“I can see it, Sloane. I can see how close you are. I’m hard, baby, so damn hard, and it’s all because of you. They’re here, too. Watching you. Watching us. Wanting you, but you’re mine, Sloane. You’re all mine.”

“Yours,” I whispered. I tried not to think about the eyes in the dark, afraid that if I did the embarrassment would push aside this feeling, this rising, spiraling pleasure. But I couldn’t keep them out—couldn’t block the thought that I was his, and that they knew it and watched and wanted.

And thinking that, another tremor ran through me. An undulating wave, like a new layer of pleasure.

“That’s right, baby,” he said, knowing me as intimately as I knew myself. “They’re out there, Sloane, in the shadows. They see the way your body flushes, the way your nipples go dark and tight. They can see how wet you are, how much you want this, how close you are. They look at you and see beauty, Sloane. And you like that they are looking. Like that they want you, but can’t have you. Like that you’re safe here with me, teasing them even while you know that I’m the only one who can have you.”

“Yes. Yes,” I said, because it was true. I’d never known it before, but it was so damn true.

“You’re already wet, you’re already trembling. You’re so close now, baby. Imagine me kneeling in front of you. Can you feel my tongue on your clit? My finger teasing your ass. Your body is clenching, desperate for me, wanting me, and I’m sucking and licking, lapping up the sweet taste of you as it builds inside you. As you go up and up, tighter and tighter.”

I moaned in time with his words, because I did imagine it, and he was bringing me closer. I was lost, battered, and as I opened my eyes—as I saw him looking at me, his face bathed in light and longing—I lost my hold on reality, and went spiraling out, over the shadows in the distance, out of the warehouse, and out into the night until finally, sweetly, drifting back to earth and into the arms of this man who’d touched me so deeply without even touching me.

“You’re amazing,” he said as he held me on the dais, stroking my skin, pressing light kisses to my temple, my hair.

The others were gone; there were no more shadows past the light, and I curled into him, feeling almost as if the whole thing was a dream. But it wasn’t. It was real. Tyler was real. And what I felt was very, very real.

“How did you know? How did you know I would like it that much?”

“I look at you,” he said. “Somehow, I can’t seem to look away. And I see you.”

He helped me to my feet. “Time to go,” he said, and led me back toward the entrance and then out the door to the world.

“Look at you,” he said, once we were back in the car. “Fire and beauty, and mine to control.”

“I feel wonderful,” I admitted. I turned to him and flashed a wicked grin. “I’m glad you cheated, you know.”

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “Cheated? What are you talking about?”

“This arrangement. It was a con.” I licked my lips and tilted my head as I examined him, this incredible, sensual, enigmatic man. “That’s twice now. Our first night when you pretended not to know I was a cop, and now this. I’m right, aren’t I?”

He’d started to back the car out, but now he tapped the brake. “What makes you say that?”

“Because you’d already planned to let me dance at Destiny. I didn’t have to agree to your deal to get in.”

“Is that so? How do you figure?”

“You didn’t ask Evan or Cole. That tells me you’d already talked to them.”

He met my eyes, held them as if considering something. Then he nodded. “Well done, Detective. If you hadn’t shown up at Destiny tonight, I would have gone to you tomorrow.”

“But you were so adamant back in the penthouse. Why the change of heart?”

“First of all, we don’t have a thing to hide at Destiny, so it’s not really an inconvenience having you inside.”

“At Destiny,” I repeated.

“Second,” Tyler said, as if I hadn’t even spoken, “it occurred to me that I have a few social obligations coming up where it will be handy to have a woman on my arm. And even handier if that woman is a cop.”

“Oh, really? Like what?”

“Like you’ll find out tomorrow night. Did you bring an evening gown to Chicago?”

“Sure,” I said. “I packed it with the diamonds and furs.”

“We’ll shop tomorrow.” His mouth curved up in a slow, lazy smile. “That may be the highlight of my day. At any rate, those were my practical reasons.”

“And the impractical ones?”

“Mostly, Detective, I just want to fuck you. When I want, how I want, and where I want.”

“I see.”

“Sore loser, Detective?”

I regarded him for a moment, then slid across the bench and put the car in park. Then, before he could react, I took his face in my hands and claimed his mouth with my own in a long, deep, sensual kiss.

When I pulled back, he stared at me, and I almost laughed at the pleased surprise I saw in those brilliant eyes.

“I’m not a sore loser at all,” I said. “And if we’re playing this game, I’m damn well going to enjoy it.”

Chapter Seventeen

I was expecting to go straight back to The Drake, but Tyler surprised me by pulling up in front of a bright yellow building with a red and white awning.

“Hungry?”

“Ravenous,” I said, then smiled. “You helped me work up quite an appetite.”

“I’ll remember to re-stock the fridge. In the meantime, Jim’s will do just fine.”

I peered out the window. It was right around midnight and the place was hopping. “Doesn’t look like fine dining to me.”

“That depends on your definition of fine,” he said. “Amazing hotdogs twenty-four hours a day. You’ve never been before?”

I shook my head, my mouth already watering. “French fries?”

“Even cheese fries, if you want them.”

“You do know how to seduce a lady.”

He brushed a quick kiss over my lips before sliding out. When he returned, he handed me a bag with six hotdogs, along with French fries, cheese fries, and two Diet Cokes. “What?” he asked when he saw my amused expression.

“Hotdogs in The Drake hotel,” I said. “Talk about a contrast.”

“Ah, but we’re not going to The Drake.”

“Where are we going?” I asked warily. “Because, hello?” I gestured to the jacket of his I still wore. A jacket under which I wore no panties. Or anything else. “Not exactly up to most dress codes.”

“An interesting point,” he agreed. “Probably wouldn’t matter, but better to be safe.” He nodded toward the backseat. “Check my gym bag. Should be a T-shirt and sweatpants in there.”

I gaped at him. “Unless they belong to your petite lover—in which case, we’re going to have another problem—any clothes I find in that bag will swallow me.”

“The T-shirt will cover you,” he said. “And the pants have a drawstring. Don’t worry. There won’t be any fashion police around. We’re going on a picnic.”