During the limo ride back to the apartment, I discover that the weather has turned. Sprinkles of rain mist the windows, blurring the view of the city traffic and sidewalks.

Travis is quiet, and while soft, moody music plays on the speakers, I lay back in my seat. Our only communication is the language of his fingertips as he absently skims them up my arm and back down, watching the hair on my skin rise, watching the goose bumps form at his mere touch.

I don’t know what to expect of him or his promised seduction, but I don’t ask. As usual, I’m too anxious that I’m going to say something dumb, and turned to the point where I already can’t think straight.

Once we arrive home, we make our way to the elevators. We’re not alone inside the elevator, because there’s a rich, elderly socialite who obviously knows of Travis and probably suspects what I am to him. She turns forward with her nose in the air, and Travis raised an eyebrow.

I shrug at him, and he reaches over to tuck a wave of hair back over my shoulder. Then, as if rethinking this, he drops his hand to his side as if nothing happened. The rest of the ride is silent until the woman disembarks on her floor.

What’s going through his mind? Will I ever know?

I’m not sure why I care so much since there are no strings here, nothing to bind us but a couple of enigmatic looks that I thought meant something, an understanding of sorts, even though the truth is that I understand absolutely nothing about him.

We come to the apartment, and after we get inside he softly shuts the door behind us.

“Nova.”

I recognize his tone by now—a subtle command—and I stop. Then I feel him come up behind me. He rests his hands on my upper arms, running his thumbs beneath my capped sleeves. I take in a shaking breath.

“Wait in your room,” he murmurs. “I’ll be right there.”

I nod, butterflies tracing patterns around the inside of my belly, tickling and torturing me. When I arrive in my room, I turn on a switch to a lamp. I shouldn’t undress without him to tell me what to do, because that’s all a part of his games with me. He likes instructing me. Instead, I stand in front of the window, which is smeared with moisture from the faint rain. Squares of light from the high-rise windows across the way are like glasses filled with liquor, warm and inviting.

The skin on the back of my neck tingles as I hear Travis’s footsteps on the carpet. The lamp that I turned on goes dark, then he moves to my side and opens the windows so the sound of echoing traffic filters into the room, along with the slight illumination from the streets. A gentle breeze toys with the curtains and blows on me. The drizzling rain has stopped, but it’s left behind a coolness that soothes the burning of my flesh.

Silently, he coasts his fingers to my rib cage, where there’s a hidden zipper for my gown. As he pulls down the fastening, it’s as if he’s undoing me, too. Air combs over my skin as he works the top of my dress off slowly, surely.

“Jason Savage and Candy Badham definitely took a liking to you,” he says quietly.

The gown falls to the floor around my feet. “They were nice. And they seem to be crazy about each other in a fun way.”

He sweeps his other hand down the front of my thigh and gets to his knee, working at one of my high-heeled sandal straps. He takes his time, and my heartbeat melts through me.

As he slips off my shoe, I place my hand on his shoulder so I don’t stumble. I finally ask,

“There’s a reason I bringing up Jason and Candy,” he says. “You should know that they’re like everyone else who attends these charity events—they’ll use you.” He undoes my other sandal. “There’s no one out there who does anything out of the goodness of their hearts. Remember that, Beautiful.”

He traces a finger along the instep of my foot, and his dark words stick with me. He’s warning me, isn’t he?

After all, he’s one of these people who attends the same events.

As he caresses me, it makes me all too aware that I’m standing here in my satin bra and panties, waiting for his next move, yearning for it.

He stands, looking down at me in the room’s only light from outside.

With an arrogance that has my breath catching, he undoes my bra from the back. It loosens over my breasts, and Travis pulls at a strap, allowing it to ease off of me. I let it fall to the floor, joining my gown.

The wind has already pebbled my nipples, and now Travis’s famished gaze adds an extra naughtiness to my arousal. I ache for his fingers and mouth to go where his eyes have gone.

He walks in back of me, and even though he doesn’t touch me, I can feel the heat of him brush down my back, painting me with another layer of desire. I hear him working off his jacket, and he tosses it onto a nearby antique chair. It’s followed by his tie.

Across the street, some lights in the high-rise windows turn off. I feel the tips of Travis’s fingers on the tops of my shoulders, and I hold back a groan as he skims down my back so lightly that my pussy tingles.

My lust makes me bold. “Travis, why pay for what a man like you shouldn’t have to pay for?”

He turns his hands so that his palms press against my skin, then he strokes them into my panties. He cups my bottom, squeezing gently. An electric zing pierces my clit, buzzing around it until my entire pussy is humming.

“I don’t have time to date,” he says.

He uses his fingers to coax my legs apart, and like the good student I am, I do it for him. He slides a finger through my folds, back to front then back again, and with a shock, I pitch forward, bracing my hands on the window sash. He doesn’t have to tell me that I’m already wet for him.

“You do learn fast, Nova,” he says.

Then he guides my panties all the way down, and I obediently step out of them. My sex is hungry for him to touch me again, to toy with me until I have another orgasm.

“Let me guess,” I say, my voice unsteady. “You don’t want any emotional strings or attachments, just a straightforward sexual exchange where you get what you want and your women get what they want.”

“It seems only fair that everybody gets what they want,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or not.

He walks around to the front of me, blocking the view out of the window with his entire, heart-thudding silhouette—broad shoulders, wide chest, all muscle under the shirt he’s started to unbutton. I’m dying to touch him, to feel his warm skin against mine.

“I do this a few times throughout any given year,” he says, “and that takes care of my needs. I can focus on business without having to worry about my personal life.”

But does he have one? And why would he tell me this much information about his needs unless he’s trying to get some kind of point across?

Don’t get attached, I think. That’s truly what he’s saying without actually saying it. Does he give this speech to all his women before he has his way with them?

I look up at his darkened face, all my systems on overdrive, pumping, juicing, priming me.

“Close your eyes,” he says, and after a moment, I do it.

I hear a sound that makes me think he’s opening a box. Soon, I feel him move in back of me again, then reach in front of me. When I open my eyes again, I see a necklace heavy with gems right before it presses against my chest. As he clasps it behind my neck, I touch the net of diamonds.

“Turn around, Nova.”

Still stunned, I face him, naked except for the jewelry. The electricity in my clit sizzles at the way he’s watching me—more than hungry, more than lustful. His gaze is fierce, desperate for something that he’s clearly trying so hard to hide.

He looks at me. I look at him. There’s no doubt he knows that I’m seeing something I shouldn’t see, just as I did at the party, and he shuts himself down, then takes a tense step back.

“Travis…”

But he’s already moving out of the room, away from me.