“This view is incredible!” Ellie leans close to the floor-to-ceiling window in my living room, peering out across the city. De-mustached and makeup free, she’s dressed in one of my well-worn Harvard sweatshirts and a pair of basketball shorts about five sizes too big on her, but it’s the best I could offer, considering she was dying to get out of her man-suit and I don’t keep a stash of ladies’ clothes on hand.

I’m not gonna lie. Seeing Ellie in my clothes, knowing there’s nothing between the fabric and her skin? That image will get me through more than a few lonely nights.

“If I lived here,” she says, still gazing out the window, “I’d never leave this spot. You’d have to hire a maid to dust and water me once in a while. It’s that beautiful. Don’t you think?”

The sun went down an hour ago, leaving the glass and steel of Manhattan bathed in a muted glow. But I’m not looking at the buildings or the pink sky or the latticework of roadways below. Not anymore.

Yes, I appreciate the view my open-plan penthouse apartment affords. It’s glorious day or night, summer or winter, rain or shine.

But it doesn’t compare to the view tonight, the warm light shimmering in Ellie’s dark-chocolate hair, the endless sounds of the city muffled by the glass and the funky jazz playlist drifting from my speakers.

“Beautiful,” I say softly. I hold up her coffee mug, steam curling from the surface. “Dash of cream, teaspoon of sugar, yes?”

Ellie smiles, my reward for getting her coffee order right, and I hand over the mug.

Dinner was easier. We were both starving, she was still mustached and manly, and we dogged the Chinese takeout straight from the containers, barely stopping for air.

But now she’s fresh-faced and glowing, my clothes draped over her curves, her dark hair spilling across her shoulders, begging to be touched. And coffee? That’s one step closer to dessert, which, as far as I’m concerned, is one step closer to sex, which is almost certainly a terrible idea.

Almost…

Certainly…

Ellie closes her eyes and takes the first sip, letting out a moan that goes straight to my dick.

Fuck me.

“Oh, Jack. Where have you been all my life?” She moans again, showing absolutely no consideration for what she’s doing to me. “I had no idea you could make coffee like this.”

“One of my two talents,” I say.

Ellie raises a brow. “What’s the other one?”

Tearing off those shorts and burying my face between your thighs until you forget what fucking planet you’re on…

I hold her gaze a moment longer, lost in the dangerous dream of what it might feel like to go down on her, to hear her scream my name, to feel her hands rake through my hair as she pulls me closer…

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Her playful laughter drags me back to the moment.

“Actually, there isn’t another one.” I step to the side, putting some much-needed distance between us, hoping she doesn’t notice the bulge in my pants. Unlike Ellie, I’m still wearing my all-too-confining work clothes, and my cock is hating me for it. “I’m really only good at the coffee. Probably why I’m still single.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” She smiles again.

Forget that million-dollar view. I could stand here and watch this woman wear my clothes and drink my coffee and laugh at my dumb jokes forever.

And if it weren’t for her brother, and the necessary boundaries of professionalism, and the fact that I have to interact with her daily without dragging her into the closest break room and devouring her lush mouth, I’d probably tell her as much.

Alas…

“That script should be done parsing the personnel data in about half an hour,” I say instead, smooth talker that I am. “Then we can print the files, go through everything with a fine-toothed comb, and see where we’re at.”

“Really?” Ellie lights up, but then shakes her head, a frown pulling at her perfect, pink lips. “You don’t have to do that, Jack. I can take the files home. There’s a reason they call it investigative journalism. We investigate. All part of the gig.”

“I’ve got a stake in this, too, remember? Besides—I know my employees. This will go a lot faster if you ask me questions as they arise.”

“Well, thank you. I appreciate the help. And access to the files. And the dinner and coffee.” She downs the last of it then heads into the kitchen with her mug. “And basically everything you’re doing for me, when all I’m doing is making your job harder.”

You’re making something harder, all right…

“Every business has growing pains.” I follow her into the kitchen and drop our mugs into the dishwasher. “I’m grateful you’re here to help us through ours. You were right during your fake interview—S and H needs you.”

This gets another smile. “You sure I’m not bringing down the property value around there? I know I talk a good game, but I’m not exactly the Wolf of Wall Street.”

“Come on. A little more training, some on-the-job experience, your real identity… You’d be unstoppable. I meant what I said—there’s a place for you at Seyfried and Holt if you ever want to change tracks.”

She lifts a wry brow. “Something tells me that partner of yours would disagree.”

“Not if he saw you in action.”

“He can’t, though. That’s the thing.” She blows out a breath and leans back against the kitchen counter, glancing toward the big windows in the living room. The jazz playlist that entertained us through dinner finally wraps up, and in the silence that follows, the mood feels suddenly heavy.

“I talked to Ian last night,” she continues. “I gave him an update on my story, but I left out so many details. Major ones.” Her eyes flick to mine for a second, heat gathering between us. “I hate lying to him.”

Guilt simmers in my gut, and I fight the urge to take her face into my hands. To kiss her. To give her an entire red-hot night of details we’ll never be able to tell her brother about.

On the verge of making a move I can’t take back, I busy myself with the dishwasher. “It won’t be much longer. Soon you’ll be able to show him your findings and tell him the whole sordid, fake-mustached tale. He’ll have no choice but to bow down to your superior sleuthing skills.”

After he kicks my ass for letting this happen.

“You’re probably right,” she says, but from the corner of my eye I catch her shaking her head, absently playing with the ties on her borrowed basketball shorts. “But sometimes I feel like I’m living someone else’s life. I know I made the choice to switch gears in grad school, but even with all the catching up I had to do in the journalism program, I still thought it might work out.”

“Hasn’t it?”

“Not exactly.” Ellie shrugs. “I had this whole life plan—go to school, get a great job in business, make a ton of money, make my dad proud.” Her voice is so quiet, it feels like she’s making a confession.

“Instead, I’m in a studio apartment in Astoria,” she continues. “My dishes rattle every time the train goes by. I have a master’s degree from a prestigious university, but most days I’m writing puff pieces like ‘Ten Signs He’s Just Not Into You’ and ‘Is Your Smoky Eye Setting Off the Right Alarms?’”

Dishwasher forgotten, I step in front of her and put my hands on her shoulders, offering an encouraging smile. “I have no idea what a smoky eye is, but I do know that whatever you’re working on, you put your all into it. That’s what counts.”

“It’s not serious work, though. The S and H story is the first time in my professional life I’m working on something that matters. Something that can help people.”

“It will help people. It’s already helping.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” she says. “The story, the work… I’m not even close to finished, and I already believe it’s the most important thing I’ve ever done.”

“That’s a good thing, no?”

“Maybe it would be, if I were doing it as myself.” She blinks and turns away, but not before I catch the tears glistening on her cheeks. “All those smart, fearless things you think I can do? I can’t seem to do them without a costume and a mask. Without pretending I’m someone else. You think I’m this badass writer who goes after what she wants, but most of the time…I’m just scared.”

My heart cracks right in half. “What are you afraid of?”

“Not mattering. Wasting the time I’ve been given. Looking back in twenty years and wishing I’d done everything differently.”

She looks so vulnerable—the fear etched in her eyes, the downward turn of her mouth, the furrow between her brows—some primal instinct claws its way out of my chest, and all I can think about now is how badly I want to protect her. How much I want to take away her pain.

How desperately I need her to see herself the way I see her.

I cup her face in my hands, brushing away her tears with my thumbs. “This is only the beginning for you. You’re fierce and talented and smart as hell—with or without the costume. Personally, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind for a second in weeks.”

“That’s only because I’ve infiltrated your workplace, passed out in front of your office, and—”

“No. It’s because you inspire me. Because you’re an amazing person.” I hesitate a beat, but I can’t hold back the rest of the words desperate to make their way out. “And because, ever since we kissed, all I can think about is how badly I want to kiss you again.”

Her breath hitches. “You do?”

“I was so zoned out today, Rictor told me go home and sleep it off.” I slide my thumb across her lower lip. “I’m still thinking about it, El. Right now.”

“Me, too,” she whispers, breath as soft as powder.

“Good to know.” I lean down, bringing my lips to hers, but it’s nothing like our first kiss.

This kiss is hungry, starving, almost savage.

Her hands twist into the front of my shirt, and I grab her around the waist and lift her onto the countertop, shifting between her thighs. She tastes like creamy coffee and cinnamon and raw, unfiltered Ellie, and if I drop dead right here, her legs wrapped around me, her hands on my chest, I’ll say it was a life well lived.

She moans against my lips, driving me wild.

I need to touch her, to feel her against my skin. All of her.

I slide my hands up her outer thighs, warm and silky-smooth inside the borrowed shorts, and she inches forward on the countertop until I’ve got a handful of her firm, perfect ass.

But it’s not enough. Not for either of us.

“More kissing, less clothes?” I ask, voice rough with need.

“Fewer,” she pants.

“What?”

“It’s fewer clothes, not less. Although you could say ‘less clothing.’”

“I’ve got an idea. Fewer clothes, fewer interruptions from the grammar police, and more time for coming our brains out.”

“Brilliant.” Ellie laughs, kissing me again. She slides off the counter, and we stumble into the bedroom together, stripping as we go, crashing onto the bed in a tangle of bare arms and legs, Ellie’s dark brown hair a stark contrast against my white duvet.

Finally freed from the confines of my dress pants, my rock-hard cock throbs against her damp thighs, but I’m not about to rush things with Ellie. I want to take her in, kiss by kiss, one sexy moment at a time.

I start with her collarbone, blazing a trail of kisses from one shoulder to the other, then down to her breasts. She gasps my name, her back arching as I suck one of her tight peaks into my mouth, but I don’t stop, sucking her harder, grazing her with my teeth, pushing her to the edge before turning my attention to the other breast, every movement driving her wild. I can’t get enough of her, my senses overloaded by the silk of her skin, her taste, the way she writhes beneath me.

I can’t wait another minute. I need to make her come.

I drag my mouth down her stomach, tracing a path between her thighs, slowly guiding her legs apart. My tongue swirls over her clit, and Ellie threads her hands into my hair.

“Oh, God,” she moans, nails digging into my scalp.

It’s all the invitation I need.

I grab her thighs and slide my tongue inside her. Her taste is intoxicating, flooding my mouth as she arches her back and rocks her hips against my kiss. I’m drunk on her—her scent, her toned thighs, the moans she makes as I fuck her with my mouth.

“Jack,” she breathes, fisting my hair, and I know she’s right on the edge.

That she trusts me to take her there.

It’s a gift, and I still can’t believe she’s offering it to me. Here. Now. In my bed.

I suck her clit between my lips, licking and teasing, stroking her until she shatters, screaming my name.

Slowly, reverently, I kiss her thighs, her belly, those beautiful breasts, working my way back to her mouth. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes dark with desire.

“More,” she whispers, arching against my cock. Her heat is a siren call I’m powerless to resist. I grab a condom from the nightstand drawer, rolling it on as I tease her entrance.

“Please,” she says. “I need you inside me.”

God, Ellie.

We’ve crossed so many lines tonight, but not this one. Not yet. Five more seconds, and there’s no going back.

“Are you sure?” I ask, every inch of me pulsing with need for this woman. “Absolutely sure?”

“I’m so sure.” Ellie curls her fingers around my shoulders, pulling me down for another kiss as I slide blissfully inside her, one inch at a time. And God maybe I really did die back there in my kitchen. That has to be it. Because right now my body is on fire, my brain has liquefied, and the last thing I know for sure is that nothing in this world has ever felt as much like home as this woman.

I try to make it last, to draw out every moment of bliss, but the second Ellie goes again, arching into my cock as her body locks tight around me, I’m gone.

I explode, my body humming with electricity, pleasure, and something deeper. Something I’m not sure I have a name for, but it makes the moments we spend curled up in each other’s arms some of the sweetest in memory.

---

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” I ask, walking her out as the car service rolls up in front of my building a few hours later. “We could grab some breakfast on the way to the office tomorrow, chat about those files. Sal’s diner makes a mean veggie omelet.”

“I’d love to, but all my Eric stuff is at home,” Ellie says. “I can’t get ready without it.”

“You can borrow one of my suits. We’ll roll up the cuffs, eighties style.”

Ellie laughs, but I can tell my powers of persuasion are failing. “If I stay, you’ll keep me up all night, and then I’ll fall asleep during the morning meeting and get in big trouble with my boss.”

“You’ve got me there,” I say. “Your boss is kind of a dick.”

She smiles. “Honestly, I’m more worried about Blair. That woman has a lady boner for policies and procedures, and as far as she’s concerned, Eric Webb is breaking every one of them.”

“Not every one. I happen to know for a fact S and H has a very liberal policy on consensual interoffice relationships.”

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.” Ellie turns toward the waiting car, but I stop her, pulling her back into my arms. I lean close, breathing her in once more.

I could get used to this…

“Tomorrow’s gonna be brutal,” I confess.

“Only until everyone else leaves for the night.”

“Oh, really?” I nudge her nose with mine, loving this flirty, playful side of her. “What happens then?”

The look in her eyes sends a fresh bolt of desire straight to my dick.

“Why, then, Mr. Holt…” She nips my earlobe then whispers against my neck, giving me another instant hard-on. “We meet up in your office, lock the door, and take full advantage of my employer’s liberal interoffice relationship policy.”