“Is the car even on? I can’t hear anything.”

“It’s on. You’re driving it. We’re moving down the road.”

I grinned at Sam, sitting across from me in the Tesla I’d rented at LAX. “Can't you feel it? This place is full of possibility. Do you have any idea how many movies were shot within twenty miles of exactly where we are? It’s mind-blowing.”

“And you want to be a part of that.”

“Yeah. This is where the magic happens, Sam. It’s where dreams come to life.”

“Ten years ago we were watching movies at the cheap theater. Now you’re making one.”

“I’m kind of a big shot.”

Sam’s snort made me want to tackle her, tickle her, and eventually fuck her until she admitted I was, in fact, a god.

“So are you going to the studio this afternoon?”

“Tomorrow. David promised to give me an update. But he did hint that they were courting someone for the lead.” I waited a beat. “Jane Casey.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Seriously? She doesn’t do action movies.”

“I was surprised too.” I glanced over to find Sam lost in thought. “What is it?”

“She’d be perfect. Did you see her movie from two years ago? Not the wide distribution one, the indie one. It was nominated for awards and Cannes and TIFF.”

I raised a brow. “Hello, festival buff.”

“A lot of the best stories are low budget. They’re not the blockbusters, they’ll never be made in 3D.”

“But they could be,” I insisted. “Those are the stories people need to see.”

“The money’s in movies like Phoenix. Where there’s more on CGI than on actors and writers. The people with the most compelling stories to tell are usually the ones without the money to tell them.”

“That’s not fair,” I argued. “What we love most about superhero movies isn’t the super part. It’s the hero part. Everyday people who’ve faced extraordinary things. Sometimes the studios lose sight of that. But Jane Casey could help make sure that doesn’t happen with Phoenix.”

The ocean whipped by as we drove up the coast toward the hotel, and I buzzed down my window, hollering into the breeze. The heat, the energy, the sunshine… all of it came together like an orgy of possibility.

The hotel was a brick Renaissance affair with an ocean view. I put the car in park and slid out of the driver’s seat, handing the valet my keys as we made our way up to the hotel lobby to check in.

Sam stepped into our suite first, craning her neck to look around the high-ceilinged room. The double doors opened into a massive foyer and living room. She took a left to the bedroom, and I followed as the bellhop delivered our bags.

She flopped down on the four-poster bed and I put my suitcase in the corner. Unzipped it to hang my clothes in the closet. “We have an afternoon of freedom. Any requests?” I asked.

“Does this place have a pool?” She tugged a blue one-piece from her own bag.

“It does. Though for what it’s worth, you could just go naked.”

She dropped the suit, sizing me up. “Isn’t this weird? The whole hitting-on-each-other-thing.”

“No. Because there’s no way we’re going back to a time before I saw your O-face.”

With a huff, she shoved the suit into a beach bag and I tossed her my shorts to add to it. “If guys always prefer ‘nothing’ to ‘something’, no matter what the ‘something’ is, what’s the lingerie industry for?” she challenged as we took the elevator down to the ground floor. “Or does lingerie not affect you. Because you’re all boyfriendy and in it for the birthday, anniversaries, dates…”

“My supreme decency notwithstanding, I’m still a guy. And guys are visual creatures. A little red fabric here and there?” I shrugged. “It reminds me a woman’s not totally naked and makes me start thinking about when she will be.”

She shot me a look across the elevator. “I used to think you were so deep,” she accused. “You were really walking through the halls undressing senior girls with your eyes, weren’t you?”

“Not just senior girls. Also Miss Ryerson.”

Her mouth fell open. “Is that why you took drama?”

“Hell yes.”

Glass sliding doors opened to reveal a sprawling patio with a dozen cabanas and a restaurant on the other side of a massive sparkling blue pool.

She pulled up short to admire the view and I shot her a grin.

We walked to the poolside restaurant to grab a drink, and a waiter came to take our order as we relaxed into our chairs.

“I was surprised you showed at the airport this morning.” I lifted an ankle over my knee and replaced my napkin on my lap.

She took a deep breath. “I was surprised to be there.”

I glanced out over the patio. “I’m tired of doing the right thing with you, Sam. I don’t want to think about how I hurt you, or how you hurt me. I want to do the things I used to lie awake imagining doing to you. Because you’ve got me imagining them again.”

The napkin twisted in her hands but she didn’t break eye contact. “Sometimes I wish we didn’t have all this history. It would be easier.”

“Easier than what.”

“You’re thinking about the past, or the future. About things we screwed up. I can see it in your eyes.” She glanced toward the pool, her gaze scanning the handful of people lounging and laughing and flirting. “I don’t want to make you think. I want to make you reckless.”

Her low voice made the hairs stand up on my neck despite the heat.

“You do make me reckless, Sam. It’s your power. All you have to do is take it.”

She shifted in her seat, drawing my gaze down her body.

She’d stripped off the sweater after the plane and the tank top underneath skimmed her breasts, her stomach. It left her arms bare, had me picturing them wrapped around me.

“I’m going swimming,” she said, pulling me from my daydream.

I wanted to drag her to one of the cabanas, pull the curtains, and fuck her until the ache in my groin relented.

But we’d come down to swim and I owed her that. “I'll meet you after.” I nodded to a free cabana by the side of the pool.

I left a bill for our drinks before crossing to the loungers as she went to change. I pulled out my computer and started reading tech blogs.

A shadow fell over me. “Hey Sam, can you pass me my—”

I looked up and forgot how to breathe.

The bikini was red and covered only a few of my favorite parts. Her legs were strong and curvy and the cleavage exposed by the triangle top had me longing to put my mouth on her skin.

“Where did that come from?” I managed.

“Hotel gift shop.”

“Huh.”

“You sure you don’t want to swim?” She shot a look over her shoulder as she started toward the pool.

“No…”

Her ass as she bent over to drop to sitting on the edge of the pool had me hard again.

I held in a groan and forced my gaze back to the computer.

I couldn’t tell what offended me more, the fact that Sam had turned me into a mute moron with a flash of skin, or that she’d done it deliberately.

I snuck a look at her over the top of my computer. She looked every bit a mermaid, smoothly cutting from one end of the pool to the other in easy strokes.

Her suit was bound to fall off. I watched, partly because I wanted to see when it happened and because I wanted to be ready to scoop her out of the pool so no one else did.

By the time Sam emerged, dripping with water, her hair soaking down her back, I’d shifted the computer off my lap and given up work altogether. I watched as she showered off the chlorine.

She returned to the cabana, dropping onto the lounger next to me and reaching for the towel.

I got up and shut the curtains, casting us in shadow except for the sunlight streaming in from above.

Sam dried her hair, oblivious to my inspection.

She finally looked up at me and I crooked a finger, holding out my other hand for the towel. “Up.”

Sam’s gaze darkened, and her shoulders squared as she rose.

I took the towel and, without breaking eye contact, rubbed it in slow circles over her stomach, her thighs. I bent to dry her calves, one at a time. Her feet.

I straightened, drying her breasts, taking my time on the curves exposed by her bikini top. Her breath stuck in her chest and the hard peaks of her nipples rose through the fabric.

I wanted to suck them until she begged me to stop.

I dropped the towel on the lounger behind her and stepped closer, grazing my hand down her bare waist to her hip.

“Sirenita,” I murmured, playing with a damp piece of hair that lingered on her shoulder as I remembered another day I'd dried her off.

The look in Sam’s eyes said she remembered it too.

“You're doing it again. Making this personal.” But her words were a whisper.

I thought of the way she’d traced my scars when we were lying on the floor in her bedroom. I reached for her hand, pressed it under my shirt to my stomach. “If you don't want personal, what was this?”

“It didn’t mean anything.”

Frustration rose up. It wasn't like I was asking her to marry me. I was angry and turned on, and I didn't hide either.

“Fine. Let's do this, Sam. No past. No future. You and me, right now.”

She dropped to her knees in front of me. Her hands found the waistband of my shorts, tugging them down.

I should’ve insisted on finishing what we’d started the other day. My mouth on her, making her soar.

But right at that moment, I was pissed and a little hurt and if all I had to soothe both was those cherry lips wrapped around me, by God I’d take them.

My breath lodged in my throat when I felt her fingers brush the underside of my cock. I fought to keep my eyes open. She sucked a finger into her mouth, then circled the head.

Her finger slid over the metal in my tip and I jerked in response.

I placed a finger under her chin, lifting it and leaning down to press a hard kiss to her wet lips. Her eyes flickered with desire and the first hint of uncertainty.

I wanted to make her stop. To make her admit this was all wrong, that it was about more than just skin and sweat.

“What are you waiting for? Fuck me, Sam,” I murmured. “Because when you're done, I’m sure as hell going to fuck you.”

The first touch of her tongue melted me, her lips gliding over my swollen skin. Her tongue played with the metal in the tip.

My fingers twisted in her hair, tugging and stroking in turn as her tongue wrapped around me.

It was a good thing we’d never ended up together senior year. Neither one of us would’ve graduated.

When she stroked my balls with her other hand, my head fell back on a groan.

She worked me with her mouth and I guided her with increasingly impatient hands. Glancing down to see her red lips wrapped around my cock, those eyes looking up at me with need had me forgetting my damned name.

Gorgeous, sexy, fascinating Sam.

My fingers twisted in her hair. Soft at first, then harder, until I had enough grip to push her away. “What are you doing to me,” I muttered.

“Making you reckless,” she responded.

Fuck, she was too.

Riding a shot of adrenaline, I pulled her hot mouth down on me until I hit the back of her throat.

I’d pictured us like this but the reality blew my fantasies out of the water. I hadn’t known it was possible to feel this powerful and powerless at once at someone’s hands.

I rode the edge, for minutes, fucking hours, using every ounce of control I had to prolong the pleasure. Because standing here, my legs shaking as Sam swallowed me, her fingers digging into my ass and her body tempting me, just out of reach, was something I wanted to memorize.

“I’m going to come, Sam,” I rasped when I finally felt my control slip.

She took me deeper, sliding her tongue down the sensitive underside of my swollen cock as her throat worked.

“Oh shit. I can’t…”

I felt it shoot down my spine before my muscles clenched everywhere. My release barreled into her wet mouth.

Sam took all of me, struggling to swallow fast enough and fuck me if that wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever seen.

I knew we’d signed on for sex—and apparently the less personal, the better.

But somehow this felt hotter, more intimate, than what we’d done at her house.

My heart hammered in my ears as I sank onto the scratchy fabric of the lounger cushions, lying back and blinking against the sun.

I felt like a planet ripped off its axis and hurled out into the universe.

By the time I sat up, she was watching me, satisfaction in her gaze.

I felt my cock stir again.

My fingers reached up to toy with the knot behind her neck, tugging lightly. Then harder.

The strings came down and her breasts popped out. I looked at her heaving chest. The perfect lush curves of her I wanted in my mouth—I wanted every single inch of her on my tongue.

“We should go upstairs,” she murmured, suddenly self-conscious.

“No.”

Her eyes widened.

I delighted in the conflicting desire and reluctance that crossed her face. We both knew the patio was getting fuller by the minute, could tell from the conversation, the splash of water, the distant clink of glasses beyond our hideaway.

“Come here.” I pulled her into my lap, my mouth dropping to her skin, skimming down the curve of her. Latching onto one nipple, my tongue stroking while she gasped.

My hands stroked down her sides, not hesitating for a second. My thumb skimming down the front of her bikini bottoms.

Pressing right where her clit was.

She squirmed against my hand through the fabric, and it was hot as hell the way she reacted to me.

“All those people out there…” I flipped her over onto her back. “Do they know what you’re getting?”

I swallowed her moans as I stroked her, and she writhed under my hands.

Two fingers thrust inside her and she arched off the lounger, clenching around me. “You’re so wet. You want it that bad, huh?”

Because this was what she wanted. The sweat. The need.

Someone who didn’t know anything about her. Where she’s ticklish…

I dragged the backs of my knuckles over her ribs and she hiccupped.

What turns her on…

I dragged my teeth along the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

Someone who didn’t understand her life. Her pain.

Soon I was beyond anything but the sensations we were creating, bold colors and shapes. As I built her up, she whined and arched and gasped.

“You want to come.” It wasn't a question, I could feel it in the way she tightened on my fingers.

“Lee, please.”

Those two syllables broke my control.

If she was going to come, she was sure as hell going to know I was the one making her do it.

I grabbed a condom from my pants next to the lounger. She took it from me, ripping into it with shaking hands and rolled it on.

When I slid into her, it took everything I had to swallow the groan.

My fingers grasped the top of the lounger, digging into the wood and fabric to keep from pushing the damned thing across the concrete with my thrusts. We chased the feeling we both needed, that each of us held just out of reach.

I’d started out wanting to prove a point, but with every stroke I was more wild and less able to remember why I’d started this.

Because what shocked me was how fucking good it was. When I decided to forget about the feelings and just exist in this moment, it made me delirious.

Her body was a vise around my cock, her arms holding me close as I pressed deeper inside her. Sam’s lips against my neck whispered soundlessly as the smell of chlorine in her damp hair took me over.

Instead of building her up I gave in. I chased the feeling, the madness. She was right there with me, trying to keep a toehold, a handhold, anything.

And when the world fell out from under us, I was gone.

I was gone and she was still there.

I came to, blinking down at the concrete shaded by the lounge chair. The scrap of Sam’s red bikini top was strewn on the ground like a leftover party favor.

We cleaned up, dressed, and slipped out of the cabana, taking our towels and bag upstairs with us.

The elevator ride was silent.

I swiped the key card to get us into the room and stepped back for her to go first.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said over her shoulder as the door shut after me. I grunted my assent.

“Riley?” I lifted my head to see her hovering in the door of the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” I reached up to rub a hand over the back of my neck.

I collapsed back on the bed while she turned away. A few moments later, the sound of the shower started.

What the hell?

A woman I’d once been head over heels for wanted to blow me on a sunny day in LA, and I was acting like a school kid who’d had his lunch taken away.

Sex without feelings had never been my forte.

Most women were fine with that. More than fine.

Not that I wanted more than sex with Sam, I thought, rolling onto my side to stare at our suitcases lined up next to one another. Caring about her had screwed me up once already. For weeks and months after she’d run away from me, it was all I could think of to get back to her. To make her understand.

The day I realized it was never going to happen was homecoming in freshman year of college. I had new friends, a new school, a girl in my English class who was smart and cute and who’d been sending me flirty eyes all semester.

She wasn’t Sam, I kept thinking.

That’s when I looked around and realized… there was no Sam.

There hadn’t been for awhile.

So I’d gone out with the girl from English class for nearly six months. We’d had fun together, and done all the things freshmen do.

But all the while I couldn’t bring myself to be the same guy I’d been with Sam.

If I stayed over at her place at night, it was for sex, not to lie in bed talking.

If she touched my scars, it was to flirt, not because she knew what they meant.

And when she had a bad day—which she rarely did—I’d buy her a rose from the store near campus and leave it at her door. Not once did I stay with her, peeling back the layers until she admitted what was going on in her head.

Maybe Maria was right. I’d been rinsing and repeating for ten years. The women were different, and I treated them like queens, but no one ever left me feeling gutted when it was over.

Which was the point, wasn’t it?

Now, hearing the shower stop, I braced myself.

I’d invited Sam here for two whole days, because I wanted her here. But I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with the swirling mess in my gut saying it wasn’t enough.

Which was a dangerous thought. We had our lives, ones we’d built deliberately—and separately—on as solid ground as we could find.

There was only one thing I could do with Sam for the next forty-eight hours, and it was the same thing I’d done with women for as long as I could remember.

Grin. Tease. Charm.

And above all, get it the fuck together.