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19: Locke.

"Hi, Harriet," I say, sounding damn near feral.

"Hi," she whispers, swallowing. Shifting in her heels. "Is something wrong?"

"I don't know." I close the distance between us, continuing until she has to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. Until her nipples brush my chest every time one of us breathes. "That depends what costume you're picking out for tonight."

"Oh." A flush rises on her cheeks. "It's supposed to be a surprise."

"I don't want to be surprised about this."

Does she know it's taking every ounce of my willpower not to...to manhandle her? It's a constant struggle to stop myself from picking her up, rip those sexy clothes off, shove her legs where I need them. It's constant.

"Fine." A lump rises and falls in her throat. Her gaze travels past me, avoiding my eyes. "I'm leaning towards a Vivian Ward costume."

Confusion draws my brows together. "Who is Vivian Ward?"

She hesitates. "The character played by Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman."

Fire ants crawl over every inch of
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