At first, Sawyer was certain she imagined it. After all, what would a man like Anders Williams want with a woman like her? He was rich, cultured, handsome. She was a redneck oddball, who was now also an orphan. No wealthy lawyer would give a poor orphan girl the time of day unless there were cameras rolling and he could profit from it somehow… right?

But there was no mistaking it, and what had started as subtle looks had quickly manifested into overt gazes until Anders was fully staring at her, even when Vander tried to steer the conversation toward him.

Sawyer didn’t understand how her aloofness did not seem to throw him off in the least, and the more she tried to look away, the more it seemed to turn him on. She wanted to scream at him and demand to know why he was staring at her. Did he know something? Was he a part of The Order, too? There was no opportunity to get Vander alone and ask him, but something told her that he did not belong to the group.

No, he’s just some guy that Vander has a crush on.

Still, Sawyer found herself honing on the conversation more closely, listening for indications that they knew one another through the same channels. It wasn’t until Anders asked straight out how she and Vander were acquainted that she understood for certain that she was way off.

We probably should have concocted a better cover story. Jericho and I didn’t need one. We had one built in. We cared about one another, and everyone could see that.

Sawyer wondered if anyone cared about Anders Williams. She wondered if she could care about Anders Williams.

The thought filled her with shock. She had no reason to be so attracted to this stranger, and yet…

“Come along, Sawyer. The show awaits,” Vander called, and she realized she hadn’t moved from her seat, although the men had already disembarked and waited for her at the entrance to a disgustingly opulent building.

She was unexpectedly overcome to stay exactly where she sat, but she knew that was not an option.

I’m in over my head again. Why don’t you ever listen to your gut about these things? This is why things go badly for you. This is how people end up dead.

“Are you all right, Sawyer?” Anders’ face appeared below the roof, blocking out Vander, who looked impatiently at his watch. “It’s not as bad as we’re making it sound,” he promised. “And if it gets to be too much, I know all the good hiding spots.”

He winked at her, and Sawyer inhaled deeply, unwilling to show her nervousness. She accepted his outstretched hand and unsteadily rose to her feet.

Up close, the building was even more spectacular, a display of luxury and money. A calligraphy sign scrawled the name of the structure in bold, black letters above the doorway, where a liveried doorman waited for them to approach.

The Tiara. How vile, Sawyer thought, trying to muster some disgust for the one percent, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything except wonderment as Anders led her into the condo foyer. It looked like a movie set; a twin staircase lined by an intricate bronze rail, presumably ending at a mezzanine level.

Below her feet, her heels clicked conspicuously, but Sawyer barely noticed, her eyes trying to take in every detail from the spiky chandelier, dangling like a medieval mace over the concierge desk, to the half-naked statues in the indoor fountain.

Who lives like this? she wondered, willing herself to close her mouth as they moved toward the elevator banks.

As they approached, Anders guided her elbow gently away, and they continued down the romantically lit entranceway until they came to another single lift.

“The penthouse elevator,” he explained.

“Of course it is,” she heard herself mumble, and both men chuckled as the doors fell open.

It was made of pure glass from floor to ceiling, the chords and wires close enough to touch, but at the back wall, a view of Central Park began to form as the cabin rose seamlessly.

“It’s like riding on a cloud!” she almost squealed, loathing herself for sounding so childlike. Then again, she had never ridden on anything so… what was the word? Fluffy? Any second, the doors were going to open, and Dawn Lawson would be standing there holding a mimosa or something, laughing in her face.

Shyly, she looked over at Anders, who seemed enthralled by her reaction. “My God, Sawyer. If you’re like this in an elevator, what are you going to be like in the—”

The door opened at that moment, and Sawyer released a gasp of air so loud, it overrode the last of his question.

“Woah.” Sawyer was heady as she walked tentatively into the condo. She had expected a hallway leading into an apartment, but she was already in the condo. No, this is not a condo. This is a palace.

And it was.

The main floor—the staff floor, as Sawyer remembered it—was no different than the entranceway to the building itself, but instead of two staircases, only one floating set ascended to the second floor. Sawyer craned her neck upward, realizing that there was a floor above that one, and she grew dizzy craning her neck back so far. Both floors were encased in oval stucco, as if the upper floor were a balcony overlooking the stage below.

Moving her eyes back down toward the small onyx statue of a nude cherub spitting water from his mouth, she noted two long wings jutting out on either side of the foyer. Sawyer assumed they led to the employees’ suites, but to envision more space beyond what she was seeing made her head spin again.

“What do you think of my apartment?” Anders asked, his voice close to her ear.

An unexpected shiver slithered down her spine, and for an uncharacteristic moment, Sawyer was speechless. The feel of his breath on her shoulder continued to linger far after he moved his head, and a shocking gush of heat coursed through her body, rising up and down simultaneously.

What is wrong with you? she cursed herself. Get your shit together. But it was incredibly difficult to listen to reason when she was almost painfully aware of the handsome attorney’s hand on her lower back, innocently perched just above her waistline.

Why was she silently willing him to go lower? To inch his fingers along the line of her panties?

Stop it! she screamed to herself. You’re just getting sensory overload. You need a drink, some air, and maybe some food. Yet she made a move to do nothing but allow herself to be led by the master of the house. Who am I kidding? I am in a daze.

Vander had disappeared, but that was irrelevant to Sawyer, and she let herself be whisked through the penthouse on Anders’ arm.

Each level was more incredible than the last, and when they made it to the top floor, Sawyer felt as if she was somewhere hovering above her body, staring down at her face as if trying to figure out who she was in the grand scheme of things.

“You look overwhelmed,” Anders whispered in her ear, his hand still strategically placed on her back. His thumb found the bare skin of her back against the plunging backline of her dress, and goosebumps exploded over her skin, even though she was sure he had not touched her by design.

“No,” she denied quickly. “I’m just taking it all in.”

“It’s a lot of pretentious people,” he breathed, and Sawyer turned her face slightly to feel his words on her cheek. Somehow, he had swept her into a silent hallway, far from the tinkling, phony laughter, and overpriced fashion, but not without locating them both goblets of champagne.

“How long have you lived here?” Sawyer asked, grateful for the moment of peace. The excitement had given way to sheer anxiety when Anders began to introduce her to the mob of people in the thick of the party.

“I can’t even remember anymore,” he answered, his blue eyes boring into hers, resuming the studying look, but away from the mob of judging faces, his eyes did not bother her.

“That long, huh?” she teased, a warm blush touching her face. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“You’re a beautiful woman,” Anders replied. “Where are you from?”

“Nashville—well, no, originally Alabama, but Nashville now. That’s where I go to school.”

His face took on a slightly abashed expression. “You’re in college?” he asked slowly. “Of course you are.”

“I’m a late bloomer,” Sawyer confessed. “I… took some time off and went to Europe first.”

“Really?” Curiosity lit his eyes. “I spend a lot of time overseas. Where did you go?”

Suddenly, Sawyer wished she had not brought it up. She didn’t want to talk about any of it. What is wrong with you today? Why are you spilling your guts to people you don’t know?

Without thinking, she threw her arms around his broad shoulders and leaned forward to softly kiss his lips. Anders’ eyes widened at the motion, but he didn’t pull away, his mouth pressing into hers responsively. Sawyer closed her eyes, relishing the sweetness of having someone near again after such a long time.

The champagne glass swished slightly as she parted, droplets falling onto the jacket of Anders’ expensive suit.

“Oh!” she gasped, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t be,” he instructed. “I have others… in my room…”

He trailed off, his meaning unmistakable as his gaze rested on her.

He’s gorgeous and into you, Sawyer thought, but maybe he just has a fetish for poor girls. Then again, so what if he does? It’s not like you’re expecting anything from him. Who knows where Vander is going to lead you after tonight? What’s the harm in having one last reckless night before God only knows what will happen?

“My suite is just that way,” Anders offered encouragingly, and Sawyer found herself nodding, her tongue jutting out to taste the remnants of his kiss on her lips.

“I’d like to see your collection of jackets,” she said and almost groaned at the lameness of her words, but Anders’ smile only widened, and he nodded. He took her hand with his free one, and together, they continued down the hall into the shadowy hallway.

To her left, the wall was entirely glass, overlooking the wraparound balcony that covered the top floor, but no one was beneath the Chinese lanterns, and Sawyer found herself pausing to stare at the stunning height, a wanton thought filling her mind.

“Let’s go out there,” she murmured, eyeing the balcony.

“There’s a view from my room, too,” Anders assured her, but Sawyer shook her head, the overwhelming need to go where they might be caught overriding her better judgment.

It’s one night. Seize it, because you’ll never know when it could be over.

A half-smile formed on Anders’ face, and he shrugged.

“You are my guest,” he told her. “It would be rude to say no.” He reached for the sliding door, and no sooner had they stepped outside than Sawyer jumped on him again, the glass in their hands falling to crash on the intricate stone at their feet as their mouths met.

What is wrong with me? she idly wondered, but when their tongues met, she knew that there was nothing wrong with her, that she longed to feel wanted and loved, even if it was just temporary and fake. She deserved to enjoy the sensation of his hands against her skin, his palm slipping up to cradle her neck, twisting her body so her back was pushed against the railing of the balcony.

Anders’ fingers manipulated her neck, massaging the prickled skin of her throat to adjust her head, letting his mouth roam along the grooves of her chin and over the soft flesh of her cheek.

“Where did you come from?” he murmured, and the question filled Sawyer with worry and excitement simultaneously.

“Does it really matter?” she breathed, pulling his hard body closer, savoring the sensation of every muscle rippling beneath the expensive material of his suit. His hardness dug into the bone of her hip, and as his kisses grew more heated, she shifted herself, wanting him to feel the heat emanating from her own center. A palm slipped along the curve of her waist, falling at the hemline of her dress to tease and play with the skin below.

Sawyer gasped at the unexpected touch, another rush of heat filling her panties while her own fingers grasped Anders’ thick head of auburn hair, lowering his face toward her breasts over the tight material of her dress. The taut skin of her nipples poked through, unhindered by a bra, and Anders’ teeth caught the peak, tugging gently.

“Oh, shit,” Sawyer mumbled, bolts of electricity shooting through her body, a combination of his mouth and curious fingers beneath her cotton underwear turning her into a cactus of prickling desire. Slow strokes toyed with the cleft between her legs, long, slow glides that danced over the nub and entrance playfully, each motion bringing out more dampness from her core.

Sawyer moaned, thrusting her lean frame outward, wanting Anders to finish what he started, but he seemed happy taking his time, his moves deliberate and torturous. His hot breath penetrated the thin fabric of her dress, and every gesture he made only made her want him more.

“Please,” she muttered. “Someone might see us.” It was a lame excuse, but the desire in her loins was overcoming her reasoning. Anders only laughed, pulling his head back to stare at her mockingly.

“You should have thought about that before you decided to bring the party out here,” he replied, slipping a finger inside her.

Sawyer groaned, not expecting the suddenness of the gesture, her knees buckling slightly, but Anders’ hard body pushed her solidly against the railing of the patio, his cerulean eyes locked on her face as his digits explored her core.

“You’re so wet,” he sighed, adding another finger. He withdrew his hand to run the fingertips across his lips, eyes lightening as he tasted her nectar.

“Please,” Sawyer begged him, her eyes wide with pleading. “Don’t keep me waiting much longer.”

A strange shadow crossed over his face, and as if she had said the magic words, Anders lost the smile, his mouth crushing into hers before abruptly spinning her around, bending her lithe frame forward.

Sawyer grabbed for the railing despite having no real danger of falling, her eyes taking in the breathtaking scenery below. On the ground, she could see the Park Avenue crowds going about their business, unaware that forty stories above them, a girl was being propped up only by the strong hands of a billionaire lawyer and his engorged member.

The skirt of her dress hiked up against her hips, and somehow, Anders had already lowered his own trousers, his thick shaft pinned against the heat of her cheeks. Her cheap panties ripped as he spread her legs further apart, but it was not necessary, the juices of her core lubricant enough to let him fall into the tightness of her middle without effort.

Sawyer cried out, turning her head to stare at him in shock over her shoulder, and he met her gaze, his jaw locked intensely. His thrusts were long and deep, each one knocking the breath from her, the size of his shaft, the thickness of him unlike anything she had known in her minimal experience.

“Oh!” she choked, feeling the heat of his sack against her thighs, her fingers clamped over the railing as he drove himself fully inside. Sawyer could feel him in every nerve in her body, the heat of his cock matching the searing warmth of her mounting orgasm.

“Oh!” she howled, the tension mounting as Anders’ movements grew more furious, his fingers digging into the skin of her naked hips, forcing her forward.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “I want to feel you all over me.”

Her knees gave up, and her mounting climax overtook her body as she released against him.

“I feel you,” Anders mumbled, his movements growing harder. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. Keep doing that for me—”

He groaned, and Sawyer felt his erection enlarge inside her. He froze, his grip on her hips almost painful, and she felt the hot streams shooting inside her like. Anders pushed himself against her, and she bucked back, wanting to feel every drop of his climax inside her, their bodies a trembling, identical mass of sticky sweat and pleasure.

Slowly, the fog that had overcome her since the moment she had stepped into the condo seemed to lift, and Sawyer was very embarrassed. She pulled herself forward, feeling Anders slip out of her as she yanked her skirt down. She turned to face him, unsure of what to say. A jumble of words escaped her lips at once.

“I—I’m sorry!” she muttered, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

Anders chuckled dryly. “I think the entire beauty of that was that we stopped thinking for a little bit,” he replied softly, cocking his head to look at her. “Do you regret it?”

Sawyer’s dark head whipped up, and she shook her head vehemently.

“No! No, of course not!” she replied, her face red with humiliation. “I just meant… I mean, I don’t really… I’m not…” Oh, my God, spit it out, Sawyer!

“Me neither,” Anders offered smoothly, but before he could say another word, his phone rang. A peculiar look crossed his face, as if he realized something as he pulled the device from his pocket and read the name on the display. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I have to take this.”

Sawyer nodded, hurriedly collecting her things before turning back toward the condo.

“I’m coming,” Anders said into the mouthpiece in the way of a greeting, and Sawyer lifted her head, pretending not to listen. As she did, her heart caught in her throat.

Vander was standing in the glass hallway, his arms folded across his chest in bemusement. He shook his head as she rushed inside, her cheeks on fire.

“Naughty girl,” the older man chided. “He’s going to break your heart.”

Sawyer snorted aloud, turning to walk away as Vander followed, making a reproving clucking noise with his tongue.

“Hardly,” she replied shortly. “You have to have a heart in order to have it broken.” It was a one-night stand. Nothing more. I can cross “bedding a hot billionaire” off my bucket list now.

Now if only she could get her pulse to slow, she would believe it, too.