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His resultant dark laughter tantalizes my skin.

The carpet feels soft under my feet, the lights glow warm, and the sound of my breathing is a little faster than it ought to be. These are the small things I concentrate on to prevent me from turning and climbing him like a pole.

“It’s this one.” Another glance behind me, and I catch him staring at my ass. A seismic thrill runs through me as I slice the key card against the lock. But the light stays red, the handle unmoving beneath my hand. “Dammit.” I swipe it again. And get the same result.

“Allow me.” He plucks the key card from between my fingers. “I am, how you say, adept at fitting large things in small gaps.”

I turn to face him. “Gaps?” I demand, no doubt pulling a what-the-fuck face.

“Hey, I like movies, but I’m no actor,” he replies, suddenly breaking his role.

I don’t know about that. Two years and Troy and I still have our jam jar of scenarios. Two years and we’re still coming up with ideas.

Behind me, the lock sounds, and the handle moves beneath my palm. I step over the threshold, whip around, and pull on the tie of my dress. The fabric instantly parts, falling to my sides.

“Have you changed your mind?” I purr, keeping my hand on the door.

With a shake of his head, my husband seems to come back to himself, and then he’s on me, his mouth crushed to mine as he backs me deeper into the room. I barely hear the door click closed as he takes my face in his hands, cradling it as we kiss. Pressing me back against the wall.

“How much, hermosa?” Beautiful. He calls me that at least ten times a day and shows me such devotion. His eyes. His words. His touch.

“If you have to ask, I’m not sure you can afford me.”

“I would sell my soul to experience you.” Taking my hands, he glides them up the wall.

“I do love a big spender.”

“How much to own your body for an hour,” he rasps, his lips a hot trail down my throat.

“An hour?”

His eyes are wickedly dark over the swell of my breast. “‘How much to fuck you for an indeterminable length of time’ doesn’t sound like a very good business model, Tater.”

“It also doesn’t sound very sexy.”

“How much to fuck you to your satisfaction?” He gives a low hum as he slips his hand between my legs. I practically convulse.

“You can tell what you think I’m worth after,” I pant as he strokes me over the lace of my panties.

“And that sounds like an invitation to be robbed. Wait, didn’t we already do that one—hot woman at the mercy of a home intruder?”

I give the breath of a laugh, loving the way he’s looking at me, feeling the weight of his want like it’s a tactile thing. “Hurry.” My hips tilt with encouragement.

“So we’re done bargaining.” He presses his against me.

“I know you’re good for it.”

“I am good for it.” My body jolts as his thumb finds my clit over the fabric. “Satisfaction guaranteed.”

“That’s supposed to be my line,” I whisper, arching into his touch.

“Give me a figure.” The rasp in his tone feels like Pop Rocks between my legs.

“Troy, please. You know I can’t concentrate when you’re touching me. Just—”

“A hundred euros.” His words blow across my heated skin.

I feel myself frown, not sure why we’re still playing this game, even as I find myself asking, “How much is that in real money?”