He grabbed her wrist. “I want this to go slow.”

“Sure,” she agreed, even though her mind screamed for speed. She brushed her knuckles against him.

“You want it slow?” he growled.

“No.”

He stilled for a second. Then he hoisted her into his arms. “Good.”

He turned in the foyer, cutting across the oversize room, past the sofa, the armchair and television. He set her on her feet next to a king-size bed.

His hands went to his waistband, stripping off his pants and everything else.

She kicked off her sandals and dispensed with the panties.

She straightened, and they both stilled.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and she felt the edge of her mouth draw into a smile.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She dared to reach out, tracing her index finger along his smooth, warm chest. He looked even better out of his clothes than he had in them, and that was saying something.

He took a half step forward. “Is this a dream?”

“I sure hope not.”

“Things like this. Things like you don’t happen in real life.”

“I’m real.”

“You’re amazing.”

Impatient, she took his hand, backing her way to the bed, where she sank down.

His gaze stayed molten on her naked body as he extracted a packet from his wallet and dropped the wallet to the floor.

“I can make this slow,” he offered again.

She shook her head. “You’re my torrid one-night stand.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered.

She smiled saucily in return. This was the only time she was ever going to do this, and she was going to get it right. “Show me what you’ve got.”

He cupped his hands beneath her arms, lifting her, pushing her farther onto the bed, laying her back. His voice was a deep baritone, rumbling through her. “Seriously. Where in the hell have you been all my life?”

She didn’t have time to answer because his mouth came down on hers. His body covered her own, pressing her against the soft mattress.