“Tell me what he’s like, in bed,” Jane says excitedly on the other end of the line. “I still can't believe you didn't jump him earlier, by the way. I wouldn’t have waited for the ink to dry on that contract.”

“I don’t know. He’s good, I guess,” I say into my phone.

I was okay with giving Jane all the sordid details in the beginning. But ever since I moved into Heath’s apartment, I’ve been holding back on the deets.

I don’t know why. I’d never had any problems telling Jane all about my conquests previously, but somehow this feels different.

Maybe it’s because Heath’s famous and this could be a huge scandal if the story got out. But that’s not it. I trust Jane to keep this a secret.

I just feel like… Heath has such a public persona that strangers know lots of little things about him—things that I don’t even know about him. So when I learn something about him that only I know… I kind of want to keep it to myself.

“That’s all?” Jane asks. “Come on. Dish.”

“I can’t talk now, Jane. I just got a good idea for my story and I want to write the next part now, before it gets away from me. My challenge of the day is to write four thousand words.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.”

I'm failing at my other challenge, which is to remain indifferent to Heath, so I need to step my game up some other way to make up for it.

“I know,” I say. “I should go now. Thanks for the bank account details, by the way. I’ll set up some kind of an automatic payment schedule so you’ll get my portion of the rent every month.”

“Thanks, Kat. I hope I’ll find a new roommate soon so you won’t have to keep doing that. I’m really not looking forward to it, though. You’re, like, the best roommate ever. I know it's temporary and I haven’t even met the candidates yet, but I’m already disappointed in my new roommate.”

I laugh. “I’m sure you’ll find someone nice, Jane. Miss your face!” I say before I hang up.

Sorry, Jane, but Heath’s the best roommate ever.

Don’t get me wrong. Jane is great. I lived with her for years, and I had no complaints. I’d move in with her again in a heartbeat.

But she’s no Heath.

Apart from the fact that Heath lets me stay in his outrageously spacious penthouse apartment with views of the New York City skyline rent-free, he also has impossibly high cheekbones and a jaw that has been chiseled by the gods themselves.

With looks like that, he can get away with anything. Seriously. When he looks at me with those sharp blue eyes, I forget everything and as if hypnotized, I nod along to anything he says.

And let’s not forget the fact that he’s been fucking me the way I’ve always wanted to be fucked, the way no man has ever fucked me before. I don’t know how I’ll ever go back to normal, vanilla sex after Heath.

After only a couple of weeks, I’ve already made myself at home in this apartment. I like it here, and that's not just because it’s a nice place, but also because it's Heath’s place. His scent permeates the space, marking everything within the apartment as his. I wonder if I have that same scent on me, too.

I know it’s still a long way away, because I’ll still be here through the nine months of pregnancy and the first few months after that for breastfeeding, but I’m starting to dread going back home to live with Jane again.

Yes, I prefer Heath’s company to my own best friend’s.

It’s strange. I don’t know Heath as well as I know Jane, simply because of the length of time I’ve known them.

But with Heath, it’s like I’m a hungry black hole. Every little thing about him—down to the brand of shampoo he uses—is interesting. I can’t help my curiosity. And every little thing that I learn about him only fuels my desire for more.

Like right now.

Heath’s just told me why we had to buy that particular wine from the south of France. His dad has a brain tumor and, even though he’d gone under the knife to get rid of it, it came back and now it doesn’t look like it’s going away. He’d always wanted to try this wine so Heath got it for him, in case he’d never make it to the south of France himself.

I thought rich people didn’t have problems, but I guess I was wrong. Some things can’t be solved with money.

I wrap the soft knit blanket tighter around my shoulders. It’s warm because it’s the middle of summer, but the wind is pretty strong up here, among the tall buildings. The blue in the sky is deepening into a pretty purple.

“So did they like the wine?” I ask, changing the subject from Heath’s dad’s illness to something a little happier.

“Yeah,” he says. “My dad has always been into wines, so a good bottle is always a safe choice for his gift.”

I smile. “They’re lucky to have you as their son.”

“I’m lucky to have them as my parents, too,” Heath says.

I’ve come to enjoy our conversations. Every night, I’m sitting up here, either going through the catalogs of successful romance authors, or working on my own manuscript. And each night, Heath finds me here and tells me about his visit to see his parents.

He does that every day after work, which I think is really sweet of him. I wish I had someone like him in my family, someone who’d show me that level of concern.

“What about your family?” he asks.

“I told you. I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Come on,” he says, giving me a smile as he twists his body on the couch we’re sharing so he’s facing me. “I told you about mine. It’s your turn to tell me about yours.”

“We never agreed on that,” I retort.

“With a little more practice, you’d make a mean negotiator, kitten,” he says with a chuckle. As the colors in the sky deepen, Heath’s pupils dilate, darkening his blue eyes. He says, “But I happen to be pretty good, too. How about you tell me just one thing about them? It can be anything.”

I let out a sigh. I know he’s not just going to let this go. He can be like a dog with a bone sometimes. But a part of me is happy that he’s as curious about me as I am about him, even though my life is evidently a lot more ordinary than his.

“My dad was an author. Is. I don’t know,” I say finally, staring out into the distance, at the glossy, tall buildings with glass surfaces that reflect the weakening glow in the sky.

Even though we’re all the way up here, I feel like we’re in a secret garden because of the lush shrubbery growing in big pots placed all over this outdoor deck. I feel like whatever I say here will remain here.

“You don’t know if your dad still writes?” Heath asks.

“I don’t even know if he’s still alive.” I catch the look of pity in Heath’s eyes and, before he can say “sorry,” I decide to tell him something happy. “He used to read me bedtime stories. When I started writing my own fairy tales, he gave me critiques and suggestions. We had a lot of fun writing stories together.” I pause. “We said we were going to do a father-daughter book tour together.”

“When was that?”

“I don't know. For as long as I can remember, we’d always made up stories together. Up until the night he disappeared, when he said he was just going out to the convenience store. In reality, he’d probably found a new girlfriend.” I laugh wearily to myself.

“I’m sorry he’s not around,” Heath says.

“I don’t need your pity. I’m doing fine without him,” I say, deliberately leaving out the part about me hoping my dad would find me once I’m a successful author because I know it sounds crazy.

“Of course you are,” Heath says, to my surprise. “You’re smart, capable, and independent. You can take care of yourself.”

I grow quiet and then I tell him, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“Really?” Heath asks.

“Yeah.”

“You mean you don't know you have a special talent for keeping shit under control?”

I wince as an unpleasant memory invades my mind. “My step-mom, she used to blame me for everything that went wrong. It took me a while to realize she was wrong, and I’m still trying to convince myself every day.”

Heath doesn’t say anything, but he scoots closer to me on the couch and slings his arm around my shoulders.

I shut my mouth when I realize how much I’m telling him. I didn’t mean to say all those things, but this place—or maybe this man—makes me feel like it’s time to share the secret, because my burden has been heavy and I’ve finally found someone to share it with.

“I said I don't want your pity,” I repeat curtly.

“It's not pity, kitten.”

“I must seem pathetic from your point of view. It really sounds like you have the perfect family.”

“You can't choose the family you're born into. I got lucky with my parents. Some people aren't as lucky.” He smiles wryly. “It's more embarrassing to fuck up the family you choose for yourself.”

“You're talking about your marriage?” My heart beats rapidly as I perk my ears up to listen. I’ve been curious about this, and not just because it was such a high-profile divorce. Now I want to know about it because it’s something that happened to Heath, and I want to know everything there is to know about him.

This is exactly the kind of juicy insider info Jane and her friends would be interested in. But I can't tell her, and I haven't been telling her much lately.

Heath has been opening himself up to me and letting himself be vulnerable. I can't break his trust in me.

“Yeah,” he says. “I really thought we were going to make it. But looking back now, I realize there were some warning signs that I failed to notice. So this failure, I can't blame it on fate or someone else.”

“Whoever says you're a failure is crazy, and you're out of your mind too if you believe that,” I say.

Heath chuckles as he wraps his other arm around me and pulls me against his chest. “You're the crazy one for thinking anyone suspects you can't handle life on your own.”

“Maybe we're both crazy.” I nuzzle into his chest. The fabric of his business suit feels soft on my cheek.

“Evidently,” Heath says as he kisses my temple. “No sane person would be doing what we're doing.”

“On the other hand, if we pull this off, nobody will ever find out about it, so people would still think it hasn't ever been done,” I say, suddenly feeling like we're partners in crime.

“That's true. Maybe millions of people have done this and nobody knows,” Heath says as his hands start to move down from my shoulders and caress my sides, brushing against my breast and settling on my waist. “But I bet not too many people have had sex on the deck of a New York City penthouse.”

The corners of my lips tug up into a smile. I know where this conversation is going, and I like it. “It would be pretty cool to be a baby who's conceived on the deck of a New York City penthouse.”

I think about adding a line about how the kid could boast about it in private school, but I bite my tongue. It's just too sad to imagine the kid growing up and Heath moving on without me.

I’ve been trying to pretend that won't happen, even though I know full well that it will. But maybe if I don't think about it, I can convince myself otherwise and go on to lead a somewhat normal life as a romance author.  

I should be excited about that new life, but as sadness washes over me, I can't not admit that I’ve let myself get carried away.

As Heath leans me down until I’m lying flat on the couch, I push all those thoughts away.

I won't have him forever. Our time is limited. I should make it count.

Heath wedges his knees between my legs, forcing them apart, pushing himself against me like he wants to climb inside me. He doesn't know he's already penetrated my armor and seeped through my skin.

It's going to hurt when this is over, when the time comes for me to yank him out of me. But everything ends, right? It's just a matter of time.

I loved having my dad around when I was younger, until he left.

I had no choice but to stick with Vera, until I finally gathered up the courage to leave.

Living with Jane had been great, until I left. Maybe I’ll end up moving back in with her, maybe I won't.

But my point is, everything in life has an expiration date. I just have to make my peace with that, otherwise it would be impossible to enjoy anything life has to offer.

And so, I open myself up to his fingers, welcoming the present pleasure and the pain that's sure to come in the future.

“You’re so wet,” he says, half groaning with urgency.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day.” I give him a flirty smile.

“I thought you were going to work today?”

“Yeah. I was writing down what we did in your office.”

“Oh, Sarah and Mr. Jones got laid?” Heath asks.

I can't believe he remembers the names of my characters.

I start to laugh, but it turns into a sharp gasp when he pushes his fingers inside me and explores the most intimate part of me. His knows what he's looking for, and he knows he's found it when my body tenses. He watches me with this look of satisfaction that says he enjoys driving me crazy with arousal.

I can't wait anymore. I reach down and feel for his cock. It's already rock hard. I feel a spark of feminine pride, knowing he's getting hard for me.

“Heath, please…” I beg as my back arches. “I need you.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “You're unbelievably hot.”

I guide him to my center, and he pushes inside. It doesn't take long for him to find the same spot he stroked with his fingers earlier. As the pressure inside me builds to the point of trembling, Heath’s every thrust grows more insistent and less refined. When he grips my hips hard, I know he's close. His cock gets slightly bigger and harder inside me as his movements grow jerky.

“Put a baby in me,” I say before a white-hot explosion of pleasure overtakes us both.

Yeah. This wouldn't have happened with my previous roommate.