As far as Amanda was concerned, the only real downside of her job was that she couldn’t justify not answering her phone. She’d long ago decided against carrying two mobile phones, and that meant that she gave her number out freely to clients, potential clients, and other agents and brokers. Which meant that she ended up answering so many texts that she’d trained herself to dictate responses. It was either that or start wearing her nails short. And that really wasn’t happening.

The phone calls were the worst, though. She was always happy to talk about real estate, even if the buyer was unqualified or just looking. After all, you never knew when their circumstances would change, and she wanted to be at the top of their call list. But that meant she had to answer all unfamiliar numbers, too, since it might be a potential client who’d been given her card.

As a result, she’d been on the receiving end of more scam calls and robocalls than any sane person should be subjected to. Calls about things she didn’t care about. Calls about things she didn’t want.

And sometimes, she even got unexpected calls about things she shouldn’t care about, and things she shouldn’t want. Like the call this morning. The one she’d answered, only to be serenaded by Derek’s slow drawl. “Good morning, gorgeous. Do you know who this is?”

Did she?

No doubt about that. And apparently every part of her had known it, too. Because as he’d continued to tell her about how he was boarding a plane for Austin and he’d be free from his meetings and dinners by ten and could meet her at ten-fifteen, her body had begun to ache with unfamiliar, but not unwelcome, longing.

With a sigh, she stood in the ornate lobby of the Winston Hotel and looked down at the screen of her phone, checking the time for the thousandth time. One minute past when she’d last looked.

Amanda sighed, then waited.

It had been a month since she and Derek had met outside The Fix and shared that incredible night, and though she’d told herself over and over that it would be best if he never called again—best to not get involved—she couldn’t deny the rush of heat that had coursed through her when she’d heard his voice. A heat that had morphed into anticipation when he’d asked her to meet him at the Winston at a quarter past ten.

“Room 715,” he’d said, naming a room on the same floor they’d gone to last time, and she’d promised to be there exactly on the dot.

Now it was seven after ten, and she kept checking the clock on her phone like an idiot. “Eager, much?” she chided herself softly. Because, of course, she was.

That was the reason she’d almost told him that she had plans tonight. Because despite essentially suggesting that they should see each other again, she really hadn’t expected to hear from him. Had, in fact, thought it would be best if they both just backed away slowly.

Yet she hadn’t said no. On the contrary, she’d very eagerly said yes. And all because there’d been such intense sparks between them. And not just sexually. They’d laughed and talked. They’d clicked.

And the sex had been off the charts.

Which, of course, was why she was here. And why she kept telling herself she should go away.

Derek was the kind of guy who could get under her skin, and she had no time for a relationship.

Not that they’d talked about any of that last time, but she was going to have to say something tonight. They needed to be clear. If this was going to be something they repeated, then it needed to be about the sex. Nothing else.

She just hoped that they reached an agreement … not to mention a mind-blowing orgasm.

---

She knocked at exactly ten-fifteen, and he opened the door ten seconds later. The moment he did, Amanda knew there’d be no trouble granting the orgasm part of her wish. The man looked as hot as sin in black jeans, bare feet, and a pale gray T-shirt that clung to his chest and showed off his well-developed arms.

Not a bad view to be faced with, but it was the expression on his face that made Amanda certain she was going to suffer no regrets for keeping this date. An almost feral intensity that had her pulse pounding and small beads of sweat popping up on the back of her neck.

“Hi,” she said. Or, rather, she tried to. She didn’t actually get the word out before he’d tugged her into the entry hall, kicked the door shut, then pinned her against the wall.

Immediately, his mouth crushed against hers, all teeth and lips and tongue. It was a demand, a promise. Lust and longing. Hell, it was sex. The most oral kind of sex that Amanda could imagine, and all she wanted to do was get lost in it.

His fingers twined in her hair, holding her steady as his tongue did battle with her own. Their teeth clashed and she tasted blood, tangy and undeniably arousing in the moment.

He’d held her trapped against the wall as his mouth ravaged hers, and the simple knowledge that he’d taken control—that he was taking her—made her even more aroused, though she was astounded that was even possible. Her panties were soaked, and her entire body was aroused, on edge. As if one touch could send her spinning out into space. And oh, how she wanted to spin.

Unexpectedly, he pulled away, just long enough to capture her eyes in his gaze. Then he moved his hands, sliding down along her arms, bare in the silk tank top she’d worn.

His touch made her shiver, and she drew in a breath, her lips parted as she closed her eyes, wanting simply to feel. His hands on her arms. His body, lean and muscled, pressed tight against hers. His erection, straining against his jeans and pressing insistently into her lower belly.

Thank God she’d worn a skirt, because she couldn’t stand this much longer. “Please,” she begged. “I want you now. Hard and deep and right here against this wall.”

He pulled back long enough so she could see the gleam of pure arousal in his eyes. Then he reached down and grabbed her skirt and in one violent motion thrust it up around her waist.

He lifted her next, so that her legs encircled him and her back was pressed to the wall. He was strong, thank goodness, and he used one hand to free himself, then dug a condom out of his back pocket.

“I came prepared,” he said.

“Show me your mad skills and get it on fast.”

He did just that, and she would have applauded, except she was too busy screaming his name when he drove forward, burying himself inside her in one long thrust that claimed her and tamed her and filled every cell inside her.

He pounded into her, her back slamming against the wall, their mouths banging together. It was wild and dirty and exactly what she wanted. And when the explosion finally came, she cried out his name and clung to him like he was her everything. In that moment, maybe he was.

Slowly, he lowered them both to the floor, and though she knew they ought to move, all she could manage was to lay there and breath.

Oh, yeah. That was good.

“Hey,” he murmured, propping himself up on one elbow. “Nice to see you.”

She burst out laughing, but the sound seemed strangled since he’d reduced her to a limp, boneless creature. Laughter really wasn’t in the cards. “You, too,” she managed.

With effort, she rose up on her elbows, then looked around. “Is this the same room?”

He flashed a devious grin as he stood up. “We had such good luck with it the first time.”

“Just think how amazing it’ll be in the same room and the same bed,” she quipped.

“I’m ready if you are.”

Her eyes went wide, and she looked down, noticing that he hadn’t been kidding about being ready. She bit her lower lip, and he shrugged.

“Saves getting dressed for conversation only to get undressed again later.”

She had to fight not to laugh. “I really don’t understand your earth logic, but I like the plan. Lead the way.”

---

Derek took a sip of wine from the abandoned glass he’d left on the bedside table. Between the two of them, they’d killed off a bottle in record time. Then again, they’d been thirsty after their workout. Their second workout, if you counted the hall. Which he absolutely did.

He allowed himself a self-satisfied grin, then stretched out in the bed next to Amanda, who was dozing beside him. Gently, he brushed his fingertips over her pale skin as he reveled in the way she squirmed under his touch.

“Stop,” she murmured. “You’re tickling me.”

“Maybe that’s my plan. Maybe I want to wake you up.”

She rolled over, blinking at him. “So that I’ll get out of your hair?”

Her words were like a kick in his gut. “You can stay as long as you want. I was thinking wakefulness might lead to other activities.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“And you have a dirty mind,” he countered. “I was talking about conversation.” He cocked his head toward the suite’s living room. “Want to go sip some wine? Talk? Watch a movie?”

For a moment, she looked tempted. Then she shook her head. “I should probably—” She cut herself off as she sat up in bed, pulling the sheet tight over her breasts. “It’s just that I have a showing at nine tomorrow, and there’s a ton of prep before hand, and—”

He pressed his fingertip to her lips. “It’s okay. No explanation required.”

She seemed to melt a little, and he thought he saw a plea in her eyes.

“Really.”

She studied him for a moment, then nodded before slipping out of bed. He watched her dress, regretting ever saying a word, because then she might have fallen asleep, and he could have awakened with her in his arms.

Then again, if they’d done that, she’d probably be late for her showing tomorrow. Assuming she actually had a showing tomorrow. It was just as likely that he’d spooked her and she was running.

That was okay, though. She could run. For now.

He just wanted her to run back the next time he was in town.

When she was dressed, he got up and pulled on his briefs, then grabbed the Winston Hotel logo robe and tugged it on as they walked toward the door.

She paused with her hand on the knob. “I really am sorry.”

“Don’t even think about it.” He leaned against the wall. “Actually, I’ll be in town again in about a month. For that matter, lately I’ve been coming to Austin on a pretty regular basis.” Not an outright lie, and his trips really were about to become more frequent.

“We could play it by ear.” He swallowed, then forged ahead. “Or we could plan on it. This room. I can text you the dates as soon as I know them.”

Good God, had he really just suggested that? He needed more sleep. Or possibly less alcohol.

Her eyes widened, and he thought he might get lost in the flicker of gold in those deep brown pools.

“This room? How can you be sure you’ll always get this room?”

“Ah, right. Remember how you cut me off before I could say what I did for a living?”

She nodded.

“Well, my job more or less involves being a Winston.”

“Come again?”

He managed a straight face. “Only if you stay a little longer.”

She rolled her eyes. “Behave. And what are you talking about?”

“Derek Winston,” he said, extending his hand to hers. “And my family owns this hotel.”

“Oh. Oh.” She tugged her hand free, then twirled a lock of hair around her finger, seeming to process that info. “And so you want to use this room for a standing hook-up?”

He held up a hand. “Hold on, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“No, no. I get it.” She nodded slowly, her brow furrowed in thought.

Then she surprised him by stepping forward and kissing his cheek. “You know what? I think that arrangement will work just fine.”