The limo ride back to Blake's place is slow and not at all fun.

He quizzes me on the biographic details of his life. It's not personal. It's facts, plain and simple.

His father died when Blake was fourteen, he went to Columbia at sixteen on a scholarship he didn't need, he graduated at nineteen. His company was up and running by the time he could drink legally in New York State.

It's like reading a Wikipedia entry. Even when he tells me about his hobbies, he lists then without tone or joy.

Blake plays chess and watches sci-fi films, but they don't seem to make him happy. Is Blake ever happy? I don't know.

He claims he loves his daily workouts.

That he gets all the satisfaction he needs from work.

That he takes great pleasure in cooking elaborate dinners in his free time.

But I'm not sure I believe it.

Blake never looks happy. Not with me.

By the time we arrive at his building, I'm grieving for the loss of joy in his life.

I've had it hard the last few years. But I do find pockets of happiness. Brunch with Lizzy. A great graphic novel. Running around city streets. Catching snow on my tongue. Lingering under the cherry trees. Sketching.

He leads me through his building's sleek lobby. Straight to the shiny silver elevator in the back.

He hits the penthouse button.

The doors slide together.

The elevator moves slowly. There isn't enough space in here for how much I want him. It's sucking up every ounce of oxygen.

Finally, the doors slide open.

We move through the hallway. He pulls out a key, unlocks his apartment door, and holds it open for me.

"Thank you." I step inside.

It's huge.

Four times the size of our place. It reeks of money.

Hardwood floors. Black leather couch, stainless steel appliances, thick oak table, floor-to-ceiling windows.

There's a balcony. An enormous balcony overlooking the park. I move towards it without thinking.

"Careful," he says. "It's cold out."

Somehow, Blake beats me to the sliding door. He pulls it open. Cold air rushes inside.

My dress blows in the wind. It would be gorgeous in a panel—a girl alone on the balcony. Or a girl with a beautiful man, her dress blowing behind her, his hand under her chin, his eyes on her.

Like he loves her.

Like she loves him.

But that part is fake.

Blake reaches up to turn the heating lamp on. It glows bright orange.

I move towards the edge of the balcony. The railing is cold against my hands. Against my waist.

I peer over the edge.

That's a long way down.

My knees wobble. His hands go right to my sides.

He pulls me backwards. "Careful."

"Girl overboard. That would raise your insurance. And the whole death could be an accident or suicide or homicide thing." His swanky pad would be perfect on an episode of Law & Order. The setup is classic. The rich guy who always gets what he wants. The pretty young woman found dead in a cocktail dress and heels. A wisecrack about an unfortunate ending to a party. Hell, it writes itself.

His hands dig into my sides. "I'd hate to lose you."

"Because I'm useful?"

His hands slide down my hips, all the way to the hem of my dress. "Because I'd hate to lose you." His fingers skim the outside of my thigh. "You can admit you're nervous."

"I'm just kidding."

He drags his fingers up my thigh, until they reach the outside of my panties. "You're scared."

My eyelids press together.

The wind rushes around me. It blows my hair in every direction.

Yes, I'm scared.

But it's not the sex that scares me.

It's everything else.

The possibility of falling in love with him. Of losing track of what's pretend and what's real.

Of him breaking my heart.

"Kat?"

"A little."

He drags his lips over my neck. Slides his hand under my dress. His fingers dig into the straps of my thong. "Have you ever heard of a safeword?"

"Yes. Do we really need that?" Is it getting that intense? I'm not sure if I can handle anything intense enough to require a safeword.

"It never hurts." His breath warms my earlobe. "I'm going to make you feel so much that you're going to want to scream no, I can't take any more."

"How do you know that?"

"I've done this before."

I can't argue with that. And it never hurts to be cautious. "Okay."

"How about chess?"

I can't help but laugh. "Chess?"

"Yes."

"Because it's the only thing you do besides work?"

"Because it's easy to remember and hard to confuse." His fingertips graze my neck. "Do you have another word in mind?"

"No, I guess chess is fine."

"Good." He brings one hand to my hip. The other goes to my lower back.

His fingers close around my zipper.

Slowly, he undoes my dress and pushes it off my shoulders.

Cold air hits my skin, but it does nothing to temper the heat racing through me. I'm on display for anyone on a nearby balcony. Anyone at the park.

For him.

The thought makes me hotter.

There's a power in being looked at. I never noticed it before. But I can feel Blake's gaze on my skin. Even with him behind me.

He unhooks my bra and tosses it aside.

He slides his hand over my chest, cupping my breast and rubbing his thumb against my nipple.

Mmm. He's way too good at this.

I lick my lips. Tilt my head. Press my neck against his mouth.

He scrapes his teeth against my skin. It's soft. A tiny burst of pain. But that only wakes up my nerves. It makes everything sharper.

Blake lets out a low grunt as his hands find the edges of my panties. He bends to slide them to my ankles.

I step out of them. Somehow, I stay upright. These heels are sturdy. Comfortable even.

"I'm in charge now, Kat. All you need to do is feel."

My sex tightens. My body gets light.

The thought of giving up control terrifies me.

And thrills me.

I… I don't know if I can do this.

But I want it so badly.

It's on my tongue. Chess.

It's a strange thought. And a strange word. But I can't give up now. I have to do this. I want to.

"I… what if I can't handle it?" I ask.

"You can."

I don't know why, but I believe him.

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes."

"Do you trust me with your body?"

I don't know. "I think so."

"Then listen. And breathe. Okay?"

I nod. I can do that. Probably.

His hand slides around my waist. "Come with me."

I follow him inside.

He closes the door behind us. Stops. Stares at me like I'm a painting hanging in a museum.

He studies every inch of my body with wide-eyed appreciation.

I've never felt particularly beautiful or desirable.

But I do right now.

Right now, I feel like the most beautiful woman in the universe.

His gaze meets mine. "Are you on birth control?"

"No," I say. "I don't date."

"I'll make you an appointment."

"I can handle it."

"I'm clean. I'll send you the test results if you'd like."

"Okay."

He leads me into a bedroom.

It can't be his. Everything is too clean, too warm, too feminine. The bed is dressed in white cotton sheets. A chiffon curtain covers the window. It's the same pale pink as my dress.

Blake opens the drawer and pulls out a condom. "Sit on the bed."

My head thinks up all sorts of objections, but my body cuts through every one of them.

His voice gets low. Rough. "Now."

I plant my ass on the bed. It's firm. An expensive foam mattress.

Palms flat behind me, I lean back.

Blake's brows raise. His gaze moves over me slowly.

"You're fucking gorgeous." He reaches into the dresser and pulls out something black. "You own my thoughts, Kat."

"I do?"

He nods. "I keep drifting off during meetings. Thinking about splitting you in half when I should be thinking about numbers. It's a disease, but I don't want a cure." He shuts the dresser drawer. "Lie down, arms above your head."

The expression in his eyes commands me.

I obey immediately.

I shift onto my back and lift my arms.

He shifts onto the bed. His knees plant outside my thighs. His crotch presses against mine.

It's not enough.

I need more of him.

Blake reaches for my hands and ties a black rope around them. Then he ties the rope to the railing of the headboard.

He tests the strength of the knot. "Okay?"

I nod.

"What's the safeword?"

"Chess."

"Good."

He slides his jacket off his shoulders. Then the tie.

I shift back, testing my mobility. My legs are free. I can do whatever I want with them.

But my arms are in place.

I'm at his mercy.

It's equal parts scary and intoxicating.

I can't see him from this position, but I can feel him.

The warmth of his body. The weight of him shifting the bed. The sound of his breath.

Buttons undo. Then a zipper. Pants hit the ground.

He comes into view. One hand plants outside my shoulder. The other brushes hair behind my ear.

His eyes lock with mine.

It's sweet.

Caring.

Then his eyelids are pressing together and his lips are on mine.

He tastes so good.

Desire collects between my legs. He's been teasing me all day, offering this all day.

I need him to make good on his word.

I need him. Period.

His hands slide down my chest. His thumbs brush my nipples. Then he's dragging his hands lower.

Below my belly button.

His lips follow his hands' path.

He kisses my neck. My chest. My stomach.

Lower.

Lower.

Almost.

My breath catches in my throat. No one has ever been this close to me. I don't know how it's supposed to feel. If I'm doing everything right.

His fingers curl into my thighs.

He pins my legs to the bed. "You smell fucking amazing." His voice is a low growl. It's raw. Animal.

It's the complete opposite of the Blake I know. That guy is an uptight suit. This one is completely undone.

My body relaxes as he groans against my thigh. He wants this too. He must. He has me tied up. He has me under his control.

I squirm as he drags his lips up my thigh. My legs fight his hands.

He pins me harder. Digs his nails into my skin. It hurts, but in a way that feels good.

He moves closer.

Closer.

There.

He runs his tongue over my folds. His mouth closes on my left side. He sucks hard.

Pleasure overwhelms me. It's intense and it's unlike anything I've ever felt before.

He's warm. Wet. Soft. But hard too.

I…

Uh…

Fuck.

My legs go slack.

I try to reach for something but my hands are bound. There's no way for me to contain the sensation. All I can do is feel it.

He draws shapes with his tongue. A circle, a triangle, a star, a heart. Romantic. The thought dissolves into the air.

Everything else fades away.

Everything fades into pleasure.

I'm at his mercy.

And he's taking me so fucking high.

He flicks his tongue against me. Soft. Then hard. Fast. Slow.

Pleasure jolts through me. It's intense. It's almost too much to take.

He licks me again. Again.

My legs fight his hand. But he's got me pinned. His nails sink into my skin. Harder. That hint of pain pushes me higher. It makes everything more intense.

An orgasm builds up inside of me.

With the next flick of his tongue, I come.

I shake. I shudder. I groan.

He pulls back for a moment, then his mouth is on me again. He licks me with long, fast strokes.

It's a lot.

It hurts.

But in a good way.

"Blake." I groan his name again and again. It's the only word in my universe. He's the only thing in my universe. His lips. His groans. Those strong hands.

He winds me up. He pushes me all the way to the edge. I'm so close I'm going to snap. It's too much. It's more than I can take.

Then I'm there. The pressure inside me releases. Pleasure spills through my body. It knocks me over like a wave.

My muscles relax.

I sink into the bed, shaking as I come down.

Blake pushes himself onto his knees. He looks down at me the way a lion looks at its prey.

Like he's going to devour me.

Fuck, he really is a sight to behold. He's tall and broad, with chiseled muscles. And his, he's…

I've seen plenty of naked guys in figure drawing classes. But never hard.

He unwraps the condom and rolls it over his cock. I force my eyes to meet his. But it's too intense. It's too intimate.

No. It's just intimate enough.

I understand this Blake.

I understand exactly what he wants from me.

And I trust him to give me what I need.

He arranges my legs flat against the bed again. Then he brings the weight of his body against mine.

I soak up the feel of him as I sink into the foam mattress.

He spreads my legs wider. The tip of his cock strains against me. The rubber tugs for a moment. Then that fades and all I feel is his warmth.

He slides inside me.

Fuck.

It's intense.

Not painful, not really. Just intense. Like I'm so full I'm going to burst.

But that feels good in its own way.

Blake plants his hands outside my shoulders. He pushes into me. He goes deeper.

The discomfort fades.

I'm just full.

Whole.

Instinct takes over.

I arch my hips to push him deeper.

I go to bring my arms around him, and my wrists catch on the restraints. I'm not in control. Blake is.

It makes my sex clench.

Which makes him growl.

His lips press against my neck. Then his teeth. A soft scrape. Then a harder one.

It hurts, but in a good way. Like he's claiming me. Like I'm his.

His hips shift against me.

He moves faster. Harder. It hurts for a minute, then it feels so damn good.

I arch my back, meeting his movements, pushing him deeper.

It feels so good.

So right.

This is why people write pop songs. This is why people go to war. This is why people hand over their body to a near stranger.

This is everything.

His nails scrape against my thighs.

It hurts, but that's not what grabs my attention. No, it's this animal version of Blake.

I let my eyelids press together.

I surrender to sensation.

Everything mixes together—pain, pressure, pleasure, need.

His breath speeds. His thighs shake.

His lips part with a sigh.

He's almost there.

I don't know how I know, but I do.

He's about to come and it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

It spurs me on.

The tension in my sex winds tighter.

He moves harder.

Faster.

There.

The pressure inside me unwinds as I come. It spills through my pelvis, my thighs, my stomach. I feel it everywhere.

Then he's there, moving faster and harder, groaning against my neck.

Groaning my name.

He tears at the sheets as he comes. His cock pulses inside me. His muscles stiffen then relax.

He's mine. It's only for a brief moment, but I feel it as clearly as I've ever felt anything.

When he's done, he collapses next to me. His expression is calm. Relaxed. Spent. I've never seen him like that. I like it. A lot.

He slides off the bed, discards of the condom, and returns.

His gaze hardens as he gives me a long once-over. "Are you okay?"

I nod.

He unties me. He's careful about checking my wrists, stretching them, pressing his lips against them.

Then he pulls me into his arms and plants a kiss on my lips.

It's soft. Sweet, even.

Then he pulls away. Climbs off the bed. "You can stay as long as you want."

"Thanks." He takes a step towards the door. "Make yourself comfortable. Jordan will take you home whenever you're ready. If there's an emergency, I'll be in my office."

I nod like it's normal he's fleeing the scene. "Sure."

"Goodnight." He steps into the hallway and pulls the door closed.

Okay…

I've never had sex until now, but I'm pretty sure that's abnormal behavior.

His terms are clear. The affection is fake. The carnal desire is real. I don't get soft kisses and sweet whispers when we're alone. And I don't want them.

It's better keeping things separate.

I climb off the bed and examine the room. There isn't much besides the bed. The bookshelf in the corner is packed with never-before-read classics. Books for show.

The attached bathroom is gorgeous, all stainless steel, Italian marble, and an enormous tub with jets and imported bubble bath.

I run the water until it's just right then climb in. This thing is practically a pool. It's the tub of my dreams. But I can't relax.

Something feels off.

Once I'm clean, I climb out, wrap myself in a towel, and return to the main room.

My clothes are folded on the couch. Not the pink chiffon dress but the jeans and t-shirt I wore this morning.

The apartment is quiet. Moonlight flows in through the big windows. A sliver of yellow light flows out from under the door in the corner. Blake's office.

I guess I inspire him. Something like that.

I plant on the couch and try to get comfortable. This is a beautiful apartment, but I can't see any of that.

I can't see anything but that closed door.

It's locked and I'm not welcome there.

I'm not welcome anywhere but his bed.