“I’ll carry it up.”

“I am quite capable of carrying my own backpack, Christopher,” I huff. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

He chuckles and drops it at my feet. It lands with a thud.

“You could have passed it to me,” I scoff.

“Wouldn’t want to insult your intelligence,” he mutters as he gets into the elevator. He turns to face the front with a mischievous look on his face.

I know that look.

I step in beside him and turn to face the front. “I suppose this apartment is going to be another dumpster fire.”

He chuckles. “You could say that.”

“And the bed?”

“Already been burned and a new one installed for your highness.”

“So where are we sleeping?”

“The new one is ready and waiting to be corrupted with your forever-faithful servant.”

“You’ve thought of everything.” I smile.

He links his pinkie finger through mine, and we both smile as we stare at the doors. Such a simple and small gesture, but . . . it means so much.

“Leather couch, white bathrooms,” I say.

He frowns over at me. “What do you mean?”

“I’m guessing that you have a leather couch and white marble bathrooms.”

He smiles . . . he likes this game. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know your taste.”

“Oh.” He raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You want to bet on it?”

“Yep.” I hold my hand out to shake his. “Fifty bucks.”

His eyes twinkle in delight. “No, no, no, I only bet for things that I need.”

“Such as?”

“Anal.”

“What?” My eyes widen.

The elevator door opens, and he smiles over at me. “You heard me. I want to see how much of a gambler you really are.” He leans down and puts his lips to my ear and whispers, “If you’ll put your body on the line.”

I bite my lip to hide my smile.

It’s a test.

I roll my lips as I stare at him. This could backfire badly.

“All right . . . anal.” I hold my hand out, and we shake on it.

He opens the door with an evil laugh, and as I put my hands over my eyes, I laugh. “Don’t. I can’t even look.”

“Don’t worry, I have lube,” he teases as he pulls me through the apartment. My hands are still over my eyes.

“Stop it.”

“Ta-da.” He pulls my arms down, and we are in the most beautiful living room of all time. A chocolate leather couch sits proud as punch in the center of the room.

“Ha.” I laugh. “I knew it.”

“But . . . are the bathrooms white?”

I smile. I like this game too.

I turn and run up the stairs to find his bedroom as he chases me. I run down the large hallway and into the bedroom and stop dead in my tracks.

The air leaves my lungs, and my mouth falls open as I look around.

The bedroom is filled with red roses.

Vase after vase.

Beautiful roses with huge heads.

My eyes find his. “What’s this?”

“Well . . .” He shrugs casually as he looks around. “If I’m going to fuck you up the ass . . . I want it to be romantic.”

I burst out laughing, and his eyes hold mine as he laughs too. He takes me into his arms and kisses me softly.

“Is the bathroom white?” I murmur against his lips.

“No.”

I pull out of his arms and walk into the bathroom. “Got you,” I cry.

A white marble bathroom sits in all its grandeur.

“Fuck off.” He screws up his face. “How did you know that?” He turns the shower on and slams me up against the tiles. His lips take mine with hunger, and then he pulls me in under the water, clothes and all. We kiss, frantic and wild.

It’s hot and wet . . . and perfect.

Like him.

With our lips locked, he pulls my wet shirt off over my head.

“Who brought the roses over?” I ask.

He unzips my jeans and slides them down. “Elliot.”

I giggle as I step out of the wet pants. “You made your brother bring me flowers?”

“Yes.” He kisses me. His tongue swipes through my open lips. “He’s working with me on the romantic-anal thing. It’s a two-man job.”

I laugh out loud again. This man kills me.

He kisses me again, and as his clothes come off, we fall silent as we stare at each other.

His huge erection demands attention as it rests up against my lower stomach, and I take it in my hand and stroke him as we kiss. He’s more himself here. I didn’t realize he was quiet at my parents’ until we landed in the UK.

His dark hair hangs over his forehead. His lips are big and soft, and damn. His large muscular body is dripping wet and with that waiting erection . . . just for me.

I’m in heaven.

He smiles darkly as he lifts me off my feet and pins me to the tiles. He wraps my legs around his waist and slides in deep.

My body ripples around his as he takes me over. This is what he does so well: dominates me . . . fucks me so deep that I can hardly remember my name.

We stare at each other, the water running over our heads, arousal screaming through my senses.

His dark eyes hold mine as he pulls out and slams in hard.

“Ahh,” I cry out. The tiles are cold and hard on my back. Not that it matters now; when we are like this with each other, nothing else matters.

Brilliant and blinding orgasm is all that we can see.

He puts his two hands on my shoulders and pushes me up against the wall and steps back from me. “Lift your legs higher,” he instructs me.

My eyes flutter closed . . . fuck.

I lift my legs, and he spreads his legs wide for leverage and lets me have it. Deep, punishing hits. The sound of the water slapping between our bodies is loud.

The friction burns from his heavy cock as it pounds me hard.

So good.

His breathing is labored, and his eyes begin to roll back in his head. I smile triumphantly. This is when I love him the most.

When he is at my mercy, in this moment. I own him . . . and he knows it.

He grips my calf muscles as he holds me. I’m crumpled up against the wall like a piece of paper as he rides me hard.

And it’s good . . . so fucking good.

“Oh . . . ,” I moan. I try to hold it off, but I can’t. I need it. I shudder hard as a freight train of an orgasm slams me.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he moans as he holds himself deep and comes in a rush. I feel the telling jerk of his body inside mine.

His eyes search mine, and I smile softly.

My tiger is tamed.