“In case I forget to tell you later, you look beautiful.”

His compliment floated through the air, wrapped around me, and I shivered. The DEFCON level rose when I felt the barest hint of his lips brush the shell of my ear as he lifted his head.

The next thing I knew I was being propelled forward, which was a damn good thing because his warm palm on my back, his delicious cedar scent, and the lip touch, my brain scrambled, and that included whatever part of it told my legs to work.

When we got to our table, he motioned for me to slide into the booth so I slid in. Adam moved to the other side and did the same. Without any more saucy smiles, the hostess floated away leaving Adam and me alone.

Alone.

How in the world was I going to get through a night with Adam all to myself?

“Sloane?”

“Hm?”

“Sweetness, look at me.”

Okay, he had to stop with the “sweetness” business.

My gaze slowly skidded to his and when my eyes met his something strange happened—strange and weird and it happened with none of his normal self-assured, borderline arrogance. Adam’s eyes were filled with remorse, but he was staring at me with those guilt-ridden eyes like he’d never seen me before.

What in the world?

“Adam?”

His jaw didn’t clench this time when I called his name.

He outright flinched.

Okay, now, what the hell?

But as quickly as Adam’s mood had shifted it swung back, his eyes cleared, and the remnants of guilt smoothed out.

Adam ended the silence. “Been meaning to ask—”

Unfortunately, our waiter stopped at the table and interrupted his question with, “Welcome to Delmonico’s…”

I sat quietly half listening to the waiter rattle off the specials I cared nothing about, wondering what Adam had been meaning to ask. I did this staring at Adam thinking it was criminal for a man to look as good as he looked, smell as good as he smelled, move the way he moved, have a smooth, deep voice, phenomenal eyes, great biceps, and big strong hands. He was a seven out of ten and I had no doubt that would ratchet up to a perfect ten out of ten when I added the last points. Of course, those contributions to the scale would only be known to the women who Adam took to his bed. But there was no way a man who looked like Adam looked, carried himself with the self-confidence Adam did, and could smile a smug, knowing smile wasn’t sporting the sex trifecta—cock, mouth, and finger expertise that led to multiple orgasms. I had not personally experienced this phenomenon, but Elise had and she’d gone into great detail about the magnificence of a man who had both oral skills and knew how to work his dick. But she’d never had a ten out of ten. At most, she’d had a six, and I’d never had above a four.