Ruby doesn’t text much.

That’s one of the first things I learn about her in the aftermath of the hottest night spent in my penthouse in years. Not that there haven’t been other women—there have. But none of them tantalized me quite like Ruby. We moved seamlessly between the kind of domination that makes her wet and the kind of sexual battles, her pinning my arms above my head, that I would never have expected from her if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.

And feel it.

She left on Saturday morning. The sun was up, and that’s all I know about it. When I woke up again it was already midmorning and scorching, a June day fully determined to belong to August. I remember asking her not to go. I remember her saying she was already gone. I remember the kiss, and then nothing else. 

Sunday went by without a word between us, but it didn’t make me nervous. I settled into my usual routine—a workout at the gym, a breakfast at the smaller table by the window in my dining room, a physical copy of the newspaper. 

She was so full of confidence when she left. I was half-awake, and it was still obvious, radiating from her like sunlight. I’m already gone. If I think about those words too much, they send a chill down my spine. 

On Monday I throw myself into work, micromanaging displays so intensely that Clarissa gets annoyed with me.

“You have bigger fish to fry,” she says with a frown after ninety minutes arranging and re-arranging a display of Limoges china.

“Tsk. This is my life’s work, Clarissa.”

She rolls her eyes. “It is not, and we both know it.”

“Your words are a knife through my heart.”

Clarissa turns away from the display, crossing her arms over her chest. “Look, I know you like to get your hands dirty with some of the new pieces, but this is extreme even for you, Mr. Blake. Is something on your mind?”

“I have lots of things on my mind. It’s the burden I bear.”

“Maybe you could bear it while you go out and have some lunch.” 

I look at the display, and another idea leaps into my brain. It’s going to involve moving everything around one more time, but—

Clarissa is right.

I go to lunch. I even do Clarissa one better and text Jasper on the way, telling him to meet me. He’ll be a few minutes late.

But after two full days and half of Monday, I can’t resist any longer. I send Ruby a message.

Where have you been? 

She takes ten minutes to respond, and I suck down two glasses of iced tea while I wait for the salad course.

Let’s see—in your bed, then running errands, and then at work. Where have you been?”

Wishing I was with you.

I’m not the type to send sappy messages like this. Not at all. But I want her to know—somehow—that every minute without her has felt like a year.

Wednesday isn’t soon enough?

Wednesdays. Fridays. Those are the days when we go to her parents’ house, if the last week has been any indication. Something turns over in my gut. After what we had last Friday night, is she honestly saying that those few hours are enough?

They’re not enough for me.

It’s soon enough this week…but after that...

After that, what? :)

It dawns on me that Ruby is still trying her best to navigate the line between the professional agreement that I made with her and the desire that makes it almost impossible to keep that distance. I got so caught up in the way it felt to be with her, to take her, that I forgot about the rest of it. I forgot that we’re still on a tightrope, one false move away from a hard fall.

I sit up straight at the table. When the salad comes, I push it to the side of the table, my thumbs hovering over the screen of my phone.

“Looks like an intense conversation.” Jasper slides into the seat across from me.

“I’m deciding whether or not to reveal my next plans,” I say.

“To Ruby Ashworth?”

“How did you guess?”

“By the way you’re clutching your phone like some kind of madman. Seriously. People are starting to look.”

I put the phone down on the table and glare at Jasper. “Why did I even invite you?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “I have no idea, but I’m starving. Stop ignoring your salad.”

I move the plate back in front of me. It’s a good thing that Jasper arrived when he did. Saying something to Ruby right now would have been a mistake.

Because I have a far better idea.

The tension between us on Wednesday, as we tackle more of the second floor of the estate, is thick enough to drown in, but Ruby is a tease. She insists on going straight home. It’s like she wants to feel the heat verging on an inferno.

On Friday, she glides gracefully out of the front doors of her building in a sleeveless top and a pair of slacks that hug her ass in the most delicious way. This time, I can’t help but stare at her from behind the tinted windows. My heart beats hard in my chest. It’s a risk, changing plans on her at the last minute like this, but if we’re ever going to move past this strange dividing line, it has to be today.

Phillip is already waiting outside the car and as she approaches he pulls open the door.

She gets in, drops her purse to the floor, and waits only as long as it takes for the door to shut before she’s speaking.

“I had a manuscript come in the other day. I’ve been meaning to tell you about it.”

I grin at her, trying to search out the meaning behind her smile. Is she nervous? Is she excited? Is this something about the house?

“First stop, Phillip.”

He gives me a nod in the rearview mirror. Ruby’s eyes are still locked on mine. “It was about—wait, first stop? Is there something you need to do before we go to the property?”

I slide across the seat toward her, breathing in her scent, and take her hand in mine. “More than one thing, in fact. I was hoping you would come along for the ride.”

Ruby raises her eyebrows, and in spite of myself I tense, waiting for her to pull her hand away. This is outside the regular script, and I will myself not to be surprised if she rejects it out of hand. Of course, she is the same woman who submitted to me early Friday evening and rode me with total abandon by the time midnight rolled around, so anything is possible.

She doesn’t move away.

Her blue eyes sparkle with anticipation. “Do I really have a choice?” The coy, teasing tone in her voice makes me hard.

I pull her in to kiss her temple. “Not this time.”