This was where it started—the romance he’d planned since she’d put the brakes on their physical relationship and he’d decided sex would mean something.

The hotel may have been booked this afternoon, but what he would do once he got her there had been the work of countless hours.

Nora was nervous. Her hand, when he took it, was sweaty. Every so often, she would suck in a deep breath, like she was breathing too shallowly and needed to fill her lungs with air. Adjusting the strap for her bag on his shoulder, he squeezed her hand and rolled his luggage behind them.

“You packed a lot of stuff,” she observed as they strode across the garage.

“Props,” he answered, winking. The automatic doors to the hotel opened at the same time as she barked a laugh. The shiny marble floors ricocheted the sound, and she cut off quickly, screwing up her face and wincing.

They checked in, accepted their keys, and found the elevator to their room. Matisse shifted his weight from side to side, humming and tracking the numbers as they lit up.

“You okay?” Nora asked, and he cut off, embarrassed.

The truth was, now that the time was here, he was afraid of fucking up. He was known for it—excelled at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. “Fine,” he answered shortly. “Fuck!”

“Matisse.” With one decisive move, Nora slammed the emergency stop button and threw herself at him. The bags tumbled to the ground, and he stumbled backward, hitting the rail with his ass. A sharp pain radiated along his tailbone, but he ignored it, because Nora’s hands were buried in his hair, and her tongue was in his mouth.

In a flash, she'd wrapped her long legs around his waist, and lifted herself, squeezing his hips then releasing them to drag down his body. Tucking his hands beneath her ass, he encouraged the movement, thrusting against her. Their teeth clacked, and he could barely breathe, but he’d never felt so good.

Nora tugged his hair to tilt his head back and scraped her teeth along his jaw. Right below his ear, she sucked his skin into her mouth and bit gently with her teeth before releasing him to trail to the other side of his face.

“Fuck, cher.”

She didn’t answer except to kiss him harder. The motion of her body rocked her harder along his length. His jeans were probably chafing his dick, but so what? He imagined being buried in her soft, wet heat, and it was a small price to pay for the journey he was taking to get there. The alarm blared, waves of sound that pounded against his eardrums, but he didn’t even notice it until it shut off unexpectedly and the elevator began its upward climb, stopping only when it reached their floor.

But Nora stayed in his arms, trapping him in a brown-eyed gaze. A throat cleared, and she jumped, releasing him to slide down his body. Her face was blazing, but Matisse smugly met the angry glower of the man waiting for the elevator. Let him glare. Moments before, he’d had the most perfect girl in his arms. “L’amour,” he said as he passed. “What are you going to do?”

Immediately, the man’s face lightened, and he laughed, shaking his head as the elevator closed between them.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Nora whispered.

“It’s fine.” Matisse had already dismissed him from his thoughts and was two steps ahead, thinking about how to kiss Nora and get the door to the room open. She walked fast, shoved the key into the slot and put her back to the door.

Her smile, when it curled her lips, was wicked, and Matisse laughed. She crooked her finger at him, and though her face was still pink from mortification, it didn’t stop her from acting like a seductress, all come-hither eyes and languid perusals.

He dropped the bags as soon as the door shut behind him. “I have a plan,” he said, voice low.

“So do I,” she replied, and his heart was full. They were partners—she was as into him as he was into her. There was no power imbalance. When they did this, it would mean something.

“Check this out,” he said, distracting her.

Head canting to one side, she considered him. “I know what you’re doing, but I’m going to let you.”

“You won’t be sorry.”

“I know.” Her smile was so wide, her eyes crinkled at the sides. “Show me.” When his eyes widened, she laughed. “What you wanted me to check out. Show me.”

With a flourish, he opened a door to his left, making room for Nora to peek inside. Her gasp was worth the extra fifty dollars the room cost. “I could swim in that tub.”

They’d be doing more than swimming if things went the way he hoped. He ran the water, getting it hot, then ripped open a packet of bath salts sitting on the edge of the tub. Bubbles frothed after he activated the jets. “Get in. Relax. I’m going to unpack.”

“Tisse…” She clasped his wrist as he edged by her. “Aren’t you coming in?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. This is for you. Let me spoil you a bit.” She looked unsure, gazing between the tub and him, so he grasped her shoulders and nudged her closer to the tub. “Please?” he asked.

Eyes on his, she nodded. “You make a very persuasive, good-smelling argument.”

Chuckling, he kissed her forehead. He didn’t trust himself to take her lips. One taste, and he’d be a goner.

Leaving her there was hard, but hearing the water slosh against the side of the tub, indicating she’d eased under the water, was harder. A groan left his lips, and he shut his eyes. An image of her smooth, brown skin slick with water danced behind his eyelids.

Plan.

He had a plan.

Focused now, he opened his suitcase, and removed a string of lights he’d wound into a ball. He didn’t have candles, but years ago, Genevieve had sent him a string of electric lights in green, purple, and gold for his first Mardi Gras away from home. He strung them along the back of the bed, plugged them in, and shut off the light.

It wasn’t quite the effect he’d hoped for, but with evening light, the purple gave a hazy twilight feel to the room, and he decided he liked it. Soft music from his phone and a champagne delivery from room service completed his preparations, and he stood back.

And laughed.

Champagne in an ice bucket, the Nora playlist currently blaring a song called Raise Hell, and Mardi Gras lights. Somehow his plan for mood lighting, romantic music, and celebratory drinks came across looking like a dude desperate to get laid.

Matisse dropped his face into his hands and groaned. God, he hoped he had enough time to pack this shit up before Nora got out of the tub. This was mortifying. How had he missed the tiny baby Jesuses hanging between the colored globes?

“I love it,” Nora whispered, and her arms encircled his waist. “Matisse. It’s perfect. I love the lights.” He twisted in her arms to see her face, and she gave him a wide, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Awkwardly, he bent to kiss her. She released him gently, circling until she stood in front of him so he wasn’t twisted like a corkscrew.

“I can tell you thought about this,” she said against his lips, and the vibration of her voice made him shiver. “And that means the world.” A new song began on his phone, and he dropped his head to her shoulder, wrapping her up tightly.

She had a towel tucked beneath her arms, and it was wet, soaking through his shirt, but he didn’t care. Slowly, he rocked her from side to side, and spoke the words from the song into her ear. “Quand il me prend dans ses bras, il me parle tout bas. Je vois la vie en rose.”

A sigh left her lips, and her fingers threaded through his hair. Urging her closer, to step on his feet, he took her hand and tucked it between them. “Je t’aime, Matisse Boudreau,” she whispered and rested her head on his chest, her damp curls beneath his chin.

“I love you.” Pulling back, he waited for her to glance up at him. “I love you.” He wanted her to remember this day, and moment, because he would never forget it.