“Shit.”

Jen choked it out as soon as the elevator doors opened and she processed enough of Sam’s behavior to arrive at one indelible conclusion.

He’d been spying on the exchange between Mat and Viv too.

Damn it.

All right, hopefully not the entire conversation—though he’d seen enough of things to know she’d opted to come this way instead of the restrooms, which probably meant he’d heard the words that had turned her belly into a swamp of disgust and her heart into a forest of anger.

It hadn’t just been the petty shit they’d accused her of. The way they’d dehumanized Sam, like he was a slab of prize game they could stalk and bag, had had her debating whether to break out of her hiding place and “bumble” her way into tossing their drinks back into their faces. She’d held back out of respect and love for Tess. The woman, who did so much for so many, deserved a night of celebration with her family and friends, not hours of stress filled with her piece-of-work sisters going off about her dorky best friend.

And ergo, her sprint for the elevators instead of the ladies’ room. Along the way, she’d tapped out a fast text to Tess, explaining she was going to her car to change into more reasonable shoes—not a lie, but she also needed the self-imposed time-out simply to get herself under control again. Not just because of the rage ball from Viv and Mat. She’d already been a massive tangle of nerves and emotion, thanks to John Franzen’s “surprise” plus-one to this thing—and oh yeah, the “fun” elevator ride she’d been on right before that…

And now here she was, back at square one for all that.

No. Was there such a thing as negative square one? Whatever the hell that was called.

Worse, because she now realized she’d punched the wrong damn floor number too. And there was no way she could reach around to correct her blunder. Sam made that part clear as soon as the doors closed all the way and crowded in on her, consuming her immediate sights with the raw wolf hunger of his unblinking stare. Then blocking out all her light with the looming cliffs of his shoulders. Then filling up her senses with his intoxicating smell, all forest and cedar and leather. Then paralyzing her with the wavelengths of his energy, volatile and virile and focused. Completely on her.

“S-Sam.” And her inner Sofía was still on an extended break, leaving her to scrape together a coherent voice from the awkward, exposed tatters of her self-composure. Five minutes ago, she’d been shaking in protective rage for him. Now, she was trembling in giddy, smitten awareness because of him. And it felt completely ridiculous. And utterly miraculous. This was the part where her corset was supposed to feel too tight, only in no world was a silk wrap dress from the last Nordstrom Rack sale even close to a corset. This was also the part where he was supposed to lean in tighter, letting his hooded stare drop to her gasping lips, but then pull back, bussing her knuckles instead before softly growling if he was intruding in on her tender sensibilities…

Sam definitely had the lean-in nailed.

And the smoldering viscount fixation on her mouth, from which she was frantically inhaling and exhaling as he got closer. Then closer…

But no way was there going to be a dignified retreat. Not by an inch. Not by a breath. As her breaths came with more merciless force, the huge Scot scooped up her wrists beneath his hands, pinned them against the leather wall, and then used his thigh to secure her from the waist down—by pushing it directly between her own.

“S-Sam!” She wasn’t sure if she wanted to yelp it from sheer shock or cry it from sheer joy. As a result, the sound was a weird combination of the two. He seemed to get the gist, since he went right on rocking his boulder-hard quadricep directly against the part of her legs. Her whole body trembled in support of what her pussy had already begun. “S-S-Sam…”

“Hmmm. My sweet Jennifer.”

For a second, her glare eclipsed every shred of her nerves. “Jennifer?”

“Would you prefer Jennifer Josephine Thorne?”

“Would you prefer to keep your teeth?”

The elevator started to ascend. He tilted his head, letting his eyes dip over her face and then back up again. Though they glittered brighter than ever, his mouth stuck to a no-nonsense line—as he started working her crotch with the flat of his beautiful thigh again.

“I’d prefer that we finally cut the bullshit.” He barely lifted it past a murmur. He didn’t have to. Oh damn, he was so close. So big and hard and—

“A-About wh-what?”

He pulled in such a deep breath, she felt the point that it shook his whole chest. “For starters, all the utter keech from those two shrews that nearly turned you into a gingin’ mess.”

“Huh?”

His lips thinned. His gaze sharpened. The expression might’ve been only nominally daunting if he didn’t reinforce it by working his fingers over her inner wrists and palms of her hands. Holy shit. How did the man know all the nerves there seemed to be wired right into her arousal centers? All of them…

“Mattie and Viv were spewin’ raw shit, a leanbh. And if tonight wasn’t so important for your friend, I would’ve made certain I melted all the makeup off their faces while informin’ them of that. ’Course”—he narrowed his eyes and seesawed his head—“that might’ve taken a spell to accomplish, seein’ as they piled themselves like six-layer trifle…”

Jen spurted a laugh. He didn’t. As best as she could tell, he was still brutally serious. She watched his pulse throb at the base of his throat. Let her gaze descend to where his taut, golden skin disappeared into the V of his shirt. “So…what else are we cutting the bullshit about?”

He was silent. For way too long. Which only curled his heavy, dark growl deep into her blood.

“Jen.”

She gulped again.

“Jenny.”

God. When was the last time she’d been called that? Never. And had it ordered at her in that deep purr… Her senses felt punched through the elevator’s roof, up the shaft, and into the endless stars outside.

“Wh-What?”

“Look at me.”

She had no choice. He controlled her then, his voice like velvet strings, tugging her sights up. Over his taut jaw. Across the defined curves of his lips. Into his quicksilver eyes, fixed on her.

“This is going to happen.”

Shit.

She gulped. Really hard.

“You know it, Jenny…and I know it. We’re not in control here anymore. This is…” He grunted, shaking his head before lowering his forehead atop hers. “I’m not fuckin’ sure what this is. Nature? Fate? Destiny? Chemistry?” Then another grunt, darker and grittier. “Torture? Tragedy?”

She laughed again, though softer this time, because it couldn’t be helped. Because he couldn’t be resisted. The man was beyond beautiful, especially in the throes of his desperate confusion. His vulnerability called to her, and his dichotomy entranced her. His angel’s flawless face atop his demon’s perfect body. His molded mounds of muscle, outlined by the same shirt that stretched across his intense, passionate heart…

“Well,” she murmured to him. “Torture may still apply, now that you’re on Mattie Lesange’s radar.”

A vicious sound vibrated in his throat. “She’s a pure, petty minger.”

“But she’s also smart as hell, Sam—and that can be a crazy combination. We can’t ignore the writing on the wall.”

He growled again and moved against her with a motion that combined a hip roll and a groin thrust in ways she’d only dreamed of before now. “Writing on the wall isn’t as fun as a sweet mouse up on the wall.”

Though with those words, along with his delectable undulations, she might soon be nothing but mush on the wall. Still, she compelled enough mental neurons to pierce her mental mush to say, “You…you have to listen to me, mister. That woman wants you bad.”

“Well, she can’t have me.”

“Thank God. Holy shit.” The last half escaped as soon as she realized the first had been spilled. “Okay, so I’m just saying—” She wetted her lips. Instantly regretted it, as soon as Sam’s gaze flared like a wolf scenting fresh prey. “I only mean that—”

“I know what you meant, Jenny.”

Damn. Damn. She’d aroused a new beast in him all right—and the result enflamed her blood, thrilled her pulse, cartwheeled her entire belly. She’d read somewhere that life became its most vivid right before death. While the man wasn’t about to literally rip her throat out, it constricted around her air nonetheless, confirming she was about to surrender something just as significant. Part of her was about to vanish…

So a new part could be awakened. Enlightened. Molded anew, beneath his masterful hands. His lover’s touch.

His perfect dominance…

“I know what you meant.” He repeated it while trailing his mouth down the side of her face and then into the indent between her jaw and neck. “Just as you understand everything I’ve meant, aye?” The question came with the emphasis of his bared teeth, which he dug gently into the space in front of her ear. “And everything I want. And crave. And need.”

He bit her again, a little harder, tumbling the words through her like gravel in an hourglass. Every inch of her body was freshly scratched and compromised, in danger of being the breach that would completely shatter her. Slaughter her. Then open her back up, into something brand new…

She’d never been more terrified in her life.

She’d never craved anything more.

And tried to show him so, arching her chest up to his while letting her head drop against the leather wall. Closing her eyes. Feeling for his breath on the air. Matching hers to it…

“Yes.”

And reaching for that word in her soul.

“Yes, Sir.”

And adding that extra, special syllable to it.

“Yes…I understand.”

Sam’s soft, approving snarl turned into a thousand fingers of electricity down her neck. They fanned into the fullness of her breasts until pinching perfect heat into her nipples, and she was conscious of the stone-hard nubs fighting the confines of her bra. She answered him with a sharp gasp—

That became a protesting cry as soon as the lift doors whooshed back open.

“Shit,” she muttered, though was actually grateful to see an empty guest room floor instead of the lobby. Despite the blatant kink-vitation these “special” elevators offered, she wasn’t used to dealing with an audience when she was this high on arousal. She could only imagine what she looked like right now, caught beneath Sam with her legs splayed, her arms pinned, her lips swollen, her eyes misty. To her understanding, this was the kind of thing that only happened to other people. Fictional people.

Finally, she succeeded in blurting, “S-Sorry. I—I punched in for the wrong floor…”

“I didn’t.”

She swung her head around, impaling him with a gape. “Huh?”

Sam stepped back, preventing her mushy knees from giving way by wrapping one hand possessively around her elbow. He plunged his other hand into his front slacks pocket, his pose as slick as James Bond, with a steely gaze to match. “Fail to plan; plan to fail.”

“Huh?”

With a smooth swoop, he held up a room key between two fingers. “When Franzen filled me in on how I might know Tess’s cute maid of honor from the base, a certain lass with bright green eyes and a wicked sense of humor, I dared destiny to let me down again.”

As he pulled her out of the lift, she hit him with her perplexed scowl. “Again?”

Without stopping his march down the hall, he murmured, “Dropping you back at your office after we returned from the school”—his jaw turned the texture of the diamond-inspired wall sconces they passed—“after you whispered those words to me in the car…was the metaphysical version of bein’ kicked in my fuckin’ baws.” He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hall. Secured her tighter in his hold as he whipped around to face her with an expression defined by stark lines and unfaltering purpose. “But I could see that you were spooked by it all,” he grated. “That maybe you needed some time to figure it out. We don’t live in a world that makes it easy for a lass to admit she likes submissiveness, even if it can be the greatest gift she gives to her man and herself.”

Jen blinked. Then again. Despite every rugged detail of his face being perfectly clear and brilliant, it was as if the man had blinded her.

With his undeniable truth.

“The…gift?” Despite her questioning lilt, she recognized it too. Yeah. Truth.

“Jenny.” He wound his hand up and around the back of her neck. His gaze was more sure than ever, beyond even a wolf’s stare. His grays were intense and focused, filled with need and lust and adoration…all man. “I’ve confronted enemies of freedom at speeds that would turn your stomach and spin your mind. I’ve had to make life-and-death decisions while starin’ at the earth through my canopy, and usually in split seconds. I’m a creature trained and wired to follow my instincts—and since the moment I met you, every instinct in my body has told me to conquer you.” With breaths audibly rushing in and out of him, he raked his grip up to her shoulder. “But only if you’re sure, a leanbh. Only if you want this too.”

Somehow, in some way, Jen managed a hard gulp. But while it gave her mind a second to form coherent words at her lips, it didn’t ease the burn of the truth now raging through her instinct…and blazing through her soul.

“I…yeah,” she finally rasped out. “I want this, Sam.” She moved all the way against him…unable to ignore the shaft of heat pressing at her from the center of him. It only made her more sure as she reiterated, “I want you. I…I need you.”

Sam wasted no time in turning and waving the key at the pad on the door. He swung the portal open by bracing it with his weight. With an equally swift tick of his head, he commanded her forward.

“Get inside.”

With her nerves racing, her heart exploding, and her brain screaming, Jen immediately, silently complied.

The suite was dark except for the dancing colors across the walls, thanks to the digital billboards along the Strip, forty floors below. Jen reached and turned on the lights.

Sam turned them back off.

In the same sweep of motion, he backed her against the wall. Kept her locked there with the press of his huge body, the force of his steeled glare…

And the crush of his dominant kiss.

A stunned mewl quivered up her throat. He snuffed it before it reached her lips. Consumed her with the sweep of his tongue, not stopping for innuendo or permission. He took over every corner of her mouth, licking into every crevice, leaving no confusion about his passionate purpose.

Holy shit.

Was this really happening?

She’d dreamed about it so many times for ten days straight. Tried to imagine how he’d feel, smell, taste, and look. But all of this was so much better. So much more. His muscles, big and dense, molded against hers. His fingers, long and forceful, twined into hers. His kiss, deep and consuming, took over her. He definitely wasn’t her charming “friend” anymore. Gone, as well, was the suave rogue he showed to everyone at the base, as well as the funny entertainer for the kids at reading hour. In his place was a lover, bathed in golden light but defined by dark intent, pinning her wrists to the wall over her head…leaving her only one option with which to answer his passion.

Complete surrender.

With a groan, she softened, melted…gave in.

With an answering growl, Sam plunged deeper, harder, hotter.

Minutes—hours, perhaps, as if she cared—later, he dragged away far enough to bolt his gaze into her. A slow smile spread over his generous lips. “I’ve been dreamin’ of doin’ that for far too fuckin’ long.”

“That makes two of us.” She punctuated with a soft laugh. “Though I think Eveready really likes me now. What I’ve spent on vibrator batteries over the last week probably rivals the state’s budget for the year.”

His lips parted. His gaze glittered. He lunged into her again, kissing her as if she’d turned into his life support. “Mention vibrators like that again, Jenny, and I’ll forget the private promise I made when bringin’ you in here.”

“What promise was that?”

“The one about makin’ love to you like a gentleman.”

She rolled her wrists against his hold. “This is being a gentleman?”

“Compared to what I really want to do with you right now?” As he nodded, his forehead fell against hers. “Yes. This is bein’ a gentleman.”

He finished it by bending in, once more fitting their lips together. This time, the contact was a gentle brush. Jen didn’t hold back on the effect of it: a tremor that rifted the fault lines of her control. Her knees weakened. Her clenching cleft rubbed against her soaked panties.

“Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t be a gentleman.”

A snarl ripped from deep inside him. As his mouth tore into hers all over again.

They groaned. Thrusted. Shifted. Needed. Jen hitched one leg around his waist and then the other. Sam adjusted his weight, securing her hips to the wall by sliding his crotch against hers. Dear…God. The man’s erection, even shielded by his clothes, matched the rest of him. The bulge between her thighs was big, broad, throbbing…irresistible.

Which made the next moment a little unnerving.

All right…a lot unnerving.

Deep furrows of conflict creased his brow. He slowly shook his head. “Bold, bonnie girl,” he finally rasped. “You still don’t understand.”

“Then make me,” she countered. “Please, Sam. Make me understand.”

He slid one hand to the side of her face. Angled his thumb beneath her chin, bracing her to continue gazing at him. Like that was a huge problem. “You can already feel how badly I want you.”

She couldn’t help giggling. “Sam, they can probably feel it two rooms over.”

He didn’t return her humor. “But things aren’t just that easy.”

She pushed her lips up at him. When he deliberately pulled back, she pleaded, “Why?”

“Because…I want you completely, Jen. All of you…surrenderin’ to me.” The skirmish across his face continued until he seemed to reach some bold inner decision. Jaw newly firmed, he went on, “It means I want to put you on that bed, strip every thread of clothing from you, and then bind you down”—he pushed harder on the wrists he still held—“a great deal like this.”

Jen fastened her stare deeper into his. “Only the bonds won’t be your hands.”

New light flared against the smoke of his eyes. New blood surged into the girth of his cock. “My hands would prefer to be busy with other things.”

As her own blood rushed south, Jen sucked in a long breath. “But is all that even…possible? I mean, here? This is a hotel, not a kink club.”

“This is the Nyte Resort.” He stepped back a little, only to slide open the door to the entry hall closet. Inside of that, there was another cabinet, containing a backlit display, much like a custom liquor array. But in place of Belvedere, Bacardi, and Patrón, there were items like wrist cuffs, blindfolds, and riding crops. “An honor bar for every thirst.”

“No shit.”

Her face heated all over again. It had nothing to do with the toys and everything to do with the new intensity of Sam’s stare. She couldn’t bear to return the scrutiny, for fear of what it would do to her bloodstream…and the little lake pooling between her legs.

“Is that a good ‘no shit’ or a bad ‘no shit’?”

Time to look up. Even if she spontaneously combusted from it, she had to let him see how much she meant her response. “Could anything be bad with you, Sam Mackenna?”

An expression suffused his face, something between humility and pleasure. It warmed her so deeply, she wished she could tell him to do it again so she could fetch her phone and make a GIF of it. But even a digital reproduction wouldn’t compare to the energy he gave off, a heat that made her wonder if her extremities would turn into fireworks. It made her response to his next words an absolute no-brainer.

“Very well, then. Get on that bed and let me watch you take off every stitch of your clothes.”