Sometimes, you see the fork. Sometimes, you don’t.

Sometimes, your life takes a turn and you don’t really have a choice.

Every now and then, changes come hurling at you and you don’t even see them coming.

And then, there they are—unavoidable, in your face, ugly, messy—demanding you acknowledge them.

Or, maybe they aren’t so harsh at first. But that’s how they get you, you know?

They’re sly and charming, pulling you in with a smile and maybe a promise of something sweet and then, before you know it, there you are—falling to your knees to do whatever it takes to get another taste of paradise.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I haven’t fallen to my knees just yet, but we’ll get there, don’t worry.

What I’m trying to tell you is that I didn’t see it coming at first. I didn’t see any of it coming. How could I? I was naive, really.

Sure, I’m a grown-ass woman, but even at twenty-six there are days when I still feel eighteen.

To say that I had led a sheltered and bland existence before that day at the restaurant with Bear would be the understatement of the year.

I’d managed to graduate college without much in the way of experience… I’d had one boyfriend throughout college—the infamous Harlan Lewis, as my friends called him. Our relationship was full of drama. A lot of drama.

He was charming and cocky, at first. He drew me out of my shell by showering me with attention and affection. I’d never had a boyfriend that was so doting before, but he had a few shortcomings. Sex was all about him, and it was over in an instant. I had no time to be excited, much less satisfied.

In the beginning, I told myself that sex didn’t matter. Things would get better.

But they didn’t. They only got worse.

After a year of dating, his attention turned to suffocating possessiveness. Then he accused me of cheating on him.

One night, he slapped me after I came home late from happy hour with my friends.

That’s all it took.

I mean, I should have left a lot sooner, I know, but I wasn’t about to hang around and be someone’s punching bag.

I got over him quicker than it takes for a good Oregon shower to run through town. Six months later, he still texts me trying to get back together.

As if I’d sink so low ever again.

I wanted a lot more from a partner than Harlan could ever provide.

I was ready for all the breathless orgasms I was supposed to be having at my age.

I’d certainly read all about them. In fact, I’d spent hours upon hours haunting the romance section at Powell’s bookstore, walking out with bags full of deliciously trashy novels, hoping nobody on the Max peeked in my bags on the way home.

I couldn’t wait to see what it felt like for my breasts to heave or my stomach to flutter with desire as my lover gazed at me through hooded lids.

I wanted all of that stuff. I’d never even come close to feeling like that with Harlan. I was starting to think I’d never feel it…

I mean, I didn’t see those things in my near future—but I was ready and waiting, just in case.

There were a few things in the way, of course.

My shyness, for one. I wasn’t a flirt, not like my friend Marie. She didn’t hold back, not for a second. When she saw someone she was interested in, she went at them with both guns blazing.

Me? I just turned and ran the other way. The few times I’d gone out on dates in college (outside of what Marie and I now called my ‘Harlan period’) had ended in excruciating awkwardness. When the date was over I’d lay there for hours, staring up at the cracked ceiling of my apartment, wondering—is this it? Is this really all there is?

Sex wasn’t fun. It wasn’t exciting. There were no hooded lids, no heaving breasts anywhere to be found. I would have given anything to even feel a little quiver in my stomach, but nope—no flutters, no butterflies.

I guess you could say I gave up after I broke up with Harlan. Trying to find someone else seemed like so much work. I stopped thinking it would ever happen and I turned myself off to the possibility of ever meeting someone who made my toes curl.

I had my bad boy book boyfriends and that was enough.

I dove into my semester at school, learning everything I could about fashion design and focused all my energy on creating my own line of dresses. School and work became my life.

That’s why I was blindsided today. Sure, maybe I’d put those little red panties on because I had some misguided little fantasy in my head, but I never expected a man like Bear to make that fantasy real… I never expected him to make me feel like that.

There he was—bigger than life, utterly intimidating, his demanding presence so grand and hulking that I was left breathless just by staring up at him. I mean, I felt a quiver in my stomach as soon as he’d closed that door behind us—and that had to mean something, right?

I just didn’t know what.

I didn’t know that this was my fork.

Bear Dalton. Chairman and CEO of Dalton Enterprises, the premier development firm in America, my Mother’s billionaire boss. He was the man who made my toes curl, my breasts heave, and my pussy sing.

How could I have ever said no to that?