“I can’t think of any better way to show you how much I want you than by getting you out of that . . .”

“Shapewear,” she offered.

“You don’t need shapewear. You have a shape. You’re beautiful and all I can think about when I see you is how badly I want my hands on you.” He reached for her and she backed away.

“There’s no sexy way to get this off me, so if you’re imagining some kind of striptease where I slowly peel it off, revealing my body inch by inch, just tuck that image away and replace it with opening a can of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, or if you’re not familiar with that delicious treat, just imagine releasing any product that’s under pressure. Everything wants out at once.”

Sam put a fist to his mouth like he was either deep in thought or fighting back his laughter. “What if we cut out a strategic access panel?”

“Are you kidding? Do you know how much these things cost? Also, aside from the fact that I don’t allow sharp objects near my intimate parts, I can hardly walk around for the rest of the day with my nether regions on display for unsuspecting subway workers who might happen to be working underground when I walk over a grate.”

“So what do we do?” Sam asked.

“You’re just going to have to turn around, pretend I haven’t ruined the moment, and when I tell you it’s safe, you can resume where you left off.”

Sam obediently turned away.

“Naughty.” Layla glared at him in the mirror. “I see you peeking. Face the other wall.”

“Your bossiness is turning me on.” Sam faced the blank wall.

“I’m glad, because these clearly didn’t do the trick.” She rolled the shapewear over her tummy, grunting as she inched the elastic material over her hips. Sweat beaded on her forehead with the effort. This was, hands down, the most embarrassing moment of her entire life.

“What’s going on over there? It sounds like you’ve decided to go ahead without me.”

“If I tried that, I’d lose a couple of fingers from lack of circulation.” Layla leaned against the wall and took a deep breath.

“Is that heavy breathing because you like my ass?” His voice was laced with amusement.

Layla rubbed the sweat off her face with the bottom of her shirt. “You do have a nice ass, as your friend Karen so crassly pointed out, and I’m so desperate to get my hands on it, I am actually reconsidering my rule against sharp objects down below.” With another grunt she shoved the elastic over the widest part of her hips.

“Do you need some help?”

“I would honestly rather die.” She peeled the underwear down her thighs and pushed it, along with her skirt, down to her ankles. Leaning back against the wall, she patted her shirt against her body, trying to soak up the sweat.

“Now do I get my present?”

“There’s an additional complication.” Layla stared at her sandals. “This isn’t going the way it does in the movies.” She bent down to unbuckle the straps. “Next time you decide to surprise seduce me when I’m out, could you let me know in advance? I’ll wear a loose dress, a tearable lace thong, and a pair of flip-flops for quick, easy-access sex.”

“Does this mean there’s going to be a next time?”

She toed off her sandals and stepped out of her clothes. “All I know is that there had better be a this time, because I must have burned one thousand calories getting ready for you.”

Sam spun around, his gaze raking over her half-naked body as he closed the distance between them. “Now, that’s a shape.”

“You’re just horny and desperate to have some. Lucky for you, I’m ready to go. Getting that shapewear off was its own foreplay.” She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pushed it up, her fingers gliding over the ripples of his abs and the hard planes of his chest. With an annoyed grunt, Sam reached up and ripped the T-shirt over his head, baring his chest for her viewing pleasure.

“Oh God.” She pressed her lips to his firm, toned skin. “You look and taste better than my mom’s jalebis.”

Sam grumbled his displeasure. “Will we always have to talk about your mother when we’re having sex?”

“How about we don’t talk?” Her breath hitched when he slid a thick finger into her wet heat. Slow. Firm. Agonizingly delicious.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured. “It really did turn you on.”

“You turn me on.” She arched against him, pleasure rippling through her core. Sam pushed another finger inside, angling to brush against her sweet spot.

“I thought you needed me, like right now,” she panted as he palmed her breast through her clothes.

“I need to give you pleasure first.” His heated gaze trapped her, made her insides tighten.

“So you’re a gentleman sex beast.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, ran her fingers through the softness of his hair. His shoulders were so broad, his neck corded with muscle. But unlike Harman’s steroid-enhanced physique, Sam’s perfect body was real.

“I don’t feel like a gentleman.” His voice was deeper than normal, thick and hoarse. He teased her nipple to a peak through her clothes. “The things I want to do to you right now are as far from gentlemanly as you can get.”

And yet, he was focused entirely on her body, her pleasure. “I think you could probably make me come with all the dirty things you say.”

“Kiss me,” he demanded.

“Now you’re the bossy one.”

His strong fingers stroked their way to her core. “Say my name and kiss me.”

“Sam.” She cupped his face and pulled him down, kissing him with fevered intent.

A rumble of pleasure vibrated in his chest. “Say it just like that when I make you come.”

“There’s that big ego again,” she said dryly.

“You know what they say about a man with a big ego . . .”

Laughter bubbled up inside her. How could sex be fun and hot at the same time? Were people supposed to laugh when they were making out? Jonas never laughed. Sex was an almost religious experience for him that involved soulful looks, intense gazes, and misquoted lyrics from his favorite songs. Before him, her boyfriends had been unremarkable, noteworthy only for their uniform dullness and rapid disappearance when the deed was done.

“He wears big shoes?”

“He has big hands.” He made good use of his big hands, teasing her until she was panting, not from fear, but from arousal, the thrill of being with a man who knew what he wanted, the danger of being discovered, and the sheer exhaustion of shapewear removal.