“Rylan!”

“What do you think the Moulin Rouge was? A nursery school?”

“That’s not why I wanted to come here.”

“I know it’s not.” He pulled out the trump card he’d been saving. “But you did ask me—repeatedly, if I might add—what I was getting out of this trip.”

“I’m not going into a—a brothel.”

He put on an expression of mock offense. “Of course you’re not.” They’d started moving forward again in spite of her misgivings, and—perfect. He stopped and put his arm out, gesturing to just the place he’d been planning to bring her. “You’re going into a sex shop. Totally different.”

“I don’t want to—”

“But I do.” He leaned in close, and she might be angry, but she didn’t flinch away. “I want to buy you a present, and then tonight I want to show you how to use it.” He let his arousal at the thought seep into his voice. “I want to find out how many times you can go before you beg me to stop.”

She drew back, and her face bloomed tomato red. But she put her hands on her hips, a defiant set to the angle of her chin. She looked around. Made sure they were alone before she choked out, “I know how to use a—a—” She lowered voice comically. “A vibrator.”

Well, color him surprised. “You do?”

“Of course I do.” She glanced over her shoulder again, looking uncomfortable but in a different way. She leaned closer, still keeping her voice down. “I told you. No guy has ever managed to. You know.”

“Make you come?”

God, he could feel the heat coming off her face from here. But her silence was her agreement. “So . . .”

“So?”

“So a girl has needs.”

“Never doubted it.” He’d been pretty sure she knew what an orgasm felt like, considering the way she’d arched into his touch and bucked against his tongue. Just the idea of her reaching between her legs and sating that ache had him hardening. The image of her doing it with a little mechanical assistance had him ready to pull her into an alley right here and now.

But he had patience. Not much of it, but enough.

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “What I doubt is that you have any idea how to tell a man what those needs are. Which is why”—he stepped to the side and opened the door to the shop—“we are going to practice.”

She looked from the open door to him and back again, but her feet seemed glued to the ground. After what felt like an eternity of indecision, her flush deepened to the point where he was actually starting to worry she might blow. But just when he was half expecting her to go running for the Metro without him, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine.”

With that, she stormed into the store, and damn. He liked it when she got all fired up. Chuckling to himself and shaking his head, he followed in after her and let the door fall closed behind them.

Inside, the place was well lit. There were some racy images on the walls, and all the shelves were lined with books and DVDs and toys, but it wasn’t the typical place people imagined perverts in trench coats sneaking into to find material for jerking off. Only a handful of people were browsing, but more of them were women than men. Hopefully, that would set Kate at ease.

He picked up a basket and nodded at the girl behind the counter before wandering over to where Kate was standing, eyeing a display of glass dildos.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” He picked up a bulbous one with red swirls and put his lips close to her ear. “Wonder what this one would feel like inside of you?”

She squirmed. “Sounds cold.”

“It would be.” He set it down. “But that’s half the fun.” Grabbing one still in its packaging, he placed it in his basket.

She put her hand on his arm. He opened his mouth, ready to argue for why this was a good idea, why he’d love to rub this up and down her slit and watch it slip inside. But in the end, all she did was lift it out and replace it with a slimmer, purple one.

He practically swallowed his tongue. “Good choice.”

She hummed, walking past him to keep looking around.

While she was doing her own perusing, he grabbed a bullet that looked interesting and considered picking up some lube, but that seemed a little presumptuous. Maybe next time.

When he caught up with her again, she had the package for a mini-wand-type thing in her hands.

“Find something good?”

She startled but didn’t lose it on him again. She added it to their purchases with a shrug. “Travel-sized version of one I know I like.”

“Smart thinking.” He gestured at the rest of the store. “Anything else that gets your motor running?” Speaking of which, they had to stop for some batteries, too. “Handcuffs? Whips? Porn?”

“No, thank you.”

Fine by him.

Up at the front counter, he paid for everything in cash, keeping his open wallet out of her view. He waved her off when she tried to contribute. “It was my idea,” he insisted.

“Fine. But I’m getting dinner tonight.”

He rearranged his mental list of places he’d been thinking about suggesting for the evening. “Fair enough.” He twirled the box for the wand she’d picked in his hand. “And then, after, dessert is on me.”

Kate stood before the mirror in the hotel room. Their hotel room. She swallowed hard, watching the way her throat moved in the foggy glass.

Except for a towel, she was naked.

After they’d gone into that store of his, they’d had a simple dinner, then swung by her hostel to check her out and grab her things. They’d been banal enough activities, but static had crackled in their air between them with every step, anticipation a hot, heavy thing in the hollow of her abdomen.

The previous night, she’d had a sense of where things might be going, but tonight, the whole way back, she’d known. He would strip her clothes off and put his mouth to her skin. Run those warm, careful fingers of his along the swells of her breasts and hips, dip them into the secret places she rarely showed to anyone. Her whole spine tingled, lit up with an equal mix of nerves and thrill.

He’d probably expect to have sex tonight. After he’d been so patient with her yesterday, how could he not? She still wasn’t so sure how she felt about letting him do that to her, but had been psyching herself up for it as they’d walked through the door.

Before he could start turning her to mush with little kisses up and down her neck, though, she’d broken away, insisting on a shower. Alone. If he was planning to be putting his mouth on her again—especially there, she wanted to be clean for him. And besides, she’d needed time to get her head on straight.

She’d stayed under the spray for as long as she’d dared. It still hadn’t been enough.

Picking up her brush, she focused her attention on the tangles in her hair. Her chest and face were flushed from the steam, and little beads of water still clung to her throat and the tops of her breasts. Setting the brush aside, she pushed the damp strands of her hair behind her shoulder. Grazed the tips of her fingers over her clavicle, letting her own touch linger.

Her anxiety was high, but she couldn’t deny it. She’d never felt so sexual before. She wanted this. And she just had to trust: If she were in Rylan’s hands . . . somehow, she’d be all right.

Before she could change her mind, she opened the door to the bathroom and walked out.

Rylan sat on the bed, elbows braced on his knees. He’d stripped off his jacket and his button-down, leaving him in an undershirt and jeans. Behind him, the covers had been turned back and a handful of pillows had been arranged as a cushion against the headboard.

His head snapped up as she emerged from behind the doorframe, and his gaze raked up and down her body. He licked his lips. “Feel better?”

“Yeah. Much.” She fought to keep her hands at her side. Not to reach up and fidget with her towel or hold it more securely across her breasts.