Aria’s breath caught in her chest when someone came knocking on Monroe’s hotel room door. “Who’s that?” she asked in a whisper.

“I ordered a few things while you were freshening up.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

“Room service?” she gasped, suddenly skittering around like a frightened deer. “They can’t see me here. I can’t be seen like this.”

“It’s fine,” Monroe said waving her off. “You’re here with me.”

Before he could reach the door she slid toward the bathroom and pressed herself to the wall as she pushed the door closed with her foot.

“Good evening sir,” she heard a familiar voice accompanied by the clinking of a room-service cart rattling its way in. It was Tobin, the sweet young guy who’d arrived last year all wide-eyed and excited for his adventure. It was short-lived, just like everyone else’s. “I have everything you requested here. Is there more I can do for you tonight?”

“I can’t think of a single other thing I’d like,” Monroe said confidently.

“If you do, don’t hesitate to call,” Tobin said.

Aria could picture him in the doorway waiting for the tip she was sure Monroe would give. What he and the rest of the guests didn’t know about their generous tips was they weren’t kept by the staff. Another powerful clause in the contract.

When the door closed, it was Monroe’s laugh that filled the room. “I haven’t had a girl hiding like that since ninth grade when Kelly Swanson used to climb in my window to make out and my mom was coming down the hallway.” Monroe pushed open the bathroom door and continued laughing. “The coast is clear.”

“It’s not funny,” she protested, covering her face with her hands. Now that she was actually in the presidential suite with this gorgeous man she realized what most people would think. She couldn’t blame them either. The idea of Monroe pressing her to a wall and lifting her from the ground as he found a dozen ways to pleasure her ran through her mind every few minutes. “That’s Tobin. He’s a really sweet kid, and if he saw me in here, he’d think the worst of me.”

“Well I have a lot of things to take your mind off that,” Monroe promised, taking her hand in his. It was a jolt to feel his skin, his warmth, but she didn’t pull away. Monroe was the promise of something happening. Maybe it would be something wonderful. Maybe something awful. But after seven years she was just ready for some kind of commotion. And this man was commotion.

“I’ve ordered caviar, champagne, chocolate-covered everything. I had the spa send up exotic lotions, hot stones, a Dead Sea face mask, and something called a sugar scrub, which I assume you know what to do with. There’s a detox wrap, and I’m not sure how it works, but I could have used this in Vegas last week. We also have meditation mats and music. Essentially you’re going to be thoroughly relaxed, hydrated, and possibly a little tipsy.”

“I can’t accept all of this,” she said, the knot in her stomach tightening as she took a quick inventory. “I know exactly how much that little tube of lip hydration costs. I know what they charge for those stupid hot stones. It’s all too much.”

“Aria,” Monroe said, skillfully popping the cork from the champagne and filling two glasses, “you’re six years and eleven months overdue for some indulgence. We can spend the next hour arguing over how you think it’s too much and how I think that’s crazy, or you can drink this while I start a fire and put on this creepy gong and harp music that is supposed to make us relax.”

“Gongs and harps?” Aria giggled, taking the glass from him. “I guess I could have one glass. And maybe a chocolate-covered strawberry.”

“You have to promise not to keep some kind of mental tab. The contacts you’re going to make for me, and the information I’ll gather with your help—it’s invaluable. You don’t owe me; if anything I’ll owe you more than this measly hotel stuff.”

“I used this cream once,” Aria admitted, picking up the gold and red tube and eyeing it as though it meant a hell of a lot more than just some cosmetic treatment. “They keep it under lock and key. Only two people on spa staff can get it for the guests. I’ve never seen a whole tube brought up to a guest room before.”

“I have some pull,” Monroe said, coming up behind her as she continued to spin the tube around in her hands.

“One day I was on a double shift, and I had to cover for someone at the spa. I was showing a guest to her massage room. She got up on the table and I let her know someone would be in any minute, and then I saw it. This tube sitting on the tray by the table. She’d clearly ordered it for her treatment. She had her face planted in the massage table and I figured no one would ever notice if I took a dab and rubbed in on my hands.”

“And you did?”

“Yep,” Aria admitted bashfully. “And my hands had never felt that good. I always thought what they charged for this stuff was ridiculous. But then I realized it’s worth every penny.”

Monroe put both hand on her shoulder and leaned down by her ear. “Tonight you can put that on from head to toe. It’s all yours.”

“I . . . there’s no way I could,” Aria stuttered.

“I’d be happy to apply it for you,” he offered.

“But it’s so expensive,” she protested.

“There’s that wasting time game again. I’m going to win, so don’t bother. Run a hot bath. Use every single lotion and balm they sent up. The mask. The scrub. Whatever all these things are for. Use them.”

“And you’re just going to sit here while I’m in the bath?” she asked, nearly choking on the lump in her throat. His whole body was pressed against her back now, and she could feel his excitement.

“I’ll do anything you want me to,” he whispered in a husky voice as he pushed her hair off her shoulder ran his finger up her neck.

“There might be some places I can’t reach,” she replied, her voice trembling. She could hardly believe she was saying this to a man like Monroe. “Maybe you can help.”

“Take a bath,” he ordered, pressing his wet lips to her neck, then nibbling seductively. “Then come out here, and I won’t miss a spot.”

“This wasn’t part of our arrangement,” she said, spinning to face him, but staying pressed so close she could feel his chest rising with each breath. “This isn’t part of the plan.”

“No plan. No arrangement.” He slid a hand down her back and cupped her ass as he forcibly closed the tiny gap that had remained between them. “This is indulging. I’ll start the fire. You fill the bath.”

Her nipples were pulsing in tight peaks as they pressed to his solid broad chest. His firm grip on her ass didn’t loosen, nor did his intense stare break from her face. Slipping a hand to her hair, he brushed the fallen pieces away from her eyes. “Did I judge you right?” she asked with a gulp. “Will you hurt me?”

Monroe’s stare faltered, just for a beat, but long enough to see something earnest flash in his eyes. “Nothing you feel tonight will be anything less than unbridled pleasure, having you scream out for more.”

“I don’t mean . . .” she stuttered, her eyes shooting toward the floor.

“I know what you mean,” he said, his finger curling under her chin and tilting her head so her eyes were back on him. “If you’re with me, you won’t be hurt by anyone.”

Truth. Elusive. Ever-changing. Yet in his words she could see the truth as plain as she could see the room around them. Monroe’s large arms folded over her. His lips crushed down on hers and whatever willpower she’d been clamoring to hold on to washed away with the flick of his tongue on hers. Pulling away suddenly, Monroe drew a deep breath. “Fill the bath. I’ll start the fire.”