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everything, make me feel luscious and perfect.
    I want more from him too, I realize. More from this night. It can’t just be his body and his hooded, intense eyes. There’s something there I need to get to, something behind the mask.
    “Wait,” I say, though it practically cuts me in two to stop him. I slide out from under him, not at all easy to do, and he sits up on the backseat, slouching against the side window.
    “I’m sorry,” he says, his expression concerned. “Was I—”
    “No,” I tell him. “You’re perfect. This is—I can’t even tell you how good it feels. It’s just . . . It’s your turn.”
    “My turn?”
    “Yes.”
    I tug him upright and throw my legs over his, straddling him, my leather pants creaking, stretched to their limits. I move close to him, closer, and feel his need for me and know that the warmth of my body where we join tells him all he needs to know about how I feel.
    I have to duck toward him so I don’t skim my head on the ceiling of the car, and his eyes travel down to my breasts spilling out ofthe perfectly tailored cups of my bodice. Then his hands brace my back and he puts his mouth there again, tongue running along the stitched leather.
    “Tell me something true,” I gasp. If I get only one perfect night with a stranger, this is it. And if I’m going to give him some truth of my life, I want one back from him. “Tell me something no one else knows.”
    “All right,” he says and settles back against the seat. He’s thoughtful for a long moment. The party noises drift back to us, but they feel farther away now. It’s just the two of us. Just this moment.
    “All right,” he repeats, as though gearing himself to some confession. “One true thing.”
    But just as he’s about to speak, a grinding mechanical sound fills the space, and the garage door starts to rise.

Chapter 6
Adam
    I nstinct kicks me into action. I grab my shirt and throw open the car door. Taking Catwoman’s hand, I hustle us out of the garage. She’s laughing as we stumble back into the side yard.
    “Why does it feel like we’re in high school?” she says. “Like we almost just got caught by my parents?”
    “We almost got caught by Pearl, which would have been worse.”
    “Pearl’s the photographer? The hostess?”
    I let go of her hand and pull my shirt on. “Yep. And knowing her, she’d have made us pose for pictures of us making out in her Murano.”
    “I haven’t seen much of her stuff, but what I’ve seen is amazing.”
    “Exactly how I feel about you.”
    Catwoman stops. I see the flash of a surprised smile just before she lets out a yelp, tripping on the flagstones.
    I lunge and catch her around the waist. Then I firm my arms and lift her.
    “Whoa,” she says. “What are you doing?”
    “It’s dark and I saw your heels. Let me get you to even ground.”
    “Okay.” She hoists herself up farther, looping her long legs around my waist. I almost trip because, Jesus. I didn’t expect her to wrap around me this way. “Onward, Zorro. I saw a gazebo on the way here.”
    Part of me is seriously tempted to lay her out right on this path. She’s pretty much in the position I want her in, minus all the leather.
    When I spot the gazebo, I kiss her. And because I’m walking, because I still sort of need to see where I’m going, our kisses are quick and soft, and that makes them feel playful.
    I can tell she’s smiling and that makes me smile, and by the time we’re actually in the gazebo and I set her down, we’re laughing as we kiss, which I can’t remember doing with anyone for a long, long time.
    We finally separate, grinning like idiots at each other. I wish I could stay here for longer than a second, but I can’t look into her eyes without feeling like I’m under siege.
    “You have pretty hands,” I tell her, weaving my fingers through hers. Her fingers are slender and elegant, like the rest of her.
    “You have nice shoulders,” she says. “I noticed earlier.