She kept herself busy all week with work, but at night, she thought about Vanni and what she wanted . . .

. . . What she dared.

She made her decision when she realized that all the dark, erotic dreams she’d been having lately were her own secret wishes, her own desires rising to the surface. It wasn’t just about fulfilling Vanni’s sexual demands. It was about fulfilling her own hunger to be with him . . . even for a short period of time.

By Saturday night, she knew what she was going to do, and she had a plan for how to give herself some measure of protection.

Sunday dawned hot and humid. She did some grocery shopping with Amanda. They were getting along fairly well, although Emma insisted on keeping things light and superficial between them. She could tell that her distance pained Amanda—and it pained Emma, too—but her sister had stopped trying to force serious topics, knowing how Emma would respond.

After they shopped, they stopped at a local sandwich shop, and Amanda asked her if she was feeling all right.

“Your cheeks are flushed, and you seem kind of out of it. You’ve seemed spacey all day, in fact,” Amanda had said as they stood in line to order. The question had necessitated some nonchalant, airy acting on Emma’s part.

At two thirty that afternoon, she showered and dressed carefully in a sundress and sandals, taking care with her makeup. Her hair reacted to the humidity by turning into a cap of loose, finger-combed curls and waves. She was glad Amanda was nowhere to be seen when Emma scurried through the kitchen and snuck out the back door.

It felt strange to be pulling up on the back drive of the Breakers, arriving there with such a different intent than she had before, with full knowledge of what she was doing. She was walking into Vanni’s home—Vanni’s world. If her eyes had been determinedly clamped shut before, they were wide-open now.

Her palms left damp spots on the wheel as she brought her car to a halt.

She thought the code Vanni had given her would work on any of the entrances to the house, but she took the one she was familiar with through the garage just in case. She knew there was an entrance to the Breakers at the back of the warehouselike underground structure, recalling how Vanni had come through it that night after he’d returned from France in order to meet her. Indeed, she found the door at the back of the garage, which was unlocked. A rush of cool, delightful air-conditioned air rushed over her heated skin as she shut the door behind her. She stood in a long, dim hallway.

The hallway she entered led past a large kitchen to the right, eventually ending on Cristina’s suite’s level through a door she swore she’d never seen while working there. She flew down the flight of stairs and peered around cautiously, listening. Everything was still and silent. There was no one in sight. Perhaps the day staff had Sundays off? She thought of how unpleasant it would be to run into Mrs. Shaw.

She hurried down the next two flights of stairs and saw the closed, carved wood door of his suite. Only then did she realize she’d dreamed of taking this path many times.

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the handle.

She saw him immediately when she entered. He sat behind his desk, wearing a dark red, short-sleeved T-shirt. He stood slowly, dropping the pen he’d been holding. Their gazes held as she shut the door behind her. She found herself holding her breath as he sauntered toward her, looking very sexy and just a tad dangerous. In some distant part of her brain she noticed he was dressed casually in jeans, and there was a shadow of whiskers on his angular jaw.

“You came,” he said quietly, halting a few feet away.

“I came,” she whispered.

“Was it difficult to?” he asked, his gaze running over her face and lowering, pausing on the angel at her throat. She was sure the little charm was throbbing in rhythm with her racing heart.

“It would have been more difficult to stay away.”

His gaze darted to her face. She gave a little sigh of nervous relief when he stepped forward and took her into his arms, pulling her against him. With his scent tickling her nose, and the feeling of his long, hard body pressed against her, she knew the threshold had been crossed.

There was no going back.

“You remember what it was like in the garage, or on the beach?” he murmured, obviously sensing her anxiety. She placed her open hands on his chest and nodded. “It’s not going to be that different, Emma. Just you and me.”

She met his stare and nodded again. He studied her for a moment before he dropped his arms and took her hand in his. “Come here,” he muttered. He led her over to a leather couch and sat, urging her down into his lap. It felt wonderful to sit there with his hard thighs beneath her, surrounded by his arms. For some reason, his somber gaze on her made her throat ache with emotion.

“I’ve thought about this a lot all week,” he said. He opened his hands on her hips and circled her ever so subtly in his lap. Her eyes sprung wide when she felt the clear outline of his cock through his jeans. “That isn’t the kind of thing that can be faked. It would be enough for me, if the kind of sex you preferred was what we’ve done so far. Say the word and we’ll leave it at that. I prefer to be the dominant during sex, and I do like restraining a lover and administering light punishments, all with the purpose of amplifying pleasure and excitement, never to harm. But I’m not some kind of card-carrying BDSM master. I’ve always just acted on what feels right to me. When it comes to you, those are things that I could do without, though, if it feels like too much for you.”

A tingling sensation of warmth went through her flesh. She couldn’t believe he was saying this. She found herself at another crossroads. He was giving her an “out” she hadn’t expected. She stared into his aquamarine eyes, experiencing the sharp focus and depth of his character.

“Are you forgetting that I admitted to being aroused, despite it all?”

“No,” he said starkly. “And I’m no fool. I knew you were very responsive to being restrained. I consider myself a pretty good judge of this, and in my opinion, if you trusted enough, you would be a natural sexual submissive.”

His eyebrows arched, and Emma realized she’d flinched at the last two words.

“It’s not demeaning, Emma. I said sexual submissive. It’s just a natural dynamic for some people during sex, not others. I’m just saying that I think you have the tendencies, if you trusted your lover enough. If you trusted yourself, you would reap a great deal of pleasure by letting go. From my experience of you so far, I’d hardly call you a submissive in any other aspect of life,” he added with a raised brow.

She smiled at that.

“I don’t know yet how you’ll respond to more stringent measures, especially now that you’ve labeled it in your mind as a perversity.” She made a sound of protest at the word. “Don’t deny it. I saw the disgust on your face when you described to me what you saw that night. You definitely thought it perverse. But you’re here, and it’s your decision to explore whatever territory you prefer. Leave whatever you choose in the darkness. I’ll respect whatever you decide.”

Emma glanced around the office uneasily, finding it difficult to concentrate with his steady stare on her. It was necessary for her to steel herself, at least until she’d made herself clear to him. She realized she must have replayed the moments being trapped in his study so much that it actually looked familiar to her, despite the fact that it’d only been fleeting seconds that she stood there.

Or maybe she’d dreamed about it so much.

She swallowed thickly. “I choose not to prohibit anything . . . until I’m faced with the situation,” she said. “You can . . . introduce me to whatever you like, but—”

“You have the right to say no. Always,” he finished for her. He raised his dark eyebrows. “Are we in agreement then?”

“Yes. But there is one other thing.”

“What?”

“I heard what you said to Astrid that night about having nothing to offer a woman but sex.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she halted him this time by shaking her head. “I’m not upset about it. At least you’re honest. I can appreciate that. But I’m different than you are, I think. I’m not sure I can have an affair indefinitely and not give away too much of myself.”

His brow furrowed. “So what are you saying?”

“I need to know I control something, so I’ll control the end. I’ll give you four weeks. And then it’s over. We both walk away, but on my terms.”