He looks around like he’s never noticed how big it is and shrugs.

Grabbing a laptop from a desk, he takes it to the bed and opens it. “I thought we could have our own movie night.”

Intrigued, I move to sit next to him on the bed and laugh when I see what he’s selected for this intimate moment. “James Bond, really?”

“You said you’d never seen it. Consider it a critical part of your screenwriting education.”

I think I’d rather him ravage me again, but I’m completely helpless to say no to what he obviously planned out as a romantic gesture. All those months of restraint and now I’m practically offering myself up on a platter and the tiniest bit disappointed that we’re not going to get naked again immediately but also touched he wants to share something as simple as his favorite movie.

Gah, I’m conflicted. Leading with my heart is too risky. Letting my body do all the feeling seems a safer and more enjoyable mission.

He stands quickly. “I forgot the snacks. Be right back.”

“Bathroom?”

He points to a door behind me and then leans down and brushes a kiss on my lips before leaving.

I go through an impressive walk-in closet, my eyes landing on enough shoes to make any woman jealous. And the bathroom. Good God. Inhaling, I can smell and feel him everywhere. It’s cleaner than I expected, dark wood cabinets and white countertops. I pee, wash my hands, and then wander into the shower.

Which is where he finds me.

Arms wrap around me and I startle. “You scared me. What if I was peeing?”

“You really think that would have stopped me?”

“Boundaries.”

“Not necessary,” he says, and I swat at him. “What are you doing in my shower?”

“I’m wondering what would have happened if I’d said yes the very first time you asked me out.”

I turn to watch his expression, which is pensive, and I assume he doesn’t remember.

“You told me you’d let me use your shower.”

“Oh, I remember.” He presses a button and all the lights go out in the bathroom except a light in the middle of the shower, which doubles as a showerhead. Water rains down in front of us and about a dozen water jets spray from every direction. There’s even music playing. “Regretting your answer about now?”

Yes.

“No.”

He presses the button again and the shower turns off. My shirt and leggings aren’t soaked, but I’m uncomfortably wet.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” he murmurs.

“You’ve been waiting your whole life to use that line, haven’t you?”

He doesn’t answer as he pulls my shirt over my head.

“What about Bond?”

“I think he would very much approve of my priorities.”

I point to the shower controls. “Bond is nothing without his gadgets.”

“Not true. That’s the coolest thing about James Bond – he doesn’t need money or flash.” He presses the button and the shower turns back on. “But he likes them just the same.”