A week goes by. Logan might say he doesn’t want anything between us, but each time we pass each other in the halls, he pauses as though deliberating whether or not to grab me, throw me in a room, and fuck me .

Our only safeguard are the kids. Because I’m only here when the twins are here, he’s unlikely to touch me when they’re around. And because the little suckers take up ALL my time when I’m with them, I’m highly distracted. Which is a good thing .

Because I can’t stop thinking about him .

His hands, his hard body against mine, his perfect ass and washboard abs. But more than his physical qualities are the way he talked to me during sex, how he made me beg for his cock. Never would I ever have dreamed of being with a man who talked to me that way. Yet he’s the first thing I think about when I wake up, the last person I think about when I fall asleep alone in bed, and every moment in between .

Talk about obsession .

Is he as obsessed with me as I am with him? I can’t imagine that he would be. He’s forgotten me already, I’m sure. When his stare does linger, I’m sure it’s purely physical, because there’s nothing about me that would interest a man like him. Billionaires with billion-dollar projects don’t just fall for girls who take care of children .

* * *

B ack at my apartment, it’s 6 AM. I’m getting ready to leave for work when Caitlyn drags her skinny, half-naked body into the kitchen to make coffee. “Ah, a Paisley ghost sighting,” she says when she sees me. “Well, hello, stranger.” She smiles .

I grab my bag and keys. “Hey. What are you doing up early? I thought you didn’t do mornings.” All week, I’ve been hoping not to run into her, so I wouldn’t have to explain the complex situation that is my work and personal life .

“I have another callback. The interview’s at nine. If I get it, this will become a full-time gig .”

“Great news! Well, I’ll see you later .”

“Wait, Paisley…” She props a fist into her hip and gives me a curious look. “How’s it going with Logan Raider’s kids? You leave super early, get home super late, and the days you’re off, I barely see you .”

“Oh. It’s good,” I say, hovering on the edge of truth. Should I tell her? She is my best friend in NYC, has been ever since Lucia ditched me in high school all because I wasn’t an alcoholic like her. But I know how much she obsesses over Logan. I’m not sure telling her would be the best idea. The inquisition would be endless. “The twins are a lot of work, but it’s getting easier every day .”

“I don’t mean the twins. I mean with him . Do you see Logan a lot? Does he walk around in his underwear? Does he ever bring anyone over for sex ?”

“Caitlyn.” I suck in a breath. “I see him very little. He leaves early and arrives super late. Like me.” I tap the couch. “Well, gotta go. See you in a couple days .”

“Bye, lucky little slut.” I hear the sneaky smile in her voice .

At the door, I bristle. If you only knew, honey …

Another day without the twins tying me to a chair and setting me on fire goes by. Not that two-year-olds would, but you never know with these kids. Once they mercifully fall asleep, I carry them to their toddler beds before he arrives home. Kissing them on the foreheads, I think about my mother and all she went through with my brothers, and the nightly guilt sets in. I should’ve been an easier teenager for her .

I close the door, making the monitor app is running on my phone. Then, I go about cleaning up the play room, getting it ready for tomorrow. When I close the door, I notice the handprint identity panel isn’t working. Note to self: tell Logan so he can have it fixed .

Next order of business is to make myself a cup of sweet orange tea. After a hard day’s work, it’s a small pleasure to help me relax. I must fall asleep hard on the den’s comfy chair where I’m hiding out, because I wake up to rock music playing somewhere in the distance. Did Logan get home while I was asleep? I check the time. It’s past midnight. Most likely it’s him. According to him, he spends a little time with the twins before work and after work, but I’ve yet to see if he actually does, because I’m usually in my room plotting to open an accounting firm or I’m asleep like I was now .

I need to tell him about the handprint panel being broken. I could text him, but something compels me to seek him out. First, I want to confirm it’s actually him I’m hearing from somewhere in the house, and second…I just want an excuse to see him .

Taking off in search of the music, I walk through the lonely, state-of-the-art home. As beautiful as it is, as much as it still amazes me, there’s little life to it. There’s more love in my parents’ middle-income home in upstate New York than there is in this sleek penthouse. The music grows stronger as I reach the stairs at the end of the hall. It’s coming from down below, the floor underneath us where I never go .

A set of spiral steps leads me into the belly of the house. Down here, it’s darker with wooden floors and wooden ceiling beams. For looks, I imagine, because the whole skyscraper is made of steel. The rock music grows stronger. It’s classic 80s. I follow it all the way to a room on my left. The door is ajar. I stand outside of it, heart pounding. Assuming Logan is here, should I be lurking in the dark? Though he said I have full access to the house, I think he meant upstairs. For some reason, this whole basement level feels restricted .

Peeking into the room, quarter eyeball at a time, the mystery comes into view. It’s a home gym, replete with every type of machine and free weights you can imagine. In the middle is Logan Raider in long shorts, sneakers, and no shirt, massive hard body glistening with sweat. He’s finished a set of chest presses and takes a breather before doing another .

I watch him with complete fascination .

He’s a large man. I can’t believe I had sex with him just a week ago. It’s hard to believe, and I often find myself pretending it was only a dream in order to forget him. But there’s no forgetting this specimen of flawlessness. His movements with the weights are rough, his breathing coarse, his body gloriously shiny. He’s working off some serious stress. I’m not sure this is a good time to approach him, but I figure he’d want to know about a broken security panel .

I venture a light knock at the door. “Mr. Raider ?”

Sweet Child O’ Mine blares from invisible speakers. Logan sets down his weights and cocks an ear. My heartbeat bangs against my ribcage like crazy, my stomach filling with a mixture of dread and lust. When he stands, he’s an ancient god sculpted from clay. Utter perfection. I want him so badly, and my core, slickening with wetness, knows it .

It was a mistake to come here .

Still, I step halfway inside .

He sees me. Suddenly, I feel borderline frightened. It’s like I’ve entered an animal’s lair. I could step out and run back upstairs, but I can’t move .

“What are you doing here?” His voice is a deep growl .

“I…just thought you’d want to know …”

I never get to finish my sentence. Not that I remember what I came here for. Because suddenly, he’s aiming in my direction, a man on a mission, pulling me away from the door so brusquely, I think some kind of danger is behind me. Then, his mouth is hard on mine, tasting, urging, exploring, salty sweat mixed with man skin filling my senses. The danger is him—it’s Logan .

And I have no desire to run .

So, it’s real. So, I didn’t imagine it last week. Logan Raider really does want me the way I want him. I don’t understand why, unless I’m caught in the crossfire of his life. Is he so stressed he just needs a fuck? If so, why am I not offended that it’s me? Why is it that I don’t mind when he throws me against the mirror, strips me naked and begins assaulting my body with his mouth and tongue? When his sweaty chest smashes against me, and I feel his cock, massive and aching, pressing into my stomach? His hands elevate, inundate, and titillate my soul .

I want him inside me right now .

Nothing else, nothing first, no formalities, not even any kissing .

Flipping me around so my breasts press up against the mirror, he pulls down his shorts, his wide leg stance stretching the waistband. “Your eyes are blue .”

“Which means ?”

“It means don’t move,” he mutters against my ear, his hot breath sending a string of electric impulses down my spine into my pussy. And then, less than thirty seconds after I made my presence known at the door, he’s already entering me .

I cry out and grasp at the mirror, but my fingers only slip. There’s nothing to hold onto as his cock buries deep into my body, banging at the centermost parts of my core, as his fingers grip into the flesh of my ass cheeks. Watching our reflection, we are not man and woman. We’re female cat pinned down by a lion, a beast whose balls slap against my ass with every stroke. We’re animals in heat, a bitch and a giant wolf dog .

It’s raw. Raw as fuck, and I love it .

“So good…” I mutter, the mirror fogging up with my breath and disappearing with each word. “Fuck me harder…please …”

Suddenly, his hand curls around my mouth, covering it so I won’t speak, as he presses his chest against my shoulders. I get the hint ad he slides it down and grasps my throat instead, not hard enough to hurt. Just holding me in place, as he fucks me harder, his cock plowing and driving into me. He pounds me so roughly, I begin dripping, my own pussy’s juices sliding down my inner leg .

It’s hard not to step out of myself right now. To internalize that it’s New York’s hottest billionaire fucking me, making me his own in the deep belly of his own home, taking an interest in a simple girl like me. It’s that thought that brings my desire to a fever pitch. Caitlyn is right—I am lucky. This man is not only paying me well, but he’s fucking me so good, too. What did I do to deserve this ?

Forgetting him after this will be futile .

His grunts match mine and his thrusts bring me closer to the edge. It’s been a week since I came, since he pulled two of them out of me last week, and I’ve had no desire to touch myself since then. It’s almost as though he really did leave his mark on me. As though I belong to him, and only he can bring me to ecstasy. I have no problem with that if that’s what he wants .

Because I’m his. I can’t imagine I’ll ever want anyone else after this .

I come easily without even touching myself. The waves radiate throughout my body, as I mewl out loud and he leans close to hear it. I see a momentary smile flash across his mouth as he bites and pulls my ear with his lips, grips my hips with both hands, and drives it home. “That’s it, baby. Let that pussy squeeze me …”

Baby. That word alone is enough to wheedle another orgasm out of me, and the waves rip through me again and again. Somewhere in my loss of consciousness, he groans aloud and I feel him slowing down, enjoying each pump of his seed into me. He’s completely used me and I don’t even fucking care. Because I used him, too. Because we both needed it, so it’s fine. The two halves of my brain argue with each other—the appalled side that cannot believe what I’ve let this man do to me, and the satisfied side that could kiss his feet for it .

I’m so spent from the aftermath that I barely even notice him carrying me the entire time he’s kissing me. Yes, the kissing comes afterwards, deep, exploratory sweeps of his tongue and lips around mine. It isn’t until he’s laid me down on a soft bed that I realize we’re in his bedroom again .

This mammoth of a man has just carried my chunky ass upstairs all the way to his room. To say I’m amazed is not enough .

“Thank you,” he says when he kisses me again. The demon has been exorcised. He’s a man once again. There’s even a soft smile to him, as those luminous eyes rove over me in bed .

“For?”

“For letting me. I shouldn’t have taken you that way without warning,” he says. “You obviously didn’t go down there to get attacked. Though I don’t think you minded .”

“I didn’t. This is weird, to say the least. I mean, it should feel weird, but it doesn’t, for some reason. It feels normal.” I want to ask what’s going on with us, where we’re taking this “thing” we’ve created. But I fear it would be too much too soon, though I know I have a right to know. I’m afraid of jinxing it. Because I want it again. And I hate myself for needing him so badly .

He sighs and lies back, his hands clasped behind his head. His arms are solid muscle with veins roping around them, setting off a small fire in my core again. “This new project we’re working on is killing me,” he mutters. His voice feels intimate, soft and deep next to me. “Millions of dollars are on the line, my ass is on the line, and there’s no room for error. To make it all worse, there’s my ex playing with fire, and I’m scared I’m going to lose my kids.” He side-eyes me. “You were right, you know .”

“About what ?”

“I need to spend more time with them. Kissing them when I come home and they’re already asleep isn’t enough, but I just don’t know how to make the time when literally every second between now and project delivery counts .”

So he does kiss them when he comes home. I feel sad for the children that they rarely get to see their father, though. Does work matter that much ?

“Add to all this now a new distraction,” he says, glancing at me. “That’s you, by the way .”

“Me? How am I a distraction, Logan?” Woops, I just called him Logan instead of Mr. Raider, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He moves right along like nothing’s happened. I can’t believe I could ever be a distraction to a man like him .

“Paisley, I don’t think you realize just how beautiful and sexy you are,” his deep voice soothes me in the darkness. “When I saw you standing at the gym door in your sweats and thin shirt, I saw you weren’t wearing a bra, I saw how tired you were—if not more tired than I am—and in your eyes. I saw that you wanted me, too .”

Wow. Well, I appreciate him saying I work hard. Glad that hasn’t gone unnoticed .

“The truth is, I can’t stop thinking about you.” His fingers reach across the pillow to caress my hair .

I sigh because I can’t believe this is happening. My boss, the most sought-after businessman in the entire city who’s designed famous modern buildings around the world, can’t stop thinking about me? ME , Paisley Carrington? What is this world coming to ?

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he asks .

“It’s hard to. You don’t understand. I’ve never been the girl that gets the attention. Not in school, not at college, not anywhere, really .”

“Those guys were stupid, then,” he says. “I know I said we couldn’t do this anymore, but I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been keeping myself at bay since that last time. But tonight, I was too weak to resist. Come here.” He reels me into his body and again, we doze in the darkness. This time I make sure to set my alarm, as Logan drifts off .

Within minutes, he’s asleep, but I can’t get there. Though our connection just got deeper, he’s still a man on the edge. He may insist I’m sexy, but I still think I’m only his stress-release plaything. I refuse to believe I have anything to offer him, though I know the back of my brain is screaming that it’s not true. I’m smart, I’m diligent, and I take damn good care of his children. Maybe that’s enough, but I still can’t help but feel that this is wrong on a deeper level .

Whether that’s my consciousness trying to warn me or my professionalism getting the best of me, I’m not sure. All I know is I’ve just joined Logan Raider on this cliff of emotions, and I don’t know whether I should leap down the ravine with him…or run the other way .