Happy freaking birthday.

September in San Francisco sucked.

Everything in the Bay area sucked. My Stanford dorm room was tiny. My roommate hated me. Some of my classmates were receptive to my let's hang out and study suggestions, but none of them got me.

My friend from high school—the one who had moved to San Francisco to pursue a music career—was supposed to join me for a birthday dinner.

But her cancellation text sat there on my phone. Sorry, Lizzy. I can't make it. Happy Birthday XOXO.

Raindrops dotted my screen. I slid my phone back into my purse. To protect it. Or maybe myself. I wasn't good with feelings. Or disappointment. Code? Yeah. I could ace any test. But figuring out if the guy sitting next to me wanted to study or wanted to study? I had no idea how to do that.

I scanned the dark city. The downtown skyline looked less impressive up close. Like some cheap imitation of Manhattan. I never loved Manhattan the way Kat did, but I appreciated its prominence. New Yorkers made sense to be. The weird combination of preppy, laid back, smug, chill, and money-worshiping—the Bay made no sense to me.

I stepped under the red awning of a massive hotel. One with gold doors and clean windows.

There he was, all tall, dark, and handsome, standing on the sidewalk with a wide stance, his shoulders pulled back, his gaze on his cell phone.

Without a word, he slid his suit jacket off his shoulders and offered it to me.

A stranger offering me his coat.

That was an invitation, wasn't it?

Like those guys who raised their eyebrows after they said study.

My eyes fixed on his. They were dark. Like coffee. And just as rich and bold.

He was the perfect way to spend my birthday.

I could even flirt a little. In theory.

I stared back into his beautiful eyes. "I can't take your jacket."

"Why not?"

I rubbed my fingers over the fabric. It was a finely woven wool. Expensive. "I don't know you."

"I'm Nick."

We shook hands.

He was clearly rich and important. There was no way I'd ever see him again. Better to give him my middle name.

"Marie." I slung the jacket over my shoulders. It was thick. Warm. And comforting in another way. It was a way to try on a role for the night. Marie, the confident, bold girl who accepts strangers' jackets and invitations for one-night stands.

"I'm going inside for a drink." He pulled the door open as if to invite me.

I nodded a thank you and followed him to a booth in the corner of the lounge.

The walls were cream, the lights were soft, the furniture was purple. It wasn't the kind of place I'd expect to see a guy like Nick.

His deep brown eyes fixed on mine. "What brought you into the city today?"

"How do you know I'm not a local?"

He gave me a long once-over. "People in San Francisco rarely wear—"

"Tight dresses and heels?"

"Not on this side of town."

"I got that impression." My gaze drifted to the dark carpet. "It's my birthday."

He looked back at me. "Is it?"

"What? You think that's a line I use to get guys to buy me drinks?"

"No. I don't think you have any trouble getting guys to buy you drinks."

My lips curled into a smile. He liked me. In a let's chat until we're ready to fuck kind of way. "I was supposed to meet a friend. She canceled."

"Not everyone is reliable."

"True."

The way he looked at me was understanding. Sweet, even.

"Are you from the Bay?"

"No."

"So you can't explain the appeal?"

His eyes lit up as he chuckled. It was a strong, deep laugh. He was a strong, deep guy. He had a certain stoic vibe to him. I wanted to peel back his layers. I wanted to understand him. At least for a while. "It can't be the weather."

"You don't enjoy the frigid summers?"

"No." I pressed my lips together. Was this sharing too much? Was I about to insult his beloved city? No. I didn't think so. "I don't get it here. Everyone you meet is a snob or, worse, some programmer who thinks he's better than you because he knows C++. Is there anything good about this city?"

"The rents are making landlords rich."

I laughed. "You would know."

He nodded.

"You don't like it either?"

"You get used to the self-importance."

The cocktail waitress stopped by our table to take our drink order. She accepted my fake ID without batting an eye.

"Let me guess." I slid his jacket off my shoulders and set it in my lap. "You're a venture capitalist and you have to fly here twice a week to hear desperate pitches from egotistical start-up founders."

Nick's eyes were fixed on me. His gaze was already so intense and captivating. I was losing interest in our conversation. What did I need to know about him besides how much I wanted him to take me to his room?

I never reacted to men like that. I'd only been with two—a boyfriend before the accident made everything complicated and a classmate I dated for a few months the previous summer. Neither was worth remembering.

My heartbeat picked up. I shifted back in my seat. "Was I close?"

"Yes. And you're a student as UCSF. A science major. Chemistry."

"Something like that."

The waitress returned with our drinks. Whiskey for him. Rum and diet for me. Nick slid two twenty-dollar bills into her hand. She smiled the way I always smiled after a huge commission.

I took a long sip. It was a perfect mix of sweet and bitter. "What brought you into the city?"

He copied my words. "How do you know I'm not a local?"

"You're staying in a hotel."

"I could be going through a divorce."

I shook my head. I took his left hand and pointed to the base of his ring finger. "You don't have a tan line."

His brows rose. He smiled, impressed. "That's a neat trick."

"It doesn't absolve you of being thrown out by your girlfriend." I met his gaze. "But I can't imagine that."

"Why not?"

"I can't see you letting a woman have that much control of your life. Living with you even."

"That's quite the accusation."

"I guess so. You learn to read people pretty well when you work retail." I pressed my lips together. "Am I wrong? Have you ever lived with a woman?"

"Not one besides my mother."

"Do you have girlfriends or just—" I motioned to our seat in the lounge "—do things like this?"

"Do you have boyfriends?"

"Not since high school."

"Me either."

"You had a boyfriend in high school?"

He looked back at me curiously, like he wasn't sure if I was joking or not.

"Just kidding." I smiled. "Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles. Just as self-important." His gaze went to the jacket in my lap. "But the weather is more tolerable."

That sealed it. He was from Los Angeles. There was no way I'd see him again. There was no reason to hold back anything.

I was so lonely that first semester of college. It wasn't abnormal for my temper and strong will to get me into trouble, but it was so much harder with my sister, my best friend in the world, three thousand miles away.

Nick was listening to me. He was honest. It was my chance to let my guard down for a night, to have a conversation that wasn't bullshit.

I promised myself I'd take advantage of the opportunity. "I'm from New York. I can deal with weather."

"You go out like that during New York winters?"

"You sound like my sister."

"Not your mom?"

"My parents died when I was fifteen."

His voice softened. His expression filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." I nodded. For once, it felt like someone meant it. Like someone actually cared about me. It filled me in places that usually panged with emptiness. I wanted to talk to him forever. "Why are you in the city today?"

"I had to deal with a problem."

I leaned in closer, studying his dark eyes. They were hard to read but they were honest.

"Is it dealt with?" I asked.

His eyes flared with concern. He nodded and finished his drink. "Hopefully."

"Was it business or personal?"

He looked back to me. "Both, unfortunately."

"You don't seem like the kind of guy who mixes the two."

"I don't. Not usually."

"What happened this time? Seduce your secretary, then kick her to the curb?"

He raised a brow, studying my expression as if he was deciding if I was joking. He must have decided yes, because he smiled.

His voice lightened. "No one is called a secretary anymore. It's administrative assistant."

"Would you?"

"That's an open-and-shut sexual harassment case. I don't need the headache."

"Afraid of litigation?"

"Have you ever dealt with lawyers?"

I shook my head.

"I hope, for your sake, that you never have to."

"What if you were sure she wouldn't sue?"

"It's not a risk worth taking."

We were almost flirting. I had to elevate it. To tease him. "You're chicken?"

He pulled back, his expression hardening. "No. When you're older, you'll realize that there's a difference between bravery and foolishness."

I bit my tongue. I didn't need to be polite with him. I could call him on his bullshit. "So you think you're smarter than everyone younger than you? There's a difference between cowardice and caution. I could say that and make you sound like the one who is wrong."

He smiled. It did things to me, made me dizzy and flushed.

"You called me a chicken," he said.

"So I started it? Very mature, Nick. I thought you were old and wise." I reached out and ran my hand through his soft hair. "Is this all dyed? Are you naturally grey?"

His smile widened. "No."

"Can you prove it?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes." He set his hand in his lap.

Oh. That would prove it.

I blushed, unable to do anything but imagine him naked. That sounded like an invitation. I needed to take it. There was something about him... he made me feel safe. Understood.

Like, for once, I wasn't completely alone in the world.

"Then you should," I said.

"Are you a chemistry student?"

"No. But I am in STEM."

"You're naturally skeptical."

I nodded. "I have a hypothesis, and I need to test it. To find proof." Finishing my drink pushed my boldness. "It's very trendy to tell women to study STEM. No one approaches it like this though."

"You'd rather colleges tell women they can use STEM to get laid?" He laughed. "I hope you aren't going into politics."

"No." I bit my tongue just in time to keep from admitting I was a programmer. That would make it easy for him to find me. "I'm a science girl, through and through."

"You're a beautiful, smart young woman. I doubt you need STEM to get laid."

My cheeks flushed. "Thank you." My tongue was tied. I had to regain control of the conversation. "It does improve my odds. My classes are eighty percent male. The guys love talking to me because they think I'm a ditz."

"You don't carry yourself like a ditz."

"I wear heels."

"And glasses."

"You can't be an idiot in glasses?"

"An idiot, yes. I have the misfortune of working with many idiots in glasses. But a ditz? No. You'd lose your glasses."

I laughed. "That's your argument?"

He nods.

"It's flimsy."

"I'm not a lawyer."

I nodded and took a deep breath. I was done with teasing. I stared back into his eyes. "Will you prove it?"

"If you want me to fuck you, you should ask."

Well, shit. He was blunt.

"You want to fuck me," he said.

I nodded a yes.

He smiled, charmed. "You don't play coy."

"Should I?"

"No." He looked into my eyes. "Do you want to have another drink in the lobby or in my room?"

"Your room."

* * *

His hotel room was a corner suite. It had a plush king bed, a wall-mounted TV, and a side room with a couch and a desk. That paled in comparison to the view outside the long windows.

The Bay Bridge was lit up in white, a gorgeous contrast against the dark blue water and sky around it.

San Francisco was beautiful.

I was being unfair, writing off the entire state of California. It had a lot to offer.

But none of it appealed as much as being able to meet Kat for brunch every Sunday.

His fingers grazed my neck as he clicked the door shut. His touch was soft. Commanding.

He went to hang his jacket on the wall.

My eyes stayed fixed on the view.

Nothing could have stopped me, definitely not the fact that I had no business poking around Nick's room without his permission.

I went straight to the balcony door, pulled it open, and stepped outside.

Cold air rushed over my skin. The rain had stopped, but the floor was still slick. I pressed my hands against the railing and peered to the mostly empty street thirty floors below me.

I was up high.

Too high for anyone to see me.

Inside the room, Nick poured two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. He was methodical about it. No rush, like he had all the time in the world.

It gave the nerves racing around my body time to catch up to my brain. The only thing I knew about him was his first name, and I was in his hotel room, ready to throw myself on his bed.

Was I reckless or brave?

His eyes met mine as he stepped onto the balcony. He was tall. Even in my heels, I was three or four inches shorter.

He handed me my glass. I drank quickly. I didn't need the taste. I needed the release from my inhibitions.

I set my empty glass on the side table sandwiched between two patio chairs.

His eyes passed over me. He moved closer, so he was three inches behind me, his body heat chasing away any goosebumps on my arms.

"I want to fuck you, Marie, but you need to understand that I do things a certain way."

I made a mental note that I'd told him to call me Marie. "What is that?"

"I'm always in control."

I squeezed the railing to steady myself.

"Am I mistaken, or do you want that too?"

"Yes." I bit my lip. It overwhelmed me, how much I wanted him in control. It had only been a passing fantasy. Something to go to when I couldn't sleep. Not something to seek out. "But what if I stop wanting it?"

"Say stop, and I'll stop."

"That simple?"

"Why make it complicated?" He leaned down, his mouth inches from my ear. "Take off your dress."

I turned so we were eye to eye. Or eye to chin, given our height difference.

His expression was intense, hungry.

I pulled the straps of my dress off my shoulders, first the left, then the right.

My bra was nothing fancy, but his eyes opened wide like it was the best thing he'd ever seen. Those eyes followed my hands as I pushed the dress to my knees and kicked it off my feet.

They made their way up my body, back to my eyes.

"Take off your bra." He stared back at me.

I unhooked my bra and tossed it aside.

He looked me over slowly, like he was taking a mental picture. "You're beautiful."

Heat surged through my body. I'd never stripped like this for someone, and I was doing it for a stranger. I was standing on the balcony in nothing but a thong and heels.

He traced a line over the cherry blossom tattoo on my side. "What does this mean?"

"They're just flowers."

"Not true." His fingers rested on the Latin quote next to the petals. "Memento mori. Remember your mortality." He looked at me as if to ask for an explanation. "You're a little young to worry about dying."

"I almost died when I was fifteen."

"When your parents did?" He traced the lines of my tattoo again and again.

My chest panged. Usually, I avoided talking about the accident. Usually, I avoided sharing anything that made me vulnerable.

But there was no reason to hold back. We only had that night. I was going to make the most of it.

I stared back into his eyes. "Yes. It was a car accident. It left me in the ICU for a week. When I got out, I couldn't walk, and my back was messed up. It took six months of rehab and physical therapy to get back to normal. I have to be careful, do all sorts of exercises and yoga, but I mostly manage okay."

"Is there anything you can't do?"

I took a deep breath. He was asking about sex, if there was anything he needed to be careful about. It was a concern and the main reason why I'd never considered anything casual. I didn't want to have a back spasm on a stranger's bed.

But, mostly, I'd been fine. I shook my head. "I'll let you know if it starts acting up."

"Did you have anyone to help you?"

I nodded. "My sister. She's done a lot for me. Worked full-time instead of going to college. I owe her everything, and I'd do anything for her." Like take a merit-based scholarship at a school across the country so she wouldn't feel like she had to help.

"Where is she?" he asked.

"In New York."

"Far away."

I nodded. "Too far."

The wind picked up. It was cold and I was nearly naked.

Nick must have recognized it in my expression. He rubbed my arms to warm me up.

It was incredibly effective.

I ran my fingers over the metal railing. "She's not like me. She's an optimistic, romantic person who sees the good in everything."

"What are you like?"

"I don't know. A cynic, I guess." I shifted so I could feel his chest against my back. "After that accident, I was struck with this knowledge that I could lose everything at any moment. I didn't want to forget that feeling." Or to ever hurt like that again. If I didn't let people in, they couldn't hurt me. It was lonely, but it was safe too.

He looked closer. "You never forget something like that."

"Do you assume you know everything?"

"Only most things." His smile faded quickly. He pressed his fingertips into my skin. "My mother had ovarian cancer. Stage four. She had a chance of survival, but it meant invasive surgery and a year of chemo and radiation."

"She decided to die instead of fighting it?"

"That is a pessimistic way of looking at it."

"And how did you look at it?"

"I was only nineteen. I was terrified."

I looked back to him. "You get scared?"

"Not anymore. Losing her, it made everything else feel trivial."

I nodded. I understood exactly what he meant.

"It was over fast. Two months."

I swallowed hard. "So you know too, how little the world gives a fuck about you or anything you want? That you need to grab it and hold onto it before it's gone."

"I care what you want." He brought his body against mine. "You want to come?"

Heat surged through my body. Somehow, I didn't feel self-conscious. "Yes."

He moved closer. My bare skin pressed against his suit. Even with the thick fabric between us, I could feel the warmth of his body. I slung my hands around his neck and rose to my tiptoes.

He pulled my glasses off and set them on the side table. Almost. He leaned down and brushed his lips against mine. The kiss threw gasoline on the fire raging through me. Any doubts I had were burned away. I opened my mouth to make way for his tongue. He was an amazing kisser, aggressive and in control.

His hands slid around my waist and held me close. My sex clenched. When his hands drifted to my ass, I almost screamed.

The kiss broke, and he stared into my eyes. His expression was so intense.

He pressed his lips to mine, and I knew we were done with the conversation part of the evening. Thank God, because I was quickly losing my ability to form a coherent thought.

Nick pushed my panties to my feet. I was naked on that balcony. The air was cold against my bare skin, but I didn't mind. My body was on fire. He was so close to touching me.

Then he was touching me. His hand skimmed my sex, stopping on my clit. The pressure was already intense. I slung my arm around his neck to keep my balance.

He moved a little faster, a little harder. His other hand went to my chest. He traced circles around my nipples.

His kiss broke, and he stared into my eyes with equal parts care and demand.

I stared back the best I could. It was too much. I had to close my eyes to contain the orgasm building inside me.

There.

My body clenched. I tugged at his oxford shirt, moaning as I came.

All my muscles relaxed at once. My knees buckled, but he caught me.

He lifted me into his arms, carried me into the main room, and laid me on the bed.

Slowly, Nick stripped to his boxers.

His body was a work of art. Hard and defined.

And not a grey hair in sight.

He pressed his lips against my neck then kissed a trail down my chest and stomach. "Spread your legs."

I did.

His fingertips brushed against the sides of my knees. They trailed up my thighs, getting closer and closer. He pressed his lips against my inner thigh. Then closer. Closer.

Then he was sucking on my outer lips. My legs rose of their own accord. Nick dug his hands into my thighs to hold them against the bed.

He was in control.

It was hot as hell.

Pleasure built as he licked me up and down. I groaned, my free hand digging into the cool cotton sheets. His tongue was soft and his movements were confident.

Finally, I understood all the fuss about oral sex.

It was amazing.

My sex clenched, tighter and tighter, then so tight I wanted to scream. His next lick sent me tumbling into an orgasm.

"Nick." I groaned his name as I came. It encouraged him, made his tongue faster, more desperate.

He kissed his way back up my body, not shy about pressing his lips to mine.

It was strange tasting myself. Intimate.

I ran my hands down his stomach. When I got to his belly button he recoiled. His fingers curled around my wrist.

"Wait." He pressed my hand flat against the bed.

The look in his eyes was clear. He didn't want me touching him.

It was a shame, but I could manage it.

He grabbed a condom from the bedside table and rolled it on. I leaned back, spreading my legs to give him access.

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. He was big.

Nick slid one hand under my ass, holding me in place. His cock strained against my sex. The latex tugged for a moment, then he slipped inside me.

Fuck yes. My body cried out with relief. I dug my nails into his strong back as he thrust into me. He started slow, then went faster, harder, deeper. I rocked my hips to match his movements.

There were no words, but his body communicated so much.

Maybe I'd drunk too much of that whiskey, but I felt more than his cock inside me. There were no pretenses. This was Nick, the real Nick.

And it was the real me. I'd given him a fake name, but I wasn't holding anything back.

I was giving myself to him. For the night.

Every thrust sent me closer to another orgasm. This tall, dark, handsome stranger's body was pressed against mine.

The anonymity of it had me breathless. He was never going to see me again. There was no reason to be shy.

I clawed at his back, panting and groaning. He had to know how good I felt, how much I wanted him.

Every time I scraped my nails against his back or screamed his name, Nick moved faster or harder. His body was shaking. His eyes were heavy. He groaned and dug his teeth into the skin on my shoulder.

I bucked my hips to meet him. My heart was racing, my breath was completely out of my control. He felt good inside me. His skin felt good against mine. His lips felt good against mine.

And the night was ours.

When I came, I held back nothing. I screamed and panted and rocked my hips as quickly as I could.

Nick dug his nails into my ass, holding my body against his so he could go deeper.

He wasn't far behind. He nipped at my shoulder as he came.

Our bodies untangled. I relaxed into the bed as he took care of the condom. He shifted back, next to me. His expression was soft, like we were old lovers instead of strangers.

"Have you eaten?" he asked.

"No."

"Then allow me." He pressed his lips to mine, pushed off the bed, and stepped into his slacks.

* * *

The rest of the night was a blur, thanks very much to the powers of rum and Diet Coke.

We ate at some fantastic hole-in-the-wall Chinese place. The food was spicy, authentic.

I let everything off my chest, told Nick things I'd never told anyone. About the accident. About how lonely I was at school. About the things I wanted for my future, the way it only included me and my sister—no husband, no children, no pets. No concerns but my career. No one I could lose forever.

Back in the hotel room, we had sex. I fell asleep in his arms.

When I woke, he was gone. There was a change of clothes, all in my size, on the table. Next to it was a present—a white box with a sheer red bow. The card was simple.

Dear Marie,

Happy birthday. Think of me when you wear this.

Sincerely,

Nick

I pulled at the bow until it unfurled then opened the box. Inside was a set of lacy black lingerie. It was exactly like him—classy, elegant, refined.

I changed into my new threads. Knowing the lingerie was under my simple jeans and t-shirt made me feel racy, like I had a secret from the world.

I did. We did. We'd had this night together, and even though we'd never see each other again, it was ours.