Sasha swallowed, hard. He was close enough now that she could smell the subtle spice of his cologne, mixed with something rawer—like heat and danger.
"You came here because you wanted to know what kind of man I am," he continued. "So let me tell you: I'm the kind of man who doesn't just take what he wants. I make you want to give it."
Sasha tried to steady her breathing, but the weight of his words wrapped around her, thick and warm like smoke.
"And what exactly do you want, Ross?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't hesitate. "Tonight? You. In every way a woman can be had. Not just the body, Sasha—I want your surrender. I want to see how far that fire of yours can burn before you melt in my hands."
She gasped softly, involuntarily. Her spine stiffened and her breath caught in her throat.
For a brief moment, she considered throwing her wine in his face. For another, longer moment, she considered asking him what hotel he had in mind.
