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from the clothing shop downstairs.”
    A lifetime of paying her own way prompted her to frown. “I don’t want you buying things for me.” 
    He surveyed her lazily. “But that’s part of the fantasy. I want to pamper you. I want you to prepare yourself for me from the skin out. I want to know I put every piece of clothing on you, so I won’t feel bad when I tear it off.” 
    Tatiana wouldn’t be a female if those words didn’t give her a thrill of guilty pleasure. “Maybe just this once…” 
    Done with conversation, Wyatt checked his watch. “You have two hours, approximately, before I'll expect your time to be my own.”
    A shiver of delight ran down her spine. She couldn’t resist a final teasing parry as he guided her to the door. “You’re so presumptuous. I could have had things to do before our night.”
    He smiled and leaned down to whisper in her ear as she exited. “Ah, but, pet, the only thing you'll be doing for the indefinite future is...me.” 

Chapter Four
     
    Two hours. 
    Somehow, he had to wait two hours to see Tatiana again. 
    That was going to be hard, no pun intended.
    Wyatt rubbed his forehead and stared at the computer screen. He had no idea what document he had open, or what it was about. No, there were numbers on it. So it was related to numbers. Probably had something to do with the business he’d spent years slaving over. His baby. Until not too long ago, the sole focus of his existence. No big.
    “Jesus Christ.” He buried his face in his hands. It’s always been more. Yes, some indefinable more that he’d never captured with any other woman, no matter how much he liked or cared for them. 
    When he was young, he could remember playing at his mother’s feet with a mechanical toy she’d treasured from her own childhood. After it was wound up, a pair of skaters would dance around the perimeter of the circular surface, come together for a brief moment for the crescendo of the song, and then skate off again for the chorus.
    When he and Tatiana had called it quits, part of him had hoped they’d never meet again. The pain of the breakup was that excruciating. Another part of him—a secret, hidden part—had wondered if they were like that mechanical couple. Crashing together, twirling around, maybe drifting off. But always returning. 
    Even though he’d been half-waiting for her to come back into his life for what seemed like forever, seeing her again had been a punch to the gut. The gray and boring real world had disappeared, leaving only the two of them and all the things they knew they could do to each other. A buffet of Technicolor fantasy. 
    Their crashing together was inevitable. She’d twitched her tail at him, and he’d started counting down the minutes to locking his lips with hers. Lips and…other things.
    Forget work. Forget his schedule. Forget everything else in the world. All that mattered was her. 
    Wyatt pinched the bridge of his nose. There were no words to explain how hard he’d had to restrain himself from escorting her to his rooms. If he had, he would have stayed. For that matter, he was vibrating with the urge to head upstairs this very minute, to make sure she had actually gone to his home instead of taking the elevator in the opposite direction. No. He pushed that possibility out of his mind. Of course she had stayed. He couldn’t possibly be the only one who was this worked up.
    Maybe she was showering, or better yet, ensconced in the bathtub he’d chosen for its luxurious decadence and never used, because really, who had time for baths when they worked nineteen-hour days? 
    He’d like to see Tatiana soaping up. Washing his come off so he could make her dirty again. 
    But no. He inhaled. Tatiana would be combustible later if he made them both wait.  The woman had a perverse love of testing his limits. The more he controlled himself, and by extension her, the hotter she got. Or at least that’s the way he remembered things from their