“H e kissed you . And then you left.” Thalia says this slowly, as if she’s struggling to process the information. “He kissed you?” I haven’t told her what happened in that small room after the kiss. I haven’t explained why I’m struggling to sit down comfortably today and I can’t stop fidgeting.

“Yes, Thalia. He kissed me. Thanks for sounding so disbelieving. I have work to do. I’m not even supposed to be on my phone in here.” I survey the library, looking for Henrietta, the head librarian. If she even catches me with a piece of technology in my hands, I’m done for.

Thalia doesn’t care that I’m at work, though. All she cares about is what happened with Raphael last night, and how he is doing. “He emailed me, y’know,” she says. “He told me to ask you if London was everything you’d hoped it would be.”

“He has my phone number. He knows how to use it. Tell him if he wants to know, he can message me and find out for himself.”

“What kind of friend are you?” Thalia groans into the phone. “We’re meant to gossip about this stuff. We’re meant to pore over every single detail, overanalyzing every single move he made.”

“He’s your friend, Thalia. It’s different.”

“Damn straight it’s different. I have a vested interest in both of you. Now tell me what happened on your damn date!”

“I didn’t go on a date last night. I went to a pre-arranged…god, I don’t even know what it was, but it was not a date. I wasn’t expecting him to do that. I wasn’t ready for him to do that. You’re gonna have to excuse me if I’m not bubbling over with excitement.” A jolt of pleasure hits me out of the blue, right between my legs. Raphael didn’t even touch my pussy last night, but he might as well have. I keep experiencing flashbacks of his hand connecting with my bare ass, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from running to the bathroom so I can masturbate.

“Regardless of what you were expecting or what you were ready for, it’d still be okay if you were excited, Beth,” Thalia says. “I mean, come on. I know every line of that man’s face. He’s insanely handsome. Like Greek God handsome. You can’t tell me you’re not attracted to him.”

I sigh heavily, sliding a book back onto the shelf from the cart of returns I’m wheeling around the stacks. “I can’t tell you that,” I agree. “But there’s something about him, Thalia. Something broken. He’s a nuclear bomb and his wiring’s all fucked up. At some point, a circuit is going to short and he’s going to blow. The fallout will be devastating. If I allow him properly into my life, it’ll only be a matter of time. Something’ll happen. Something awful will happen. He’ll lose his mind or he’ll break my damn heart, and I can’t do that right now. I am five months away from taking the bar. So are you for that matter. I think we both just need to concentrate on our workloads and passing so we can get proper jobs.”

“What, and then maybe you’ll be in the market to have your heart broken?”

“Maybe. Who knows?”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being a realist . I’m protecting myself and everything I’ve worked so hard toward for the better part of my adult life.”

Another book goes back on the shelf. Thalia is quiet for a moment. She sounds disappointed when she speaks again. “All right. Fine. If that’s how it is, then that’s how it is, I suppose. I won’t hassle you about it again. Just know…I think you’re making a mistake.”

I don’t know why it’s so important to her that I connect with Raphael. On paper, her insistent need to know what’s going on with him and how he’s faring seems odd. I’d normally assume she has feelings for him herself, but I know my friend. There’s something else. Another reason she’s so desperate to know every tiny detail of Raphael’s life, and it’s kind of worrying that I can’t figure out what it is.

“Let me know if you want to get dinner later,” Thalia says.

“Ahh, I don’t know. I don’t think I can handle any more Raphael North talk.”

“I won’t even mention his name, I swear,” she tells me. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

I know she’s lying, though. She won’t be able to help herself. She’ll manage to hold off for thirty minutes, an hour max, and then she won’t be able to contain it. Every other word out of her mouth will be Raph related, and I don’t think I can take it. The man’s taken over my every waking moment as it is. Spending the night talking about him will only allow him to consume me further.

And right now, I’m beginning to wonder what will be left of me by the time Raphael has finished claiming me.

* * *

T here’s a small café in the front of the library building that sells toasted paninis and snacks, but I want something fresh for lunch today. Something green and healthy. I’m heading in the direction of a salad bar I sometimes hit up a couple of blocks away when I feel my cell phone vibrate in my purse. It’s him. I know it’s him. I’ve been waiting for a message or some kind of contact from Raph since I walked out of the penthouse. I already know he’s not the kind of guy to bombard a woman with a million text messages, but I witnessed the look in his eyes when he saw me to the glass door of the penthouse last night. He’s not going to leave this alone. He’s not going to walk away from it.

I leave my phone exactly where it is in the bottom of my bag. Whatever he’s sent to me will either ruin my day or make it incredible. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m feeling. I was furious last night. I wanted to punch him directly in the dick for being so presumptuous. Then I wanted to feel his body on mine more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. And then I was so angry with myself on the drive home that I teared up on the subway. I can’t believe I allowed him to sweep me away in a moment like that. I mean, I let him spank me for crying out loud. Who does that? It was crazy. It was pure madness. But…I also felt insanely happy for a moment. I was so drawn to him. The kiss inside the VR simulation was magical. His body pressed up against me, his hold on me firm yet gentle… I was immediately pulled in so many different directions that I couldn’t process what was happening. And bent over his knee with my dress pulled up around my waist, my bare buttocks on display for him…

I flush as I walk down the street, clearing my throat, hitching my bag strap higher on my shoulder. I have to look around to make sure no one’s noticed just how flustered I am. Can they tell I’m turned on just by looking at me? It must be so fucking obvious.

There’s a line at the salad bar. A huge one. I groan as I join the back of it. Too late to walk somewhere else now; I only have another forty-five minutes to grab food and get back to the library. If I’m late, I’ll be stuck with all the shitty jobs Henrietta’s been hoarding to dole out as punishments whenever she sees fit.

My phone feels like a block of C4, a looming threat at the bottom of my bag. Don’t look at it. Don’t look at it. Do not fucking look at your phone, Elizabeth Marie Dreymon. I repeat this over and over again as a mantra while the line slowly creeps forward.

“Excuse me? Beth, isn’t it?”

The sound of my name startles me. I turn around, and behind me a tall, blond guy in a dusky grey suit is smiling down at me. Paxton.

He takes his hand out of his pocket and offers it to me. “We met the other day. Outside the elevator?” He doesn’t say Raphael’s name. The very mention of it will have people’s ears pricking.

“Yes, I remember. You’re Paxton. Thalia’s told me about you since we ran into each other, too.”

The smile that spreads across his face is rueful. “I’m sure none of it was good. Thalia and I…we have a checkered past.”

I return his awkward smile. “She might have mentioned something along the same lines.” It would be rude to tell him about the dark picture Thalia painted of him. There’s clearly so much history between them, between all three of them. I find myself wondering why Raph will see this guy but he won’t see Thalia specifically. There’s so much left unexplained here. I’m so freaking curious, but at the same time, I’m exhausted by the situation. It’s complicated and complex, and I’m an outsider. I get the feeling I’m never going to know the truth.

“So funny that we cross paths with each other again,” Paxton says smoothly. “You’re on your lunch break? Would you care to join me at my table across the street?”

On the other side of the road, L’Assiette, a French restaurant with a reputation for out-of-this-world steak and frites, has stood for nearly fifty years now. I’ve never eaten there before. The extortionately pricey menu and the three-week wait for a table had always put me off.

“Oh, no, that’s fine. I don’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’re busy. I was just going to grab a salad to go and eat when I get the chance this afternoon.”

“I already have a number of dishes ordered with the kitchen. My business lunch just got cancelled so you’d be doing me a favor, actually. I don’t want people thinking I order so much from the menu for myself, now, do I?”

I can’t even see the counter inside the salad bar from where I’m standing. It’s going to be half an hour before I can order at this rate. I look at my watch, chewing my lip. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” I say.

“Wonderful.” Paxton offers me his arm like some old timey Southern gentleman. I thread my arm through his, already wondering if I’m making a mistake. I’d rather go hungry than invite more drama into my life right now, and where else can having lunch with this guy lead but to more drama. I’m irritated, though. I have no real reason to believe that Raph would be pissed if he knew I was eating lunch with Paxton—he could easily not give a shit—but the possibility that it might bother him gives me a bit of a thrill.

Across the street, a platter of oysters is being delivered as we’re led back to Paxton’s table. The waiter bows deeply as Paxton dismisses him with a flick of his wrist. He doesn’t even look the man in the eyes—very different to how Raph engaged with Denny when he was serving us. Paxton shoos away another waiter who tries to pull out a chair for me, making a show of pulling it out for me himself. “I’m very glad I spotted you, Beth,” he says. “I wanted to talk to you the other day but I was late to see Raphael, and you looked like you were in a hurry to get out of there anyway.”

I sit, sinking into the upholstered chair—way more comfortable than any chair in my apartment. I try to hide my surprise at Paxton’s words, but I mustn’t do a very good job. Paxton smiles, inclining his head politely. “I’ve known Raphael for a very long time. I’m sure Thalia explained our little story. How we went to school together, us four friends, joined at the hip.”

I accept the oyster fork Paxton holds out to me. “Four? She told me about you and Raphael. There’s another member of your group?”

For a second, Paxton’s perfect smile falters. Only a second. It would have been easy enough to blink and miss the stumble in his facial expression altogether. I catch it, though, out of the corner of my eye. He masters his features in a heartbeat. “Oh…no. My mistake. Plenty of people wanted to join our little band, but we were always too arrogant and full of ourselves to pay anyone else any attention. They used to call us the Three Musketeers, you know. Our parents. They used to hold weekly meetings to try and figure out what the hell to do with us, their reprobate children.” I laugh, because I think it’s what he expects. “Please,” he tells me, gesturing to the table. “Eat. You don’t have much time. If I’m honest, neither do I. There’s a mountain of paperwork on my desk. Sadly, no matter how hard I wish, it doesn’t ever seem to do itself.”

As he says this, the waiter returns with two fresh green salads and a plate of grilled meats. The smell is divine, enough to make my stomach audibly rumble.

I place a selection of food onto my plate, eating slowly, savoring each bite. “What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask.

“Well. I suppose…this is quite a difficult subject to broach. You seem like a smart woman, though, Elizabeth, so I won’t insult you by beating around the bush. I wanted to gauge your intentions toward my friend.”

I stop chewing. “My intentions?”

“Yes. Your reasoning behind spending time with Raphael. He’s…” An awkward look flashes across his face. “Raphael’s a very wealthy man. Wealthier than the rest of the New York elite combined. The past few years have been tough for him. It seemed prudent that I should figure out what your angle is before he ends up getting hurt.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t quite follow. My angle ?”

Paxton’s smile remains firmly fixed in place, but something about him changes. Some sour note creeping into the lines around his eyes. “You’re a broke student who’s recognized an opportunity for herself. I don’t blame you. I’m sure most people in your situation would do the same. You’re in debt up to your eyeballs, you have rent and expenses to cover. An invitation to spend time with the richest man in New York was probably a gift from the heavens. He’s a means to an end. You think he’ll cover your tuition fees. Maybe buy you a nice little loft space somewhere that you can live in rent free.” He nods as he says this, not a hint of anger in his voice. “I get it, I really do. I’ve had dalliances with women and done the same thing. Covered their costs, helped them out financially when they needed it. Given them a car to use every so often. For men in positions of power, it’s fairly normal. But Raphael’s different. He hasn’t formed a connection with a woman in a very long time. He may seem distant. Reserved. Cold, even. But I assure you, he’s quite the opposite. He’s…fragile . I think it’s better for him if he forges a connection with someone of an equal social standing, who doesn’t ask too much of him too quickly.”

I can’t believe my own ears. As I’ve been listening to Paxton talk so flippantly about the fact that I’m a money hungry gold digger, the food in my mouth has turned to ash. My tongue feels like a lump of raw meat. My pulse is hammering out a staccato rhythm that’s making my vision pitch and flicker. I look down at the plate in front of me, fighting my need to throw up. I put down the fork. “You think I agreed to see Raphael because I thought he’d give me money?”

“Yes,” Paxton says. “I know about your arrangement. Six thousand dollars a month? That’s an awful lot of money for a few games of chess, Elizabeth.”

Bile burns at the back of my throat. Slowly, dizzily, I push my chair back from the table and I stand. I can’t think straight. I can’t…fucking…think… “I told him I didn’t want his money,” I whisper. “I told him I wasn’t going to accept a dime. I didn’t agree to meet with him so I could fuck him for money, Paxton.”

He rocks back into his seat, holding up his hands. “Oh, no. No, no, no, that’s not what I meant at all. Not just sex. God, I’m not accusing you of being a hooker. I’m referring to companionship as well as that kind of intimacy. Enjoying meals together. Spending time together. That kind of thing.”

“Fuck you. You’re accusing me of being an escort,” I hiss.

Paxton reacts as if I’ve struck him. He jerks away from me, surprised, but it’s a fake surprise. I can see that much now. His face may do one thing but his eyes show his real emotion. He’s been playing this as cool as he can, pretending what he’s saying is completely normal, acceptable, and understandable, but I can now read how much I disgust him by the sharp, hostile steel in his eyes. “Not very ladylike, swearing at a gentleman in public, Beth,” he chides. “Especially after he offered you a free lunch.”

My stomach rolls, and I almost learn forward and vomit straight into his lap. Would serve the fucker right. I should never have agreed to come to lunch with him. The fact that I said yes has played into his argument, making me look like I’d do anything to get something for free. “You’re a pig,” I snarl, my eyes pricking like crazy. I can barely see through the tears that are welling there, clouding my vision. “I was trying to help Thalia’s friend. Nothing more.”

Paxton nods, retaining his composure, even though mine has completely fled me. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a checkbook, opening it up. He clicks the ballpoint pen he retrieves after it, then looks up at me. “How much do you want?” he asks flatly.

“What ?”

“How much do you want to leave him alone?”

“I don’t want anything!”

“Come on, Beth. Be real. Be honest. Name your number. I assure you I have enough to cover your greed.”

“You could pay me a hundred thousand dollars and I wouldn’t fucking take it. You’re a disgusting piece of—”

“One hundred grand,” Paxton says. He bows his head as he writes quickly into his checkbook. He rips out a check and hands it to me, smiling. “See. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

I snatch up the glass of ice water on the table in front of me and I pitch it in his face. He clearly wasn’t expecting me to do this. He gasps, his mouth flying open, his shoulders rocketing up around his ears. Jumping to his feet, he swats at his chest, as if that’s somehow going to dry him off. “Don’t just stand there, get me a towel!” he snarls at the waiter. The man hurries forward, holding out a plain white cloth that was draped over his arm, and Paxton starts dabbing crazily at his soaked shirt and suit jacket. The waiter gives me a stunned sideways glance and the very ghost of a smile, but I’m too pissed to join him in his amusement. Paxton’s cool, calm exterior is long gone as he pins me beneath a hateful gaze.

“You just fucked up,” he informs me. “You really just fucked up.”

I lean across the table, so there’s only a foot of space standing between us. My whole body is shaking, lit up with rage. “You know what, Paxton?” I fire back. “You’re the one who’s fucked up .”

* * *

I can’t afford to walk out on a workday halfway through it, so I go back to the library. The next five hours drag by, and even Henrietta doesn’t give me shit for being irritable. When six P.M. arrives, I don’t head home like I normally would. I march myself to the subway and ride four stops over to the Osiris Building. At the front desk, the same guy who helped me the other day is standing behind the desk, smartly dressed in an elegant suit, shirt and tie. He sees me coming, and all worry that I’ll have to remind him who I am flies out the window. “Ms. Dreymon, welcome back to the Osiris. I didn’t know you were going to be visiting us today.”

“I hadn’t planned on it. Something came up, though. Can you please let Raphael know I’m here? I need to talk to him.”

“No need,” Oliver says. “You have a standing appointment with Mr. North. He advised us to allow you immediate entry to the penthouse whenever you liked. Here, let me escort you to the elevator.”

Well, that’s a shock. He told them to let me up whenever I wanted? When did he give those orders? Before or after he spanked the living daylights out of me? Did he want me to be able to sneak into his place unannounced, perhaps dressed in sexy lingerie beneath a long coat, ready and willing to service him?

Oliver punches in the door code and moves aside so I can enter the private access room. He gives me a professional dip of the head, and then goes without another word.

I do not take my shoes off in the elevator.

It’s a stupid fucking rule anyway.

My ears pop as the elevator hurtles up toward the penthouse, and the entire time I’m swearing under my breath to myself, spitting mad. I bolt as soon as the doors open, striding across the anteroom, up to the glass door. I don’t ring the bell mounted on the side of the wall. I lay my open palm against the glass, hammering on it, until the curtain moves to the side and Raphael is standing there in front of me.

Shirtless.

He’s covered in sweat, his hair dripping, beads of perspiration rolling over his shoulders, down his chest. His muscular, smooth, perfectly carved chest. He’s wearing shorts and running shoes, and there are headphones shoved into his ears, like I just interrupted him running. I’ve never seen a private gym here at the penthouse but I don’t doubt for a second that there is one. Raph looks angry for a second, then he sees who’s waiting for him on the other side of the door and everything about him changes. He takes a step back, his shoulders squaring off.

“Beth,” he says softly. I can’t hear my name through the door but I can see the shape of it on his lips. I reach into my back pocket and I unfold the crumpled slip of paper I’ve kept there ever since lunch. I slap it against the glass for him to see. He leans forward to read and a deep frown forms between his brows. “Why did Paxton write you out a check for a hundred thousand dollars?” he asks. His voice is much louder now; I can hear him perfectly.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

His frown deepens. “I know nothing about this, Beth. Nothing .”

“So you didn’t start seeing me in the hope that I’d become your plaything? That you could buy me? Buy my time and my body, so you could use me whenever you saw fit? ’Cause that’s what your charming friend implied when he tried to pay me off this afternoon.”

Raph’s face is forged steel and carved stone. Hard. Expressionless. “You think I’d do that?”

“Yes! I mean, why else would you be paying me so much money to come and play chess with you? Why else would you have had that damn chair made? I can’t believe I was so fucking stupid. You’re a businessman. You’re smart with money. You could have played chess with anyone online for free. Goddamnit, I’m such an idiot.”

The rage that’s been building up inside me all day bursts free, surging out of me in violent waves. I’m more than angry; I’m furious. I can’t believe I got myself caught up in this shit. I have the biggest exam of my life to study for. I should be funneling every single last scrap of energy into my research and my notes, and yet I’ve wasted precious time on a man who simply wanted to pay me off in order to bed me. I’ve prided myself on remaining focused throughout law school, and to drop the ball now, so close to the end, is heartbreaking.

I turn and walk away. I barely make it three steps before the glass door is buzzing open and Raph is grabbing me by the shoulder. He spins me around, towering over me, his face hovering over mine. “I could have just played with someone online for free, you’re right. But they wouldn’t have had your eyes,” he says, his voice penetratingly deep and filled with some unknown emotion. “They wouldn’t have had your smile. Their hair wouldn’t have been so dark it’s almost black, highlighted with hints of warm brown and red. Their cheeks wouldn’t flush every time they looked up at me from beneath their sooty, charcoal lashes.” He thumps his fist against his bare chest, pounding against his ribcage, over his heart, startling me. “And my heart wouldn’t fucking feel like it was about to explode in my chest every time I heard her damn name, Beth. So, yeah. I chose you over seven billion other people. I saw that photograph of you and I fucking knew it had to be you. I didn’t ask Paxton to try and give you that money. I would never have sanctioned that. If I thought you’d take my money, I’d fucking shower you in it. Not because I want to buy you or pay for your affections. But because I want to make sure you’re comfortable. I want to make sure you have enough money in your account to pay your bills, and for school, and your rent, so when you come to see me and you walk through those elevator doors over there, you’re carefree and light. Without a worry in the damn world. If you want to be angry with me because of that, then fine. I’m a selfish prick. I’m a fucking greedy jerk. But you know I wasn’t trying to buy your affection.”

In all of our meetings up until this point, Raph has barely strung more than three sentences together at any one time. This tirade of words and emotion is so surprising and so real that I find myself gasping for air. I can see the truth in his eyes. He lays it bare there for me to see, painfully obvious, raw and undeniable. He really didn’t want anything from me. Paxton was wrong. Paxton is a lying piece of shit.

I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say. Paxton’s crumpled check falls from my hand to the polished marble beneath my feet, and my body, locked and tense until this very moment, falls slack.

Raph steps in so there’s no more space between us. He reaches up and carefully brushes my hair back out of my face, his eyes traveling slowly over my features. “I know how money works, okay?” he whispers. “I know how to use it to get what I want. I know both the good and the evil it can accomplish. Most importantly, I know what it can buy and what it can’t. If I simply wanted your body, I would have used the way I look. I would have used my charm to entice you into my bed. Even then, I wouldn’t have bribed you with a paycheck. But that’s not what I’m interested in. Not the only thing I’m interested in, anyway. I want your mind as well as your body, Beth. I want your fucking heart. I won’t be happy until I hear you telling me you’re in love with me, and there isn’t enough money in the world to make that happen. Not unless you really, truly feel it.”

I want to laugh. No, I want to cry. I’m paralyzed by my own sudden doubt. I was meant to come over here and tear this guy a new one. I wasn’t supposed to end up staring into his eyes, listening to him talk about me falling in love with him, handing over myself to him, body, mind and soul.

“I can’t just…” I shake my head, puffing out my cheeks. “I don’t know you. I can’t just decide to fall in love with you, Raph.”

“I’m not asking you to just decide to do it,” he says softly. “I’m asking you to be open to it. To give us a chance, to let this develop naturally. I’m asking you to not push this away just because my bank balance is fucking intimidating. I’ve fucked up in the past, Beth, I really have. I’ve been careless with money, things and people in the very worst ways. I’m not the same man I was five years ago, though. I’m better than that version of me ever could have been. I’ll show you a life, a remarkable life, and it won’t be special because of the money I’ve spent along the way. It’ll be special because of the thought and care I’ve put into it instead.”

His hands cup my face, framing me as he stares down at me. His face is divine, so perfectly constructed, his jaw square, his cheekbones pronounced and high, flushed with a little emotion of his own. His lips are pulled into a tight line, his concern clearly visible there.

“This is too much,” I whisper. “This is crazy .”

“I don’t care if it’s crazy. Roll the dice on me, Beth. See what happens. I’m a real fucking man. I know you’ve been wondering about me. Last night proved that. I can see it in your eyes right now, for fuck’s sake. You’re already looking at my body, wondering what it would feel like to have me on top of you. For me to be inside you. For my tongue to be between your legs, my hands all over your skin, my fingers teasing you everywhere...” He nudges my nose with the tip of his own—a gesture that would be playful if he weren’t looking at me so seriously. “You’re wondering what my sweat would taste like on the end of your tongue. You’re wondering what it would feel like to have my dick inside you. Let me show you.”

My old instincts kick in, and I hear Mom’s words in the back of my head again: Never trust men, Elizabeth. They’ll only hurt you . I try to lean back, but Raphael has hold of me again, his right foot planted behind my own, drawing me closer to him, our bodies meeting at shoulder, stomach, hip, and knee. “Don’t do that,” he hisses. “Don’t disappear on me. I need you here with me right now. I need you to understand this.” His cock is hard already. More than hard. It’s pressing into me, a heavy weight between my legs, pushing upward, already applying startling pressure against me. Mom’s voice vanishes, leaving my mind empty. No lingering fear. No lingering doubt. I had no idea my fear and panic could be so easily banished. I’m sure Raphael North is the only man in the world capable of making that happen.

It’s so difficult to hide how much I want him right now. So, so difficult. Almost impossible. He gathers my hair into his right hand, twisting it into a knot around his fist. “I’m going to fuck you,” he mouths against my lips. “You know it, and I know it. You might as well give in now and admit the truth. I could have done it last night, but I wanted to give you some time. Where’s the sense in denying this, though? You’re depriving us both if you run from this.”

“I’m…not . I’m…” Panting. Dizzy. Turned around. Incapable of speech.

Raphael runs the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip, a tiny smile lifting his lips at the corners. He teases my lip down, revealing my teeth, and he groans a little. “Say it. Say the words. Tell me you want me. I won’t do anything until you say it.”

“I…can’t…” His mouth is almost on mine. So very close. His breath is warm on my face, smelling like fresh mint. He must have been chewing gum while he was working out. “I’ll make you come so hard,” he breathes. “I’ll make you scream my fucking name until your throat’s raw. I promise, Beth…I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

“I don’t…I don’t want that.” My voice is hoarse already, like I’ve already been screaming his damn name. Sex has never been a big deal for me. Don’t get me wrong; it’s been nice to have it every once in a while, but I’ve always struggled so hard to connect with a guy, always had to work so hard to trust them, that it hasn’t really been worth the effort. It seems that Raphael North has somehow lit a fuse inside me, though, a quick-burning fuse, and with every passing second I am growing more and more turned on by the idea of him touching me.

“Bullshit. Your body’s betraying you, Elizabeth,” he whispers. “Your back’s arching into me. Your tits are crushed up against my chest so hard that I can feel your nipples are tight….” He trails off, looking down the length of my body. I don’t want him to continue. I want him to keep his mouth shut so he doesn’t embarrass me any further, but I know by the wicked glint in his eye that he’s not done with me yet. He leans in and whispers in my ear. “I can tell exactly how much you want me and it’s driving me insane.”

My cheeks burst into flames. At least it feels like they do. I pull back, trying to get away, to turn from him, but he holds on fast. “You smell so fucking good,” he purrs. “I can’t wait to bury my tongue between your thighs. I can’t wait to tease your clit, to taste you, to make you swear and curse as I fuck you with my fingers.” He presses his thumb against my bottom lip again, forcing my mouth open a little. My breath hitches in the back of my throat. “I can’t wait to feel your lips wrapped around my cock. Your pretty, pretty mouth is going to be all mine. You’re going to lick and suck, and you’re going to love every inch I give to you. I already know.”

I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life. Never. I had no idea I’d be back here so soon, feeling so turned on again after last night. The feel of his thumb dipping slowly into my mouth is enough to make my eyes roll back into my head. As if obeying some unspoken command, I lick the end of his thumb, sucking in a sharp breath through my nose when he makes a low, frustrated, highly sexual sound, somewhere between a groan and a snarl. Raph bows his head, lowering his mouth to mine, and he carefully licks as I suck his thumb all the way into my mouth.

“Fuck, Beth,” he hisses. “You’re fucking dynamite. You’re more than I can bear.”

His tongue darts out and flicks at my lip, and I instantly lose myself. I can’t handle the intensity between us anymore. I can’t even bear to look at him. I close my eyes and I melt into him. I don’t know when or how, but somewhere in the last ten seconds I’ve resigned myself to the fact that this man is going to get his way. It doesn’t feel like giving in, though. I’m not doing something I don’t want to. He’s right; I’m merely telling the truth—that I want him. Badly .

One second I’m standing stiffly against him, the taste of mint on my lips as he laves at me, and then the next I’m reaching for him, grabbing at him, winding my fingers into his hair, pulling him so that his mouth comes crashing down on mine.

Our first kiss, the one we shared in the VR studio, was a dizzying thing. I didn’t allow myself to sink into it, though. I railed against it, fought my desire off, determined to control the situation as best I could. Now, though, everything is different. I slowly descend into madness as I melt into this kiss. Raphael is reserved for all of three seconds. He manages to stay calm as he kisses me once, twice, and then his hands are tearing at my clothes, forcing my mouth open further, his tongue probing and exploring, his chest heaving as he groans into my mouth.

He jerks my hair, pulling my head back, leaving my neck exposed, and then his tongue and his teeth are raking across my skin, his incisors digging into my flesh hard enough to leave marks. I cry out, my heart thundering in my chest. I need his body on mine. I need more of him, more than he’s already given me. I whimper, a sound I’ve never in my life made before, and Raph laughs, just once, a rough edged, lust-filled bark of laughter, and then he returns to my neck.

Next to Raphael, I feel small and vulnerable yet safe and protected all once. I never thought a guy could make me feel anything but intimidated and scared. This man is capable of destroying and saving me in the very same breath, though. He’s capable of building me up and at the same time crushing me with his strong hands.

I wore a button down shirt and pants to the library for work this morning, so I’m hardly wearing the sexiest clothes in my wardrobe. Far from it. I look very conservative, but when Raphael rips open my shirt, exposing my black lace bra and an expanse of cleavage, I feel like I’m wearing the most provocative outfit imaginable.

He snarls as he buries his face in my skin, his hands working my breasts through the lace, finding my nipples immediately, pinching and rolling them until I have to suck in a sharp breath.

The pain is exquisite. The pleasure is blinding.

“Your body belongs to me,” Raphael groans. “Your beautiful face. Your perfect mouth. Your tits. Your ass. Your cunt. All of it belongs to me now.” My mother would keel over and die if she knew a man was speaking to me like this. She’d scream blue murder and try to kill him. For some reason, hearing the word cunt on Raph’s lips turns me on so much that I have to dig my fingernails into his back just to stay upright, though.

Raph responds by sliding his hand down the front of my pants, already beneath my underwear, and dipping them between my legs.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re so fucking wet. God damn it, Beth, you’re soaking. I’m going to have to lick you clean.” The words he uses are so animalistic and suggestive that a shiver runs from the top of my head down to my toes. My skin breaks out in goose bumps. If Raphael notices the extreme effect he has on me, then he doesn’t let me know. He unfastens my pants, ripping them down over my hips.

“You’re about to forget which way is up,” he informs me. I’m denied the chance to fire back a retort when he pulls my panties to the side and begins rubbing my clit in small, tight circles with his index finger. He doesn’t waste five minutes trying to find the damn thing. He knows exactly where it is and gets to work. My head rocks back, my entire body shaking with pleasure. Raph uses his other hand to pull down the lace material of my bra, exposing first my left breast and then my right. He takes my nipple into his mouth, biting lightly, clamping down with his teeth, and I shudder.

“You like that? You like walking the line between pleasure and pain?” Raphael asks.

“Yes. Yes. Fuck, yes.”

He thrusts a finger inside me as he sucks at my breast, and I can’t hold back the cry that rips free from my throat.

“I’ll push you over that line,” he whispers. “I’ll carry you over it. I’ll hold you tight and keep you safe as you come over and over again. Do you want that?”

I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. Five minutes ago, I wanted to fucking kill him. A lot has changed since I came storming up here in the elevator, though. Raphael laid himself out for me to see. No secrets. No games. No mystery or intrigue. Just plain honesty. He wants me, and he knows I want him. Any other guy wouldn’t have put himself out there like that. They wouldn’t have risked the chance of rejection that comes hand in hand with being honest about what you want. His confession was unashamed and unafraid, and it made my heart swell to three times its normal size.

Raphael drops down to his knees and grabs hold of my left ankle. He rips my pump from my foot and launches it down the length of the anteroom, snarling like a savage. “No ,” he says simply. He rips the pump from my other foot and hurls that one too. “Bad girl. You broke my rules. We’ll talk about that later. Go and place your hands against the glass, Beth,” Raph tells me. The timbre of his voice resonates somewhere deep inside me. Somewhere that answers only to instinct and drive, not to common sense. He kisses me as he walks me backwards, his mouth hot and insistent, his hands furiously exploring my body. I shift back, responding to his movement. The anteroom, marble and glass and not much else, now feels like it’s filled from top to bottom with water and I’m struggling to move back through the suffocating liquid in order to obey this man’s command.

Cold.

Cold on my flesh.

My body must have made contact with the glass because a shock of cold hits my back and my ass. My butt must be pressed up against the floor to ceiling window. The shock of the unexpected sensation has me gasping for breath. Quickly, Raph spins me around, and then his hand is sliding down…

…over my stomach…

…between my legs…

…inside me…

“Fuck! Beth, you feel so good good around my fingers. Your pussy is so damn tight. So wet. Tell me… Tell me right now that you want me inside you.”

Raph’s words are almost lost in the haze that’s fogging my brain. I barely know how to make myself heard anymore. I don’t know how to make myself clear. I manage to nod, though. I manage to say the words he’s asking of me. “Yes! God, yes, I want you inside me!”

I haven’t even finished speaking before he’s ripping my pants fully from my body. Tearing the open shirt from me. Yanking down my panties and lifting each of my legs in order to hurl them across the anteroom. I slap my palms against the glass as he pushes himself inside me. I’ve never felt this before—so full, so turned on, so swept away and complete. Raphael North, the most beautiful man in New York City, the most elusive man to ever grace the cover of a magazine, is inside me. Not just inside me. He’s claiming me, owning me, demanding everything of me with each and every single thrust of his cock.

I’m lost. I’m lost to myself, and to him. There’s only pleasure… and it feels like it’s pouring into me, taking me over, showing me heights of madness I never knew existed.

My breasts crush up against the glass, and the beat and thrum of a helicopter sounds way off in the distance, the throb and thrum of its blades barely audible. I hear nothing but the pull and push of Raphael’s breathing. I feel nothing but his dizzying touch.

“Are you ready to come for me now, Beth?” he rasps into my ear. “Are you ready to give me what I’ve been waiting for ever since I saw that photo?”

“Shit. Yes, fuck, I’m going to come!” With every deep thrust of his cock inside me, I can feel it mounting: that terrifying fall. Le petit mort. The little death. Except this orgasm won’t be comparable to a little death. It’ll be a monstrous death. It’s going to be skydiving and my chute not opening. It’s going to be deep sea diving and my tank running out of oxygen.

It’s going to be…

It’s going to be…

It’s going to…

It’s…

“Oh my god! Raph! Raph! Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming!”

His arm closes around my chest, pulling me back to him, holding me against his body as he holds me while I come. “I know. I know. I feel it,” he whispers. “I can feel your pussy tightening around my dick, baby. Come for me hard now. Fucking come all over me.”

So I do.