***

  No.

  She didn’t have one. Jillian followed the same innocuous routine day after day, and she was sick of it. She would love to be the kind of girl who could hop into Smith’s fast car without a care and let the wind whip through her hair as they raced along the freeway. Instead, the mere thought of it caused a churning of anxiety in her stomach.

  She had been daring once. Fun. She’d laughed and lived and taken risks. When had she become afraid to feel?

  After the car accident, and the sudden loss of her parents, she’d sheltered herself from life at a young age, hiding from all its risks and dangers, until she no longer had any idea what it meant to really live.

  Enter Smith. He held an air of mystery and incredible power, and he lived his life on the pinpoint of danger. His daring sense of recklessness inspired her, challenged her to be more, to feel more.

  All she had to do was let it go.

  “Just don’t speed,” she relented, then got into the passenger side of her Mercedes SUV.

  Smith didn’t hesitate to take the driver’s seat and start the engine. It was a weird feeling to be a passenger in her own car. No one else but her had ever been behind the wheel.

  She reached for the seatbelt and buckled herself in. Little use seatbelts were in a fiery wreck, but they still provided a sense of safety. As Smith drove down the drive and pulled out onto the street, she took a deep breath and went through her calming routine. Push glasses up on nose, tug at ends of sleeves, smooth back hair.

  When he charged onto the interstate, the rain still coming down and slicking the roads, she braced herself against the seat. She struggled to swallow, fought the rising panic.

  Relax.

  Just breathe.

  Calm, blue ocean.

  She could do this. She could ride in a speeding car. Swerving between the lanes, passing all the other cars. Smith had the ring on his hand, and that’s what she tried to focus on. She would go anywhere with him for the chance to take it back.

  He sped faster, getting her car’s speed up higher than she’d ever dared. Her stomach lifted and she closed her eyes, listening to the back and forth motion of the windshield wipers. Smith drove too fast, yet the way he maneuvered the car, so smooth and graceful, it felt like they were flying.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, low and husky.

  “Uh huh.” Jillian nodded emphatically, keeping her eyes closed tight.

  Even she didn’t believe herself, but she was determined to make it through the entire ride without freaking out.

  She gripped her fingers around the seat and held on, praying that, wherever they were going, they got there quick.

  With the way he drove, she had no doubt they would.

  She hadn’t expected to end up back downtown.

  “Where are we going?” she asked Smith.

  He glanced over at her, his eyes playful, sparkling. As much as she liked the way he looked at her, she’d rather have him looking at the road when he was driving. “Neither of our homes are safe,” he replied. “We don’t know what Jonathon could have planned, and I don’t like surprises. I think it’s best if we check into a hotel.”

  The idea of being in a dirty, disorganized room made her feel sick. Lots of people meant lots of germs, and she didn’t trust maid service. “Which one?”

  He grinned widely. “The Plaza.”

  She shouldn’t have been so surprised by his choice of hotel. Not with his expensive taste and infinite amount of funds. She would spend the night with him, and eventually, she would get the ring off his finger.

  Chapter 21

  After a few more turns through the downtown streets, Kyriel pulled up in front of his favorite hotel. The entrance was lit against the dark night and glowed softly, welcoming them to its safe haven. The valets immediately surrounded the car and opened the doors on both sides. They knew his car.

  “Do you have any luggage, Mr. Jones?” Walter, one of the butlers, asked, while holding the lobby door open for them with his white-gloved hand.

  “Just the bag in the backseat,” he said, then ushered Jillian through the open door. “Thank you.”

  “Mr. Jones?” She raised a curious brow as they entered the hotel lobby. “What happened to Mr. Smith?”

  “I always use an alias at hotels,” he said, explaining nothing.

  Jillian’s reaction to the lobby as they headed over to the front desk was one of pure shock. Her mouth hung open, and she almost tripped over her own feet a few times because she was staring up at the golden ceiling and the hanging crystal chandeliers, rather than paying attention to where she was walking.

  “Wow!” She turned in a circle, her big eyes taking in the luxurious furniture, lavish décor and polished marble floors.

  She’d obviously never been to The Plaza before.

  Kyriel placed his hand on her waist and guided her towards the front desk to register. She wouldn’t be safe until they were tucked away in a room.

  Then he could spend the rest of the night making love to her, and deceiving her in the process.

  He didn’t deserve his wings.

  “Good evening, Mr. Jones,” Bridgette, the pretty brunette working the front desk, greeted him.

  He’d started a mild flirtation with her the last time he was here and she didn’t look at all happy to see him with another woman. It certainly made the situation a little awkward.

  He rested his arm on the marble counter and put on his best smile. “I need a room.”

  “Of course.” Bridgette looked down her pert little nose at Jillian, narrowing her eyes. “But I’m afraid the Royal Suite is already booked this evening.”

  Lie.

  Kyriel supposed he deserved that. Normally, he’d use his persuasion to get what he wanted, but Jillian had seen enough demonstrations of that power. He’d suffer through the night in a regular room.

  “The Royal suite?” Jillian gave a sarcastic laugh. “How ever do you manage to survive?”

  “A Signature room will do,” Kyriel said, as he shot Jillian a scolding look.

  He enjoyed the finer things and he wasn’t apologizing for his good taste.

  Bridgette punched the keys on her computer and activated a card key that she handed to him. Her tight-lipped smile might as well have been a well-aimed drink in the face. It was a good thing he was used to having women upset with him in one form or another. Bridgette’s apparent displeasure would be nothing compared to what Jillian was going to feel when he was through.

  “Ninth floor,” Bridgette said in a curt, clipped tone, shoving the card key into an envelope and handing it to him. “Elevators are to the left.”

  “Thank you.” Kyriel tried a sincere smile.

  Bridgette glared at him with her warm, brown eyes. “Enjoy your evening.”

  There was no mistaking the venom in her voice and he made a hasty retreat, guiding Jillian back to the elevators.

  “She didn’t like you too much,” Jillian observed. “Old girlfriend?”

  Kyriel didn’t bother to hide his annoyance. Could he help the fact that women were attracted to him? He hadn’t exactly led the girl on.

  “You have no sense of humor,” Jillian commented, turning to face the gold elevator doors.

  “What exactly was humorous about that?” Kyriel snapped in response.

  “Your charm doesn’t work on everyone.”

  “It worked on you.”

  She was unaware of how beautiful she was when she smiled. A rush of blood left his head and swelled heavy in his loins. He knew what he was about to do, that in seducing her he was betraying her, but even his conscience couldn’t stop him. His feelings for her were intensifying, and hot desire raced through his bloodstream. He couldn’t remember ever being this desperate for a woman.

  The elevator doors parted. He followed Jillian inside and they rode in silence to the ninth floor. This time when he kissed her, he’d give her a reason to stay.

  ***

  When the elevator landed on the ninth floor, Jillian walked alongside Smith to the end of a long hallway where he opened the door to room 927.

  She was already in awe of the fancy hotel and the room didn’t disappoint. Chandeliers. Elegant lamps. Victorian furniture. Rich artwork on the walls and vases flowing over with colorful flowers. The king-sized bed was puffed up with pillows and blankets and the decorative wooden headboard looked like it came from a French palace. The white-tiled bathroom reminded her of a Grecian spa.

  “Nice room.” She noticed the white, terrycloth bathrobes hanging on the back of the door. “I’m not sure I could handle the opulence of a Royal Suite.”

  Smith removed his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. “You’d get used to it.”

  Behind him, the valet appeared with her bag. While they talked and Smith tipped him, Jillian took her time inspecting the lavish room, letting her fingertips wander over smooth, wooden surfaces, silken upholstery, and velvety flower petals. She stopped behind the sofa and looked out the window into the night at the tall, lighted buildings reaching high into the dark sky. Her eyes shifted, and she saw Smith reflected in the glass. He continued watching her as he closed the door and dumped her bag on the floor.

  “At least the view is nice.”

  “It’s incredible,” she said, turning from the window. “You can see so much of the city from up here.”

  “I was referring to another view.” His voice was low, steady, his gaze still fastened intently on her. “One I’ve been admiring for a while now.”

  Jillian didn’t know what to say. It was the best compliment she’d ever received. Smith really knew how to sweep a girl off her feet, and she was glad, because it would make having to seduce him that much easier.

  “The view is pretty nice from where I’m standing, too.”

  Smith walked across the room, over to the sofa. There was eagerness in his eyes and it set off her frazzled nerves. He left no doubt in her mind that he wanted to sleep with her and, despite her plan to get the ring, she wanted him just as badly.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said.

  His gaze dropped from her eyes, over her shoulders, to her breasts. She remembered how he’d touched them, held them in his large hands, and in a rush of unbridled desire she wanted to feel his warm, moist mouth there next. Her breath came faster, her heart thumping against her chest. Her entire body bloomed with heat and sensual awareness. The urge to battle her burgeoning emotions grew strong and, for once, she pushed the urge aside, not the emotions.

  When was the last time she’d taken one of her pills?

  Did it really matter right this second?

  Jillian had forgotten how to feel. She used the pills to stay numb, and for the first time in a very long time she wanted to know what it would be like to set her passion free, if only for a little while.

  Smith stared at her. His blue eyes held that mesmerizing, otherworldly glow. As he strode around to her side of the sofa he opened the top buttons of his shirt, revealing the start of his broad, muscular chest. He stopped close to her, and the very air around her seemed electrified by his powerful presence. Looking into his eyes, she saw they shared the same, unspoken desire.

  Lust.

  Gently, he removed her glasses and set them on the nearby table. She didn’t move when he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was surprisingly gentle, then he slanted his open mouth over hers and delved inside with a forceful stroke of his tongue. He held her head in his hands as he kissed her passionately, consuming her with a hot, heady mix of lust and desire.

  Her emotions scattered in every direction, out of control, and she experienced the depth of them all at once. The feelings overwhelmed her, frightened her, and she clung to Smith’s shoulders, pulling him close while she kissed him with all the passion she’d been keeping bottled inside. If she couldn’t control it, she might as well set it free and see where it would take her.

  Chapter 22

  Smith groaned, and his big body tensed as he devoured her with the fury of his kiss, his slick tongue melding with hers. A growing fire burned deep within her and she wondered how she’d ever found the strength to refuse his previous advances. Knowing that she was about to experience the full force of his lust filled her with a hot rush of need and excitement.

  Then his hands were all over her body, caressing, squeezing, arousing every inch of her, and this time there was no stopping his erotic assault.

  She never wanted to stop.

  Jillian arched into his touch, begging him for more with her entire body. A moan came from somewhere deep inside her as her passion mounted, moving hot and liquid through her veins.

  His hands slid down to grip her bottom, squeezing, pulling her hips to his and grinding the hard evidence of his lust into her stomach. Desire for him made her ache and throb where their bodies were joined. She wound her arms around his neck, pulling herself deeper into the circle of his arms, and he finally broke the kiss, leaving both of them panting and staring into each other’s eyes with a shared, silent longing.

  Without a word he lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing and carried her over to the bed. He tumbled them down onto the soft surface and continued to explore her body with his mouth and hands. He pulled her hair free and ran his fingers through the length of it. Her scalp tingled deliciously and little tremors quaked through her, releasing sensations of pleasure. She hardly ever wore her hair loose.

  His fingers worked frantically to unbutton her blouse and she sat up to help him wrestle her out of it, then his hands moved to the zipper at the back of her skirt, wasting no time in getting her out of that garment just as quickly.

  She laid back on the bed and watched in awe as he tore his shirt off over his head, revealing the sculpted muscles of his broad chest. She licked her lips at the sight of his smooth, golden flesh, covered with a dusting of soft hair. She wanted to put her mouth on him, lick him all the way down to his rock-hard abs and then follow the trail of silky hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his pants. He had the most magnificent male form she’d ever beheld.

  Jillian had always dreamed of having a man this handsome and perfect make love to her and now she was moving along at full steam, ready to make her dream come true.

  As he came down on top of her she traced her fingertips all along his bare skin, feeling the hard, powerful muscles of his chest and arms as they tensed and flexed. The touch of his lips on her neck sent shock waves through her and his mouth blazed a hot trail down to her breasts, where he unclasped and removed her bra to work on one of her sensitive nipples, closing his lips around it and caressing it with his tongue, eliciting a pleasured moan from somewhere deep inside her. He repeated the same, delightful action with the other nipple, ending with a gentle nip of his teeth.

  “Oh!” she cried, both in shock and pleasure.

  She hadn’t expected to enjoy something like that, but she wished he’d do it again. Instead he was working his way down to pull her panties off, progressing the speed of his masterful seduction. If he was afraid she’d stop him, or run away again, he had nothing to worry about. Jillian’s blood was on fire, waves of ecstasy surged through her, and she knew only he could satisfy the hot, burning ache that threatened to consume her.

  When she felt the warm pressure of his lips between her legs, the burning ache became liquid fire. He slowly suckled her clit, loving it gently with the moistness of his tongue, arousing a pleasure so great she felt she would die from the ecstasy.

  “Please,” she begged for release from the spiraling tension as her climax neared, drawing her to a height of passion she had never known before. “Oh, please.”

  ***

  Not one to deny a woman her pleasure, especially when she begged so sweetly, Kyriel got out of his pants before he crept up along her beautiful, naked body and stretched out on top of her, bringing hot flesh to hot flesh. He drew his knee up between her legs, coaxing her to part them wider. With his hand, he reached between their bodies and worked her pleasure even higher, spreading her wet heat with his fingers, then he slipped a finger inside her silken crevice. As he gently and slowly thrust his finger back and forth, he kissed her, hungrily swallowing her moans as he feasted on her mouth.

  She was ready for him. So ready. And he could hold back no longer. He positioned the tip of his heavy erection at her entrance and, with a solid thrust of his hips, he shoved into her silky tightness. The feel of her clasping heat as he sank into her depths was so tantalizing, he wanted to keep going and thrust wildly to completion.

  His shaft pulsed inside her, his climax only a few short strokes away. Gritting his teeth, he buried his face against her neck and breathed deeply of her jasmine scent as he began to move, slowly at first, but as she cried out and clutched at his shoulders, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, he plunged deeper, faster, shuddering under the strain of his demanding pleasure.

  She writhed helplessly beneath him as he bucked hard, his strokes long and forceful. His shaft swelled, lengthened, and with his lips parted, breaths ragged, he continued a steady thrusting, holding back his climax as he waited for her to reach him in that place where passion became pure sensation.

  She felt so perfect, her body so in tune with his from the way she moved to meet his thrusts to the gripping tension in her fingers as she clung to him, trembling and desperate for release. Her sweet responsiveness to his lovemaking excited him, and he pushed the guilt aside, knowing full well what he was intending to do as he drove her over that keen edge of rapture.

  Shafting himself deep, he felt her tighten and convulse around him, heard her cry softly in ecstasy. Intensifying waves of pleasure vibrated through him as she gave herself up to the pleasure and came in a rush of wet heat, her inner muscles grasping him tightly.

  Her uninhibited cries of pleasure destroyed his restraint and he gave way to the raging inferno of lust, his body going taut and rigid as a wild, glorious pleasure was wrenched from him. Stunning, pulsing, his climax burst forth.

  He shuddered, groaning loudly as he came hard and long. Guilt rode him twice as hard as he emptied himself into her quivering depths, tiny aftershocks of his climax milking every last drop of his release.