Once Max’s brother and sister in law leave, I find myself taking deep, measured breaths.

This deception is exhausting. Not only that, having to perform in front of Max, who I’m becoming more and more attracted to by the second?

Not good.

He took me on for this project because he thought I detested him, that I wouldn’t grow attached. And I should be disgusted in him. After all, he’s kind of a pompous asshole. We have absolutely nothing in common. And he’d been at that sleazy Suitors Club, looking for a woman to own.

But despite all that, I’m falling.

All it really took is me leaning in and kissing him. The scent of his aftershave was incredible, citrusy and woodsy, and it took all my restraint not to want to stay there, attached to him. Not only that, he kept looking at me, and something in that cool blue stare had turned white hot, which was even more intense than before.

I’d never had another man look at me that way. It made me think of hunger. It made me wonder what it would be like with our bodies pressed together, his tongue in my mouth, probing, as his hands roamed down my body . . .

Somehow, I’d managed to play the part, affecting the worldly kind of woman that I thought would be on Max’s arm. Honestly, I don’t know what kind of woman would fit on his arm. She’d have to be a goddess.

I think they’d bought it.

Max sat back and said I’d done “Acceptable,” which I think is probably the best compliment I can get from him. I get the feeling he doesn’t pile on praise.

Then, when I was thinking I could leave, escape, he told me not to hurry, and put a hand on my knee. Warm, smooth, big, powerful, commanding.

Oh, good Lord.

I almost passed out right then.

I knew I should have gone home. This was the kids’ psycho time, and Cara was probably pulling her hair out, trying to get them all into their beds. Plus, it had taken me much longer to get into the city than I’d told Max it should take—an hour, at least, using public transportation. I was exhausted as hell.

But those eyes were on me, mesmerizing me.

So I settled back.

His gaze is still intent on me, and his hand hasn’t left my knee. Now, it’s doing slow, tantalizing circles over my skin. And just like that, I’m feeling those things I never felt before with anyone but him. A buzz low in my abdomen, an inexplicable hunger. I want more than just his hand on my knee.

He speaks in a low voice, and I’m not even sure what he’s saying. Something about how it’s okay to have a drink every once in a while. That his fiancé would drink them, at least. I nod, slowly, as a thought occurs to me.

Is he trying to get me drunk?

He leans in, brushes a lock of my hair off my shoulder, his finger lingering there, searing the flesh of my collarbone, then trailing back to my knee. And that’s when another thought occurs to me, as impossible as it might seem.

He wants me.

My heart is beating out of control as he continues to move on my thigh, those circles moving higher and higher. I part my legs slightly, welcoming it.

I’ve never had anyone touch me there.

But I want to.

Oh, god, how I want to.

I want him to take me to his home. I imagine he must have an extravagant place, with an extra-large bed, probably the size of my whole apartment. I imagine him easing me down onto that bed, kissing me, lifting the straps of my dress so that he bares my breasts. I imagine him taking one into his mouth his tongue circling the nipple, as he lowers my dress over my hips.

Then I shudder visibly as he’s saying, “So let me get you that drink.”

I shake my head. “I really should be going.” And then, so he won’t look any more alarmed, I yawn. “I’m just very tired.”

I shift my knees away from him, and losing his touch almost sends a physical ache through my core. But I need to. It doesn’t stop him from diving for my hand and taking that.

“That’s a shame,” he says, his voice low and controlled and so, so sexy. “Let me take you home.”

I shake my head. I need to get away from him before I let him hypnotize me any more, rendering me completely unable to do anything but submit to him. Who knows what kind of things he could lure me into? “Oh, no. It’s okay. Public transportation is— “

He’s already jabbing in a text to someone with one hand, holding mine firmly with the other. “Nonsense. My driver is nearby. Where do you live?”

“Um. Lodi. Remember?”

His lip curls up in distaste. I can tell he does not have love for anything Jersey. “Lodi. All right. I’ll have you home in half an hour,” he says with a cool smile. “My fiancé must have her beauty sleep.”

His cloying, teasing words strike a chord in me that’s still vibrating, even when we’re outside, and a stretch limousine pulls up in front of the lounge. Without waiting for the driver, he opens the door for me and motions me inside.

I climb in, lacking all the grace his supposed fiancé would. Likely, she’d be a woman who’d been climbing in and out of these cars all her life. But this is my first time.

I sit on the massive leather seat, hoping not to let on how green I am, and he slides in beside me. “Lodi, Earl,” he says to the driver.

Then he looks at me. “Address?”

I tell the driver.

And his hand snakes over and lands on my bare knee.

“Goose bumps,” he remarks.

I look down. Sure enough, there are a million. That’s not really a shocker to me.

“Are you cold?”

I shake my head. I can’t tell him what really caused those goose bumps is not the chill, but him. I’m thinking about those lips of his, kissing me. I’ve kissed before, but only twice. Both times, I was in high school, and it was awkward, first fumblings, no tongue involved, that never felt right, or natural, like this feeling blooming inside me now.

Something tells me that when Max kisses, it will be the exact opposite of awkward. It’ll probably damn near kill me, those lips of his will be so good at it.

And then I realize I’m talking about it in the future tense, like it’s just destined to happen.

He leaves his hand on my knee for a long time. He pours himself a scotch and offers me one, but I decline. He drinks it as we sail over the George Washington Bridge toward home.

We don’t talk much, but when the driver takes the exit for my hometown, he looks at me. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?” he says.

It’s funny for him to say that, since we’d been so silent on the drive. I was happy about that, because I really couldn’t concentrate on conversation when his fingers were touching me. Maybe he, too, wanted to savor the feeling of me, beside him?

I nod.

“Tonight I’ll admit was premature. I’ve never done this before.” He looks at his drink and laughs. It’s the first laugh I’ve ever heard from him, a bitter, and not happy laugh. “But it was Dan’s first night in the city and I wanted him to know I was attached, to get it right out of the way before he could get any ideas.”

His hand leaves my knee.

“I want to meet with you. Wednesday. At night. Just the two of us. I’ll arrange somewhere in Lodi so it’s convenient for you, and pick you up. We’ll have dinner. And I can fill you in on us, a little more, so we can get our stories straight.”

I nod. “That would be helpful.”

He sighs, long and hard. “And I’ll get you a ring.”

Whatever lust was in his eyes before, it’s gone. Now I can tell, he’s shifted. He’s thinking on his business. There’s a subtle crack, there, in his poised façade.

He may not want a woman for longer than a night, but I think he’s not so made of stone as he would have people believe.

“Thank you,” I say.

“No, thank you,” he says as we pull up at my apartment complex.

He looks out the window at it. He must think it’s a shithole, because even I think that. He must wonder what the allure is of this place that I need to stay here. But if he does, he doesn’t let on.

He says, “I’ll text you the details. Good night, Lily.”

“Good night,” I tell him, as the driver opens the door and I step outside into the chilly night air.

But even though the air is much cooler out here, my goose bumps? They’re gone. It seems that they only come out when Max is around.