The lobby is bathed in golden, pre-sunset light when I enter The Rockford just before seven on Friday evening with an overnight bag in my hand. A guy named Pablo I barely know is currently standing behind the front desk. He looks at me quizzically as I pass by, obviously wondering what the night shift girl is doing here at this time of day and on her day off.

I wave breezily. “Hey, Pablo. I just dropped by to pick up some paperwork before heading off to…”

But I don’t need to finish my lie. Pablo’s already waved back at me and he’s now looking down at his computer again.

Well, that was easy.

I stride to an elevator, step inside, and swipe the key card Lucas gave me to allow access to the penthouse floor. Why do I suddenly feel like I’m walking a gangplank?

The elevator door opens on the penthouse floor and I walk down the hall, breathing deeply to steady my racing heart. Yes, of course, I’m thrilled at the prospect of spending two full nights with Lucas, but even more so I’m feeling nervous about the inevitable crash ending to this fairytale. Will I be able to muster the willpower to do what I promised to do, or will I chicken out? Because, at the moment, I simply can’t imagine telling Lucas I want anyone but him, even if we both know it’s a lie.

I reach Penthouse A and stand outside the door, and once again I’m bowled over by the sound of music emanating from inside the room. I can tell it’s another new song, but I can’t make out the words. I lean my ear against the door and strain to decipher Lucas’s lyrics, but damn it, I can’t make them out. But it doesn’t matter. Even without being able to understand precisely what Lucas is singing about, I can feel the emotion of the song—and it’s absolutely electrifying.

The music inside the suite stops.

And so, I take a deep breath and knock. Ten seconds later, the door opens and Lucas appears, looking as sexy as ever.

This evening, the man who adorned my teenage walls is wearing nothing but black boxer briefs, and he’s quite obviously hard as a rock behind them. His dark eyes look wild beyond anything I’ve seen before. His jaw is covered in stubble. His hair is a disaster. Holy crap, he looks like a madman.

“Lucas,” I gasp. Truly, he looks demented. “Have you slept at all since I left?”

I’ve barely gotten my question out when Lucas yanks me into the suite and begins quite literally ripping my dress off my body.

“Lucas,” I breathe, instantly aroused by his urgency.

Lucas flings my dress onto the floor, pulls my G-string off with a loud grunt, unlatches my bra, and before I can say or do a damned thing, he presses his lips to mine, slides his fingers deep inside me, and fondles my breast with his free hand. “What took you so long to get here?” he whispers. He bends down and buries his face in my small breasts, like a kid bingeing on cookies. “I’m hungry for you,” he growls. He sucks fervently on one of my nipples, making me inhale like I’ve just touched a hot stove. He gropes my ass. Bites my neck. Strokes my clit. Growls with his arousal. “I’ve been sitting here with your scent for hours, writing another amazing song about you, driving myself crazy.” He fucks me with his fingers, and presses his hard-on against my hip. “It was your aroma that did this to me. I haven’t written like this in forever. I feel fucking alive.”

I peel his briefs down and his massive erection springs out, its tip already shiny and wet, and I moan at the beautiful sight of it.

Once his briefs are off and thrown across the room, he scoops me up by my ass, slides me onto his hard-on, and strides toward the bedroom, kissing me furiously as he walks.

“I missed you,” I coo, grinding myself onto his hard-on, my excitement ramping up instantly.

“I’m addicted to you,” he whispers. “You’re my drug.” He lays me down on the mattress, spreads my legs like a butterfly, leans in, and inhales deeply. “Oh, baby, that’s the drug right there.” He skims his stubbled chin against my crotch as he works me with his fingers and inhales my scent again. “I think I’m having some kind of breakdown.” He begins licking me, nibbling me, nuzzling me. And when he finally goes in for the kill and penetrates me deeply with his tongue, we both let out loud moans of pleasure together.

When I come for him, he strides to the nightstand, opens a drawer, and pulls out a nylon rope.

My eyes widen. I’ve actually got a whole bunch of goodies in my overnight bag—handcuffs, a blindfold, a dildo, a tickler—but he doesn’t know that. How did he know I’d be up for some kinky fuckery tonight?

“Yes?” he asks, holding up the rope.

“Fuck yes.” I arch my back and spread my legs. “Sir.”

Lucas smiles wickedly and begins tying my left wrist to the headboard. “I’m going to give you the night of your life, Angel,” he whispers, his voice husky. “To thank you for giving me the best songs of mine.”

I’m about to hyperventilate from sheer excitement. “My bag,” I blurt. “I brought toys.”

One side of Lucas’s beautiful mouth tilts up. “Of course, you did. Because you’re an angel sent straight from heaven.” He moves onto tying my other wrist. “Have I ever told you you’re perfect, Abby?”

“No.”

He licks one of my erect nipples, making me moan. “Well, let me say it now. Abby the Ass-kicker Assassin Angel, you’re fucking perfect.”