AVEN

I closed my eyes, willing myself not to scream, and my throat burned with the effort.

But I needed to get out of this room, and screaming bloody murder in front of an insane man probably wasn’t the best way to make sure that happened.

Blood pulsed through my veins and my head began to throb. Spots sparkled and danced in front of my eyes, and I blinked quickly, trying to clear them from my field of vision.

From what sounded like far away, I could hear Landon asking me if I was okay.

I bit back the scream that was still rising in my throat, and -- even though I had no reason to believe it would work -- said my safe word. “Champagne.”

Immediately, he unlocked the handcuffs. I was up and off the bed, grabbing my dress and pulling it on, not even bothering to adjust my underwear.

“Aven,” Landon said. He took a step toward me, the look on his face regretful and full of concern. “What –”

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I said. I reached down and grabbed Violet’s scarf from behind his bed. “Why the fuck do you have my sister’s scarf, you sick asshole?”

“What?” Landon looked confused as his eyes landed on the scarf.

“This is Violet’s,” I said. “This is her scarf. She was here.” I was pushing past him down the hall, racing toward the elevator doors, pressing the button over and over until they opened.

“Aven, wait – ”

But I was already gone, the elevator doors closing as I mumbled a prayer that Landon wouldn’t come after me. He didn’t.

When I got to the lobby, I walked quickly toward the revolving doors, catching sight of my reflection in the plate glass windows. My hair was a mess, my dress rumpled and disheveled. My skin was flushed, the color high on my cheeks. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and my body betrayed me as the place between my legs still pulsed, screaming for release.

My heels still didn’t fit me, and I limped as I walked.

Apparently I made no impression on the security guard, who barely paid me any mind as I left.

Probably he was used to upset, half-naked women leaving Landon Sheer’s penthouse at all hours of the night.

I walked outside.

The night had turned cold, and I shivered. A light snow had started to fall, and I realized the back of my dress hadn’t been zipped up. It wasn’t something I could do by myself, and the skin of my back was exposed.

Luckily, in New York City, this wasn’t anything that would cause someone to look twice. Anywhere else, a girl walking down the street with her dress unzipped and her hair disheveled would have earned a second glance.

But here, it was nothing but background.

I thought about hailing a taxi, wondering if the money it would cost vs. taking the subway would be considered a necessary expense. I didn’t relish the thought of being down in subway car with the back of my dress gaped open, but I also had to make my rent.

I stood on the corner of 5^th and Lexington and made a deal with myself. If I had enough cash in my purse that I didn’t have to use my debit card to pay for the cab, then I would go for it.

But when I went to reach for my purse, I realized I didn’t have it.

Shit.

I’d left it in Landon Sheer’s hotel suite.

I closed my eyes, taking in a deep breath.

“Shit, shit, shit!” I swore out loud, and a woman walking by with her son shot me a dirty look.

Her kid clutched his Lion King on Broadway mug, and I resisted the urge to rip it from him and smash it on the ground.

I would have to walk.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, I got to my apartment. I didn’t have my key, so I crossed my fingers that Emma was home, and hit the buzzer.

Immediately, her voice came over the intercom.

“Yeah?”

“Emma, it’s me,” I said, dizzy with relief.

She buzzed me in right away, and when I got to our third floor walk-up – a mistake in retrospect, but we were so excited to have our own apartment that we’d somehow convinced ourselves that it wouldn’t be a big deal to have to walk up three flights of stairs every time we got home (“It will be good exercise!”) -- Emma was waiting in front of the open door.

“Oh my God!” she said when she saw me, all disheveled. “Jesus, Aven, what happened to you?

“I was with Landon Sheer.”

Her mouth formed into an O, her green eyes widening. “What?”

I nodded, not wanting to say his name again. Landon Sheer. The words burned against my brain, no, he burned against my brain, his touch, his kiss, the dirty things he’d made me say.

“What happened?” Emma ushered me into the apartment and sat me down at our tiny kitchen table, then began bustling around the kitchen. “You want a sandwich?” She surveyed the meager contents of our refrigerator, pulled out a deli bag and sniffed it skeptically. “I think the ham is still good.” One of the drawbacks of having to walk up three flights of stairs to your apartment was that we didn’t do much grocery shopping – lugging bags up the stairs sucked. It was much easier to order in, and the city was filled with cheap takeout.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“Right. Wine, then.” She pulled a bottle from the panty and uncorked it, pouring generous helpings into two paper cups and handing me one.

I took a sip, grateful for the alcohol that burned my throat and yanked me out of the thoughts I’d been having, anything to erase the feel of his hands on me, the whisper of his words against my skin.

And yet another part of me, a part that was ashamed, wanting to hold onto that feeling, didn’t want the feel of his hands to leave my body, didn’t want to wash the taste of his lips on mine from my mouth.

I wondered if the spanking he’d given me had left marks, and I closed my eyes, wanting that more than anything, imagining myself standing in front of the mirror in my bathroom, twisting so that I could get a look at my ass. I pictured the way the handprints would look, big like his hands, the redness on my skin a reminder of what he’d done to me.

My skin still tingled with his touch, and now that I was home and thinking about him, my pussy throbbed with want.

“He texted me while we were in the diner,” I said. “It wasn’t someone about a job. He texted me and he … wanted to see me.”

“About Violet?”

“Sort of. He wanted to see me, but not just about Violet.”

Emma’s eyes widened, and she reached for the wine and topped off her glass. “Go on.”

“He took me to his suite, and we…we started hooking up.” If you wanted to call being thrown over his knee and spanked hooking up. My hands tightened around my cup.

“Holy fuck!” Emma said. She was practically swooning now, and she took my hands and grabbed them, swinging me around the kitchen. “You have to tell me everything. Is he a good kisser? Did you have sex with him?” The last question was laced with surprise, because she knew I was a virgin. It was also laced with hope, and I wasn’t sure if it was because she was happy at the thought that I’d actually lost my virginity, or because she thought I’d lost it to Landon Sheer.

“No.”

“No, he’s not a good kisser?” Emma stopped and dropped my hands, frowning. “Really? His lips are so… and his face, I mean, God, how could he not –”

“I mean, no, I didn’t sleep with him.” When you talk about sex, you will call it fucking.

“So he is a good kisser?” Emma gave a sly smile and picked her wine back up. She sat down at the kitchen table and hooked her ankles around the bottom rung of the chair. “I knew it. There’s no way with that kind of body he doesn’t know what to –”

“He had Violet’s scarf in his suite.”

“What?” Emma’s voice cracked as if she were having trouble reconciling the picture of Landon Sheer kissing me senseless with someone who would have my missing sister’s scarf.

You and me both, honey.

“He had her scarf. It was behind her bed.” I gestured to the scarf, which I’d set down on the counter when I’d gotten in. Emma had been so excited to see me she hadn’t noticed.

“Are you sure it’s hers?” she asked now, crossing the kitchen and inspecting it.

“Positive.” I swirled my wine around in my glass like I was letting it breathe in some expensive goblet instead of just holding it in a cheap paper cup. “It was the one I got her last year for Christmas, remember?” Emma and I had gone shopping for it together, and it had been Emma’s idea to get it monogrammed, a rare show of support for my sister, who she’d never really cared for.

“Yeah.” Emma frowned. “I just – “

The buzzer rang from downstairs then, and Emma and I looked at each other.

“It’s probably Jeremy,” I said.

Jeremy was Emma’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. Right now they were off-again, which meant it was just about time for him to show up half-drunk for a booty call.

Emma crossed the room to the intercom and pushed the button. “Hello?” There was the sound of a feedback, but nothing else. “Hello?” She frowned at the silence. “Must have been a mistake.”

But a split second later, the sound of a sharp knock on the door made us both jump.

Emma peered out the peephole, then turned to me, her mouth open.

“It’s him,” she whispered.

“Who?” I said, even though I already knew. My stomach clenched.

“Landon Sheer.”

“Aven.” His voice came through the door, rough as sandpaper and smooth as ice, and my core tightened. “Open the door.” The man might have taken my sister, and already he’d trained me to respond to his goddamn voice.

Had he done the same thing to Violet, before he’d taken her?

The thought of it made my blood boil, and anger pulsed through my veins, hot and angry.

I crossed the room, pushed past Emma, and threw open the door. I’d been prepared to tell him off, to let him know that if he didn’t leave immediately, I’d be calling the police, but just as had happened to me at the party, my voice died in my throat.

He stood there in front of me, all 6’4” of him, in the same suit he’d been wearing when I’d left him a few moments ago.

Now he wore a long dress coat over it, something that looked deliciously soft, the kind of thing I could imagine rubbing my cheek against as his arms wrapped around me.

He was holding my purse.

“You forgot something,” he said. His tone was almost accusing, as if he were the one who’d been inconvenienced by me leaving my purse in his suite, like he’d totally forgotten the fact that I’d run out of his room because I’d found my missing sister’s scarf.

“You could have sent it to me.” I reached out and took my purse from him.

“Aven. ” He took a step into my apartment, and he smelled like the cold from outside, and the cologne I’d already begun to associate with him. Having him in my apartment felt like an invasion, like something intimate I wasn’t ready for. I’d never had a man here before, although of course Emma had had her fair share.

Landon’s eyes landed on Emma. “Hello.” His tone was friendly, but his brow furrowed, as if he were disappointed to find someone else here.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Emma, Aven’s roommate.”

“Landon Sheer.”

“Yeah, I know.” A silence settled over the three of us, and Landon stared at Emma, his gaze withering, until she said, “Yes, well, I was just… I mean, I was just going to my room.” She slipped by me, leaving me standing there in the hallway, even though I’d just told her that I’d found my sister’s scarf in Landon’s room. Apparently she thought hot, rich, and a good kisser trumped any chance of being an abductor.

“You shouldn’t have run out on me like that,” Landon said once Emma was gone. I listened for the click of her bedroom door shutting, and didn’t hear it. Good. She was keeping her door open in case he tried to kill me.

“You shouldn’t have lied to me about knowing where my sister is,” I shot back.

“I’m many things, Ms. Courtland, but a liar isn’t one of them.” He said it without bravado. I would have thought that a man of his accomplishments and wealth would have said he was many things in a bragging way, but he didn’t. Instead, he said it almost matter-of-factly and with a hint of sadness, as if the many things he was referring to included the negative.

“Is kidnapper one of them?”

“No.” His voice was low and solid, and he stood there in my doorway, his gaze leveled on me. His eyes traveled up my body, taking in my disheveled state, and I thought I saw the fire in his eyes, that same look of lust that lit up his eyes and turned them bright blue back in the hotel suite.

“Thank you for bringing my things, Mr. Sheer.”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“No.”

“That’s very rude, Ms. Courtland.” As his voice ran over me, admonishing, my ass cheeks burned. I could feel the sting of his hand against me. “You know how I feel about bad girls.”

“You’re sick.”

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, and I stared at the place where his hair faded into his neck, perfect and smooth. “Does it turn you on?”

“The fact that you’re sick?”

“The fact that I want to dominate you.”

“No.”

“Remember what I said about lying to me.” His hand reached out and pushed my hair back from my neck. Then he reached into the top of my dress, his hand palming my breast as he took my nipple in between his index and middle fingers and pulled gently.

I gasped.

“Your mouth may lie, but your body never will, Aven.” He twisted my nipple, so hard it hurt, and then straightened back up.

My body was left wanting, pulsing, desperate for his hands back on me.

“Thank you for returning my purse,” I said. “Although I’m not sure the police are going to be as understanding when I tell them about finding Violet’s scarf behind your bed.”

“Have you talked to the police about your sister being missing, Aven?” He’d slipped past me into the kitchen now, and I was instantly self-conscious. Something about him being here, in my space, in my home, was extremely disarming.

“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. I had talked to the police about Violet being missing. But the things that I thought made it obvious she was in distress – the fact that she was using emojis in her texts when she never used emojis, the fact that she wasn’t using correct punctuation when she was a stickler for things like that, the fact that she wouldn’t tell me where the hell she was – failed to impress them.

The cop at my local precinct, a very sour woman named Officer Blankett, had looked at the picture of Conner Sheer I’d shown her, made a comment about how she would have run away with him too, and then asked me if I wanted to fill out a missing persons report. Which I did, even though I could tell the officer thought it was a complete waste of time.

She watched me from her desk as I filled out the information – Violet’s name, her name, her date of birth, the last time I’d seen or heard from her, what those communications had been like.

I could have lied, could have told them that she hadn’t been in touch, but I couldn’t make myself do it. Now, though, standing here with Landon Sheer, I had kind of wished I had.

“And I’m sure the police will be very excited to hear about Violet’s scarf.” I tried to infuse my voice with as much confidence as I could, even though the truth was, of course, that the police weren’t going to give a crap.

If they hadn’t cared with the information I’d given them before, they definitely weren’t going to care about a dumb scarf. A scarf that I couldn’t even prove belonged to Violet, and even if I could, couldn’t prove that it had been in Landon Sheer’s suite.

Although his fingerprints would be on it. Would that be enough to make the police finally listen? Probably not. No, I needed more.

“How long have you lived here?” Landon said, ignoring my comment. He was looking around the kitchen, taking in the tiny size, the breakfast nook with the table that had four mismatched chairs, the yellow curtains that didn’t match anything but cost five dollars for a full set.

“A couple of months. Sorry it’s not a penthouse suite.”

“Never apologize. For anything.”

“Is that one of your rules?” I shot back.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Do you want me to want it to be?”

“Is your mouth always so smart?” His gaze leveled me, and damn it if those blue eyes didn’t make butterflies swarm my stomach. I was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that just an hour ago, his hands had been on me, that he’d spanked me and touched my pussy. When I blinked, my eyes stayed closed a second longer than was necessary, and I felt his hand on my ass.

It was so visceral that for a moment, I thought it was really happening.

But when I opened my eyes, he was still across the room, staring at me.

“You can leave now,” I said.

“You and your sister, you two are close?” He was walking around the kitchen now, opening cupboards.

“Yes,” I said. “What are you doing?”

“Making sure this place is fit for you to live in.”

“What?” I shook my head. This was getting stranger and stranger.

From down the hall came the sound of complete silence, and I knew Emma was in her room, hanging on every word we were saying. Emma’s room was never silent. She was either watching TV or talking on the phone. She couldn’t stand silence. She even fell asleep with the television on, that’s how much she didn’t like it.

“Look, if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police,” I said.

“What will you tell them?” The thought of the police coming seemed to amuse him, like he was picturing a bunch of bumbling cops falling all over themselves, tripping up the stairs to get to my apartment, instead of what would really happen -- cops blazing in, guns drawn, putting Landon in handcuffs and hauling him away.

I would press charges, too, none of that dropping the charges bullshit just because it was easier.

“I’ll tell them that an intruder broke into my apartment,” I said.

“I didn’t break in. You let me in.”

“No, I didn’t.” But I was confused. Had I let him in? I hadn’t invited him in, I was sure of that.

I reached for my purse, pulled out my phone, clutching it in my hand.

He was still looking around my kitchen. He’d finished going through my cupboards and now he’d picked up the bottle of wine on the counter.

“Who bought this?” he demanded.

“Emma and I.”

He took it to the sink and began to pour it down the drain.

“What are you doing?” I moved toward him and reached for the bottle, but he grabbed my wrist, stopping me with hardly any force. I was surprised at his strength, even though I’d had an up close and personal look at it when he’d flipped me over his knee and spanked me.

He held my wrist until he’d finished pouring out the bottle of wine, and then he pulled me to him, so that my chest was pressed against his.

My nipples instantly hardened, the right one still sore from where he’d reached down the top of my dress and twisted it.

He leaned down and whispered into my ear. “You are way too beautiful to drink cheap wine.”

He pulled back but held my wrist, and now his thumb brushed over my pulse point.

My heart raced.

“Aven,” he breathed.

I was looking at the floor, because I couldn’t bear to look at him. Every time I looked at him, I got myself in trouble. His magnetism was like nothing I’d ever experienced, nothing I ever could have imagined even existed.

It wasn’t hard to imagine him in the boardroom, taking control, making everyone bend to his every whim.

“Look at me.”

It was automatic, my eyes reaching his, responding to his commands.

“Do you think I hurt your sister?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you realize how crazy that would be? Why would I hurt your sister?”I swallowed. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe because you spanked me and handcuffed me.”

“Do you think that’s the same thing as what you’re talking about?”

I knew what he was asking. He was asking if I thought the thing I was accusing him of – pretty much kidnapping and assault - -was the same as how he’d spanked me and touched me. “No,” I admitted. I didn’t. What we’d done, how he’d touched me, I’d liked it. And when I’d safe worded, he’d stopped, just like he’d told me he would. Everything had been completely consensual.

Landon’s thumb continued moving over the underside of my wrist, leaving little brushfires in its wake.

“That suite is a company suite, Ms. Sheer. Conner has access to it as well.”

My breath caught. “So Violet was there with Conner?”

“That would make more sense than me kidnapping your sister and leaving her scarf behind as evidence, wouldn’t it?”

“Mr. Sheer – ”

But his phone rang then, and he released me. As soon as he did, my knees went weak, leaving me feeling like spaghetti.

He pulled his phone from his coat pocket. “Yes?” he barked into the receiver. “Yes. Thank you, I will.” He ended the call, fired off a quick text, then looked at me. “I’d like to stick to our arrangement, Ms. Courtland.”

I stuck my chin in the air. “Circumstances have changed.” There was no way I was going to stick to our original plan, not after I found Violet’s scarf in his room. She may have been there with Conner, but I needed more.

Landon nodded, like he’d been expecting this. “So you’d like to modify our terms?”

“I’d like more information before we move forward.”

“Go on.” He folded his hands in front of him, waiting for my demands.

“You said you had an idea of where Conner is. Is that still true?”

“Yes.”

“Is my sister with him?”

“I can’t answer that.”

She had to be. She had to be with him. There was no other place she could be. “Where do you think Conner is?” I asked, not expecting an answer.

“Our cabin in Vermont,” Landon said. He was looking at our coffee pot now, a tiny little four-cup we bought at the drugstore down the street, one of our first purchases when we moved in. Emma and I were both coffee addicts, and while we preferred the fair trade dark roast or espresso drinks we could get from the hipster coffee shop on the corner, our budget didn’t really allow that.

“Oh.” My heart sank. How the hell was I supposed to get to Vermont? Maybe a bus? Or one of those hourly rental car things, where you paid to use the car for the day and then got to drive wherever you wanted. I had a valid license, even though I hadn’t had to drive since I’d been in New York. “Okay, well, can you give me the address?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no.”

“Then how am I supposed to get there?”

“It’s not that kind of place. You can’t drive there. It’s very remote. Up in the mountains.”

“And you think Conner’s there?” I repeated, wanting to make sure.

“He’s been known to retreat there in the past.” He was pressing the buttons on my coffee pot now, shaking his head, half in disgust and half in wonder.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Conner goes there when he’s in trouble.”

That didn’t sound promising. “What kind of trouble?”

Landon ignored my question. “I’ll take you there.”

I laughed. “Right.”

He looked up from the coffee pot sharply. “Why not?”

“Because I know nothing about you.”

He smiled, the side of his mouth quirking up. “You knew nothing about me when you decided to take my original offer.” He moved back toward me, taking my wrists again, his thumbs tracing that same searing trail over my skin.

He leaned down and began to whisper in my ear, his voice ragged and rough and sexy as fuck. “And you liked what we did, didn’t you, Aven? I never got a chance to make you come.” His breath tickled my neck, and his lips nipped at my earlobe. His hands were on my thighs, and he ran his finger under the hem of my dress. “I ever got a chance to lick that pussy, to suck your clit until you screamed and begged me to fuck you.”

My pussy pounded, begging for release, and a moan threatened to escape from my lips. I used all my willpower to hold it back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

“You still want to fuck, don’t you, Ms. Courtland?”

I stared at him, not wanting to admit to him – and to myself? – that I did.

His hand squeezed the globe of my ass, so hard it hurt, the skin still raw from where he’d spanked me.

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He released me immediately, and pulled out his phone. He was so close I could see his screen clearly.

“What are you doing?”

“Ordering you an espresso machine. And some wine that won’t taste like sour juice and leave you with a raging headache.”

“I don’t need an espresso machine. Or fancy wine.”

He didn’t listen to me, instead finishing the transaction. I watched the screen flash “Your Order Has Been Received” before he put his phone back in his pocket.

“Don’t you have some assistant to do that for you?”

“Sometimes it’s faster to do things yourself.”

I sighed. “So what? You’re going to take me to this mountain cabin? And what?”

“We’ll see if your sister is there.”

“And if she’s not?”

He shrugged. “I can’t make you any promises.”

I thought about it. No part of me thought it was a good idea to go to a remote cabin in the Vermont woods with Landon Sheer. Yes, he was famous. Yes, he was rich. Yes, he was ridiculously good-looking. But that meant nothing. All it meant was that if he wanted to hurt me, he could do it and probably get away with it, the same way maybe he or his brother had done to Violet.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth? About knowing where Conner might be? ”

“You don’t. You’ll have to take a chance.”

“That’s a hell of a chance.”

“Do you really think I hurt your sister?” He looked at me like the idea was ridiculous. But underneath that, I saw something else reflected on his face, in the set of his jaw and the curve of his brow. Pain? Disappointment? Hurt that I would believe that about him? No, I told myself. That was ridiculous. Landon Sheer didn’t give a crap what anyone thought about him, least of all me. “Why would I do that? And my brother? What about him? If I’d taken Violet, then where’s Conner? Did I take him too?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re a psycho who gets off on that kind of thing.”

“Maybe I am,” he agreed. “But you’ll never know unless you come with me.”

“When?”

He took a step toward me, so close that his pelvis pushed against mine. He had me pinned to the counter, his arms caging me in. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

I let myself let out a breath, thankful I’d have a little time to think about it.

“You’ll spend the night with me tonight,” Landon said.

“What? I can’t –”

He put a finger to my lips. “That’s not negotiable, Ms. Courtland. If, in the morning, after our night together, you chose not to accompany me to Vermont, that will be respected.” His tone made it clear there was no way he thought that would happen, that if I spent the night with him, I would want to go to Vermont with him.

“And if I… if I spend the night with you…”

I left the end of my question lingering in the air, not sure what I wanted the answer to be.

“Then the terms and rules we previously agreed to will be adhered to.”

The terms.

Fucking him.

The rules.

Calling him sir.

Not lying to him.

And being punished if I broke them.

Landon reached behind me and took the zipper of my dress, which was still halfway down.

My throat caught as he began to unzip me further, back down over the curve of my ass.

“I will give you an hour to think about it, Ms. Courtland. My car will be here then.” His knuckles skated over my spine, leaving a scarlet red trail of desire in their wake, so intense I could feel it between my legs. “Wear something sexy.”

He turned to go, leaving me standing there with my dress unzipped, my heart beating fast, and no idea what the hell had just happened.

* * *

If I’d been worried about Emma being concerned about me or trying to tell me not to go, I needn’t have been.

She was immediately on board, caught up in the glamour of me being whisked off to some remote location with a sexy billionaire. I’d tried to explain to her that it wasn’t like that, that it wasn’t some romantic retreat, that we were going to find my sister.

I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince – her or me.

Either way, it wasn’t working, especially since five minutes after Landon Sheer had left my apartment, there’d been a knock on the door, and when we’d opened it, there’d been two boxes sitting on the landing.

One contained what looked like an insanely expensive espresso machine, the kind that was made of sleek stainless steel and brewed a million different kinds of drinks, everything from Americanos to Frappuccinos to regular old espresso shots.

The other box was a case of a dark red wine, a wine with a name I couldn’t pronounce, something exotic and French that neither Emma nor I had ever heard of. We’d googled it, shocked to find out it cost two thousand dollars a bottle.

“This is so insane,” she said now, gleefully uncorking one of the bottles as I stood in front of my closet, trying to figure out what, exactly, I was supposed to take with me.

“I’m not sure if I’m definitely going,” I said. I was trying to tell myself this was true, even as I packed my things. Underwear, socks, bras, pajamas. Warm jeans. A blue and white flannel shirt. Two sweaters. My red Providence College fleece. “Can I borrow your puffy navy coat?” I asked.

“Sure. It’s in the front closet.”

I went and got the coat, and when I returned, Emma was drinking straight from the bottle, a dreamy look of bliss on her face.

“Holy shit, this is good. I could get used to this.”

“Please don’t drink the whole bottle.” I zipped up the suitcase, then got to work trying to figure out what it was I was going to wear tonight.

Wear something sexy.

I didn’t have anything sexy. At least, not sexy in the way I supposed Landon Sheer meant sexy.

And I couldn’t wear this stupid dress, which I still hadn’t taken off.

In the end, Emma helped me find a pair of black jeans that hugged my curves and an off-the-shoulder black sweater, paired with a black bra and black thong. I would fit right in, since everything Landon Sheer owned was black. I ran a flatiron through my hair and reapplied my makeup.

“You don’t think he’s dangerous, do you?” I asked Emma as I waited by the door, my hand wrapped around the handle of my suitcase. It had been exactly fifty-eight minutes since he’d left.

“Honey,” Emma said, uncorking another bottle of wine, “the only thing dangerous about that man is his looks.”

* * *

My phone buzzed with a text exactly an hour after Landon Sheer had left my apartment, alerting me to the fact that there was a car waiting for me outside. It wasn’t from Landon – it was from an unidentified number, some kind of automated service.

When I got outside, I was met by a uniformed man who opened the back door of a black stretch limo.

“Oh,” I said when it became clear Landon wasn’t in the car. “I assumed Mr. Sheer would be here.”

“Mr. Sheer had business to attend to.”

“Oh. Okay, I guess.” I rolled my suitcase, a totally humiliating purple number that had been purchased at Target a few days before my high school senior trip to Magic Kingdom and had definitely seen better days, across the sidewalk toward him. “Should I just put this in the back?”

“You can get in the car, Ms. Courtland.”

I got in, sliding across the smooth, black leather seats, the now-familiar smell of new car surrounding me.

“You won’t be needing any luggage. Mr. Sheer was very explicit about that.”

Before I could say anything, he’d shut the door.

He’d left my suitcase just sitting there on the sidewalk!

I pulled out my phone and texted Emma, asking her to come down and grab my suitcase and bring it back upstairs to our apartment. Then, as the car began to move forward, its lights shining over the pedestrians of Manhattan, I dialed Landon.

“Are you in my limo?” he asked. His voice was butter hitting a grill, smooth and sizzling and delicious.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“But I don’t want to go to your apartment.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t… I don’t want to be somewhere so remote.” My palms felt sweaty and I wiped them on my jeans.

“How do you know my apartment is remote?” He sounded amused, as if he liked the thought that I was checking up on him.

“I googled you,” I admitted. I mentally called up the article in the Wall Street Journal online, the one that had put Landon’s net worth at over fifty million dollars.

The article had been all about how Landon and Conner had started their tech company with no money, even though their father had been rich. How they hadn’t used any of his connections, how they’d used investors only to get them off the ground and then bought them out so they could own Sheer Multinational outright. How they’d started out as a software company, but had branched out into having a stake in almost every current tech sector – social networking, cloud computing, internet commerce, and more.

The article had said that Landon had been the brains behind the whole thing. It’s said that Conner was smart too, but that he’d taken on the role of networking and marketing. The article had been accompanied by a spread of their Manhattan apartments – Conner’s sparse and modern, complete with a man cave filled with arcade games, Landon’s, a three story affair with state of the art security, soundproof walls, and a library with rolling ladders that led to shelves of books that reached the sky.

“It’s in the middle of Manhattan. I’d hardly call that remote, Ms. Courtland.”

“Not the location. The… “ I struggled, trying to think of the word. “The way it was set up. I’ll meet you at the Belmont. The same suite we were in before, the one from the party. I’m going to text Emma and let her know I’ll be there.” I wanted to let him know that someone would know exactly where I was.

“Fine.”

“Really?” I was shocked that he would give in so easily.

“The location of our encounter isn’t important, Ms. Courtland.” He lowered his voice. “However, I don’t relish having my plans changed at the last minute.”

“If it doesn’t matter, then why don’t you relish it?” I bit my lip, trying to hide my smile.

“Because it conveys to me that you don’t understand the rules.”

“I understand the rules perfectly.”

“And you’re willfully choosing to be disobedient?”

I didn’t answer, my heart beating fast, wondering if I’d gone too far. “Why wasn’t I allowed to bring my suitcase?”

“It won’t be needed.”

“What am I supposed to wear?”

“You have a lot of questions and worries, Ms. Courtland.”

“Well, yeah.”

He lowered his voice even further. “I’m not sure what, exactly, happened to make you feel that way.”

“What way?”

“That you need to be worried or that you need to make sure you plan for every possibility.”

I started to open my mouth, to tell him nothing happened to me to make me this way, but then I remembered his rule about not lying to him. I closed my mouth. I wasn’t sure why I had decided to obey him this time, about this.

I stayed quiet until he spoke again.

“When you are with me, Aven, you don’t have to worry about your needs being taken care of. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I am wrapping up my meeting, and I will see you soon.”

“Yes, sir.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he hung up. “Goodbye, Aven.”

* * *

I was directed up to the penthouse using a different elevator than the one I’d used before.

Landon opened the door for me. He’d changed since I’d seen him, and now he wore a pair of dark jeans that hung low on his hips, and a simple black t-shirt that hugged his biceps and triceps and shoulders. God, he was sexy.

How could one man look so good in such different styles? One minute he was in a suit, looking like a freakin’ GQ model, and now here he was, standing in front of me in a simple t-shirt and jeans looking just as hot.

(Although, let’s face it, there was no way that his jeans and t-shirt were simple – they had the cut and look of pieces that were impeccably made, the kind of things I’d heard about celebrities wearing. His t-shirt probably cost three hundred dollars. Everyone convinced themselves that famous people were idiots for spending their money so foolishly when you couldn’t tell the difference between their three hundred dollar t-shirt and a twenty dollar one from the mall, when of course you totally could.)

He was barefoot, holding a glass of red wine in one hand. Even though he’d ditched the suit for something decidedly more casual, he still exuded power and masculinity, so strong that it seemed to permeate the air around us.

Suddenly, my outfit seemed all wrong.

“Aven.”

“Mr. Sheer.”

His eyes ran up my body, lingering on my breasts, on my hips, before meeting my eyes and holding my gaze for what must have been only a second but seemed like much longer. I waited to notice any kind of disappointment in his eyes, any sign that I was less than, but all I saw was hunger, raw and real.

He opened the door wider and I stepped into the suite.

The suite was just as I remembered it, the open spaces, the infinity pool sparkling before the city, the hallway that led to what I assumed was the bedroom.

“How many suites like this do you have, Mr. Sheer?” I asked, looking around.

He moved to the bar that was situated in the corner and poured me a glass of the red he was drinking, then brought it to me.

I was grateful to have something to do with my hands, and I seized the wine and took a sip.

“Wow,” I said. It was earthy and fruity, sweet but not too sweet, with no sour aftertaste like the stuff I was used to drinking.

“You like it?”

I nodded. “Is this the same kind you sent to my apartment?”

“Yes. It’s my favorite.”

He was staring at me, and I moved from one foot to the next and took another sip of my wine.

“You don’t have to be nervous, Aven.”

I stayed quiet. Of course I had to be nervous. I didn’t trust this man. I barely knew him. I was partially afraid of him, and yet wanted him so badly it was overwhelming. I’d never experienced that kind of desire before, the kind of desire that made me want to do whatever he wanted as long as he promised to touch me, to stroke me, to kiss me until I was dizzy.

I took another long gulp of wine and then set my drink down on the bar. It wouldn’t do to be drunk, or even buzzed. I was going to need all my faculties in tact to even stand a chance against the enigmatic Landon Sheer.

His presence was making me unsettled, so I crossed the room and stood in front of the curtains, looking out over the pool.

He was behind me, his hands on my shoulders.

“There’s a bathing suit for you in the bedroom.”

“Oh. I mean, I didn’t…”

“I want to swim.” He kissed the back of my neck, his lips firm and sure. “Actually, I want to see you in a bathing suit. I want to see you wet, your tits popping out of your top, the bottom sticking to your pussy because you’re so ready for me.”

“Jesus,” I breathed.

“Go put your suit on.”

* * *

Sure enough, there was a bathing suit laid out for me on the bed, the kind of suit that would have been outlawed at the beach in most law-abiding communities.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said out loud as I surveyed myself in the bathroom mirror.

There was no way I was going back out into the suite like this.

The bathing suit was white, and so sheer you could already see my nipples through the material. The bottom was a thong, leaving my butt cheeks exposed. When I turned to look at myself in the mirror, my bottom jiggled and sure enough, I could see the redness from Landon’s hand, where he’d spanked me earlier, just like in my fantasy.

I grabbed a robe off the hook on the back of the door and pulled it on.

When I got outside, Landon was already in the pool.

It was dark out now, but the pool was well lit, the soft glow of the lights illuminating the turquoise water.

My breath caught at the beauty of it all – him, shirtless in the pool, his strong body slicing through the water, the sparkle of the city in the background.

He surfaced at the edge of the pool, droplets clinging to the tan skin of his naked torso, the light bouncing off the water that clung to him. A drop of water started in the concave of his chest and slid down, disappearing into the waistband of his black swim trunks.

I shivered.

“It’s heated.” He gazed up at me, and I knew he wanted to get me into the water. But suddenly, I started to feel dizzy.

I hadn’t been swimming, hadn’t been in a pool since -- I squeezed my eyes shut and willed myself not to think about it.

“Drop your robe, Aven.”

I took in a deep breath. I could do this. It wasn’t a big deal. The pool was heated. There was no ice out here. It was a pool, for God’s sake, not a river or a lake.

It was perfectly safe.

I reached up and uncinched my robe, letting it drop to the floor.

Landon gazed up at me. “Jesus,” he murmured. “God, you are beautiful.”

My nipples hardened again, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold or because of the way he was looking at me.

My fear of the water and my anxiety about what would happen once I was in there, with him, both of us half naked, was overwhelmed only by my desire to get out of the cold, and also to hide my body from him.

Out here, in just this skimpy bikini, I was exposed.

The water was warm on my feet, and I slipped in as quickly as possible.

I leaned against the cement side, near the built-in stairs, figuring if I was close to an escape route, I would feel safer.

Landon was on the other side of the pool, across from me. He’d topped of his wine glass -- and mine -- and they were sitting on the patio behind him, highlighted against the lights of the city that spread out around us.

“Is the water warm enough?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Thank you.” It was true. The water was warm enough. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of chlorine. “What time are we leaving tomorrow?”

“My jet will be ready at 6.”

His jet? “That’s early.”

“I assumed you would want to get an early start.”

“I’m not really a morning person,” I admitted.

“Oh, really?” His eyebrow quirked in interest. “What kind of person are you?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Not an acceptable answer.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Right now I feel like I’m a crazy person.”

“Because you’re here with me?”

I nodded.

He didn’t say anything to this. I noticed he did this often – if he didn’t have something to say, he wouldn’t try to fill the silence with small talk, or ask another question the way most people did. And yet I could tell he wasn’t bored. His attention was still on me, those brooding blue eyes still locked on mine.

“Do you swim here often?” I asked.

“When I have time, which is less and less these days.”

I nodded.

“You?”

No lies. “No. I’ve never been here before. Well, I mean, I was here earlier, of course, but before that I was –”

“Aven.”

“Landon.”

“You know what I meant.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t swim. I used to.”

“Until?”

“Until my parents drowned.” The d-word. I hadn’t said it out loud to anyone, not Emma, not Violet, not even myself. The word echoed around us. Drowned drowned drowned. Saying it out loud filled me with a panic, like now that I’d said it, it was true, like it was official, even though of course it was official -- I’d been to their funerals, I’d seen their bodies.

“What happened?” Landon asked, his eyes kind, but not sympathetic, which I appreciated. I hated when people found out my parents died, and acted sorry for me. Empathy was one thing. Sympathy was another.

“They were out on a boat,” I said, “with my aunt. My dad, he loved to go out ice fishing, and my mom, she went with him when she had to.” I smiled. “But that day, they didn’t… the boat hit something, I’m not sure what. I think a piece of ice.” I shrugged, as if this was something that just happened instead of the biggest tragedy of my life, as if I were recounting an anecdote that was unfortunate instead of catastrophic, like I was telling a story about my favorite lipstick being discontinued instead of the death of both of my parents.

“The boat went down, and my aunt was able to get back to shore, but my mom and dad –” I trailed off, not able to talk more about it, remembering how it had been, me at the house, waiting for them to come home. I’d been curled up on the windowsill at our lake house – really more of a rustic cabin, a 500 square foot structure my dad had taken a second mortgage to buy -- reading a book and waiting for them to come in.

I was hoping they’d be out longer -- I had school the next day, and if we had to spend the night at the lake, we’d have to leave in the morning. I’d most likely miss first period, global studies, and I was hoping that would happen since we had to give an oral presentation I was dreading.

I’d been playing a game with myself, watching the starfish clock on the opposite wall. If I read ten pages in ten minutes, then they wouldn’t be back in time for us to leave tonight.

I’d been on my third page when my aunt had come running up the driveway, screaming at me to call 911. Her cell phone had been lost in the lake, and she’d run all the way from the crash site to our tiny house, barefoot.

I don’t tell Landon any of this, though.

And I don’t tell him the other secret either, the one I’ve never told anyone, the one that I won’t ever tell anyone, the one that I can’t even think about, much less say about loud.

But just the thought of it, of that secret, starts a panic attack.

My heart starts to beat fast and my eyes start to water and my head gets dizzy and heavy.

And then, suddenly, he was there next to me.

“Shh,” he said, pulling me toward him. “Shh, you’re okay.”

“I need to get out.” I pushed at his chest, trying to get past him, but he was blocking my way to the stairs and there was no way I was going to be able to push by him.

He was much bigger than I was, much stronger.

“Shh.”

He held me to him, and I pushed at him again, but he held me close, not letting me. Then, suddenly, I felt his hands on my hips, his fingers slipping under the sides of my bathing suit bottom.

He stroked my hips softly, slowly, his fingertips setting my skin on fire.

“Don’t fight it, angel.”

His words were soothing, hypnotic, and like some kind of elixir or balm, I started to feel myself relax with each stroke of his fingers.

“Good girl,” he said. “Good girl. You’re okay.”

“Landon,” I whispered. “God, Landon.”

“Give it to me,” he said. “All your pain, all your fear. Let me take it on.”

I clung to him, this man I hardly knew, clung to his shoulders and wrapped my legs around his waist as he pulled me toward him and slid us through the water to the other side of the pool.

Normally I would have been scared to be so far away from the steps, from my escape, but now Landon’s hand was moving up between my legs, over the inside of my thighs, and the pleasure there was unmistakable, and it was starting to overwhelm the fear.

“Good girl,” he said again. “Good, sweet girl.” He placed his hand over the curve of my breast, feeling my heart beat under his palm. “You’re calming down.”

“Yes.”

We stayed like that, his hand on my heart, until I’d calmed.

Then suddenly, his jaw twitched, his eyes hooding. “It’s time to get you worked up again, baby girl.”

He pushed me hard up against the side of the pool, any sign of softness gone. I gasped as his muscular thighs pushed in between my legs, spreading my legs, forcing them apart.

I could feel his cock, rock hard through the fabric his swim trunks, and I sucked in a breath through my teeth and held his shoulders.

“Do you feel how hard you make me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I got hard the second I saw you at the party.” He pushed my hair back from my face and looked at me with an expression on his face that was an intoxicating mix of protection, possession, and desire. “You looked so sexy with your tits hanging out of that dress.”

He slid his hands up my rib cage until he got to the top of my bikini, to where it tied around my neck, and his hands played with the strings lazily.

“You have the most perfect tits.” He began to pull the string slowly, deliberately, like he was unwrapping a present that he wanted to savor. When he finally finished undoing the top of my bikini, my breasts popped free, slapping against the water.

“Perfect nipples,” Landon murmured, as he plumped my breasts in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the raised peaks. “I can’t wait to put you in outfits that show off these big tits.”

“Landon,” I moaned his name and arched up to him. The dirty way he was talking to me was leaving me on fire. Any fear or panic that had been in my body a few moments ago was completely gone now, replaced only by exhilarating pleasure.

“You’re mine, though,” he said. “These tits are mine.” He pulled a nipple into his mouth, his tongue circling over it before he sucked. I watched in fascination as my nipple disappeared into his mouth, the slight stubble on his cheeks rubbing against my breasts, a contrast to the warm wetness that was his mouth. “And this pussy’s mine, too, isn’t it, angel?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

His hands slid down my body, one on each side, skating over my ribcage. My heart was thrumming so fast against it I knew he could feel it, knew he would like the fact that this time my heart wasn’t beating fast out of panic, but out of desire.

His hands were big, so big that they almost touched as he slid them down either side of my body. His arms were all muscles, his biceps smooth and hard against my hands as I gripped them and held onto them for leverage. He was so much bigger than I was, and yet, in that moment, I felt totally safe.

He grabbed my hips and pulled me toward him at the same time he pushed his torso against me.

“I’m going to make you forget everything now, Aven,” he said. “I’m going to make you forget everything but me and how bad you want to fuck.”

His palm rested on my lower belly, his fingers moving lazily over the place where my bathing suit bottom met my skin, right above the mound of my pussy.

“Landon,” I moaned.

“Yes, angel, say my name.”

“Landon.”

“Again.”

“Landon.”

His hand moved down into my bikini bottoms, and when he got to my opening, his finger slid along my slit. His knuckle rubbed leisurely against my clit, and then he began to push his finger inside of me. Instantly, I could feel how tight I was.

And Landon could feel it, too.

“Jesus, your pussy is tight.”

I held his arms tight, my nails digging into his skin. I laid my head against his shoulder and took in a long, shaky breath.

“Aven.” His voice was a rough command, and I already knew him well enough to know that by saying my name like that, he was asking me what was wrong.

I swallowed, knowing I needed to tell him what I should have told him before. “I’m a virgin.”

His hand immediately stopped moving, and I felt him tense in my arms. I held tight to his shoulders, not wanting him to pull away.

My nails dug deeper into his skin, like if I held onto him longer he would know how badly I wanted this, how badly I wanted him.

“You’ve never?” he asked.

I shook my head. He was still close to me, and I felt his cock jump against my leg, twitch and harden, as if the thought of me being a virgin made him even more turned on.

I pulled back and looked at him, making sure to keep hold of his shoulders.

But his blue eyes darkened into twisting storms, and I felt him start to pull away from me just the slightest bit.

“Please,” I whispered, holding onto him for what felt like dear life. “Please, I want it.” Then, remembering how he liked when I said dirty words, I continued. “I want your cock in my pussy. I want you to break me in.”

His eyes lit with desire, with passion. I could tell he wanted me, but some part of him was holding himself back.

“I want this,” I said. “I want you to be the first one to be inside of me.”

His strong jaw clenched and his body stayed rigid. “You understand that it won’t lead to anything.”

“Like what?”

“Like a relationship. Love. Commitment. None of that is possible with me, Aven. It’s important you understand that.”

I nodded.

“I’m incapable of loving you,” he said, stronger now, his words stinging like freezing rain hitting my skin. “I need you to know that.”

“Okay.”

“Aven.”

“I understand.” I wanted to ask him why, exactly, he was incapable of this, and if he was just incapable of loving me, or if he was incapable of loving in general. I remembered the pictures I’d seen of him online, the pictures I’d been looking for when I’d googled Conner. There was never any overlap with the women. Each one only appeared once before disappearing as if they’d been called in and then yanked back to wherever they’d come from.

Thinking about Landon with another woman sent a jolt of jealousy and longing through my body, and I closed my eyes tight and willed the feeling away.

Don’t get attached.

This was sex, nothing else.

Ideally, my first time would have been with someone I loved, someone who would whisper sweet nothings into my ear.

But second place was a sexy billionaire who wanted to do all kinds of filthy things to me.

“I’m going to ruin you for anyone else,” he whispered. “I’m going to teach you just how to fuck.”

He probed my folds and then slid his middle finger inside of me. I felt the walls of my pussy stretch around him – so tight -- and I couldn’t even imagine taking a cock inside of me. I whimpered a tiny bit and he silenced me with a soft kiss, sucking my bottom lip gently as he got me used to his finger.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he breathed when he broke the kiss. “How many fingers have you had inside of you, angel?”

I shook my head.

“None?” He looked at me in shock. “You’ve never had anything inside your pussy?”

“No, sir.”

“Not even your own?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“A vibrator.”

Another head shake. I could tell my cheeks were warm.

“You’re so pure,” he said, and I saw that same look take over his face briefly, the one he’d had before, like he wanted to protect me from something. From him?For a moment, I was afraid he was going to call this whole thing off, but then lust and desire won out, the need to own me, to control me, overwhelming whatever guilt he might feel at defiling me.

“My sexy little virgin,” he growled, and then his mouth sealed against mine and he was kissing me. He left his finger buried in my pussy, moving it slowly, pulling it out just a centimeter before going back in, and I could feel how wet I was getting. His tongue pushed into my mouth as his other hand held the back of my neck, controlling the kiss, my body, everything.

“I’m going to get that tight little virgin cunt so ready before I fuck it,” he said. “Jesus, you feel good.”

I moaned as he took his hand from the back of my neck and took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine.

“Have you ever had a cock in your hand?”

I shook my head.

He took my hand and placed it on his crotch, right on the bulge in his shorts. It was so big I gasped.

“I can’t take that,” I said, and I felt his cock pulse with my protests.

“Pull my shorts down,” he growled. “Take my cock out.”

My stomach clenched with anticipation and desire. “Yes, sir,” I whispered, knowing he would like it. I pulled at his waistband until his cock sprung free, and he took my hand back in his and guided it to his hard dick.

“That’s it,” he said. “Now wrap your hand around it, angel.”

Hot lava slid around my belly at the feel of him in my hand. He was like the hardest steel covered in the softest velvet. His finger was still buried in my pussy, and he curled it up, running it along the inside wall of my vagina as my hand tightened around his cock.

I gasped at the sensation, halfway between pleasure and pain, hot sun and cold ice.

“You’re okay, angel.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You know your safe word, Aven?”

“Champagne.”

“Look at me.”

I looked at him, and our eyes met. My hand was still wrapped around his cock, his finger still up inside of my pussy, and it was the sexiest, hottest thing I’d ever experienced.

“You need to use your safe word if you need to, do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He looked down in the water. At some point the fountain that had been on earlier had stopped. It must have been on a timer. Now the water was still, the most clear aquamarine water I’d ever seen in real life. I knew it had to have been some kind of rich people trick, the kind of trick that made it seem as if the water was like an ocean.

He kept his finger buried in my pussy then used his other hand to wrap around mine and begin moving me up and down on him, showing me how to jerk him off, what pressure to use, how fast and how far to stroke.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and his finger began pulling out of me further, then pushing back in further too, curling up inside of me. It was his middle finger that was inside of me, and now his index finger teased my opening, rubbing over my clit.

“Landon,” I groaned, my fist clenching around him.

He moaned. “Yes, angel, jerk my cock just like that. Soon I’m going to fuck your pussy like that, angel. Soon your tight little cunt is going to grab my dick just like that.”

The thought of him inside of my pussy made me groan again, and sent a flutter of anxiety moving through my belly.

“I’m going to come,” I said.

“We’re going to come at the same time, do you understand?” He moved closer to me, his pecs against my bare chest, his skin warm against mine. “I’m going to kiss you when you come,” he said, trailing a finger over my slightly parted lips. “Do you want that? My tongue in your mouth, my fingers in your pussy while my cock comes all over your hand?”

“Yes, sir.”

I was desperate for it, and I stroked him harder as we fell into a rhythm, both of us stroking each other, our gazes locked in passion and desire.

After a moment, it became obvious that he was controlling everything about this encounter, that he was controlling everything about when I was going to come.

I moaned and tried to wiggle on his fingers, but he wouldn’t have it. He stroked me slowly, bringing me right to the edge of ecstasy, then pulled back before guiding me back to the brink.

“I can’t last much longer with you jerking me off like that. I’m going to explode all over your hand.”

The thought of hot come on my hand made my breathing deepen, my nipples sticking out of the top of the water like two points.

He held the back of my head and pulled me toward him, and I remembered his words about how he was going to kiss me while he made me come, and the anticipation made me light-headed.

“Are you ready?” he growled.

I’d barely gotten out the word “yes” when his lips crashed against mine, at the same time his index finger pushed into my pussy, breaching and stretching my tight opening, nestling in there against the finger that was already in there.

I moaned into his kiss as I began to come, feeling his tongue probing my mouth, his scruff moving across the sensitive skin of my skin.

My hand had tightened around the base of his shaft, and I felt him start to come, his cock growing harder and pulsing cum onto my hand, shot after shot of a creamy substance that I could tell from the pool water. It was hotter, thicker, and feeling it on my hand, feeling it coming out of Landon’s cock and knowing that I was the one who had done that to him, made it even hotter.

My orgasm crashed over me like ocean waves against a bluff, reaching a crescendo as the last splash of his cum hit my skin.

When we’d finally both stilled, he pulled his fingers out of me slowly, and I was surprised to find that my legs had tangled around his waist, and my free hand was digging into his huge bicep, my nails leaving more marks on his otherwise flawless skin.

I went to unwrap my legs from around his waist, but he kept me there, moving his hands to the outside of my thighs.

“No,” he said softly, reaching up and pushing a strand of hair back from my face. “Stay close.”

I swallowed. I felt a rush of something for him, a real emotion, something akin to – I didn’t want to say love, no wouldn’t say love – but longing, affection, just…I bit my lip and tried to calm my heart, telling myself again not to get attached.

“Are you sure you’ve never done that before, Mr. Courtland?” he asked, kissing my forehead.

“I’m sure.”

“’Cause you’re damn good at it.”

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls.” I tried to sound flippant, but it was a reminder of how many women he’d probably been with, and I flushed and looked away.

“No,” he said softly. “I don’t. And there’s not that many women.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Is that what you think, Aven? That I’ve slept with half of Manhattan?”

“Haven’t you?”

There was a knock on the door to the suite then, a hard knock that reverberated through the suite, all the way out onto the patio.

Landon frowned.

“Stay here,” he commanded. He readjusted his swim trunks and moved toward the stairs of the pool. I watched him move through the water, strong and in control, the muscles of his back broad and defined.

I suddenly became quite aware of my nakedness, and I grabbed the top of my bikini from where it was floating in the water, pulled it back on and then readjusted my bottoms.

And then it hit me.

I’d been in the water.

I’d been in the water, and I’d been okay.

Yes, I’d had a panic attack, but it had passed. I was okay.

That hadn’t happened since my parents died.

And it was all because of Landon Sheer.

Before I could have time to process this information, the sound of yelling came trailing out to the pool from inside the suite.

A woman’s voice, raised and demanding.

Landon’s voice, calm and warning.

I rushed out of the pool, grabbing my robe and cinching it around my waist as I walked into the suite.

Landon was standing in front of the open elevator door. A woman stood in the elevator. She was in her twenties, pretty, with chestnut brown hair and a heart-shaped face. She wore jeans and a brown leather jacket, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

“So you have no comment,” the woman demanded, as Landon pushed the button that would close the elevator and send it back down to the lobby. “No comment on the stalking case you settled with Paisley Daniels?”

“Not only do I have no comment,” Landon growled, “but you’re going to be arrested for trespassing in about two seconds if you don’t leave my hotel immediately.” He pressed another button, this one on a keypad that was mounted to the wall, a button that I assumed would summon security.

“Did you pay Paisley to keep her mouth shut?” the woman asked. She opened her mouth to say something else, but then her eyes fell on me, and they widened. “Do you know he’s a convicted stalker?” she asked. “Are you in trouble? What’s your name? Do you need – ”

But at that moment, the elevator doors finally began to close, and Landon stepped in front of them, blocking the woman’s path into the suite, and keeping me from hearing whatever she’d been about to say next.

The phone mounted to the wall next to the keypad rang. “What the fuck was that?” Landon growled into the receiver. “Don’t let it happen again. And find out who she is.”

He slammed the phone back down, then turned to look at me.

The warm water of the pool had left me shivering, and the way Landon was looking at me, along what I’d just heard, made my blood run cold. “What was she talking about?” I asked softly.

“I told you to stay in the pool.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t. What was she talking about?”

He stared walking down the hallway, toward the bedroom, and I followed him. “Landon?” I asked. “What was she talking about, you being convicted of stalking?”

He was in the closet now, rummaging around, and I stood just inside the bedroom, waiting “Landon!”

He reappeared. He looked crazed, his breathing shallow, his eyes hooded and dark. The muscles of his upper body rippled as he walked, a living, breathing exercise in perfection.

“Fine.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “If you’re not going to tell me, then I’m leaving.”

I turned to leave the bedroom, but he was behind me, quick like a fox, his hand reaching out and shutting the bedroom door before I could slip through it. I turned around and he pushed me up against it.

“You’re not leaving.”

“Then tell me what the hell that woman was talking about.”

He looked at me, and the torture on his face was so raw, so visceral, so intense, that I almost felt as if the emotions were mine. Whatever that woman had been talking about had stirred something inside of him, something dark and tortured. My chest squeezed. I reached out and placed my palm over his heart, feeling it beat, the way he’d done to me in the pool, hoping I could settle him the way he’d settled me.

“Remember out there in the pool, angel?” he said, as if he’d been reading my mind. “What I did to make you forget?”

I nodded, remembering. “I remember.”

“You’re going to do the same thing for me.”

“How?” I whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to break in that tight little cunt, and I’m sorry, baby, but I’m not going to be gentle.”

“Landon – ”

“Get on the bed, Aven.”

He turned away from me.

And that’s when I saw the belt in his hand…