I’m not really sure how I got back to Boylston. I know that my bag was waiting for me at the concierge desk when I got there. When he hands it over, he gives me a puzzled look like he’s doing the math, but it doesn’t add up.

Three-thousand-dollar coat.

Thousand-dollar heels.

Several hundred thousand in jewelry.

And a twenty-dollar backpack with someone else’s name written across the front pocket.

I take it from the man behind the desk, shaking my head when he asked me if I need help with it, like I’m juggling a stack of steamer trunks instead of a single backpack.

“No thank you.” I sling the strap over my shoulder and head for the elevator.

The apartment looks exactly how I left it. Unbuttoning my coat, I toss it over a chair in the living room and look around. It looks the same, but it feels different. Empty. Cold. Probably because I know I’m not staying.

Carrying my bag into the bedroom, I drop it on top of the dresser before kicking off my heels and sitting on the side of the bed.

Conner volunteers at the library.

He’s helping my brother.

He’s doing well.

He has a girlfriend.

I feel laughter bubbling up in my throat, mixing with the tears. Through the blur, I see the piece of paper I left on the nightstand. Picking it up, I study the long line of numbers and letters, ending in its deceptively simple answer.

10⁵⁰⁰

When I asked him what is was, he told me it was poetry.

Falling back onto the bed, I press it to my chest, and close my eyes. Let myself be lulled to sleep by the steady thump of my heart of my hand.

I wake up to someone knocking on my door. It’s dark and the landline in the apartment ringing. The familiarity of the situation has me fumbling for the phone on the nightstand.

“Hello?”

“Miss O’Connell, this is Thomas at the front desk. There was a… gentleman here a moment ago—” The knocking grows more insistent. “I’m afraid he wouldn’t wait to be announced. He—”

The knock turns to banging. The kind that does not go unnoticed in a luxury apartment building. The kind that gets security called and the police involved. “It’s fine Thomas,” I say into the phone before tossing it down. I’m not even sure I hung it up before I run out of the bedroom. Through the living room to come to a sliding halt in front of the front door.

The banging suddenly stops.

He knows I’m standing here.

“Let me in.”

That’s all he says, his voice gruff and heavy.

Yes.

I open the door to find Conner on the other side, chest heaving slightly. Hands clenched at his sides. Eyes dark and little wild. A thrill goes through me when I see him. One I have no right to feel.

One moment he’s in the hallway. The next he’s across the threshold and kicking the door shut. And then I’m in his arms, being pulled down to the floor, the cold tile of the entryway, pressed against my back, though the thin material of my dress. His hands between my thighs, opening me, a shuddering gasp running through me when I feel his fingers hook around the lace between them to expose me. His hot, shallow breath, cool against the center of me, a moment before his mouth closes over my pussy, licking and sucking in frantic, greedy pulls.

I come immediately, screaming his name. I’d be embarrassed if he didn’t groan his approval, mouth still latched around me. Still devouring me like he can’t get enough.

Tearing himself away from me with a low growl, he carries me into the bedroom and lays me on the bed. He pulls off my dress. Unhooks my bra. Takes off my panties.

Standing over me, he pulls off his long sleeve shirt. He has a new tattoo. A triple strand of pearls wrapped around his forearm. Winding around his bicep. Disappearing behind his shoulder. My hands go to the pearls around my neck, working the clasp around so I can take it off.

“Leave it.” He opens the front of his pants and starts to pull them down, gaze snagged on my ring finger. “Leave that too.”

I shake my head. “Con—”

Pants off, he stretches himself over me, the engorged head of cock, pushing against me. Taking my hands in his, he lifts them above my head, pinning them to the bed. “I said leave it.” He strokes into me, hard and fast, his hips slamming against mine, instantly filling me. Stretching my pussy around the thick, rigid length of him. “Christ…” he mutters it against my neck, stroking and thrusting into me until I’m writhing and reaching for release.

He turns me, laying on his back so he can look up at me, his hands falling to my hips, so he can guide me, lifting and lowering me along the length of his cock. His fingers grip my ass, opening me wider, so I can take him in deeper. “Have you been touching yourself?” his voice is tight, straining against the back of his throat, gaze dark and hooded while he watches me ride him.

“Yes.”

“Show me.” He presses my hand between my legs, brushing my fingers against the place where we’re joined. “Touch yourself for me.”

I skim my fingers over my slick pussy, falling back, bracing my hand against his thigh when I find my clit. Sweeping my fingertip over it again and again, looking down at him while I roll my hips against his. “Conner…” my head falls back, fingers swirling fast. Our hips pumping and grinding against each other in a relentless, hungry rhythm.

“Come on me, Henley.” His hands come up, caressing my breasts, pinching and tugging my nipples, hard enough to make me gasp. “I need you to come on me.”

A deep, bone-twisting shudder shoots up my spine and I scream his name again while my pussy grips around him so tight he groans.

“Fuuuck.” His hands find my hips again, gripping them tight while he slams me down on his cock while he thrusts upward, touching places I didn’t even knew existed while he comes, inside me.

He pulls me toward him, framing my face with his hands, thumb stroking my cheekbone. Gaze searching mine. I think he’s going to kiss me. I want him to, but he doesn’t.

“Cenquinsexagintillion.” He whispers it like it’s a secret, the pad of his thumb skimming lower to follow the curve of my upper lip. “It’s a number. Ten to the five-hundredth power.” One of his hands slips down the nape of my neck, following the curve of my spine to press against my lower back. “In string theory, it’s the number of realities that exist, parallel to ours.” Pressed tight, he rolls me under him again and I moan softly when I feel his cock stiffen inside me. “In one of them we’re together. We stay.” He pulls back, angling his hips away from mine before pushing forward, stroking into me, slow and deep. “In one of them, you choose me.” He finally kisses me, his mouth brushing against mine so soft, so gentle, I’m afraid I might’ve imagined it.