“Where are we going?” I ask him, breathless and shivering from the wet clothes sticking to my skin.

“To get dried off.”

We have to navigate through the crowd and deal with people trying to talk to us, but Fitz cuts through them like a man on a mission. Once we’re at the door to the room, I unlock it with the key and immediately kick off the heels digging into my feet while he grabs dry clothes.

His phone is on the dresser and it lights up with a buzz. He grimaces at it before shutting it off and tossing it back down. Then his eyes are on me again. “Shower?” he asks.

I nod, still shivering. “Yes, please.”

We lock it up and head to the bathroom together, pushing through people and cutting through the line.

He shuts and locks the door behind us and turns to me, his back resting against the door.

He’s still in the heels.

“You’ve got experience wearing high heels?”

“I have an older sister.” He shrugs and steps away from the door, moving closer. “We played dress up.”

I laugh. “Seriously?”

He takes another step toward me. “If you repeat this to anyone, I’ll tell them about your flatulence problem.”

And then we’re laughing and his hand is on my shoulder and we’re still laughing as our lips come together. At first soft and tentative and limned with mirth, but then morphing and coalescing into something harder and faster.

His mouth is hot and insistent but his hands are gentle when they start to tug my wet shirt over my head.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Yes.” My voice is a breathy whisper that I don’t recognize.

Then my shirt is gone and I’m standing in front of him in a wet pink sports bra. “Damn, Reese. You are so . . .” And then I miss the rest of whatever he says because his mouth covers mine again before his lips move, trailing a line down my neck. He stops to nip and lick at my collarbone before descending farther.

Heat sinks its tendrils into my skin everywhere his mouth touches. I grip his shoulders, unsure what to do with my hands, unsure what to do with anything.

Then his finger is pulling down the fabric of my bra and his mouth covers one nipple while his hand covers the other. My mind goes completely blank and I can’t see or think straight through all of the sensations flooding me. I think I’m making strangled sounds, but I can’t be sure until he lifts his head to meet my eyes and I know he’s checking on me.

“Don’t stop,” I say.

His answering grin is slow and satisfied and he yanks his shirt over his head, exposing an acre of golden-tanned male flesh that I devour with my gaze.

“Sweetheart, we’re just getting started.”

His naked skin is so close and so intriguing and I wonder if it will feel as good to him, what he did to me, and before I can second-guess myself, I run my hands down his chest and lean forward to put my mouth on his flat nipple.