I studied the menu, smiling a little at all the classic diner favorites. “Do you even know what half of this stuff is?” I teased Oliver. “A Monte Cristo—you’ve probably never seen one of those in your life. Or chili-cheese fries.”

Oliver laughed and was about to say something when the waitress—Betty, according to her name tag—came over.

“Oliver!” she said. “It’s been a while!”

Oliver got up out of his seat and gave the woman a hug. Betty looked old enough to be his mother, if not his grandmother. “How have you been? How are Sam and the dogs doing?”

“Oh, Sam’s great,” Betty said happily. “Can you believe he’ll be off to college in the fall? It’s his last summer at home . . . And the dogs, well, they’re still just as lively as ever. Too lively for the apartment I have here in the city, but oh well. I do what I can to get some good walks in with them, you know how it is.” She raised an eyebrow at me. “And who’s this?”

“This is Sophia,” Oliver said, smiling over at me. “She’s a good friend of mine. She works in humanitarian aid—she was recently down in Argentina, helping to clear roads and build homes after all the flooding.”

“Well isn’t that something,” Betty said. “You must have a very big heart.” She pulled out a notebook. “Now, what can I get for you tonight, Oli?”

As she walked away, I stared at Oliver as though he’d grown a second head. “Oli? You hate it when people call you Oli. You come here a lot,” I surmised.

He chuckled. “You’re right, I don’t love that nickname. It makes me feel like I’m twelve. But I’ve known Betty a long time,” he said with a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Anyway. I’ve discovered that I don’t always hate being called Oli.” His mouth curved into a grin and his cheeks turned red, like he was remembering something embarrassing. He cleared his throat before lowering his voice. “I did rather enjoy hearing it come out of your lips when we were in that cellar of yours. Although . . . it was more of a moan wasn’t it . . .”

“Oliver!” I cried, wanting to punch him in the arm. I felt my face turn completely red. I was so embarrassed about him pointing out what I’d done and said in the heat of the moment, but there was a part of me that was also reveling in the memory of what had transpired between us. How we both totally lost control.

I couldn’t lose control of this night, though. I tried to change the topic. “Anyway . . . you never answered my question about why you like this place,” I said curiously.

Oliver looked momentarily uncomfortable. “Yeah, well, maybe it secretly is Michelin-rated—or it will be one day. I’m ahead of the crowds.” I frowned at him, and he relented. “It’s one of my sister’s favorite places. We used to come here a lot before . . .” He trailed off, grimacing.

“Before you got too busy with work and started having to cut all your dates short?” I suggested, more teasing than bitter. Whatever Oliver and I had had, whatever feelings I’d had for him, that was all over now. I knew where we stood.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said cheerfully.

Oliver shook his head. “The thing with Jeri,” he said suddenly. “I know I should have told you about it, rather than letting you hear it from her first. Were you really . . . jealous?”

“Of course not,” I scoffed.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at me. “Really?” he asked. “But you were willing to take her word without even listening to my side of the story.”

I ducked my head, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing me blush. “Why do you care anyway?” I asked, unable to keep from sounding bitter. “I saw you in some magazine, with some new girl. Your new sweetheart, if the headline was anything to go by.”

Oliver looked surprised. “You didn’t strike me as the type of woman to read magazines like that,” he said, sounding amused.

“I don’t,” I muttered. “Someone—Jeri, probably—left it on my desk for me to find. And Jeri might have embellished a little on what happened between the two of you, but I don’t think she was so desperate to mess things up between us that she would create a fake tabloid spread about you at the opening of the Seville Theater. If she did, it would probably be her on your arm.”

“Sure sounds like jealousy to me,” Oliver said, grinning over at me.

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s just drop it, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Oliver said, but his eyes were twinkling.

We ate our meals and then walked silently back to the car. I couldn’t help but think about how this might be my last chance to be with him in the way that I had wanted for so long. No matter how much I had tried to deny it, I still wanted him—at least physically. I could only imagine what it would be like to have him spread me out on the sheets, his full attention on me and my full attention on him. What we’d done before—in the cellar and then again in his car—had been so rushed and hurried. It had been good, but I imagined that given the time to really explore one another’s bodies, it could be . . . Well, I was damp in my panties just imagining it.

Besides, where would be the harm? Javier and I hadn’t made any commitments to each other yet; we were just going down to Africa together to see where things would take us.

But then again, Oliver had that other woman, the one in the pictures. His new girl. I swallowed hard, realizing that I had missed my chance. Even if I weren’t going to Africa, whatever Oliver and I could have had was truly over. I couldn’t help feeling a little regret over that.

If only Jeri hadn’t meddled, I thought bitterly. But I knew that, truthfully, it wasn’t about that. Sure, Jeri’s twisted words about her relationship with Oliver might have caused an argument. But our real problems had gone deeper than that.

“You know,” Oliver said suddenly, as we got into the car. “That woman that you saw, the one who was with me at the opening of the Seville? She and I have been friends for a very long time. Ever since we were children.” He paused. “She lives in Europe, so I don’t get to see her very often anymore, which is probably why the press thought she was some new date. Especially since it had been so long since they’d seen me with anyone.”

Suddenly I was reminded of what Will had said about Oliver mostly having female friends. I blinked over at him. “She wasn’t your date?” I asked.

“She was, but just as friends,” Oliver said. “She’s always been interested in theater, and I thought she could explain the finer points of the plot to me if I dozed off for half the performance.” He paused. “But there was absolutely nothing going on between us, and there never will be either. She’s like a sister to me.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling.

“To be honest, I haven’t been with anyone since that night at Le Monde Ensemble’s benefit dinner,” Oliver continued. “Ever since I first met you, I haven’t been able to look at any other woman the same way.”

I blinked at him, shocked by what I was hearing. That those words were coming out of Oliver’s mouth . . . I never could have imagined them.

I looked away. “But I’m going to Africa,” I reminded him gently. “We’re probably never going to see one another again.”

“Then we’d better make the most of one last night together,” Oliver suggested. He didn’t say it in the cocky way that I might have expected. Instead, he sounded uncertain, like he still thought that I might say no. As though it was within my power to deny him.

Instead, I nodded over at him, not trusting my voice. Oliver put the car in drive.

* * *

The elevator ride up to his penthouse seemed to take forever, but Oliver made good use of the time, pushing me back against the mirrors and kissing me roughly. I groaned as he slid a leg in between mine. I could feel how hard he already was, his dick pressed into the hollow of my hip, and I wanted nothing more than to touch him—but I held back for now, mindful of the fact that we could stop and let on other passengers at any time.

Oliver didn’t seem to have any such hangups. He pushed his hands up under my shirt, caressing my breasts and pulling me ever closer to him. I shivered at the feeling of his hot palms against my skin, such a contrast to the cold mirror at my back.

Finally, we reached his floor, and the doors slid open. I gazed around at the place, noting that it was exactly like Oliver had said: it was nice and the furniture clearly had come from some well thought-out catalogue spread . . . but it seemed emotionless and empty, as though it wasn’t a home.

I shook my head, a small smile playing on my lips. I was already thinking of the changes that he could make. But I wasn’t there to play interior decorator.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Oliver asked, suddenly looking curiously nervous.

“Oliver, what I want is for you to show me to your bedroom,” I said sincerely tired of edging around that for the whole time that I’d known him.

Oliver grinned at me. “As you wish,” he said, scooping me up into his arms and carrying me down the hallway. In the bedroom, he tossed me carefully onto the bed and then climbed on top of me before I could even react. He began to strip me in earnest, peeling off every article of my clothing until I lay there bare before him. Meanwhile, I had only managed to undo his jeans.

I laughed. “Come on,” I urged, pushing at his jeans.

Oliver laughed as well and pulled away for a moment, briskly stripping himself with the same quick efficiency. And for the first time, I got to see him. All of him. My breath hitched as my eyes ran down his body, from his cut biceps, to his beautifully chiseled abs, down to his . . . Oh my. I swallowed audibly and Oliver smiled, looking momentarily shy. I certainly wasn’t disappointed, Oliver Lewin was everything they said and more.

He covered my body with his naked form. I shivered as skin dragged against skin, as he traced his fingertips along my sides, across my nipples.

“You’re so beautiful Sophia . . .” he sighed.

His gentle touches left a trail of goosebumps in their wake, my whole body reacting to the sensation.

He nudged my legs apart and knelt between them, sliding his fingers into me without any warning or preparation. But I was ready for him, my body desperately craving his proud manhood, which jutted between us, the promise of more. For now, he plied my insides with his digits, making me arch and moan. He really did have a way with his fingers.

I wrapped my hand around his cock and was rewarded with a full-body jerk, as he pumped his hips so his dick slid through my hand. He muffled a groan against the side of my neck. “Fuck, Sophia,” he swore.

Slowly, an idea began to form in my mind. I knew I didn’t owe him for what he’d done to me in the car, but it did feel unfair that he had already explored my body so thoroughly when I had barely experienced his. Even when we’d had sex before, he had been the one wholly in charge, and I hadn’t even gotten to see his cock. And now that I’d seen it, all I wanted to do was taste it.

I pushed at him until he was on his back, and then I kissed my way down his body until I came to his dick. I’d never been one to be so forward, but with Oliver, I felt urges that I’d never had before. I wanted to consume him, and have him consume me.

Slowly, I took him in my mouth, moving inch by inch, flicking my tongue at the very tip. I could taste precum already leaking lazily from his slit. That, along with the musky scent of him, made me moan as I started to suck at his length. I had Oliver Lewin in bed—in my mouth—and he was completely at my mercy. I used every trick that I knew, pressing my tongue along the underside of his cock, plying my lips against the tender skin of his tip. I grazed my teeth lightly along his skin and was rewarded with a groan with each pass through my lips.

When I looked up at Oliver, he blinked down at me, looking somewhere between shocked and desirous. After a moment, he seemed to collect himself, catching my arms and pulling me back up his body. He positioned my hips so that I rested over his stiff member, and I slowly dropped myself down onto him.

I gasped, feeling his bare cock fully inside of me. My eyes fluttered shut. Slowly, I began to move, and the feeling of his thick length shifting inside of me was almost too much. I moaned and fell forwards, clinging to Oliver’s hands for balance.

He helped me back upright and then used his heels to drive down into the mattress, pushing his manhood deep into my body. His thrusts were quick and sharp, and they resonated through my whole body. I cried out breathlessly, my body tensing, as Oliver continued to pound into me.

He finally slowed down, letting me catch my breath for a moment and then flipping us around again, so that I was lying on my back beneath him, his cock still inside of me. Slowly, he began to slide his hips back and forth. He leaned forward to nip and bite at my nipples, the exquisite pain making me moan his name. Again, I found myself breathless with sensation, helplessly overcome. I shivered just on the brink of orgasm, but Oliver was teasing me, just stopping short of bringing me there.

“Oliver please,” I whimpered. My voice sounded rough, as though I’d been screaming.

Oliver bent down and kissed me, but he didn’t change the rhythm of his movements. He did, however, begin to build up the force behind them, until each slide back into my warm pussy ended with a sharp thrust that had me crying out with pleasure.

Oliver bit sharply into the side of my neck and I mewled, fingers scrabbling desperately at the sheets, seeking something to anchor me. I found it in the firm strength of his forearms, wrapping my fingers around his wrists and using him for leverage so that I could meet his thrusts.

We came at the same time, both with muted cries of pleasure. The sound of Oliver’s guttural groan and the way his eyes rolled back into his head was almost enough to bring me to the brink again. My vision washed white and then dark as a kaleidoscope of sensations burst through me. It was heat and pleasure and slick desire, all bundled into one—alongside all of the mixed and tangled feelings that I had for him. I wanted to be angry with him, for saving something like this for our final night together, when we knew we would never see one another again. I wanted to lie there with him forever, to tell Javier that I wasn’t going to Africa.

But I had made commitments, and when this night was over, I needed to leave. Oliver and I had had our chance, and nothing had come of it.

Oliver gave one final thrust and pulled out, falling to the side and rolling onto his back. We both lay there for a moment, trying to catch our breath. Finally, Oliver looked over at me, a crooked grin on his face.

I couldn’t help grinning back at him, as I rolled closer, putting my head on his chest. I wanted to memorize this moment, the feeling of his body against mine, my curves against his hard planes. The scent of his aftershave—musky and spicy—mixed with the scent of our sex. For a moment, I let myself think of what it would be like if I didn’t have to leave, if we could continue to have these moments, just like this.

But that was impossible. Even if I stayed, Oliver would get bored with me now that he knew he could have me. He had only ever been interested in the chase. And I only knew how to give my all to my work.

Oliver gently stroked my hair, reaching out with his other hand to twist his fingers with mine. “What time is your flight?” he asked.

“11 o’clock tomorrow morning,” I sighed.

“Then I guess we’d better make the best of the next twelve hours,” Oliver said, a glint in his eye.

I couldn’t resist.