Roman shuts the hotel room door behind us and closes out the rest of the world.

Not that anything else has mattered since he kissed me in Bellissimo. I’m still buzzing from that kiss, still soaring high above the clouds, blinded by the unadulterated light from the sun. Sure, he kissed me on the balcony of the suite, but even that kiss was tame compared to the one that all the unsuspecting patrons of Bellissimo witnessed tonight.

I don’t care about those people anymore.

There was a moment, when the waitress interrupted us, that I cared. Deeply. But one look around at the tables nearest us told me the glorious truth about switching identities: no one recognized me at all.

They recognized Roman, but Roman is enough of a local superstar that a quick wave and a hefty tip sent everyone back to business as usual.

Everyone except me.

There’s so much excess energy coursing through my veins I’m vibrating on the spot. The first thing Roman does is step close, run his hands from my shoulders to my wrists, and pull me in close.

“You can take a breath now,” he says. I’m about to argue with him—I’ve been breathing this whole time—when it occurs to me that I have, in fact, been holding my breath. I take a deep one in, a burst of oxygen, and Roman looks me in the eye. “If you need another one, now’s the time.”

“Another breath?” My voice feels thin. “If that’s true, you’re into some kinky stuff.”

A half-smile that sends heat down to my toes graces Roman’s face. “I could be into anything with you.”

“I’m into this, right now, the excitement, the anticipation—”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Roman says. “Because I’m done with anticipation.”

The next moment I’m in his arms, close enough to smell the light manliness of the cologne on his skin, and I’m done ignoring my urges. I give in to the first one and lick the side of his neck, digging my teeth into the flesh there. Roman makes a noise that’s mostly animal. It gives me visions of him tearing my clothes off with his bare hands. He doesn’t disappoint.

He takes me directly to the bed, an enormous king-sized thing covered in the pale blue color scheme of this hotel, and uses his strong hands to bend me over the bed. Roman tests my ass with one of his hands, letting out an approving sound and giving it a slap.

It’s not hard enough to hurt, but the sting throws me into a heat so strong I throw my head back, nails digging into the comforter.