Naturally he did it again, and her eyes drifted shut again. “Well, maybe I can think,” she admitted softly. “But it’s not the kind of thoughts made for mixed company.”

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he murmured in her ear. “Those thoughts spinning through your head are for mixed company. They’re for me.” He invaded her space a little more, making her suck in her breath because he felt so solid and smelled like heaven. “They’re for you, too,” he told her. “For what we do to each other.”

She opened her eyes at that. “Which is what, exactly?”

“Make each other feel good.”

Yes. Yes, she knew that, but she’d thought…for a minute she’d let herself think…hope…“Is there more than that?”

His gaze met hers. Again, openly honest. Brutally honest. “More than that isn’t something I do.”

“I know.”

He looked at her for a long beat, then pulled back a little, and sipped at his beer, continuing to watch her thoughtfully. “How about you?”

“What?”

“You get involved with every guy you sleep with?”

“I’m afraid so, yes.”

He nodded, and sipped some more, and by the way he’d backed off physically she got the message that he didn’t intend to take it any further. Which in a strange way was a compliment.

He didn’t want to hurt her.

But damn, she wished she’d let him take it a little further before they’d had that conversation, maybe even as far as his bed.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he smiled a little, and touched her hair, but he didn’t try for more than that, and eventually they began the walk back to Hush. The streets were dark, quiet. There was no moon and a low fog lent an odd intimacy to the night around them.

The brown bag in her hands crinkled, reminding her of what she held.

And what she could do with it. “I can’t believe I let you buy this for me.”

The man beside her smiled but didn’t speak. He never seemed to feel the need to fill an easy silence, and she’d gotten used to that. And nearly, but not quite, used to the way he touched her at every opportunity, a hand low on her spine as he guided her through a door, the way he bent close to her when he wanted to whisper something for her ears only, so that his jaw would brush hers and his lips graze the sensitive skin beneath her lobe.

“Tired?” he asked when they stood in Hush’s lobby.

It was late, and given the stress of the few days she’d had here, she should have been past exhausted. But just peering into his dark, dark eyes banished any exhaustion. He was looking at her, his hands in his pockets, giving her an unusual amount of physical distance for a man who typically had no problem with body contact.

He was holding something back. Looking at him, she could see his shoulders tense with strain. His jaw was locked tight.

And that heat in his eyes was a carefully banked fire, and it nearly brought her to her knees.

He was holding back his desire for her.

Because of their conversation at Patrick’s? If so, the man had been wrong about himself, he was sweet, and kind, so much so that she felt a lump catch in her throat.

He wasn’t the type of man to let a woman close. He didn’t want the burden or the responsibility of her feelings, much less his own. He’d learned young to count on no one but himself, and that wasn’t a habit he would break lightly, if at all.

But she understood even more than that. This wasn’t simply about her becoming attached to him.

But vice versa.

And he didn’t like it. It scared him. That anything could scare this big, tough man was almost beyond comprehension.

But she’d scared him, and scared him deep. The tenderness that welled up nearly choked her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, taking a step back, and she suspected, an even bigger mental one.

“Like what?” she asked softly.

His gaze searched hers. “Like maybe you’re seeing me for the first time.”

She was, and because of it, she smiled.

He did not. If anything, he looked more tense, and with his hands still in his pockets, the tendons and cords of muscle in his arms stood out in bold relief. The waistband on his pants gaped away from his flat, hard, tightened abs. She wanted to touch him there. Everywhere.

God, she wanted this man. She wanted to hold him, soften him, soothe him. She wanted to give him what he’d probably never let any woman give him: gentleness. Reaching up, she cupped his jaw.

He actually flinched. “What are you doing?”

“Touching you.”

“Don’t.”

His voice sounded low, almost harsh, but she didn’t take offense. Not when she’d just figured him out. “You touch me all the time,” she told him. “Why can’t I touch you?”

He didn’t seem to have an answer for that.

So she smiled again and said, “Thank you for tonight, Jacob.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

She lifted the brown bag. “You showed me a side of New York I might not have gotten to see.”

His eyes darkened. The muscle in his jaw leaped. But he said nothing.

“I imagine it’s still early for you,” she said. “What are you going to do now?”

“I have to go up and look in on one of the suites. There’s some VIP coming in tomorrow, and I’m cooking a private dinner for him and his fiancée. I want to check the kitchen.”

“I heard the suites in this place are designer created and have to be seen to be believed.”

He just looked at her.

She looked back, heart racing. What the hell was she doing? Baiting a tiger. Poking the bear.

“You want to come up to the suite with me,” he stated rather than asked.

“Yes,” she whispered quickly, before she changed her mind. She was insane, crazy-

“You know what toys the suites are equipped with?” he asked in a voice that left no doubt as to what category of “toys” he was referring to.

She’d read the brochures, and took a big gulp. “I think so.”

“You think so.” He shook his head and muttered something to himself that sounded like “Don’t do it, Hill.”

She just waited breathlessly.

He stared at her, the kind of deep, dark, edgy look that might have sent her running if it wasn’t him. But she knew him now, and his bark was far worse than his bite.

At least she hoped so.

“There are video cameras and blank tapes,” she said, “to be, um, used however the guest wants.”

“They’re not for filming the kids at the park.”

“I know.”

He stood toe to toe with her, not touching her in any way, but her body tingled nevertheless. “The camera is there to film the sex adventures the guests find here. Threesomes, hot tub adventures, S and M…”

She took another gulp. “I know. I want…I want to see.”

“See? Or do?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

He groaned at this, and turned in a slow, agitated circle, rubbing the day-old growth on his jaw.

The scratchy sound of it made her shiver. She wanted to feel it against her skin. “Show me,” she whispered.

“I must be insane. Insane.” He walked away a few feet, then stalked back, taking her hand. “Come on then.”

He said this grimly, resignedly, and she wanted to tell him not to worry, it would be okay. But of course it wouldn’t. Nothing would ever be okay again.

They took the elevator in silence, except for the brown bag in her hand, which crackled when she nervously tightened her grip.

Jacob’s gaze met hers, and there was so much in it she swallowed hard. Before she could come up with something to say, he was leading her off the elevator and to the penthouse suites.

When he opened the door, she couldn’t help but gasp. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” But he didn’t seem to notice the surroundings as he nudged her inside enough to shut the door.

She gaped. She couldn’t help it. The foyer was as large as her hotel room.

“It’s called the Haiku Suite and was designed by Zang Toi. High-end Asian luxury.”

There were floor-to-ceiling windows, and where there wasn’t glass, the walls were upholstered in silk, the molding done in sycamore.

“The furniture is antique, the Oriental rugs handcrafted.” He shook his head. “It’s amazing to me that someone would put such expensive stuff in a hotel, but people like to be pampered. Especially here.”

She looked at the lovely antique furniture polished to a high shine and the low couches arranged in a way that encouraged socializing. “There’s still something different…”

He turned and looked at her. “Do you mean because it’s meant for sex?”

“Um…” She bit her lower lip and clutched her brown bag. “Well, yes.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He pointed to an enclosed bookcase. “There’s the video selection. Let me be specific. We’re talking erotica. The best out there. Specifically designed for each guest.” He pulled open the doors and revealed a stack of DVDs all geared toward spanking. “This particular guest’s favorite fantasy.”

She swallowed hard. “Um, how does Hush know what they’ll want?”

“Questionnaires.”

“The questions must be interesting.”

“You know it.” He pulled out a DVD. The cover showed a woman over a man’s knee, her skirt pushed high on her waist, her panties to her knees, her bottom extremely red.

She struggled not to react but she felt her eyes widen.

“What do you think?” Jacob asked her, sounding darkly amused.

She looked at the man’s big hand, raised above the woman’s bottom. “Um…”

“Let me guess. Not your cup of tea?”

“Not quite,” she managed.

With a rough laugh, he put the DVD back and took her into the bedroom, opening the closet there.

This time her mouth just fell open.

“A selection of costumes,” he said, holding up a leather bustier, complete with whip. “This one is for a dominatrix fantasy.” He arched a brow at her choked laugh. “No?”