We pull down the long peninsula in Newport, Rhode Island. With a sharp inhale of breath, my mouth hangs open. Castle Hill Inn. It’s everything I’ve ever imagined perfection would be and more.

Perched high up on the hill is a beautiful white-shingled mansion that overlooks the ocean. It’s one of the most magnificent homes I have ever seen. Preston pulls the car into the circular drive and we depart with the little luggage we have. The air is crisp, as most of the bitter winter has passed, making its way into spring.

After checking in, we proceed to the quaint cottage set on the beach. Preston has secured a private residence for our weekend on the property.

Before the door fully closes, he’s on me. Lifting me into his arms and sweeping me over to the giant canopy bed set in the center of the bedroom. Once I’m lying there, he lowers himself over me. I feel the pressure of his lips as my eyes shut with a moan. His mouth probes my own. His tongue tastes my tongue. In a haze, I feel his hands lifting at my blouse. He pulls away and I open my lids. He lifts my shirt above my head, then with slow, precise steps removes all my clothes. Lying on the bed naked, a shudder runs through my body as he undresses as well. His tall frame is long and lean. Each muscle well defined. This is the first time I’m seeing him naked.

He’s perfect.

Mesmerizing.

He looks wild with lust and it lights me on fire. I want him to touch me, but he just stares down at me. Like a predator stalking his prey until he finally pounces.

I position my legs further apart to allow him to cradle between them. When he aligns himself with my core, I lift my pelvis. Every part of my body quivers with anticipation. With need. My skin is a live wire. Ready to be set ablaze. He brushes against my entrance and a moan escapes me. He continues to tease me, running his length back and forth against my heat.

Sweet torture.

“Preston,” I cry out in a desperate plea. Our eyes lock. The blue of his irises is completely gone behind the black of his dilated pupils. He looks at me is as if he wants to devour every single inch of my body. Slowly, he pushes inside me. He cups my face and peers into my eyes as he enters me inch by inch. The movement of his body stills, and with one swift lift of my hips, I close the space separating us until he is fully seated. Preston holds his body still until my muscles stretch to accommodate him, molding completely around him.

“Please,” I moan, pleading with him to move. He silences my cries by covering my mouth with his and rotating his hips in a painfully slow circle. When I think I can take no more of his sweet torture, he retracts his body from mine and hovers again on the brink of entry. Then slams back in.

Over and over again.

Each time driving harder and harder.

Deeper and deeper.

He thrusts in slow strokes, in long ones. 

I welcome each pull and drag of his body.

I cling to him, bracing my hands against his shoulders, my nails gripping and scratching across his sleek skin. He keeps me on the edge of my climax.

Torturing me. 

With each move he makes, I hang on the precipice of bliss.

Until I finally fall over the edge. Just as I return from my haze, I hear a fierce growl escape his mouth as he claims his own release.

We lay panting, each of us needing to catch our breaths. Preston’s body is heavy on mine. His heart beats erratically against my own. They beat in tandem. As if we are one, and at the moment we still are. After a minute, he lifts up and places a soft kiss on my swollen lips.

“That was amazing.” He kisses me again and I smile against his lips. He runs his tongue along the seam of my lips, and then pulls away.

“Perfect,” I mutter. He removes his body from mine and rises from the bed. He crosses the room, and I feel as if I’m living in a wonderful dream—one I hope I never wake from.

He returns wearing a robe, and in his hand is one for me. My lips spread at the gesture.

“Thank you.” I stand from the bed, the sheet dropping away from my body. He sweeps his gaze across my naked form and I can see the desire in his eyes.

“How is it possible I just had you and I already want more?” his voice is low and smooth, and makes my body shiver with desire.

“I’m not sure, but if it makes you feel better, I feel the same way.”

He gives me a lopsided smile and shakes his head.

“Nope . . . Doesn’t help.”

I walk to where he stands and wrap the robe around my body. “So, what do you want to do tonight? Do you want to go into town and grab dinner?”

“Truth?”

“Always.”

“I want to stay here with you . . . naked.”

“Oh, thank God.” He laughs at my words and pulls me toward him. Sweeping me into his arms, he plants a soft kiss on my lips. “Want to order in room service?” he mumbles against my mouth.”

“Mmm hmm.” My arms attempt to wrap around his neck but he pulls away before I can and I groan out in protest.

“After dinner.” He walks over to the coffee table and grabs the room service menu. “Here, let’s take a look and I’ll call it up.”

“Fine.” I pout, grabbing the menu and turning the page. “I’ll have the club sandwich.”

“A girl after my own heart.” He smirks as he picks up the phone and dials. “Hi, yes. I would like to place an order for room service. Two club sandwiches, side of fries. Yes, that would be perfect. And a bottle of . . .” He stops talking and mouths to me, “Wine?” I nod. “Yes, and what bottle of Sauvignon Blanc do you recommend? Okay, yes. That would be perfect. Thank you.” He places the phone back down and turns to me. “We have thirty minutes to kill. How should we spend them?” His lips turn into the most wicked smile I have ever seen, and I swear I melt into a puddle in the middle of our cottage.

“Shower.” I raise my brow suggestively.

“I like the way you think.”

Together we walk into the bathroom and into the shower. The hot water relaxes every part of my body as Preston lathers and soaps my body. Each pass of his hand causes my body to shiver, even under the heat. When he drops to his knees in front of me, I’m sure my own legs will give out. But they don’t. Well, at least not until his lips find me and he spreads me open and devours me.

Under the water, he makes me quiver and quake once again.

* * *

An hour later, and with our stomachs full, we find ourselves sitting in front of a roaring fire drinking wine. Night has fallen and the fire crackles in the dark room, casting a shadow over Preston’s face.

Hooking my feet around the chair legs, I lean back and take of sip from my glass. Preston stares at me from across the coffee table.

“It dawned on me that for as much time as we’ve spent together, I barely know anything about you,” I say as I lift the glass again to my mouth.

“That’s not true. I told you about my family.” I let out a laugh at his statement.

“Preston, that was today. You just told me that.”

“Well, I couldn’t really tell you anything before . . . with me being your . . .” His forehead creases.

“I have an idea. How about for the rest of the weekend that subject is banned.” He opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand. “No, really, Preston. I don’t want to waste my time with you arguing why we shouldn’t do this. We both know the ramifications of us being together, of us getting caught. There’s no need to discuss it further.”

“Fair enough. What do you want to know?”

“I have no clue. You can’t put a girl on the spot like that. What the heck am I supposed to ask, some dumb question like if you were stranded on a desert island, what would you take?”

“I’d take my iPad. That way I have books, music and I can Skype.” His eyes glint with humor and I roll mine in return.

“That’s cheating. And p.s., you wouldn’t have Wi-Fi on this island.”

“You need to specify that kind of information before you ask the question,” he teases and I laugh.

“I didn’t even ask the question.”

“Touché. What about you? Barring no Wi-Fi in this version, what would you take?”

“My collection of Jane Austen books.”

“What? Not a vampire book, or one with a rich CEO?” He opens his eyes wide in a mockingly shocked expression.

“Har har har. No, smart-ass, and it’s witch books I’m into. But if I was stranded on an island I wouldn’t bring them.” My laughter dies and I narrow an eye at him. This is my chance to discover everything I ever wanted to know about him. I can’t possibly waste it on stupid trivia type questions. But at the same time, if he’s opening up I don’t want to scare him off. Keep it simple, don’t get too deep. I grow silent for a minute as I try to think of something . . . anything. “Did you grow up in the city?” I finally ask. He lifts his head so our eyes lock.

“I did. Born and raised.”

“Where in the city?”

“Upper east. I moved downtown for college, and then when I was in school getting my doctorate, I purchased my brownstone in Murray Hill.”

“How do you like living there?”

“It’s a bit young for my taste,” he says before he realizes. “I mean—”

“It’s fine. I have to agree. I can’t imagine a . . . Wait. How old are you, anyway? Is it weird I don’t know this about you?” My hearts races as I realize just how much I don’t know and how much I’m dying to find out.

“I’m thirty-four.” Ten years older than me. How am I just finding this out? But I guess in the grand scheme of things his age is the least of our problems.

“A bit old to be going to the bars every night.”

“Way too old to be doing that.” He chuckles.

“Did you ever? Like in college, were you a big partier?”

“I was.”

“What made you stop?”

“When Sloane died, I stopped.” He leaves it at that, and I swallow at the revelation. I want to ask more, but I don’t dare. If he wanted to divulge, he would, and I know better than most never to push someone who’s not ready to open up. We watch the fire, neither of us speaking. Just enjoying the silence—a comfortable silence as if we’ve known each other our whole lives. The seconds pass, become minutes, and soon our glasses are empty. The wood has sizzled to small crackling embers.

“I’m not a big drinker,” I say finally. His gaze sweeps over me and it’s as if he’s looking at me for the first time.

“You could have fooled me,” he says as he raises an eyebrow in challenge. A genuine smile lines his face and he lets out a sigh and relaxes into the couch.

“Believe it or not, I’m really not. With the way my mom is, I never know when I need to be on call. So typically, I stay sober. Since Richard’s death, I’ve been indulging far more than normal.”

“That’s common. Everyone grieves in their own way.” I pucker my lips at him and then smirk.

“Are you doctoring me right now?” His eyes widen and then he lets out a laugh.

“Oops. Sometimes I just can’t turn it off.”

“It’s okay. It’s one of the things I like about you.”

“And what are the other things?”

Preston sets his glass down and stands. He stalks over to me and sweeps my body into his arms, burying his lips in my neck and tickling the sensitive skin with his jaw.

“Again?” I giggle as he places me on the bed and starts to pull my robe off.

“If this is all I have, I plan to savor every second. I don’t want to waste a minute of our time together. I don’t want to waste a second.” 

And for the third time since we’ve been alone together at Castle Hill, he ravishes me fully and completely.