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herself to have sex with a handsome stranger. Her stomach had been churning with harmful anxiety, but she’d marched out of the bathroom, tipped the bell boy and put the plan into action.
    She’d only lost her nerve when it came to the lights. She thought turning them off was a reasonable request. Except he hadn’t honored it. She was naked and exposed, and he was staring at her as though he’d never seen a woman without her clothes on. The embarrassment was almost too much to bear.
    “Are you crying?” His voice was incredibly gentle, and the mattress sagged under his weight when he sat down on the bed. He reached out a hand, and she braced herself to withstand his intimate touch, knowing it was no more than she had invited. Instead of stroking her breasts or her thighs, however, his fingers came in contact with her forehead. He smoothed back the hair from her face. “Why are you crying?”
    “I told you, but you didn’t listen,” she said on a sob, painfully aware that most of her was exposed to his gaze. “I’d rather you didn’t see me.”
    “Why not? You’re beautiful.” His eyes had darkened so they seemed more black than chocolate, and tiny goose bumps formed on her skin.
    “I am not.”
    “Sure, you are.” His hand dropped, and he wiped away the tears under her eyes. Even though they were the only people in the room, he spoke in a whisper. A husky, sensual whisper. “You have one of the sexiest bodies I’ve ever seen.”
“No, I don’t.” Marietta shook her head vigorously at his ludicrous statement. “I’m five, maybe ten, pounds overweight.”
“You’re the perfect weight.” His eyes roamed over her as though to prove he meant what he said. “Neither too fat nor too thin.”
“Look at my legs, then,” she said, her voice shaky. “They’re way too long in proportion to the rest of me.”
    He ran his fingertips from her ankle to her hipbone, sending delicious shivers over her. “I am looking at them. In my opinion, a woman’s legs can never be too long, which makes yours extensively beautiful.”
    Marietta tried to dismiss the ludicrous compliment, attempted once again to make him see reason. “My stomach isn’t flat. That’s why I never wear a bikini. No matter how thin I get, it poufs out.”
    “Flat stomachs aren’t sexy. Yours is.”
    His big hand covered her stomach, his darker skin providing a stunning contrast to her paleness. Marietta’s pulse fluttered, and she put both hands to her hot cheeks. She wasn’t making much headway in convincing him she’d be more comfortable with the lights out.
    “My breasts,” she choked out. “They’re too small. I barely fit into a B cup.”
    “Too small for what?” he asked and smiled. The hand covering her stomach skimmed over her ribcage and cupped one of her breasts. She gasped at the heated rush of feeling that blasted her. “It fits perfectly, don’t you think?”
    Marietta tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t seem to do anything but feel. Jax’s left hand joined his right until both of them were lightly kneading her breasts, his fingertips circling her nipples until they pebbled.
“They’re getting bigger,” she informed him.
“What’s getting bigger?” He moved closer to her on the bed, skimming his lips across her cheek.
“My. . .” Sensation pooled low in her belly. “. . . breasts.”
    “Your breasts?” His mouth moved down to the body parts in question, and he kissed them, one after the other. She felt her back arch as she tried to get closer to his mouth. He laughed. “What do you mean your breasts are getting bigger? I thought, when a woman reached adulthood, they stopped growing.”
    Her brain was so muddled that it was difficult to think, but she managed to dredge up material from one of her more popular biology lectures.
    “Female breasts enlarge up to twenty-five percent,” she began, gasping as his tongue circled them, “and nipples swell by as much as one centimeter during,