouth opening on her neck and then taking a tender bite out of her shoulder. Emma shivered. Hunger and heat seemed to radiate from him. How could he have looked so impassive and cool out there in the sitting room? “God you’re beautiful. Every time I see you it’s like being punched all over again,” he grated out, sounding almost angry. “You know that you’re mine, don’t you? For these few weeks, for these inadequate, skimpy little days and hours?”

She stared up at him. She was his whenever or however he wanted her. “Yes,” she whispered.

He nodded grimly before he bent and pushed her panties the rest of the way off her.

“Then come here,” he said firmly, leading her over to the couch.

Emma trailed after him, now completely naked. For a split second as he urged her to sit on the couch, she had a moment of clarity. She was in a store, for God’s sake, a public place.

But then Vanni sunk to his knees before where she sat. She saw the hard glint of desire in his eyes and delved her fingers into his thick hair, everything else, everyone else, disappearing. His hands opened on her waist and skimmed her hips, his gaze trailing hotly over her breasts and belly and landing at the juncture of her thighs.

“It seems like I’m always waiting for you, like you’re just out of my reach,” he said under his breath, almost as if he didn’t realize he spoke aloud. “I’ve waited too damn long to taste you.”

Emma bit her lip, but a whimper of stark arousal escaped her throat, anyway. He put his hands on the backs of her thighs and pushed up so that her head fell back on the soft cushions of the couch and her hips rolled back. He urged with his touch, and she let her thighs fall open further.

“Hold your legs back,” he instructed, and she reached for her knees, keeping her hips in place. She was spread wide for him . . . positioned to take whatever he offered her.

“Vanni,” she said in a strangled voice when she saw the expression on his face as he stared fixedly between her thighs. His head lowered and her clit pinched in painful anticipation. It felt unbearably exciting. His face just inches from her sex, he inhaled and turned his head slightly.

“Jesus,” he said thickly, his lips brushing the tender skin on her inner thigh. “So soft.” He parted her labia with his fingers.

Then his mouth was on her sex, and Emma couldn’t stop a muted cry. His tongue burrowed between her labia and laved her clit. It felt warm, firm . . . deliciously decadent and forbidden. She suppressed a moan of pleasure. His mouth closed on her while his tongue continued to stir her clit, his upper lip pressing down firmly on her sensitive tissues. The slight suction he applied made her toes curl and her muscles clench tight.

He groaned, deep and guttural, the vibrations resonating into her sex. He pushed again at the backs of her thighs until her knees were nearly parallel with her face. The soles of her feet began to burn in sympathy with her clit as he ate her. Nerves everywhere seemed to sizzle, eager to ignite. His tongue stabbed and pressed, slid and rubbed until a haze of lust and sensuality encompassed her like a dense, warm cloud. She had a fleeting glimpse of her face in the huge mirror across from her and hardly recognized herself, naked and wanton, her lips and cheeks floridly pink, her fingers clutching onto Vanni’s head as if for dear life.

One large hand cupped her ass from below, right along the crack. He lifted slightly, blue-green eyes flickering up to meet her stare. A long finger reached, plunging into her pussy.

“Ohhh,” she exclaimed shakily, unable to unglue her gaze from the vision he made, palming her ass like he might a lush fruit while he sank his finger and tongue into the sweetness. It was an incredibly lewd vision, but an intensely beautiful one as well.

He applied an eye-crossing suction and moved his head slightly, a growl emanating from his throat. Emma’s eyes sprung wide at the acute stimulation. Then his tongue was back, a brutally precise, firm master.

“Oh God, Vanni . . .” she faded off, drowning in delight as climax loomed. He pushed back on her shins, forcing her knees into the couch near her ears. A helpless keen vibrated her throat. It felt incredible. Unstoppable. He laved her clit ruthlessly.

She broke in climax at the hard pressure, a cry escaping her throat. She bit her lip hard to restrain it, but couldn’t stop whimpering as she shuddered in pleasure. He didn’t let up on her a bit, agitating her clit with his stiffened tongue while she came, demanding every last shudder and shiver of pleasure she had to give him.

Emma checked out of reality for a moment.

She came back to herself when the warm pressure of his mouth disappeared. She opened her eyelids sluggishly, panting. A light sweat sheened her skin. He stood before her, looking down at her with a blazing gaze as he ripped open his button fly. A stab of rearousal went through her at the vision of his chin, mouth, and upper lip glistening with her juices. He made a hasty jerking motion with his hands and Emma glanced downward. He’d freed his cock. It poked out from beneath the edge of his T-shirt, the smooth, delectable-looking crown bobbing slightly in the air from his brisk movements.

She licked her abraded lower lip—she’d bitten on it forcefully to keep from screaming—watching in stunned arousal as his cock jumped slightly in the air. His eyes narrowed on her.

“Dammit,” he growled. “Come here,” he said tensely, putting out his hand. She reached for him, and he pulled her off the couch to stand before him. She felt a little dizzy and steadied herself by clutching his waist. With no prelude, he immediately cupped the back of her head, palmed her jaw, and swooped down to kiss her. It wasn’t an angry kiss, necessarily, but it felt a little like it was. It was hard and wild and relentless. She was becoming used to his unleashed fierceness during lovemaking . . . or as used to it as a woman could be.

The sensation of his naked, swollen cock against her belly taunted her. She reached up and cupped his erection. The growl he made sounded dangerous. She moaned at the erotic heaviness of him, the smooth, warm skin gloving his arousal so tautly. He kissed her deeper. She tasted herself for the first time in her life, experienced the heady chemistry of her desire twining with his. He drank from her furiously, spearing her with his tongue again and again until Emma felt herself spinning from his dominant possession.

He eventually broke the scalding kiss with a rough groan. “There aren’t enough minutes in the day to do all the things I want to do to you,” he breathed out, white teeth bared. “There isn’t enough time, period.” His thumb pushed against her lower lip, separating it from the upper one. She stared up at him, helpless in her arousal, as he looked down at her mouth, his thumb moving in a tight little circle, his expression hungry as a wolf about to feed.

“You’re going to make me wait again, Emma,” he said, his soft tone highly at odds with his expression.

“For what?” she whispered, confused . . . overwhelmed by his raw, unguarded passion.

“For your mouth. I’m going to have to punish you for making me wait for what I want so much.”

“I’m not making you,” she defended, sliding her fist up and down his hard, pulsing shaft. A muscle leapt in his cheek.

“Oh yes you are,” he said grimly, breaking their close contact and forcing her hand off his cock. “You’re making me want you so much, all I can think about is taking you by storm.”

He could feel his pulse throbbing in his cock, the resulting ache making him feel a little crazed. Her taste lingered on his tongue, fueling his rabid need. He led her over to the chair, his cock flicking in the air at the vision she made, completely nude, her cheeks and mouth as vividly pink as her pussy had been, her high breasts rising and falling with her erratic breath, her nipples tight and hard. He took both of her wrists and slid her beneath his arm so that she stood before him, her back to his front.

He placed her hand on the back of the armchair gently. It was so bizarre, the way he wanted to touch her with the tenderness of something most cherished, but at the same time, fuck her like an animal. He’d never experienced the paradox before. The sharpness of the resulting friction of his clashing desires clawed at him from the inside. Tempted by the elegant slope of her shoulders and graceful neck, he planted a hot kiss at the juncture of them.

“It’s going to feel so good, being raw inside you,” he lifted his head and met her stare. “I’m going to come in you, and it’s going to feel so blessed good. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered, twisting her chin to face him, her pink lips forming the single word scoring his consciousness. Her dark eyes shone with undisguised arousal. He stepped closer, wincing slightly at the sensation of his cock bumping and sliding across the smooth skin of her lower back.

“Bend over then,” he said, his hands sliding down her ribs, waist, and hips, the sensation of those lush, feminine curves making him grind his teeth together in restraint. Too aroused to speak, he merely opened his hand on the warm, silken skin of her inner thigh. She parted wider for him at his signal. He moved closer behind her, his hands on her ass. He molded her firm flesh into his palms, opening her to him, hearing her whimper. His cock lurched at seeing such a temptation spread before him. He flexed, pushing his leaping cock against her damp, feminine warmth. She gave a surprised squeak and he spread her buttocks wider, his cock unerringly burrowing and finding home. He pierced her with just the tip and groaned.

God it was going to be so fucking good.

He flexed. Despite his almost rabid ardor and her obvious arousal, he felt her tight channel resist him. She made a choking sound, and he soothed her by caressing her silken hip.

“Shhh, try to relax,” he soothed, his hand lowering to cup the underside of his cock. He pressed with his hips, guiding the first several inches of his flesh into her tightly clasping sheath. He felt a flush of heat around him. “There we go, that’s so sweet,” he managed, still trying to comfort even though he was about to explode with lust. He firmed his hold on her ass and began to rock in and out of her, working past the resistance, loving the hot, tight glide into heaven. She moaned. “Better?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said shakily. Her head was bowed. Her lithesome arms, the cap of golden waves, the elegant sweep of her naked back . . . the lush, round ass, all of it drove him mad. He didn’t just want to sink into her.

He wanted to sink her into him. He wanted to consume her whole.

Giving in to the gnashing jaws of need, he tightened his hold on her hips and sunk his cock to the hilt. There was no pausing then. Being inside Emma raw was an all-or-nothing circumstance. Without pausing to experience the sublime sensation of her tight, soft, gloving flesh, he began to plunge into nirvana. He couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t diminish the force of his driving hips, couldn’t muffle the slaps of his pelvis and thighs against her ass, and certainly couldn’t stop staring with a feral focus at the image of his naked cock plunging into the sweetness of her again and again.

All he could do was give in to this orgy of sensation.

He noticed a flash of color from the corner of his eye. He glanced aside as he thrust and saw that her head was turned. She’d been watching him as he stared at himself fucking her. It’d been the vivid color of her lips and cheeks that had caught his attention. Her eyes looked enormous as she watched him take her like a madman in the ornate triple mirror.

Damn her eyes for always seeing so much.

He ground his teeth together, holding her gaze as he pounded into her, her body bobbing back and forth slightly as he drove into her with the force of a typhoon.

“God it’s good, baby. You’ve got such a sweet little pussy,” he told her, still holding her stare in the mirror. “Look at you . . . so beautiful,” he said roughly, running his hand along her ass and hip up to her waist. She bit her lip and moaned, using her hold on the chair to push back against his cock. The way she followed his seeking hand in the mirror as he palmed a pert little breast from below drove him crazy. She whimpered, teeth tightening on her lip as he squeezed gently on both her breast and a buttock, using his hold to thrust her back and forth on his cock. For some reason, the image of her holding back infuriated him, even though he knew why she was doing it. They were fucking in a department store, what did he expect?

“You’ll scream later on for me, won’t you,” he stated more than asked.

Her facial muscles tightened. So did her pussy around his pistoning cock.

“Answer me,” he said harshly, his hips flexing fast and forcefully so that he drove nearly the full length of his cock into her with every stroke.

“Yes,” she squeezed out between her teeth, grimacing. Heat rushed around him, her vaginal walls convulsing around his cock.

“Oh yeah, give me that,” he grated out.

Both his hands on her hips, he sunk into her, their skin smacking together loudly. He clamped his eyes together, his body coiling tight.

He detonated. His eyes sprung open in surprise at the breathtaking flood of pleasure. When that first powerful wave passed, he lowered his head and moved, fucking her in short, hard thrusts while he ejaculated, popping her ass with his pelvis in a harsh, staccato rhythm. He knew then and there he must be an animal, to take so much primal satisfaction in leaving part of himself so high and deep inside her.

He held her to him tightly, gasping.

Please let that saleswoman hold true to her promise to keep everyone away from the large space of the private sitting room and attached fitting room.

He’d never intended to embarrass Emma.

He just couldn’t get this grinding, feral need for her in check.