I grabbed Tina’s hand, and we ran back to the elevator.

“Oh my god, that was so hot.” She looked behind us at the frosted glass doors to Graffine, one of the choicest restaurants in New York. I’d pulled some serious strings—mainly by bribing Sebastian’s secretary to give me a reservation Sebastian had wanted canceled—and managed to get a table for the night under his name. But when I’d arrived, it was only to find out the restaurant was closed for a private party. But there was a consolation prize. I may not have gotten dinner, but I’d definitely gotten a show—Sebastian fucking some hot blonde up against the window. I wished I’d thought to record it with my phone.

My cock was waging a war against my boxers, and one of them was going to have to give or I might need to go to the emergency room for a case of strangled dick.

“Come on, come on.” I stabbed the elevator call button a few more times. Sebastian hadn’t seen me, but his smoking hot date had. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t quite place it. She’d been too far away for me to get a good view of her face, but she’d certainly taking a licking and kept on ticking. If she was an escort, I’d definitely get the number from Sebastian.

“I’m so horny.” Tina licked her puffy lips and ran her palm down my cock as the elevator opened.

Shouting erupted inside the restaurant, and I could see the silhouette of someone trying to unlock the front doors. I dragged Tina into the elevator and rained down abuse on the “close door” elevator button. They shut just as the frosted glass doors began to swing open. We escaped.

Tina dropped to her knees and scrambled for my zipper.

I pulled her back to her feet. “We have to get out of here. If my boss finds out I saw the show, I’ll be shit canned. So will you.”

The doors opened, and we fled out the front and into the trickle of people walking along the sidewalk. I hailed a cab, and we climbed in. Once we were safely embedded in traffic, I let out a sigh of relief and relaxed.

“Now.” I unzipped my pants, and Tina got to work as I gave the cabbie instructions.

Her sloppy sounds and bobbing head had the cabbie adjusting the rearview so he could get a better view. I didn’t give a shit. The high of watching two people fuck in real time buzzed through my veins.

“My balls,” I gritted out.

Tina reached beneath my shaft and squeezed my sack. She was a real pro. I closed my eyes and let her do her magic. But as my orgasm built, something nagged at me. I couldn’t quite figure out what was holding me back. It certainly wasn’t the crisscrossing motion of Tina’s tongue or the feel of her throat.

Fuck, what was wrong with me? I leaned my head against the pungent vinyl of the back seat. The blonde—there was something about the woman Sebastian had been fucking. But what?

My balls tightened, my load fizzing for release. Tina moaned like a cheap whore around my cock, urging me to get it over with.

I was so close. And then it hit me. The blonde looked a lot like Camille. With no warning, I exploded in Tina’s mouth. She tried to pull back, but I held her head in place and enjoyed the sensation of her swallowing the tip of my dick right along with my come.

When I was done, she sputtered and coughed, then sat up next to me and glared at me with watery eyes.

“Sorry, babe. I just needed all of you. It was so good.” I stroked her cheek, but when she leaned in for a kiss, I backed away. “How about we hit a club or two? You’d like that, right?”

She frowned, her smeared lipstick giving her a “sad joker” look.

I ran my fingers up her thigh. “You’ll get yours.” I wasn’t interested in eating her pussy, but if the empty promise got her to stop giving me that face, I was all for it.

“All right.” She popped open a compact and fixed her makeup.

My thoughts returned to the frosted windows of the restaurant. The blonde. Her eyes. She was thirty feet away, maybe more, but something about her eyes, the slight tilt of her chin. The more I thought about her, the more she looked just like Camille. But that wasn’t possible. Camille was up a tree in the rainforest, studying plants and doing all the nerdy stuff she excelled at. Right?

I pulled my phone from my pocket and tapped on my messages. Mint had sent me a dozen more texts in the past few days. I’d ignored them, though I didn’t block his number. He was a good kid, and maybe some small part of me bought into his paranoia. After all, I hadn’t spoken to Camille since she’d gotten into that limo. It seemed like she would have called at some point, though the last texts I’d gotten from her had been warmer. I just figured she was missing me. Being away from me had to be hard on her, especially with Christmas coming up in a few days.

Skimming through Mint’s texts, I found him to be in an ever-heightening state of worry. The fucker had filled my phone with all sorts of crazy claims—the “plants missing from the school greenhouse” accusation really made me question the kid’s sanity. Once I got all this straightened out, I would have to have a stern talk with him about laying off my girl. Not that it mattered much. She’d be moving to the city with me at the end of spring term. He’d never see her again.

I clicked back to the main text screen and found a message from Veronica. Apparently, she and Mint were drinking the same Kool-Aid.

Veronica: I checked every scholarly journal, every university, and under every damn rock. There is no “Dr. Williams” in charge of an expedition to the Amazon. Something is wrong. Call me.

Just what I needed, Camille’s meddling bestie on my ass. I pocketed my phone as Tina drew a line of coke on the back of her hand. She sniffed like a clogged vacuum cleaner, then tapped out another line from her silver vial. I took the hit and pinched my nose as the cab pulled up to a block lined with clubs.

Camille was in the Amazon, not fucking Sebastian Lindstrom in a New York high rise. It was just too implausible. I took another hit, snorting a line to her wrist. The blonde flashed through my mind. Thing was, I’d never seen that look on her face when she was with me—not the wide-eyed surprise, but the one before it. The sated look of bliss and that wispy intangible that a more poetic person might call love. That alone told me it couldn’t have been her. If she were going to love anyone, it was me.

Even so, the blonde nagged at me. Maybe something screwy was going on, but there was nothing I could do about it right then.

“Let’s party.” Tina grabbed my arm and pointed to the nearest club.

When the cocaine rush hit, all thoughts of Camille were blasted away.