“When he sat up, she gave a sigh and relaxed against the lounge, the exquisite torture over. His eyes crinkled. “You might not have noticed,” he said as if having a conversation in a coffee shop or something, “but last time I looked, women possess two breasts.”

“Look at me, sugar.” She lifted her eyes, and he wiped away the tear that spilled over. “I could tell you what I do and don't do, but you wouldn't believe a word I said. So let's get this over with.”

“He liked to touch, she realized. In bed, he kept his arms around her or a hand on her like now. The way he played with her breasts, or just touched her, or ran his hands over her body, made her feel so...so beautiful, Desirable.”

“Put me down.”“Nope.” He held her snuggled to his bare chest, tipping her up so he could rub his cheek against hers. “I like carrying you.”

“She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?”“Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked. Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?”He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter—amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass.”

“You're allowed to look, sweetheart, he murmured, running a finger down her hot cheek. I enjoy having your eyes on me.”

“When I want to.” He ran his finger over her lips. “You don’t get a vote, honey.”