I seriously can't believe this house. It is amazing. I never would have dreamed I'd find myself spending a few days in a place as gorgeous as this. After following the butler up a grand staircase in the foyer – I can’t believe these people have a freaking butler and a foyer – he leads me down a hallway furnished in a rich hardwood paneling. Lighted sconces line the walls on either side, and there is an amazing array of art hung up as well.

The entire house is beautiful and obviously home to a very wealthy family, but it's all very tasteful and restrained. It's not over the top or grossly opulent.

“So, when exactly will Christopher be here?” I ask.

“He should be arriving Tuesday, I believe,” he replies.

I nod. Tuesday. So, I can spend a couple of days living like one of the rich folks, but then I need to bounce. This is crazy. This might be the craziest stunt I've ever pulled. What in the hell am I doing here? I should have stuck to my plan and gotten out at that truck stop. I never should have listened to the devil on my shoulder.

On the other hand, as I look around at this house, I think I can get behind the idea of living somebody else's life for a couple of days. I just need to think up a solid exit strategy.

Harold leads me into a bedroom that is larger than my entire apartment. My bag is sitting atop the California king-sized bed that dominates the room and all of the furniture is a rich, dark oak. Like the rest of the house, the room is done very tastefully in dark greens and crème colors. A pair of French doors lead out onto a balcony that overlooks a backyard larger than some national parks. Although it's dark, I can see a hedge maze sitting off to one side of the grounds, as well as a dimly lit gazebo next to a pond.

“Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Donnelly?” he asks.

“Umm... no, I think I'm okay,” I reply. “Thank you, Harold.”

“Very good, Miss,” he says. “And should you come to require anything, I am on call twenty-four hours a day. Just use the house phone and dial five-three-eight.”

“Five-three-eight,” I confirm.

“Yes, Miss,” he says. “Call me for anything.”

“Thank you, Harold,” I say. “For everything”

He gives me a warm, generous smile. “Of course.”

And with that, the man turns on his heel and heads out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him. A fire burns in the large fireplace across from the bed, warming the room, but not uncomfortably so. It's pretty chilly outside, so the fire is cozy and welcoming.

I turn and move to the door on my right, flipping on the light to reveal a decadent bathroom. A clawfoot tub sits on a slightly raised platform in front of a wall of frosted glass.

Yeah, I'm definitely going to have to try that out.

With nothing better to do, I draw myself a warm bath, anxious to sink into its warm, comforting depths. I find some luxury bubble bath beneath the sink, so I toss it in and let the suds fill up the tub. As I wait, I shoot my sister a text, letting her know that I was delayed because of work, but not to freak out because I am still coming.

A moment later, my phone chirps with an incoming text. I glance down at the screen and shake my head.

This better not be the prelude to you canceling, Sash. You'll really upset Mom and she doesn't need that in her condition.

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly before keying in my response.

I'm not canceling. Just have some business to handle first. Also, Mom is not in any condition – seriously read her medical file.

Setting my phone down on the counter, I quickly strip down, throwing my dress and sweater on the counter, then walk up the steps and slip into the tub. I sink down with a contented sigh, letting the warm water seep into my bones. God, it feels nice. Better than nice, actually. It’s heavenly. Of course, I have a bathtub at home, but it's so small and shallow that I always have to keep my knees drawn up and the water still doesn't fully cover me.

This tub feels more like a hot tub than anything else. A decadent, luxurious hot tub. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the padded headrest.

“Damn, so this is how the one percent lives,” I mutter to myself. “I could really get used to this.”

I'm fully aware that this is a ridiculously stupid stunt and I could be found out at any moment. All it would take to foil my plans is a single phone call.

Part of me thinks I should do the smart thing and get out before I'm caught. But, as the soothing water warms my skin and body, the devil on my shoulder whispers in my ear again, telling me that if that was going to happen, I’d be busted already. It tells me to lay back and relax, to spend a couple of days in luxury. The devil tells me I deserve it. That I've earned it.

Yeah, I've gotten into some of the worst trouble of my life listening to that little voice. At the same time, it’s also given me some of the greatest experiences of my life, so maybe it’s not all bad.

As I lay there, I try to relax and calm my thoughts. All I want to do is unwind and let the tension of the day – the last few months, really – melt away in this pool of warm decadence. All I need now is a masseuse.

Though I'm able to quiet my mind for the most part, images of Miles Churchill keep popping up and interrupting my serenity. It seems like the more I try to push them away, the more vivid the mental image becomes. I see his strong, chiseled jawline, those vibrant green eyes, and that lean, firm body in front of me. As thoughts of Miles flood my mind, my body starts to instinctually respond. Fire ignites between my thighs and a warmth spreads through the center of me.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I imagine what it would feel like to have Miles' strong hands on my body. I slide my own hands over my breasts, running my thumbs over my hard nipples, sending lightning bolts of sensation shooting along my skin.

I slide my hands down my body, imagining that it's Miles' hands instead. I picture him sitting on the edge of the tub, his green eyes sparkling as he stares into mine. I see his hand slip beneath the surface of the water and part my thighs. As I touch myself, I bite back a gasp, but a soft moan escapes me anyway as I picture Fantasy Miles running his fingertips along my pussy.

In my mind's eye, his gaze is intense. His eyes burn into mine, searing my flesh with the heat of his barely restrained lust. I long to reach out and touch him and feel his thick, throbbing cock in my hand. As the pressure builds up inside of me, I imagine raking my nails down Miles' hard, toned chest. I picture wrapping my legs around his waist and lifting myself up, letting him drive his cock even deeper into me.

I bite my bottom lip hard, the brief flash of pain blending with the pleasure coursing through me, making the sensations all that much more intense.

And as I succumb to the avalanche of ecstasy that crashes down over me, I lock eyes with Miles – at least, I do in my fantasy – and he smiles as I come for him. Miles is getting exactly what he's wanted all along.

My body thrashes in the water as I'm battered by powerful waves of pleasure. My breathing is ragged, and my heart is racing as my orgasm rolls through me, but a wide smile is on my face.

Slowly, my body returns to normal and I am left to revel in the afterglow. I can't believe I've known the man for only a few hours, but I've already fantasized about him. Hard not to, really. And although I have a feeling our personalities might not connect, I have an even stronger feeling that our physical chemistry would more than make up for it. At least, for a while.

Eventually, I climb out of the tub and dry off. I pull on a pair of yoga pants and a camisole, then throw myself down on the bed – which feels like I just laid down on a cloud. I roll around on the bed, giggling to myself. Once I hit it big, I have to buy a bed just like this. I swear it. No more hard, lumpy mattresses for me. No, once I make my mark as a writer, I want to sleep on the clouds.

I pull my laptop out of my bag and open it up. As it boots up, I stare at the fire roaring in the fireplace, as the cracking and popping of the burning wood echoes around the room. It's peaceful here. Tranquil. I don't hear the roar of traffic, the blaring of horns, or my neighbors shouting at each other. The absolute peace and silence feels utterly amazing to me.

“I could seriously get used to this,” I say to the empty room. “I really, really could.”

The realization that this is nothing more than a temporary situation pops into my mind – no doubt, the angel on my other shoulder taking over now that the devil has been sated. It tells me I have no business being here to begin with, so I better not get used to it. This free ride will be over soon enough.

I push the voice away and look back at my computer screen. I call up the file for my book and read back over the last couple of chapters, wondering just how many copies I'd have to sell to be able to afford not only a bed like this, but a house as quiet and peaceful as this one.

I also can’t help but wonder if Miles is thinking about me the same way I'm fantasizing over him.