Lucjan sat in a chair in Stacia’s New York apartment, pretending to read a book.

What he was really doing was watching his wife sleep with single-minded intensity. He was aware his actions might be considered obsessive. He didn’t give a shit. He was obsessed.

When Stacia opened her eyes, he wanted to catch her expression when she first saw him. Maybe in that split second between sleep and waking, she’d forget what he’d done and remember that she loved him.

He should have known better. Nothing and no one took his Nastka unawares. When those thick lashes parted at last, her twilight eyes were diamond hard, as if she’d known he was there all along.

Perhaps she had.

Lucjan considered his wife’s face, frowning at the delicate shadows and new hollows her recent illness had put there. At least she didn’t look angry. But he supposed the flu had sapped her of her usual rage where he was concerned. She’d been ill for almost a week. Hence his impromptu visit.

He nodded at her nightstand, where a huge ceramic cup was covered tightly by a plastic lid. She glanced at it, then back at him. Suddenly she looked weary. “Put the book down, Lucjan. We both know your interest in poetry is mercurial at best.”

Rather than argue, he shut the book. “You need to eat. Please do so.”

She slipped a hand under her pillow and raised an eyebrow. “You came all this way just to feed me? Surely a man such as yourself is far too busy for such things.”

Her sarcasm was needle sharp, but Lucjan shrugged. “It’s only soup.”

“You brought me soup?” A catch in her voice, faint, but unmistakable.

“Nie dokladnie. I made you soup.” The kitchen in this apartment Jake and Stacia leased was smaller than he was used to, but he’d managed to make do while she slept.

Silence. Then Stacia sat up and reached for the cup. Her slender fingers were pale and elegant . . . and bare. He had no idea where his ring had vanished to. Most likely the bottom of the sea.

“It’s not borscht, is it?” She gave him a wary look as she worked at the lid. Lucjan snorted. As much as she loved soup, she couldn’t abide beets. It was the one thing his grandmother had never been able to forgive her for, despite the fact he sometimes thought his babcia loved Stacia more than he did.

If such a thing were possible.

He got to his feet, reluctant to leave but knowing sooner was better. For both of them. “It’s the sorrel version. No beets. Anata’s own recipe.”

“I can tell.” She inhaled deeply. Her eyes widened as she found the plate of crusty bread he’d sliced for her. “You made bread, too?”

He waved an imperious hand. “Please. I don’t bake.”

She fought the smile, but her eyes crinkled in that way that weakened his knees. Shamefully, that was all it took to make his insides ache. To make him consider begging.

He should tell her. Not all of it, but maybe . . .

No.

Things were best as they were. He resisted the urge to yank her to her feet, to wrap his hand in that silky waterfall of midnight hair and remind her who she belonged to—who she’d always belong to. But it was too soon. There was still far too much to do.

Refusing to consider this could be the last time he ever saw her, he tossed the book on the chair he’d vacated. “Eat the soup, Nastka. I can see myself out.”

---

They didn’t make the party.

It was terribly unprofessional, Charlie supposed, but the actual opening wasn’t until the next evening anyway. Jake had called, implying that they were both feeling under the weather, possibly coming down with whatever Stacia had. They didn’t want to chance the guests getting ill and all that. He’d sworn that by missing tonight they would be able to rest up and put their all into the real shindig tomorrow.

Charlie had never called in sick for anything in her life. She’d listened to Jake’s side of the conversation with burning cheeks.

But standing in the shower the next morning, she didn’t care. She was hungover. On sex. And it felt awesome, even though it was nine in the morning and she’d only had maybe three or four hours of sleep. Jake was still out cold, almost as worn out as she was. They hadn’t stopped until the wee hours of the morning, and only then because they could barely move.

She’d always enjoyed sex. It had been a pleasant, if complicated process. Mostly because she had such a hard time letting herself get close enough to someone to make physical intimacy a possibility. But once she got there, Charlie had always had a good time.

Jake was more than a good time.

She hadn’t known it was possible to have sex for hours. That had seemed the stuff of porn flicks and fantasies. Well, it wasn’t. But god knew, it had taken its toll.

Even after the shower, she was sore in countless, unnamable places—but the second she walked out and saw him sprawled naked on the bed, those places started throbbing all over again.

She dropped the towel and pulled on the shirt he’d left lying on the dresser. Surrounded in his smell, and mesmerized by the sight of him, she slipped into the bed. It didn’t seem possible that she and this big, sexy beast of a man had done the things they had to each other last night. She stared down at him and shivered. Even in sleep, a lazy, masculine power radiated from him, pulling her closer.

The urge to touch was overwhelming.

The muscles on either side of his spine were thick and heavy. She remembered the play of them under her hands last night, the power in the way his body moved. Her throat tightened. She traced the long, thin scratches her nails had made, not feeling at all sorry. His skin felt like satin, golden and rich, that delicious power sleeping just beneath the surface. Her fingers danced down over the hard curve of his ass as she bit back a moan.

A moan that became a yelp when Jake turned over suddenly, scaring her half to death.

He gave her a sleepy smile and she couldn’t maintain the momentary irritation. Her hands slid over the sleek flair of muscles at his side, then up his ribs and higher. His nipples hardened under her palms, those stormy eyes half closed as he watched her. “Enjoying yourself, darl?”

“Maybe. Do you mind?” She bent her head and teased one of those nipples with her lips and the edge of her teeth.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes wide open now, pupils dilated—a storm flirting at the edges of the abyss. “Hell no. Explore away.”

Under the tangle of her legs over his, his thighs bunched, going rigid as she let her tongue trail over one puckered tip. Something else was going hard again, too. Charlie smiled against his skin as he swelled against her hip. She wriggled up and down and he sighed.

“That’s not playing fair, Charlie.”

“You complaining?”

“Nah.” He curved an arm under his head and closed his eyes, his lips twitching. “You do whatever you want. I’ll just lie here and get some more sleep.”

Even though she felt the laughter rumble through him, Jake kept up his game, emitting a soft snore.

She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her. Then she smiled and wrapped her hand around him. Tightly. There was a hiss from under her as she ran her thumb over the head of his cock. Moisture beaded on the tip and she coated him with it in slow, careful swirls, watching his face as he pulsed against her fingers.

“Too bad you aren’t awake. I might have had some fun with this.”

His eyebrows rose though he didn’t comment. But his lips parted as she slid down his body. Releasing him, she settled herself between his thighs. His cock was fully erect now, thick, hard and curved against his flat belly. It was perfect, flushed deep pink and so very ready for her, despite his teasing. She smiled and spoke without thinking.

“It’s so fucking pretty.”

He opened one eye and squinted down at her. “Did you just call my dick ‘pretty’?”

She giggled. “Well, look at it. It’s even pink, Jake. So pretty fits.”

Abruptly, he sat up. “If you’re just gonna sit there and look at it, I’ll show you what fits.”

He reached for her, and laughing, she ducked under his arm, trying to wriggle away. Less than two seconds later, she was flat on her back. He slid over her until his cock was nestled in the cleft of her legs. The feel of him against her made her dizzy, remembering what it had felt like to have him inside of her last night.

She took in quick, shallow breaths as her muscles tightened, the ache inside her needing to be filled. Jake’s face above her was contemplative. He moved his hips ever so slightly, letting his cock slip between her slick pussy lips. She gasped, her head tilting back. She struggled to arch into him, to ease the need building inside her, but Jake held her fast. His calves pinned her ankles to the bed and his fingers had her wrists trapped above her head. The weight of him easily took care of the rest. Even his sheer strength and size was a goddamn turn-on.

Then he moved again. Slowly, doing something with his hips that sent bolts of pleasure into every feel-good spot she had. Which right now was fucking all of them. Her nipples beaded hard against his T-shirt.

“Goddamn it, Jake, I’m sorry I said your dick was pretty. Stop teasing me.”

He laughed softly. “You think this is teasing? You haven’t seen anything yet. But I want to show you.” He lifted his body off of hers a fraction, his voice going deep and low. “Come away with me. After this show. Just for a few days. Say yes. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

“What?” She blinked up at him, her brain trying desperately to kick in even as her body screamed yes. You stupid fuck, say yes now. Her mind shook a proverbial finger. Oh hell, no.

“You and me. Alone. For like a week. What do you say?”

Her brain was trying to take control of her mouth, but then he lowered his hips again, angling them up and into her, letting his tip press at her soaked entrance. The “no” caught in her throat. Instead, she moaned out loud.

Jake bent down, his lips hovering above her open ones as she stared up at him. “Say yes, Charlie. Say it.” He eased inside her, just an inch, and her breath caught.

“Oh god, Jake.” She gasped out the words, her body taut with the overwhelming need for him. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“Hell yes,” he growled. “With my pretty fucking dick. Now say it.”

She whimpered, twisting under him. Fighting her desire and her fear. A week alone with Jake.

Holy shit, in a week this man could devastate her, turn her inside out. He could do so many wonderful dirty things to her but . . . but . . .

He moved again.

“Fuck, Jake!”

“I will, Charlie.” She finally heard the tension in his voice, the strain in it. “I will fuck you so hard you won’t remember your own goddamn name, but give me this. Promise me.”

She sucked her lower lip into her mouth and he growled. Actually growled.

Then he was kissing her, hard, forcing her to open to a heated onslaught that took her breath away. Tongue and teeth, he bit, sucked and licked until she was panting, begging him to give her more. She was so wet now, rivulets trickled down her thighs, the pulse inside of her demanding attention.

“Look at me,” Jake demanded when he finally pulled back from her ravaged mouth. Dazed, she obeyed. His lips were swollen, gorgeous and full from kissing her, his jaw tight and shadowed with dark stubble.

He didn’t look slick and polished anymore, Jake looked dangerous and downright predatory. He was half inside her now, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Her muscles contracted, trying to pull him deeper. She bucked in pure frustration. A long, low whine of need escaped her lips, but he didn’t give in. “What’ll it be?”

Sweat was popping out along his muscled shoulders even as he watched her, but Charlie knew damn well she’d break before he did.

She swore, violently. Loudly.

Don’t be scared. Just this once.

“Yes. Okay, yes, Jake. I promise. I—”

He slammed inside of her. So deep that for a second she couldn’t get any air at all. Lights flashed at the edges of her vision and everything seemed to float.

Then she came.

In powerful, crushing waves that had Jake cursing even as he urged her on. “Fuck, yes. Come for me. More. Come on, baby, give me more.”

Jake ripped his shirt off of her in one violent swipe. His eyes roamed over her bared body as she shook helplessly beneath him. He groaned, pulling back before thrusting inside of her again.

Hard and fast, mercilessly pushing her up again before she was able to come down. “No, we’re not done. Not by half. You’re going to come again for me, aren’t you, Charlie?”

Her head whipped back and forth. “I can’t.”

“Oh yes, you fucking can.”

His thumb slid against her clit, circling. The pressure almost too much, almost painful, but she arched into him, unable to stop.

“That’s my girl. Give it all to me. Give me what’s mine.”

He came the instant she did. Driving deep, Jake groaned her name in a low, desperate voice that had her eyes flying open. But then he crushed her against his chest before she could catch the expression on his face, and there was only the feel of his heart pounding against hers, the pulse of his cock ticking deep inside her.

---

By the time they were done, it was almost time to go. They had made a trip to Charlie’s room, which she hadn’t even seen yet, to grab her dress and some other shoes. High heels were definitely out tonight, considering how shaky her legs still were.

“Has it been awhile, darl?” Jake asked, his tone insufferably smug.

“Shut up.”

He smirked when she slipped on a pair of flats.

“At least I can walk,” she pointed out.

“I’ll remedy that over the next week.” His look held a dark promise that had her catching her breath.

Her stomach did a slow loop-de-loop. She knew they were flying out first thing in the morning, but that was all. Jake had refused to tell her where they were going. Because she didn’t have a passport, it would be somewhere in the US, but other than that, she had no idea.

Sabrina was at the entrance when they arrived, with a man Stacia had introduced Charlie to countless times before, but now she couldn’t remember his name. He was a critic, though, she knew that much. For some big paper. She started to panic.

“John Bledsoe,” Jake whispered under his breath, his thumb running lightly over her wrist. “Critic, LA Times.”

“Thank you.” The anxiety subsided briefly, then surged again as Bri watched them approach. The blond was so cool, so haughty and perfect that it was hard not to feel inadequate in comparison. As juvenile as it was, Charlie felt the urge to shake the woman, to mar the polish just a little.

Jake glanced at her as they drew closer, his lips twitching. “You’re not going to get bitchy about Bri again, are you?”

She stared straight ahead. “Don’t remind me. I know I acted like an idiot. It’s just . . .”

“Spit it out.”

“I’ve never been jealous like that before.” She lifted her shoulders, flushing. “It was very disconcerting. I don’t think I like it.”

Jake laughed. “Well, I am proud to be the cause of your first bout with the green-eyed monster. Charlie with her claws out was quite a sight to see.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh don’t start. Can we just forget it, please?”

He winked, then led her directly to the pair. Sabrina gave her the briefest glance as Jake made the introductions, her dark eyes cool.

The insurance investigator was wearing another killer dress, this one in screaming red, so low-cut it was just short of indecent exposure. But the woman could definitely pull it off, Charlie told herself, determined to be nice.

“So you’re the next big thing?” Bri said with saccharine sweetness, looking at Jake’s arm around Charlie’s waist, then up at his face with an amused glance. “Amazing the places where talent hides itself, isn’t it, Jacob honey?”

Jake stiffened, but Charlie patted his arm. Bri reminded her a bit of her boss at G&A. The woman could be an absolute terror until you stood up to her. Turns out she simply despised people who allowed themselves to be pushed around and egged them on until they either cracked or showed a spine.

“Too true. And speaking of hiding,” Charlie leaned forward, her voice a perfect stage whisper, “you might want to pull up your neckline, honey. You’ve got a nipple showing.”

As the other woman drew back in panic, one well-manicured hand fluttering instantly to her chest, Jake swung Charlie away, trying to hold back a laugh. Bledsoe wasn’t so successful, chortling as they walked away.

“She did not have a nipple showing.” Jake looked back over his shoulder. “Did she?”

“Jake!” She smacked his chest, but his eyes were already on hers.

“You never fail to surprise me, darl.”

The quiet way he said it, and the soft look in those eyes, scared her more than Bri ever could.