“I want to taste you.” He dropped to his knees, and she saw her raw desire reflected back in his dark eyes. “Yes?”

“Definitely, yes.” She threaded her hands through his hair as he kissed his way along her inner thigh, pulling him to where she wanted him to go.

“Slowly, sweetheart. I want this to be good for you.”

Most of the men she’d been with wanted it to be good for them. It was about their pleasure, their need. But Sam took his time, his mouth moving to her other thigh, teasing her with the sensual scrape of rough stubble on her sensitive skin, the heat of his breath on her flesh.

“I can’t take any more,” she groaned.

His mouth closed over the most sensitive part of her and he licked and teased, worshipping her until she was holding his hair so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

Voices filtered through the door. Footsteps. Sam clamped his hands on her hips, holding her in place as his warm, wet tongue did things that turned her knees to jelly.

“Look at me,” he whispered.

She met his heated gaze, held it even when the footsteps faded away and his talented tongue sent her over the edge in a storm of sensation. She clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry.

Sam rose and stood in front of her, a slow, lazy smile on his lips. “Sweeter than I imagined.”

“That was incredibly hot. Now, it’s your turn.” She reached for his belt.

Sam gently moved her hand away. “This wasn’t about me.”

Her forehead creased in confusion. “You said you wanted me. I deshapeweared, if that’s even a word.”

“And watching you come was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He picked up her clothes. “But I’m not like the guys who hurt you. I can get as much pleasure giving you pleasure as I do taking my own.”

“Are you serious?” No way was he denying her. Yes, his oral skills were second to none, but that was just the warm-up. She was ready for the main event.

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to have sex?” She stared pointedly at the bulge below his belt.

He hesitated, shifted his weight, cleared his throat. “I didn’t say that exactly.”

“Sam?”

He lifted a curious eyebrow.

“Get naked.”

* * *

• • •

TWENTY minutes later, Layla had to admit that Sam had filled all her wishes, and some she didn’t even know she had. Also, who would have thought that restroom mirrors were positioned so perfectly for viewing pleasure while holding on tightly to the sink? Or that running water could hide all sorts of sounds, from moans and groans to a soft scream?

She pulled on her skirt while Sam straightened his clothes. There was no way she was going to go through the effort of putting on the shapewear again. She could survive a few hours going commando.

“I guess this means I should cancel my date with Harman,” she said.

“Only if you want him to live.” Sam pulled her into his arms and kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and finally her mouth, igniting the fire inside her all over again. What was it about Sam that made her just want to drown in his kisses, the heat of his powerful body, and the strength of his arms?

“We’d better go,” she said finally, tearing herself away. “Everyone will be wondering where we are.”

“I’ll make sure the coast is clear.” Sam slipped out, closing the door behind him.

Knees weak, Layla leaned against the wall. She’d rationalized their last encounter as a one-night stand. Sex and nothing more. But this felt different. Intimate. Emotions were involved. And not just hers. Where did they go from here? Did she hold him to the game? Cancel the rest of her blind dates and kick him out of the office? Or was she reading too much into this, just like she always did?

* * *

• • •

SAM knew something was wrong the moment he stepped out of the restroom. There was a stillness in the air, a curious tension. He looked around for Nisha but couldn’t see her.

When Layla joined him, he clasped her hand. It was a small pleasure to take care of someone who looked after everyone around her—whether it was finding jobs for her clients, helping her mother in the kitchen, looking after her nieces, or accommodating Daisy’s need to have Max in the office. And now she’d given his sister a little bit of normal.

“Sam.” Nisha’s tremulous, strangled voice was barely audible above the music and chatter, but it made every hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

“Nisha?” He shouted her name, dragging Layla through the racks of clothes. “Where are you?”

“Sam!”

His pulse kicked up a notch, heart pounding in his chest. He burst through the racks near the cashier only to find Ranjeet standing in front of his sister.

“Well, look who’s here.” Ranjeet’s slick voice unlocked a cesspool of painful memories. “Sam. It’s nice to see you again.”

Sam’s hands curled into fists. He hadn’t seen the bastard since the divorce proceedings. Against her lawyer’s advice, Nisha had agreed to give up everything she owned—including her wedding jewelry, her interest in the marital home, and her right to maintenance payments—just to be free of Ranjeet. The bastard had even tried to take the insurance payments that paid for her rehab and the house renovations, but the insurance company had resisted.

It had taken three security guards to drag Sam out of the building after the legal papers had been signed. Even then, he’d waited on the sidewalk, ready to make Ranjeet suffer. He should have known the bastard would slither out the back. Nisha had made him promise not to hunt Ranjeet down. She wanted it to be over. But now that he had Ranjeet in his sights, the anger surged again.

“Get the fuck away from her.”

If not for his piercing black eyes, the man in front of him would have been wholly unremarkable. His dark hair was short and neatly cut, beard and mustache trimmed. He had a prominent nose, curved like a beak, and a rail-thin frame that made him look deceptively lean beneath his blue button-down shirt, despite the extra inch he had on Sam in height.

“You can’t begrudge me a moment with my lovely ex-wife. I was so hoping she had recovered from the brain injury that caused her delusions after the fall.”

Sam glanced over at Nisha, his stomach recoiling when he saw the look of sheer horror on her face.

“If you even look at her again, I’ll break every one of your fingers and end your goddamn career.”

“What’s going on?” Layla stepped in front of him, her face creased in consternation. “Who is that?”