“No!” She shoved at his arms, panic banishing the tumult in her brain. “We don’t have time for that.”

He flicked a glance at her hands on his upper arms. “Let go.”

Her fingers instantly slid away as though programmed to obey his gruff tone. Then a heartbeat later, her rebellious instincts kicked in. “If this is Mrs. B’s bathroom, I don’t want to make a mess. Let’s do something simple, minimum undressing, nothing to clean up. Although,” she added with a small smile, “there might be an upside if I get to watch you cleaning the bathroom.” Her smile widened. “That would be priceless.”

“Or you on your hands and knees cleaning while I fuck you,” he said, drawing her hands to his chest, looking down at her with amusement. “Now that’s what I call priceless. And don’t worry about Mrs. B. She’s not a problem.”

Kate gave him a sharp look. “Don’t you dare say because you do this all the time in here.”

“Okay.”

“That’s not the answer I want.”

A lift of his brows. “Is this a lie or no lie situation? Give me a clue.”

She scowled, tried to pull away. “Fucker.”

“I just met you six weeks ago, baby,” he said with inexhaustible patience and a steely grip. “I can’t change the past.”

“In sharp contrast, I don’t have a past,” she said huffily.

“One of your many charms,” he said calmly, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “All that sexy innocence. It makes me crazy. I should lock you away. Or shackle you to my bed.”

She shot him a look of pure incredulity. “That is so fucked up.”

“Too unromantic?” he said with a straight face.

An eye roll, a delicate hiss to her voice when she spoke. “I’ve got news for you, Kemosabe. Check your calendar. We’ve moved past the dawn of time.”

“I have a news flash for you,” he said with the authority conferred by zero obligations and unlimited wealth. “I can do either one of those things. No problem.”

Her eyes suddenly lit up with temper. “I’d fight you.”

He smiled. “Even better.”

“Jesus, you’re a disrespectful shit.” Each word was a hard, pugnacious zap.

He glanced down at the prominent bulge in his unzipped jeans. “Take it out,” he said smoothly, “and we can discuss my being a disrespectful shit and your liking it. Come on.” His voice was soft as he dropped her hands and unclasped the metal button on his waistband. Opening his fly wider, he shoved his boxers out of the way. “Slow and easy now. Watch the zipper.”

She didn’t move.

He softly exhaled, ignored her filthy look. “I have all night, hell—a week if you want. You’re the one concerned about my sister. Should I turn on the TV while you’re trying to make up your mind if you want to fuck or not?” he asked mildly, as if he didn’t have a mammoth hard-on, as if he could control his dick like he controlled everything else in his world. “There’s an NBA game I wouldn’t mind watching.” He reached for the remote on the two-sink vanity.

The bathroom was as big as her living room; even the TV was pretty huge for a bathroom—and placed conveniently on the wall at the foot of the marble tub. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder as he flicked on the TV and clicked on ESPN.

“Goddamn it,” she spat. “Do you ever give an inch?”

He shifted his gaze from the TV to her. “You have no idea,” he said drily. “We’re not talking inches, we’re talking miles, fucking continents. So stop breaking my balls.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

It was part grumble, part annoyance. It was also sweeter than hell because underneath he was saying he couldn’t stay away. “I’m done breaking your balls.” Her smile was filled with possibility. “I apologize for any inconvenience.”

He laughed. “Thanks. I feel better now about you totally fucking up my life.”

“Maybe I could make it up to you.”

He hadn’t heard that pure, clear willingness before, the unquestioning consent and permission. He didn’t even think twice. He went for it. “Maybe you could take a look at my whips.”

Her gaze came up swift and hot. “That doesn’t do anything for me.”

After a lifetime of docile women, he didn’t actually mind her intransigence. He liked the challenge. But then he was on the distant shore of fucked up. “Let me file that away,” he sardonically murmured, “for future reference. Right now, I’m waiting. He’s waiting. Move.”

“Watch it,” she snapped. “Or your dick might suffer.”

“You watch it. Or I might carry you out naked past all the gawking guests and screw you at home.”

Her eyes were huge. “You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t take the gamble if I were you.” His gaze flicked downward, then up, his brows faintly raised.

Her cheeks flushed, her mouth firmed, but she slid her hand down his stomach, curled her fingers around his erection, and carefully worked it up past his zipper.

“There’s a good girl,” he said pleasantly, as if he hadn’t baldly coerced her. “Get on your knees, give him a little taste of your mouth, and then we’ll decide how we’re going to fuck. Your way or mine.”

She shot him a poisonous look.