Secured in the bathroom, I took my lazy time freshening up. I even contemplated a hot bath, but I figured that’d be pushing it. I didn’t need him barreling in here, demanding sex like some crazed caveman. Okay, that’s quite an exaggeration, but if I hid here long enough, I could very well be tempting such a scenario. With his legendary temperament, it was easy to envisage River barging in here, guns blazing, before ending up interrogating me about how I felt having sex with him. He believed I was in love with Juan. But instead of refuting his statement, it was safer to hide behind the lie than to utter the truth.

Settling for a quick hot rinse, I grimaced as the scalding water sluiced through my swollen lady bits. My entire body was stretched to its limit. Even with the grueling workout routine I used to train my body for this particular role I had worked so hard for, I didn’t experience an ache in parts of my body I didn’t know existed.

In a true ragdoll fashion, River had flung, flipped, switched my body without hesitation. He had me in all sorts of positions, gratifying every need his ravenous appetite wished to exploit.

Sex with him had always been mind-blowing, but tonight … Tonight, he surpassed my imagination. It could be due to the fact that he took charge while I was left powerless to stop a force of nature that was River Ellis.

And God…Did. That. Man. Conquer.

To think that was just for an appetizer. I wondered how many courses he intended for tonight.

My body gave an involuntary shiver, even though I was under the heavy stream of hot water. It did little to cool my newly stirred passion.

It couldn’t be denied; my body zinged at the thought of him touching me again. The past months had shown how little men knew how to truly pleasure a woman. The skills and timing required had to be precisely executed. Few men knew how to properly implement such expertise.

We had a little over twelve hours until I was to leave for Hong Kong to finish filming the reshoots. Sleep, I doubted River intended for us to have any tonight.

Dressed in the hotel’s plush robe, I emerged from the bathroom. Looking around the large expanse of the master suite, impressive as it was, I did my best not to linger. But from what I could see from the quick glimpse I had, the room looked unused. The bed remained untouched even though his belongings were spread about the area. This was River’s domain. I didn’t need to see what he’d been up to or wonder if Petra and the long list of trap-claps had grazed those sheets.

River was none of my business. What he indulged himself in during his time away was of no consequence to me. The same applied to my life. River had no say whom I spend my free time with. It was a logical agreement, ensuring we would never get attached to each other. Not that I was in any danger of being attached. I clearly wasn’t. Sure, the sex was still the best I’d ever had. But at the end of the day, it was purely sex. A mere physical activity where two bodies derived pleasure from one another. It meant nothing. He meant nothing.

The only thing we had in common was the past. The future held nothing for us, not even friendship. Once the allotted time ran out, I’d walk out the door without looking back. But, alas, there were still about five months left. So, for the time being, I had to endure the maddening love-hate dynamic.

My mind all sorted out, my body scrubbed clean, I strode out of the room afresh, makeup free, ready to set out to recharge my stamina. Damp hair in a messy chignon, cheeks flushed from the shower’s hot steam, I began to pad across the corridor. Each step I took made me inwardly cringe from the cold tiles hitting my bare feet.

“Slippers?”

I whipped around to find him coming out of one of the spare rooms, looking like a fucking hot beast with a mere towel hung loosely around his lower body. The distinct honed V pelvic muscles almost made me groan.

Why did he have to be so damn good looking? Ugh. Damn hormones.

Shrugging, I distractedly looked anywhere but his royal gorgeousness. “No, I’m good. Thank you for offering, but I’m good.” Why did he have to be so damn good looking? Ugh. It was such an inconvenience to be standing here, looking like this was some kind of Pretty Woman scenario. Well, the similarity didn’t end there. In a way, I was his very own kind of prostitute.

How does my mind trail off to wonder these strange thoughts? Fuck.

Well … uh … that was a fuck and a half, my mind rapidly interjected when I saw him advance toward me. In a few swift strides, he closed the gap, giving me a bird’s eye view of the damn alluring V, making my pulse dramatically erratic.

Smooth skin looking so soft, damp and tanned. Hard muscles, chiseled and sinew like some carved masterpiece.

My eyes darted toward his chest, and for some random reason, the urge to lick and bite his nipple almost made me bust out a chortle.

WHAT. THE. COCKATOO?

Yep, the old Cara was back to haunt me with embarrassment. The batty chick worshipped the ground River walked on. Heck, she’d throw some fucking confetti, too, if she could. She was that tragic. If the cool, badass, I-chew-men-for-breakfast version of me wasn’t going to resurface and bounce back from the dead anytime soon, I’d rather kill myself than to be decimated back to being a soppy, spineless woman.

My traitorous eyes tested themselves. One glance. One. Fucking. Miniscule. Glance. My stomach churned at the sight of his sinewy body.

Ah, shit.

Feeling like a complete fool, I immediately dropped my gaze, staring holes in our almost touching toes while my pussy throbbed ever so badly. It was insane, but I could still feel him inside me. Why must my body be a desperate, lecherous one?

If my thoughts lingered on how irresistible he was or how he was making me feel all weird and faint, I was going to end up getting drunk, or better yet, I’d prefer to pop a sleeping pill. That would put a stop to this nonsense because quite frankly, I’d rather be in a deep state of slumber than be a dumb, blushing non-virgin. This sort of negativity blocked my Chi.

Twisted toes, ingrown hairs, nail fungus. The words repeated in a shuffle, but just before the third set, River, ever so subtlety, brushed a finger against my cheek before slowly lifting my chin. Gradually, my reluctant eyes met his inquisitive ones.

The impact was profound. Almost earth-shattering. Almost.

“Did I hurt you?” His voice held something back. It was as if asking the question nearly pained him.

There was a flash—a moment—where I almost fell for it. Then I was reminded why I was here—why we were in this situation.

“No.”

No, he no longer held the power to inflict pain. I took that privilege away the moment he stopped fighting for me. Being reminded of the past, the vulnerability, the cutting way he rejected me, my love, and the callous way he crushed me, entirely obliterating what little faith I had left in mankind … How could I forgive him? How could I even look at him and not see past the sculpted perfection, the devil behind the smile, the pretense, the vast void of vacancy behind those empty yet beautiful eyes of his?

The ugly reared back from the dead.

Finally.

The past may be unpleasant to be reminded of, but it held the power to keep me in check. It held me aground. So, in times where I was desperate for a rescue, all I had to do was envision the past, and it’d snap me right back in place.

The mind was the key to everything. The key to success. The vital element to fend off addictions, vices, failings. One simply had to learn how to properly use it, train it to one’s benefit. Then one wouldn’t be defenseless any longer.

“No?” he hollowly reiterated. “Then why can’t you look at me?”

Granting him just that, I coolly regarded him with indifference. This time, there were no butterflies muddling about. There simply was animosity, like it should be.

“Tell me, Cara, was I too rough?” he gruffly asked again, persistence clearly not ebbing anytime soon.

“Will my answer make a difference?”

He scowled, insulted I’d even dare ask. “Yes … of course it will make a damn difference. What do you take me for? Some cruel asshole?”

That and then some. But saying that out loud wouldn’t get my point across now, would it? “You’d fuck me slowly, gently, then?” I threw a challenge, knowing very well he’d never go for it.

His mouth opened before shutting. “I can try…”

“You can try,” I mockingly said.

“That’s what I said!” he thundered back.

“We know that’s a big lie. You don’t fuck slow … ever.” Holding his gaze, I tilted my chin at such an angle it strained my neck as I brazenly zeroed in on him. “You hate me,” I emphatically began to say. “Don’t bother denying it, because we both know it’s the truth, and that’s okay. I feel the same way, too. Maybe my hate even runs a little deeper than yours. We know it’s there, River. Don’t suppress the feeling, because you’re scared you’d hurt me. Let it go. Show it to me. Make me fucking feel just how much you do. Don’t hold back on sex. I can take it.”

“I see.” Surprise was etched all over his face. “You really just don’t hold back anymore, huh?” he thoughtfully added.

“I figure it’s always the best to get down to business. Hiding behind the bush and letting things fester’s no longer my thing. Live and learn, I guess.”

“A lot of things aren’t your thing these days,” he immediately interjected, blatantly emphasizing the specific word to goad a reaction from me.

But this woman wasn’t going to budge and indulge him. We’d had enough fights to last me for this trip. “People change.”

“So they say.”

Was there a hint of accusation in there somewhere? I couldn’t be sure. But whatever it was he was getting at, I had no desire to traipse toward hostile territory. This had been hostile from the start. If this was his method of trying to open the can of worms, he’d better try harder because what happened in Spain would remain with me until the day I died. If he thought otherwise, then he was going to be sorely disappointed.

Our eyes met for a brief flash of recognition, a challenge of truth and the untold lies, but before he could probe further into the secret windows of my soul, I disconnected from him, indignantly shrugging him off, and haughtily marched toward the dining area where the exotic feast remained untouched. However, the shattered wine bottles were gone.

Had River cleaned them?

“I had someone come in to clean it up before I jumped in the shower,” he responded, as if he knew what I’d been thinking, before coming up right behind me. Without warning, he pulled me from the back, enveloping me with his body as he wrapped his arms around my waist. His persistent hard member pressed against the curve of my bottom. Soft lips kissed the back of my neck as he inhaled me deeply.

My insides did a somersault from this unexpected gesture. I could’ve easily melted against him, given in to my body’s needs, had I had the strength to play with the devil. But I remained unmoved. My guards never wavered.

“Wine?” he casually asked the second he released me from his firm grasp.

I made a face, half frown, half smile. A face of total puzzlement. “That’d be great,” I uttered.

River merely nodded, dashing off somewhere in the kitchen while I took my time and chose a seat for myself. There were two settings, one situated at the head of the table … the very one I chose for myself, naturally. An evil smirk was pasted on my face as I wondered if he’d say something. Would he boot me out?

We would see.

I obviously didn’t want to pick a fight, but who said I couldn’t tease the man?

With ease, River magically reappeared with a new bottle of Malbec before taking the seat to my left. He didn’t address my seating preference. Instead, he carried on by taking hold of the bottle opener, puncturing the cork, and effortlessly pulling it out of the slick long spout, making a loud popping sound.

Mindlessly, I followed his gestures with my eyes, quietly spellbound by how he functioned with effortless grace and ease. For a man with his chiseled physique, size, and orphan upbringing, one wouldn’t have guessed he came from a ghetto town in Oxnard. He wore grace and privilege as if he was born from it.

Plucking a glass, he began to pour a drink. He filled half the glass before handing it to me with a striking grin. “Here you go, princess. Guzzle, guzzle.”

Murmuring my thanks, I swirled the dark contents of my wine glass, engrossed in the lingering dark stain it left on the crystal as I whirled it about. “For a second there, I thought you broke them all. Such a waste.”

“It’s money well spent.” He chuckled, the hearty kind, one that sent me back to the good times.

“Good to know there’s a sense of humor in there somewhere,” I remarked while I looked over at him as he took a good lengthy sip of his drink.

“I’m glad you didn’t roll with it and use that to pick another fight with me.” He made another enthusiastic laugh, dark eyes dancing, twinkling as he amusingly gazed at me. “See … being nice isn’t that hard. I knew you could do it.”

I matched his laughter. “Fine, all right, I’ll try harder,” I promised.

I had to agree with him—being nice didn’t take much effort. I supposed I could try. It couldn’t hurt to be amicable with another. As we ate, he asked non-invasive questions, such as the latest film I’d been working on, the type of workout I had to strictly follow to get in shape. I even indulged him and told him how I had a healing guru. He almost choked on his drink. It was a great laugh. Healing gurus were for the health nuts, for the chakra-obsessed, folks who only surrounded themselves with people based on their sun and moon signs, people who believed the magical powers of crystal. This was the City of Angels, after all. People ran on different brainwaves here. And coming from the non-Hollywood life of Oxnard … Well, it was a bit of a shock. So, for me to humor myself with a healing guru, River had to question my sanity.

“Do you go to those meditating groups where you whisper to crystals and shit?” River just lost it. He couldn’t stop laughing, so much so that tears began to roll down the sides of his face.

“Don’t knock it till you try it, buster.” I tried to sound affronted, but it didn’t take long until I joined in on the bloody joke. His laugh was that infectious.

This was Anton’s influence on me. I had a moment of weakness, and he came in for the kill. Admittedly, it wasn’t all that bad. In fact, it was kind of soothing, not that I’d openly say it out loud.

And no, we didn’t whisper to crystals and shit, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that. I mean, why waste a good joke, right?

So, I rolled with his wit, continuing this pleasant jest we were sharing. By the time he was done, I could barely keep a straight face, which earned a few more teases from him.

Finally, the bout of hysteria began to die down. From then on, the tension between us ceased to exist. The conversation flowed. He updated me on his music and other movie role offers, and I told him about how excited I was in this new territory my new movie role was taking me. It’d had been Martin Lombardo’s recommendation that prompted Bass Cole to suggest my name for the killer role of Ace, a two-katana wielding killer, hired secretly by the CIA’s dark operation division based in Asia. A group consisting of three assassins and their handler.

A challenging role, which undoubtedly pushed me to my limit. A welcome distraction to my unending problems. This role saved me from destruction. The demanding training tested my body to its full capacity. Each ache, each blow my body received, I was grateful for it. Getting that call one morning was a godsend. For that, I’d forever be indebted to Martin and Bass.

River, who loved movies as much as I did, obviously was curious about the story and the plot. They’d intended it to be a trilogy. All we were waiting on now was the studio’s green light so the writers could begin with the script, scouts to start searching for the perfect locations to film, and for the actors to align their schedules to fit with the allotted timeframe the producers had.

It didn’t come as a surprise when I heard the jealousy in River’s voice. I was almost sure he missed making films. It’d been his life before he had taken music seriously and made a name for himself.

In time, if the perfect role ever came across his lap, there was no doubt he’d eventually go back to the other love of his life, albeit temporarily.