Hudson walked closer, bringing her back to the present, her cheeks warm from the memory. After he flicked on the gas fireplace, he turned back to her. Other than the small lamp on the desk and the flickering firelight, the room was dark.

Annika hovered by the bathroom, feeling nervous and fluttery, like she was a high school student about to have sex for the first time—which was so far from the truth, she would’ve laughed if she didn’t feel like gulping down twelve gallons of water for her parched throat and running away.

Hudson approached her, his eyes determined. He was lithe, confident, not a trace of uncertainty about him. He ran his fingertips feather-light down her arms, then laced his fingers with hers. “Hi.”

She had goose bumps all over her skin. “H-hi.”

“You sound nervous.” He said this in an assessing way, without judgment or amusement.

“I kind of am,” Annika laughed. “Which is ridiculous, I know. We already hooked up in Vegas, but—”

“But this feels different,” he said, his face softening.

Annika nodded.

Suddenly, he was smiling the most deliciously devilish smile she’d ever seen. “A bath would relax you.”

“A—a bath?”

Taking her by the hand, Hudson led her into the giant bathroom. In dead center was an enormous polished granite tub. Coming up from behind her, he pushed her hair to one side and kissed the nape of her neck. Annika closed her eyes.

“I could draw you a bath,” he whispered against her skin, his hot breath tickling her. “How does that sound?”

“Yes. Okay. Good.” She was incapable of speaking any more syllables. Already, her shirt and shorts felt like too much clothing, too much restriction.

“Good.” She could hear the smile in his voice. Straightening, he walked around her and began to fill the tub, dumping in a generous helping of the freesia-scented bubble bath that sat in a little wicker basket next to the washcloths.

Then he walked to the phone mounted to the wall, grabbed the handset, and pushed a button. “A bottle of your best champagne,” he said, looking right at her. Her stomach flipped.

“Why the champagne?”

He hung up. “We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?” Her voice got hoarser the closer he came. He was like a proud lion in the jungle, king of all he saw. Including her.

Gently, using just his fingertips, he slipped the straps of her camisole down her shoulders. “You. Us. Here, together.”