“So how long do I get you for?” he asks in that sinfully rich voice of his.

I blink slowly. “I…um…what?” I ask, my brow wrinkling in confusion.

“When do you check out?” he asks slowly, which only adds a sort of hypnotic lilt to his words.

I’m still processing everything I’ve just heard, doing the math in my head. He said he was here for the week. It’s Saturday now, so I assume that means through Friday night at least. Counting last night, that’s seven—no, eight days! At $1100 a night that comes to $8800, not including all the taxes and fees they tag on.

“Sunday…tomorrow,” I say without thinking.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm, that doesn’t give us much time then. Better make it a quickie.”

He grins again, but I’m only half paying attention. Those numbers are still playing around in my head. If he’s making enough from his romance novels to splurge like this, perhaps it would be worthwhile to let him “guide” me.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

I snap out of my thoughts. “Thinking about what?”

“Shamelessly using me.”

I can’t stop my eyes from rolling.

He laughs. “It’s okay to feel dirty about it.”

“There you go again,” I say, shaking my head in bewilderment. “Do you really expect me to ‘use you’ when every word out of your mouth is some sort of come on? I’m pretty sure I’d spend the whole time trying to keep you from jumping my bones.”

“Jumping your bones? Hmm, that’s a good one. Do you mind if I borrow a sheet from your notebook so I can write that one down for my next book?” His dark blue eyes twinkle in amusement as he tries to keep his laughter in check.

I exhale a sigh. “If you don’t mind, I only have my room for another day and a half, so I need to get back and write.”

I shove the rest of the toast in my mouth, follow it with the rest of my orange juice, then grab my notebook, pen, and keycard. I scoot out of the seat and stand up.

“Well, Rhys Conners, happy writing,” I say and quickly make my way toward the exit.

“I meant what I said, Prynne,” he shouts across the room. “Feel free to use me anytime, day or night!” I hear his chuckle.

The scattering of people who are in the restaurant look up toward him, then me. With that voice, it’s no wonder he’s got everyone’s attention. I can feel my cheeks burn. The hostess who was so pleasant when showing me to my seat earlier is now giving me a cool, critical look. Perfect.

I finally relax once I’m in the lobby walking toward the elevator bank. This weekend was supposed to be an escape, a chance to write and maybe even finish my second book without distraction. Now, I’m more distracted than ever.

At least he was wearing clothes this morning.

One thousand words.

One thousand measly words. It’s been impossible for me to focus. I don’t know why; I love the story of Aiden and Mia. Today, it isn’t even a matter of the sex scenes. I just couldn’t get my mind to concentrate.

The sky outside is painted in rainbows as the sun begins making its escape. It’s like a technicolor stopwatch, letting me know how few hours I have left in blessed isolation to get this book written. Tomorrow, it’s back to my cramped apartment and two roommates.

The whole day has been eight hours of staring at the screen, pacing around the room, going out for a walk to clear my head, coming back, going back out, getting a greasy slice of pizza for lunch, forcing myself to stay in my chair. And one thousand measly words is my reward.

I’m conveniently omitting all the times I thought about my neighbor.

I wonder how many words Rhys has down. I haven’t heard even the slightest hint of music. Oddly enough, I think I’d kind of welcome it at this point. Has he been able to “concentrate” without it? What kind of romance does he even write?

I bet it’s smutty. Absolute filth. Pure perversion. A burst of electricity runs through my body, causing it to literally convulse with pleasure.

Rhys is right next door, no doubt completely naked as he types away with careless ease, having absolutely no problem finding the words to “pleasure” women the world over. I look out my window to the sky, which is now a lovely shade of deep lavender. I’ll bet his room is still completely lit up, giving everyone below us a mighty fine show. That thought sends another crackling current through me.

Get a hold of yourself, girl!

Thinking about naked men who are only twenty feet away is no way to spend the evening. I’ve got work to do.

But…maybe another walk is in order.

No.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

It’s a stupid internal battle and I don’t even know why I’m fighting it. Of course I’m curious. He all but advertised it, after all. One little stroll down the block and back again. Just to clear my head. If I just happen to look up and see something interesting on the sixteenth floor of the Sexton Hotel then so be it. It isn’t like I haven’t seen a naked man before. Technically, it’s only been the one, at least in person. Therefore, it wouldn’t be completely sinful to just see it again. Obviously.

“You’re never going to be able to concentrate unless you go, Prynne.”

What is it about this place that has me talking to myself all the time? Either way, the spoken words have spurred me on. I’m grabbing my bra and shrugging out of my t-shirt. Only when one arm is out of its sleeve do I realize that the curtains are still wide open.

I freeze.

Unlike Rhys Conners, I don’t keep the lights on when the curtains are open, even when clothed. Now I’m half out of my top and staring out at New York, from midtown to the Freedom Tower. The sky is now an indigo color, almost matching the darkness around me, save for the computer screen.

I should draw the curtains.

But I don’t.

In fact, I pull the shirt off completely and revel in the salacious feeling that overcomes me. I’m half-naked in my room with the curtains open. Yes, it would be a minor miracle if anyone could actually see me, especially since I’m deep into the recesses of my room, practically hugging the entrance near the door.

Still….

This time, the current of electricity that runs through me is more intense than ever. It sends bolts of lightning to my nipples, making them hard as granite, so hard it actually hurts.

It’s so bad. So very bad.

If my family ever found out….

That’s enough to create an arctic chill over any enjoyment of the moment. I quickly recover, pushing my arms through my bra. Just because I have to be good, doesn’t mean I can’t indulge when others decide to be bad. Once I’ve hooked the bra in place behind my back, I throw the t-shirt over my head, slip into my flats, grab my keycard and walk out before I can talk myself out of this idea.

Rhys Conners, you want an audience? You’re about to get one.

I’m walking at a leisurely stroll as I make my way across the lobby. Just another hotel guest, out to take in the sights of the city. Once I’m out the door, I hightail it south until I have a full view of the entire downtown-facing facade of the Sexton Hotel.

I’m not alone. There are plenty of people around me, looking up and pointing at the hotel hoping for exactly the same thing I am. Or at least that’s what I assume. The only places around here are a few bars and warehouses. Anyone who happens to be at this particular vantage point is either here by choice or drunk. It’s a mixture of both around me now. Smart move on the part of the hotel in terms of location.

By now it’s dark enough so that each well-lit room is fully visible. I’m surprised at how many curtains are actually open. Then again, considering what Rhys told me about the reason most people stay at this hotel, I shouldn’t be.

It’s a mix of the mundane (guests sitting and reading, pacing back and forth while on their phone, eating room service as they look out onto the city), and the slightly more scandalous (a couple in their underwear looking out as he hugs her from behind, a woman rushing around in nothing but her towel, a mostly clothed couple actually having sex against the window, a young woman quickly removing her bra to bare her breasts before laughing and running back into the room to turn off the lights).

Then there’s the man on the sixteenth floor, last room on the left.

“Oh my God! Look, Susan there, there!” It’s a woman next to me, jumping up and down with glee.

Rhys isn’t exactly posing in front of the window. He is, however, making a bit of a show of it as he gets up from his chair facing the desk in the room to lean over and stare at his laptop.

I’m already quite acquainted with what he has dangling between his legs, but I’m still breathless as I see it for the second time. Even from this distance it’s impressive. But really, what do I have to compare it to? Porn—which I devoured for a short period until I got bored—doesn’t count, even though Rhys could more than measure up to what I remember. The ridiculous photos I was sent during the two weeks I tried online dating—my roommate, Shiloh, informed me they were called “dick pics”—are even more laughable compared to his. Based on the reaction around me, Rhys obviously has nothing to be ashamed about.

“Holy shit. God bless this city.”

“Nothing like that in El Paso.” This gets a few titters from my fellow onlookers.

“Next time, we’re stayin’ here, Todd.”

By now, I’ve tuned them all out. Rhys is standing straight up, his arms crossed over his impressive chest as he stares hard at the screen on the desk before him.

He looks like he could use some help from a fellow writer.

I make my way rapidly back to the hotel. Once inside my room, I slip out of my flats and stare at the windows of my room with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue.

I should plant my rear end in that chair and get back to work like a good girl. Instead, I feel my fingers creeping up to the sides of my t-shirt, literally trembling with terror and excitement as I slowly peel it off. The turmoil within me intensifies as I slowly remove my bra. Once again, I’m well into the room, which is pitch-black, save for the laptop screen. Even if the lights were on, no one below me could see this far back.

I take a step closer to the window, wearing nothing but my shorts now. My nipples harden in painful protest, reminding me how very wrong this all is.

I take another step closer.

My arms itch to fly up and cover my breasts. A deviant part of my brain takes over and keeps them firmly down by my sides.

I take two more steps closer.

By now, anyone would be able to see me if the lights were on. The thought causes my lungs to seize, and temporary paralysis to take hold of me. It’s only those dots of light on the other side of that window that pull me out of it, luring me closer to everything I know I shouldn’t be doing.

I close the distance to the window.

What the heck is the matter with you, Prynne?

I no longer have an excuse, save for the darkness that shrouds my near nakedness. At the very least, anyone looking up from below would be able to see the dark silhouette of my body, the curved lines interrupted by only a single pair of shorts.

I bring my hands up to the window, bracing myself as the heady weight of what I’m doing hits me. My hardened nipples glance across the cool glass and it feels like two matches being struck. I shudder as my body registers the pain and humiliation.

I think about the people in the crowd I was with earlier. Are they still there? Would they be able to recognize me? Considering the more vibrant show they’re probably getting right next door, I shouldn’t feel so scandalized. It’s only two breasts after all. There are parts of the world where this is perfectly normal, wholesome even. Those parts are most certainly not Rutherford, Missouri.

I think of my family back home, imagining what they would think if they saw me doing this. It’s like pouring cold water on glowing embers. What I’m doing right now would only prove every horrid prediction they had of me flying off and heading to New York.

I pull my hands away from the glass and use them to shield my breasts. One bit of rebellion from the black sheep of the family is enough. I turn around and walk back to the desk, picking up the shirt and bra to put back on along the way. This book does need to get written, especially if I ever want to afford another writing weekend retreat like this.

Next time I should definitely choose a different hotel.

I think about Rhys and his offer to help. Maybe that was my problem today. Perhaps I should get his input. More eyes on my work, no matter how perverted the owner of those gorgeous blue eyes is, couldn’t hurt. I grab my laptop and head out, once again walking the ten feet to the room next to mine.

When I reach the door, I pause.

This is a mistake. Am I here because of what I saw outside? If so, I need to turn back now. On the other hand, he is paying for an eleven-hundred-dollars-a-night room for an entire week based on what he’s earned from writing, at least I assume so. That’s enough to spur me into action.

I knock.

It takes him a few seconds to answer. In that short amount of time, my mind vacillates between staying and rushing back to my room. Before I can come to a decision, he’s made the decision for me by answering the door.

“Well, hello there, neighbor.”

That voice tells me I may have made a dangerous choice.