OH MY FUCKING GOD.

What a tool.

But when he touched me?

Ohmigod.

Full-on shivers. From one touch.

How was that even possible?

Then he called me Rehab.

Needing to not fuck what little dignity I had left, I pulled out of his grasp.

Letting me go with that damn smirk on his face that said he knew exactly the effect he had on my body, he shoved his cell in his pocket. “That’s what I thought.”

“Shocking you think at all,” I threw out, aiming to insult him even though I suspected he fed off that kind of shit.

Confirming my suspicion, he laughed.

Brazen and shameless, everything about his laugh made the same shiver he’d gotten out of me when he’d touched my stomach come rushing back, and I wanted to simultaneously jump him and hit him.

“I hate you,” I blurted.

“Good.” He grinned.

Fucking bastard. I fought a smile. “You would say that.”

He shrugged without apology, then he scanned the parking lot and the front of the restaurant. “You can get takeout. We’re not eating in.”

“It’s Japanese,” I protested.

“So?” He opened the door behind the driver seat, pulled out an article of clothing and tossed it at me. “Put that on.”

Forced to catch it or let it drop to the ground, I grabbed it. “I’m not eating sushi on my lap in the damn car.” It was a black zip-up sweatshirt with the Luna and Associates logo on it, and it smelled like him, but I couldn’t imagine him wearing it. Or maybe I just didn’t want to. It’d seemed sacrilegious to cover all that ink on his arms. “Is this yours?”

Ignoring my question, he took a leather jacket from the back seat and put it on. “Then order something else.” Giving me a warning look, he snatched the sweatshirt from me and fed one of my arms into it. “Takeout or nothing.” Unceremoniously shoving my other arm through, he zipped it to the top. Then, as if it were as natural as breathing, he pulled his gun out of his holster, dropped the magazine, glanced at the bullets, slammed it back home and shoved the gun back were he’d taken it from. The whole routine was over in seconds and his hand went to his waist. “Make a decision.”

Wow, that shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.

Getting clean had either made me completely lose my mind or I was starved for attention, or maybe it was the rich scent of aftershave that suddenly enveloped me, but I really wanted to eat a meal with him in the stupid restaurant. I didn’t even care if I had to ask nicely. My skin was tingling from where he’d touched me, and I wanted more.

So I asked.

Nicely.

“Please?”

His other hand went to his hip, and he stared at me.

For a long moment, his dark eyes took me in, and I felt it all the way from the hair on the back of my neck to my toes.

I didn’t know what the hell kind of spell this man had me under, but in that moment, I would’ve done anything he told me to. And maybe it was as simple as the fact that he was a man. All man. A complete asshole, but also a strong, no bullshit, dominating, no brain-to-mouth filter man.

I didn’t know anyone like him.

My whole life I’d been cursed by my last name. Everyone I’d ever met wanted something from me, or they wanted something from my father, and I was just leverage.

Except Shade the Bodyguard didn’t seem to give a single damn what my last name was.

Exhaling, he let his gaze drift down my body, taking in every inch like he was touching me, then he looked back at my eyes and shook his head.

“Remember this moment,” he ordered.

“Oh-kay.” I kinda hated how good he looked in his leather jacket. And I wondered if the stubble across his face was purposeful or because he hadn’t had time to shave before driving up from Miami. I also wondered who the hell Cara was, but carefully trying to shove that whole part of our conversation down, I compartmentalized. Because I didn’t want to know about Cara and the ass pounding she got from him. “Why?”

“Because when it all goes to shit, this was the turning point.” His hand landed on the small of my back. “Come on, princess.”

Awareness shot up my spine and down my body, then went straight to my core. “Sit down?”

“Yeah,” he acquiesced begrudgingly.

I smiled. Wide.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, leading me to the front door and pulling it open for me. “I’m gonna regret the hell out of this.”