Jack handed Eva a soft pretzel as they resumed their unhurried walk home. He couldn’t have timed it better if he’d planned it. The sun was setting as they walked across the Brooklyn Bridge toward Manhattan. Because of the rain earlier in the day, the sky was a painter’s palette, streaked with a mixture of wispy gray clouds and delicate pink rays.

The effect dazzled Eva. She oohed and aahed with appreciation as the cars whizzed by beside them, which made Jack laugh. “You act like you’ve never seen a sunset before.”

“I’ve never seen one from here,” she said, licking mustard off her thumb. “And I’ve never seen one with you.” She rolled her eyes. “But I’m sure you’ve taken thousands of women up here, right?”

He snorted. “No. I usually come here alone, actually.”

She turned to him, clearly surprised, as she sucked grains of salt off her fingers. “Alone? Why?”

“Because women expect more than pretzels,” he said, rubbing his thumb and index finger together to make the symbol for cash. “They want to have money spent on them.”

Eva wrinkled her pert little nose and shook her head. “Maybe the type of woman you usually go for, but not all of us.”

“The type of woman…” He trailed off, mulling over the words. “One, I don’t have a type. And two, I haven’t met a single woman, regardless of type, who hasn’t thought, ‘Let’s see what I can get out of Jack Deep Pockets Bennett.’”

Her jaw dropped, and she stopped walking. “Oh my God! Is that what you think of women? That we’re all after your money?”

“Well. Not you. You’re just in it for the sex.” He grinned sideways at her, making her mouth fall open a touch wider. “Go on. Tell me that isn’t true.”

She scrunched up her face, making him laugh. She could be too fucking cute for her own good sometimes.

“Besides,” he continued casually, “You’re a Fiorini. You have your own deep pockets.”

She swatted him. “Even so! I never cared about money. I mean, are you kidding? This blows the Plaza out of the water. In fact, this is probably the best date I’ve ever been on, and I don’t—”

She cut off suddenly.

He knew why. She’d called this a date.

Is that what it was? And if so, did it matter? So this wasn’t all about the fucking. That was a good thing, wasn’t it? He liked spending time with her, too. If she wanted to call it a date, fine by him.

He noticed the blush on her cheeks, but kept walking, surprised at how the realization left him unfazed.

Usually when a woman supposed too much, it sent him fleeing in the other direction. And now he was going on dates with Eva, confiding in Eva, living with Eva, dreaming about fucking her every night for the foreseeable future, and was happier than he’d ever been.

Something was wrong with him—clearly—but right now he couldn’t bring himself to worry about it. Not when she looked so happy, too.

By the time they made it back into Manhattan and stood at the base of the bridge, the sun had sunk behind the horizon, leaving a bitter wind in its wake. Jack walked slightly ahead as a barrier, trying to shield Eva against its chill, but she still sunk into his big sweatshirt, shivering.

At the first opportunity, they ducked into a bus shelter and Jack called for a car service. “I think we’ve had enough exercise for today,” he said, holding her close as they waited for their ride to arrive.

When the driver pulled to the curb a few minutes later, she climbed into the back of the car and perched near the heater, warming her hands and face. “It feels like March out there,” she said.

He sat back and prepared for the ride, but the car jerked forward and came to a standstill not a dozen yards from the bus shelter. Jack peered out the window at the line of cars snaking their way onto the Cross Bronx Expressway.

In front of him, all he could see were cars. Somewhere, police sirens blared.

The minutes dragged on, increasing Jack’s impatience to get back home and get Eva naked beneath him in his bed.

Or on top. On top would be excellent as well. He tapped two fingers on his thigh, impatience mounting with every passing moment.

Meanwhile, the car had grown warmer, and Eva began to fan herself. Then she lifted the hem of his sweatshirt and pulled it over her head, shaking out her ponytail and letting those gorgeous tits shake with her. Her T-shirt was completely lethal, sheer and form-fitting enough to showcase her hard nipples, even in the minimal light.

Unable to take his eyes off them, Jack pressed the button for the privacy screen and murmured, “Best not to give our driver a peep show.”

“The show is just for you,” she whispered, giving him a sexy smile as she leaned back. The shirt rode up, baring her taut belly. God, she was alluring. He needed his mouth on that flash of skin, tasting it.

He studied her. Then, in one sudden movement, he snaked a hand behind her back and lifted her onto his lap, so that she was straddling him. She gasped as she rested her forearms on his shoulders, her long hair falling in her face.

He tugged the tight T-shirt up to her armpits, baring her tits. He gathered them into one heaping handful and began to flick his tongue over one nipple then the other, in succession. She groaned. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I thought you said you’d had enough exercise.”

“This is a lesson,” he murmured, grabbing her hair and yanking her head back to give him access to her neck. He ran a tongue across her clavicle, up her neck, to her chin. He paused at her mouth. “I’m going to fuck you here. In the backseat. Do you want that?”

She turned slightly toward the tinted screen at the front of the car. “But, the driver, the people outside…“

He held her chin in his hand, forcing her back to face him. His voice was hard and controlled. “They can’t see. No one can see. Trust me, Eva.”

“Of course I trust you.” She relaxed against him, opening her mouth and letting his tongue meld with hers. “Then, yes. I’m ready for my next lesson,” she murmured.

Holding her tight in his lap, he pushed the leggings down, sliding his hands in the waistband and massaging her full ass. “Here is what I want you to do,” he said. “Take off your pants.”

Obediently, she slid off him, removing one flat shoe, and then the other. Then she wiggled up on the seat and peeled her leggings down over her knees and feet, leaving her bare except for the t-shirt that was nothing more than a handkerchief, pushed up to barely cover her breasts. His cock throbbed at the sight of her, and how she followed his every instruction without hesitation.

His hand moved instinctively to her bare pussy, travelling into the folds, feeling her wetness. She gasped. That sweet innocence in her eyes had begun to cloud over with lust. He loved that she could contain both at once.

Suddenly, the vixen inside her took over, and she started to unbutton his jeans.

“You’re going to straddle me again,” he said as she freed his cock from his underwear.

She bit on her lip. He knew this was something she’d never done before, but he could tell that Vixen Eva was up for it. Up for anything. She slid a leg over his lap so that her thighs were resting on his.

She wrapped a hand around his cock, positioning it under her. “Like this?” she asked.

He nodded. Yes, like that. God, exactly like that.

“Help me,” she murmured. But it turned out she didn’t need any further instruction, because she slid down onto his cock in one fluid motion.

He tightened his hands on her hips. “Now ride me, Eva. Don’t worry about me, just ride me in a way that feels good for you.”

He wasn’t sure if she’d heard him, because before the words were fully out of his mouth, she’d already begun to do just that. And it was obviously feeling good. She moaned softly.

She rocked onto him, and he pushed up, meeting her with a thrust every time she dropped her hips. Her tits swayed and a line of sweat appeared on her chest as she moved. Car horns blared, and the city went on around them, and all he could think about was getting deeper inside this woman, his beautiful Eva. He needed to be there, because she’d already rocked him to his core.

“Come with me,” she murmured, her hands buried under his T-shirt. “Are you ready?”

He nodded, in awe of this woman that he’d shaped and molded. But no, he hadn’t crafted her into this goddess—he hadn’t made her what she was. She’d done it all herself with the tiniest bit of coaching.

He felt the tremors begin to wrack her body. Then her mouth fell open, and on a gorgeous silent O, she shuddered, her body shaking against his. She’d learned her lesson—how to come quietly—and it was fucking glorious. It sent him over the edge. With another deep thrust he came, a powerful surge of pleasure that ripped through him, tightening every one of his muscles. He tossed his head back against the leather seat as the waves of sensation reverberated through him.

She pressed her body against his, letting out a deep, shuddering sigh. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “Oh my God, Jack. It’s so good with you.”

Good? It was phenomenal. Had car sex ever been this mind-blowing?

Afterward, he helped her dress, and peered out the window. They’d taken numerous detours and had made it to Hudson Street, but traffic had deadlocked again.

“Well, once again, Mr. Bennett, you have left me a puddle of Jell-O,” she mused, looking out the window. She pulled the sweatshirt on over her head and grinned as she fanned herself. “Can we walk? I need air.”

Jack withdrew the privacy screen and asked the driver to let them off at the curb somewhere near the Christopher Street Station. As they stopped, he took her hand to guide her to the sidewalk, but walking back to his Barrow Street apartment, he was surprised to find he was still holding it, even a block later. He was even more surprised to realize how much he loved feeling her fingers twined with his.

“Hi, Jack,” a voice said behind them. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Jack gritted his teeth, praying for patience as he turned around. “Not really, Lucy. Since I live in the West Village.”

This time, at least, Lucy wore more than just a jacket. She was dressed in a cream sweater, red jeans, and matching stilettos that probably cost more than his best suit. She spared no expense on her attire, and went to great lengths to look flawless.

“Oh, come on, Jack. I wanted to apologize for how I acted last night,” she said, giving him an innocent bat of her thick false eyelashes. “I was cruel.”

“Not to me,” he said sharply. “But you were to Eva. Any apologies should be made to her.”

Lucy’s eyes travelled over to Eva and filled with coldness. Her icy gaze ran the length of her body and locked on Eva and Jack’s firmly entwined fingers. “Oh, yes, your new roommate. I’m sorry, Eva.”

Eva nodded stiffly. “It’s all right.”

“Hey, you know what?” Lucy said brightly, reaching out and touching Eva’s arm with one of her manicured fingers. Eva flinched, and Jack’s jaw tightened, his protective instincts kicking in. “I realized part of the reason I kept looking at you the other night was that I was so sure I’d seen you someplace before.”

Eva blinked. “No. I don’t think so.”

Lucy’s smile only grew, and Jack knew something was brewing. Unlike Eva, this woman had an ulterior motive for everything. He started to guide Eva away, but Lucy clamped a hand on her wrist. “And then it hit me. My old friend, Rick Metz. You two were together a while ago. Am I right?”

Eva didn’t speak for a long, tense moment. Finally, she said, “Yes. Briefly.”

“You know him, right, Jack?” Lucy nudged Jack, making him bristle. “He’s the guy who writes that fucked up sex column for the Voice.”

Jack shook his head. He never read rags like the Voice; he could barely keep up with the Wall Street Journal these days. And what the hell was Lucy getting at? He hated being in the dark as much as Lucy loved being in the spotlight. This conversation had already gone on too long, wasting precious time he could have had Eva in bed. “Lucy, we’ve got to go so if you’ll—”

“Oh, come on, Jack.” Lucy laughed a little too loudly. “Of course you know him. Remember that column he wrote a few years back? About the Snoozer? He’d gotten head from this woman, and he said it was like…” She tapped her chin. “How did he put it exactly, Eva?” Her eyes glinted. “That it was like getting blown by a coma victim.”

Jack glanced at Eva. She’d not only gone completely stiff, but her skin had paled to a sickly green in the streetlights.

Lucy’s mouth dropped open, mock-surprised. “Oh, my God, Eva.” She reached out and touched her hand, but Eva pulled away. “Was that you? Are you the Snoozer from the column? I guess you must be. Rick said she was a little on the heifer-side and nothing great to look at.”

Lucy shifted her gaze to Jack, a glint of triumph in her eye.

Before Jack could open his mouth, Eva shook his hand away and bolted down the street, in the opposite direction of his apartment. “Wait, Eva! Come back!” He took a step towards her and called out again, but she only ran faster.

He spun back to Lucy. “What the fuck was that?”

“You said you two were just roommates, but I thought you would want to know. In case you were …” She grinned. “Considering sexual relations? Though her oral skills might not matter to you. Maybe you can just close your eyes and imagine you’re with someone better while you plow away. That’s what men do when they’re with fat girls, right?”

“Fuck you, Lucy,” he growled, backing away in the direction Eva had fled. “Stop playing these fucking games, or I’ll file a restraining order on you quicker than you can blink.”

“I wouldn’t have to play games if you would just wake up and realize that we belong together,” Lucy snapped. “We are meant to be, Jack, and I’m not going to stop until you see that.”

A tremor shook his body as he fought the urge to wring her neck. He had told Eva that Lucy was harmless, but now he wasn’t so sure. Looking into Eva’s background? Throwing out threats? Following them? Lucy had financial resources, and she’d already proven herself to be a lethal bitch of the first order.

As he turned and ran after Eva, he made a mental note to call Max and tell him that while he was looking into possible threats at the Fiorini Group, he should also keep an eye on Lucy.

“Eva, stop!” he called, running after her. He found her at the corner of Seventh, waiting for a light. He rushed to meet up with her, calling out again, but the traffic stopped and she dashed across the street.

Jack made it into the crosswalk just as the traffic surged forward. With a soft curse, he dodged back onto the curb, narrowly missing a collision with a taxi.

Shit, shit, shit. He shouted Eva’s name again, but she didn’t stop, didn’t even turn around. She hurried down the stairs to the Christopher Street station, head lowered.

When the light changed at the intersection, Jack flew across the street and down the stairs to the station just as a train was departing. The platform was teeming with people. He scanned it, racing back and forth between the columns.

She was gone.

Fuck. He pulled out his phone and punched her name, but the call rang through to voicemail. He thumbed in a text. Where are you? Come back.

Not smart, Eva. She wasn’t safe in this city all alone. As he stared at the phone, raking his hand through his hair and waiting for a response, blood surged through his veins.

To hell with waiting. He was a man of action.

If only he knew where to go.

But the more he thought about it, the more he knew exactly where she’d go. As much as he liked to think he had never gotten too close to a woman, he knew Eva Fiorini. He knew that the simplest things made her happy, that she was intensely loyal, and that she was a good girl who sometimes, perhaps only with him, loved to be bad.

Above all, though, Eva was a woman who’d been sheltered most of her life. She had few options for escape.

He took the next train downtown, bound for Eva’s apartment.