I flipped the key card over my knuckles as the elevator rose to the penthouse floor.

What the fuck are you doing?

Maybe the real question was: what the fuck was Paige thinking? The floors dinged by as I rose, each one bringing a new thought.

Ding. Paige was a flawless beauty, the kind you didn’t see in magazines—they’d never lower themselves to be judged by their looks because she…

Ding. ...was brilliant. Her brain never slowed down. Hell, she outmaneuvered men in business as if they were driving bumper cars at the Indy 500.

Ding. She could have any guy she crooked her finger at, which hadn’t been any since she’d started coming around Gage’s place to hang with Bailey. Why me?

Ding. There were a thousand reasons it shouldn’t be me.

She wasn’t a one-night stand kind of girl, no matter how she swayed her ass after that little offer she’d laid out downstairs. No, she was the woman you meticulously planned dates for, strove to keep her interest, and then drove onto Relationship Ave with as quickly as possible before taking the Engagement onramp to Matrimony Highway. I, on the other hand, was a total one night guy.

The floors sped by, and I rubbed my thumb against my forefinger, grappling with a decision I should never have been presented with in the first place.

She was champagne, and I was beer.

She was Chanel and Dior, and I was Under Armour.

She was responsible where I was reckless.

Ding. The doors opened directly into the penthouse.

All of these things were still true, but I also knew none of them were going to stop me. That’s what made me the asshole in this whole situation. When given a choice, I inevitably made the wrong one.

But damn, did that woman look so right.

The French doors were open to the balcony, and she stood with one hip jutted out, a champagne flute in the opposite hand, looking at the city beneath us.

She was all graceful lines and fuckable curves, from the delicate slope of her shoulder to the neck I wanted to mark in some outdated, primal need to show the world that for one night, this woman found me worthy of her.

But the man who was actually worthy wouldn’t take it.

I walked out onto the balcony, leaning back against the stone railing so I could look at the most beautiful view in the city. The lights, hills, and water of Seattle could never hold a candle to Paige.

“You came,” she said, her voice shaking with the same fine tremor of her hand as she took a sip from her glass.

“Explain it to me.”

“Explain what?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “That I want you? Half the women in Seattle would admit to wanting you, and the other half are liars.” Her gaze was steady, unwavering.

“You only want one night?” A soft breeze blew by, raising goosebumps on her bare arm. I removed my jacket and slipped it over her shoulders, which earned me a soft smile.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” I said, loosening my bowtie so the ends hung down. “So about this one night?”

She cleared her throat and pulled the edges of my jacket closed. “Yes, I want a night. If that’s amenable to you.”

Amenable? One night spent with Paige under me? Who wouldn’t be ecstatic over that?

“But—” she continued, cutting off my thoughts, “I also have a proposition that might benefit us both.”

“You’re literally propositioning me for sex? Isn’t that illegal?” I teased.

A blush rose on her cheeks, and she looked away with a smile briefly. God, this woman wasn’t just beautiful—she was captivating.

“Kind of,” she admitted with a shrug. “You are in the middle of a PR nightmare.”

I blinked. “We’re really going to have to work on your pick-up lines.” Of course she knew. Everyone in Seattle knew, let alone our closest friends.

“Well, there’s no use beating around that bush. You are. I know you’re up on contract, and that you’re not exactly a PR asset to the Sharks right now. I could change that.”

“How? By pretending to be my girlfriend like we’re in some sappy rom-com?” One night, I could handle. But there was zero chance in hell I was faking anything in my life, let alone with a woman I honestly wanted.

Her shoulders straightened, and her chin rose a good inch. Gone was the charming seductress—this was the savvy business woman. “Actually, I’m proposing that we enter into a real relationship with contractual limitations.”

“I’m sorry?” I leaned in, certain I’d heard wrong.

“I have three months until I’m set to take over the company—until I sign a contract with a morality clause that puts an end to pretty much everything I could possibly want for myself. I’ll basically be cloistered until an acceptable match comes along.”

“So what you’re saying is that until your Mr. Right comes along, you’d like me to be your Mr. Right-now?” Holy shit, could tonight get any weirder? Here, have your dream woman for a while, but only because you’re not good enough for her in the long-term.

“No,” she adamantly shook her head, those green eyes going wide. “I’m saying that I could improve your PR. I’m an upstanding member of the community. I sit on the board of several charities. I don’t get drunk in public or do anything that would put me in the tabloids—”

“Yeah, you’re a regular thoroughbred filly,” I snapped, my insides twisting at the way she’d just laid out our differences.

She looked down, her shoulders sagging the slightest fraction, and I immediately regretted my words. But then she straightened, arched a delicate eyebrow at me, and my heart fucking lurched toward her, glad I’d said the words so I could have this moment.

“I am,” she agreed. “And what I want is three months with you. A real relationship with a real end date.”

“This doesn’t feel a little Pretty Woman to you?”

“Not at all. It’s a simple business transaction where we both benefit. We merge our lives for these three months, we both get what we need, we both get out unscathed and all the better for it.”

“And what is it that you need?” I asked softly, stalking toward her. For every step I took, she retreated across the small balcony. She might act supremely confident, but the idea of proposing this insane little deal, and actually following through with it were two different things.

“To live.” Her back hit the brick wall.

“Clarify,” I ordered softly, running my thumb down the silk of her cheek. God, she was incredibly soft.

“I want to experience...lust. Passion. Everything I’m guaranteed to give up in three months.”

My dick sprung, pushing uncomfortably against the fabric of my tux. “Why me?”

Her tongue slipped out, running along her bottom lip. “Because you’re the only one I want, and I know that this would be the only chance I’d ever get to have you.”

I studied the small shifts in her expression, the tiny nuances in her eyes that showed me her certainty, her determination, and the sliver of what I knew she wanted to keep hidden—her vulnerability.

“And when three months are up?”

“Your reputation is on the mend, and we both have contracts to sign and some great memories.”

And when three months isn’t enough?

I shoved that thought as far away as possible. This morning Paige was as untouchable as she was beautiful. She was a fantasy, like the first time a fourteen-year-old boy stumbled onto a Victoria’s Secret catalog. Now she was standing in front of me, telling me I could have her for three months with no strings attached.

It was every man’s dream. I’d be a fool to turn her down, but I’d be an even bigger fool to walk into paradise only to know I’d be cast out in three month’s time.

“Rory?”

“I’m thinking.” I brushed back a loose strand of red hair. Could I have her for three months and walk away unscathed? Unlikely. She’d burn me to the very core, but damn if that wasn’t a fire I was willing to walk through.

“I know it’s an odd offer. And that you can have any woman you want in Seattle. Hell, probably the entire country. I’m not stupid. I see the magazines, the billboards, the thirty-foot tall poster of your face on the outside of the arena. And I know that I’m the one you’d be doing the favor for. I might not be a supermodel like that one girl last year—”

“There were two.”

“—but. Wait, what? Two? I only knew about the one.”

“I can be very discreet when the situation calls for it.”

She blinked and took a steadying breath. “Right. Well, fine. Then I’m not like the girls you typically date, but I’m good for you—”

“Stop, Paige. Why are you trying so hard?”

A flash of uncertainty crossed her face; then I watched with amazement as all pretense of her shell crumbled. She sagged against the wall, leaning her cheek into my open hand. “Because I know you may need me, but I want you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I want you, too. More than I’ve ever wanted any other woman.”

I didn’t wait for her response or her permission. Our mouths collided, opened for each other in the most carnal kiss I’d ever experienced. Her hands slid into my hair while mine gripped her hips, pulling her against me.

Damn, she fit against me like a dream.

Our tongues tangled, her taste all sugar and champagne, better than any fantasy could have been. I instantly wanted more, harder, deeper, and I took it, giving her a clear vision of what things would be like between us.

I wasn’t sweet and shy. I wasn’t the fairytale prince who made love slowly. No, if that was what she wanted, she’d better know now before we agreed to...whatever this was. I took what I wanted, but I sure as hell made sure I gave back twice as much.

And right now I wanted Paige under me, her supple body reaching for mine, her thighs spread and quivering.

I gripped her ass in both hands and lifted her, groaning as her breasts rubbed against my chest.

“Wait, don’t you want to see a draft of the agreement?”

“No,” I growled, taking her mouth again.

I carried her into the massive suite, every ounce of my concentration torn between the feel of her tongue and not falling on my fucking face. I’d never had a woman strip every thought with nothing but a kiss. Never been so consumed that I seriously debated propping her up on the corner of that dining room table and taking her.

But I’d never had Paige in my arms.

Finding the bedroom, I set her on her feet and spun her in my arms, my fingers unerringly finding the zipper on the back of her dress.

“But there are terms, and I have this...well, bucket list of sexy things I’d like to—”

“Not tonight,” I told her as her dress fell in a soft rush of silk to the ground. “While I’m more than intrigued by any sexy list you could think up with that insanely gorgeous brain of yours, tonight I just want my mouth on you.”

“Oh,” she said as I popped her strapless bra open. Her hands rushed up to hold it in place.

I inhaled her perfume, committing the moment to memory. Then I gently tilted her head to the side and set my mouth to the side of her neck.

She sighed and leaned into me. “God, that feels good.”

“Just wait,” I promised, my voice thick with barely-leashed want.

“Does this mean you agree?” Her voice shook the slightest fraction.

I ran my hand up the flat, toned muscles of her stomach to twine my fingers with hers. “Think of this as an interview. If we both agree that there’s something here, we’ll consider a second round.” Fingers locked, I pulled our hands away, and her bra fell to the floor.

She turned to face me, her eyes wide and luminous in the moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Stepping back, I looked down and sucked in a lungful of air. Her breasts were perfect with pink tips already drawn tight and waiting. Reaching out, I gently cupped one, reveling in its weight in my palm as she sighed.

“An interview,” she whispered.

“Shall we begin?”

Yes or no. She may have said she wanted it, but I needed to hear it from her lips, needed to know this was really what she intended.

“Yes.”

Sweetest word in the English language.

Cupping the back of her neck, I drew her into a kiss. She slid my jacket off my shoulders, and I let it fall to the floor with her dress before I picked her up by her tiny waist and laid her back on the king-sized bed.

I hovered over her, taking in every line of her body, learning with my eyes what I would explore and memorize with my hands, my lips, my tongue. She gripped my shirt and yanked, our mouths meeting in a frenzy of tongue and teeth. My dick strained against my pants, but there was zero chance in hell I was taking them off. I needed every barrier between us that I could get.

Breaking away from her mouth, I slipped kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to her breasts. Her back arched and she let out the sweetest moan as I took one peak into my mouth, gently laving the crest with my tongue.

I’d been wrong before—yes wasn’t the sweetest sound, that moan was.

“You taste like honey,” I said as I moved to the other breast, willing myself to go slowly, not to blow it, both literally and figuratively. She was incredible, her skin softer than satin, and I stroked every inch her stomach, her breasts, her waist, until I reached the sweet flare of her hips. God, her curves would be the death of me.

Her legs moved restlessly as I placed hot kisses to the area her legs joined her hips, my tongue playing with the strap of her red lace thong.

“Rory,” she pled.

I took a fortifying breath and tried to say the alphabet backward in my head as I pulled the scrap of fabric down her thighs, over her knees and slender calves until her panties joined the rest of her clothing and she was finally, gloriously naked.

If this was a dream, I never wanted to wake up.

“Now you,” she said, raising up on her elbows.

“No,” I answered, tasting the skin of her knee, then her thighs.

“But…”

I looked up and nearly abandoned my own plan. Damn, she was sexy, and beautiful, and classy, and everything that definitely shouldn’t be in bed with a guy like me. “If this is going to work, we’re going to have to agree to something, Paige. You might be in control in that boardroom of yours, but I’m in control in the bedroom.”

“But I have a list—”

Without warning, I spread the lips of her pussy wide and ran my tongue from her entrance to her clit.

She gasped, her hands flying to my head. “Holy shit!” Her fingernails lightly scraped my scalp as she held me to her.

“See how much better it is when you stop thinking and start enjoying?”

I fucking loved her reactions, how honest they were. She wasn’t some rehearsed model who wanted my paycheck and my last name. Paige just wanted me.

Circling her clit with my tongue, I waited until she ground her hips against my mouth and then rewarded her with just the right pressure, the rhythm that started her keening, whimpering my name.

“So fucking perfect,” I groaned, soaking up every possible sensation of going down on Paige—her moans in my ear, her fingers in my hair, her taste bursting on my tongue. My cock was screaming, harder than it had ever been, but I’d never been more determined to keep it behind my zipper.

I licked, sucked, grazed my teeth across her, listening to her cries go higher, feeling her thighs tighten against my head, her breaths come quicker and quicker. It would be easy to get her off, a quick press of fingers just inside her, and she’d tumble right over. But I knew if I slipped my fingers inside her, my cock would be next, and that wasn’t what tonight was about.

When she was writhing, pleading for release, I locked eyes with her. Then I replaced my tongue with my thumb, pressing on her clit exactly how she needed and slid down. I gave in to my primal need to know every inch of her, and instead of using my fingers, I fucked her with my tongue, sliding in and out of her tight pussy until she came, screaming my name.

I closed my eyes and put a tight leash on my dick. I was a grown man for fuck’s sake, not a sixteen-year-old in the back of my dad’s car.

Paige wanted control, wanted to set every rule, run every deal, and keep everything neat and tidy. That wasn’t going to fly if she wanted me in her bed—in her life for the next three months.

I reared up over her and kissed her softly. “You are incredible, Paige. I could make you come for hours.”

She blinked up at me, her eyes emerald green. “That...you...I can’t…God, I can’t even think.”

“Good,” I said, lightly kissing her nose.

It fucking killed me, but I slid off the bed, and retrieved my jacket from the ground, sliding my arms through the sleeves.

“Wait, we’re not having sex?”

A smirk played at my lips. “Not tonight.”

“You don’t want…” her eyes dropped to the covers, and I immediately sat at the edge of the bed and pulled her into my lap.

I waited until she looked up at me, her cheeks still flushed from her orgasm. Then I kissed her, long and deep, knowing she could taste herself on my tongue. I didn’t stop until she was as pliant as my dick was hard. Fuck, this woman tested me on every level possible.

“I want you,” I assured her. “I would love nothing more than to strip out of these clothes and slide into you. Just thinking about it has my dick pulsing, Paige. I’ve never been this turned on just by getting a woman off, and I’ve never craved someone the way I do you. But this is interview round one, remember?”

I kissed her forehead and gently put her back on the bed. Then I stood and put as much distance between us as possible before I changed my damn mind. She was too tempting for her own good.

“When do we start round two?”

I smiled despite the epic case of blue balls that was currently threatening to unman me for the rest of my life. “Why don’t you sleep on it, really make sure this is what you want.”

“This is what I want!” she nodded enthusiastically. “And I can see that you want it, too.”

I waited to speak until her eyes traveled back up my body.

“Well, I say that you need to wait. I’m not going to be a regret for you, Paige. I know you love control. You wouldn’t be the business woman you are without it. But if you want me, then this is on my terms, not yours.”

Her mouth dropped open, and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. It was going to be so much fun to rile her up over the next few months. I took a moment and let my eyes rake over her body from head to toe, savoring the delayed gratification because now that I knew how she tasted, how she sounded when she came, I knew we’d be explosive and worth the wait.

“Night, Red.”

Her mouth was still open when I walked out of the hotel room.

I punched the button for the ballroom and thought about the least sexy things I could while the elevator made its descent. By the time the doors opened, my situation was far less dire and way less noticeable, but something told me I’d be sporting a semi until I had Paige again.

“There you are. Jesus, I’ve been looking for you all night,” Mike, my agent, said, clapping me on the back and using his public smile as led me into a deserted hallway.

“I’ve been busy,” I said.

He glanced at my undone tie and snorted. “Apparently. Anything I need to worry about?”

“Quite the opposite,” I promised.

“Good, because I’m getting calls from the Sharks front office, and you are not on their bright and shiny list right now. You need to keep your nose clean and smelling like roses if you want any chance at renewing this contract.”

“I always smell like roses,” I said with a shrug.

“You smell like sex.”

“Guilty.” Amazing, glorious sex.  

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Exactly,” I laughed.

“Rory, I’m not fucking kidding. They’ve got your name on the chopping block, and they’ve made calls to Chicago to see if Armstrong would be up for a trade.”

My stomach twisted. “Shit.”

“Exactly,” he repeated, mocking my earlier word. “Now take your ass home and figure out how the hell you’re going to become the poster boy for Seattle Shark hockey before you lose your damned jersey.”

I nodded, the severity of the situation hitting me like a sucker punch. I didn’t say goodbye to any of the guys or acknowledge any of the women as I left the party.

Before, Paige’s suggestion had seemed appealing for the sake of getting her in bed, and the off chance that I might be able to convince her I was worth more than three months.

Now it looked like I was going to have to agree not just because I wanted her, but like she’d said—because I now needed her.

I’d never needed a woman, and I didn’t intend to start now.

But I might not have a choice.