“What do you want?” I asked.
“You.”
The word nearly ended me.
I bent and took her mouth again.
This time, I touched her.
One hand slid into her hair, ruining the last of the auction curls. The other went to her waist over the soft sweater, not skin yet, not until she pressed closer and dragged my hand lower with both of hers.
My palm settled over the curve of her hip.
She shivered.
I lifted my head. “Tell me if anything frightens you.”
“Everything frightens me.”
“Then tell me what makes you want to stop.”
Her eyes softened by one dangerous degree. “I can do that.”
“I need to hear the words.”
“I can tell you to stop.”
“And I will.”
She held my stare. “Take me to your room.”
The hallway went quiet.
“My room,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You have your own.”
“I know.”
Her voice trembled, but her chin stayed high.
I picked her up.
Nadia gasped and caught my shoulders. “You enjoy that.”
“Yes.”
“Carrying women around?”
“Carrying you.”
“That should not work on me.”
“Does it?”
Her lips pressed together.
