Something isn’t right.

I can’t quite put my finger on what is going on with him, but I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at me. He’s hiding something.

I think he’s exhausted himself—I’ve never experienced anything like the nearly inextinguishable passion that seems to burn inside him. I almost understand Leo’s reputation with women now—and I’m not sure I’ll ever be enough for him. I still don’t understand how he didn’t run out the door screaming when I told him some of the things I had done. It’s not like he knows everything, but the small amount I did tell him should have been enough to make any sane man bolt. Maybe he isn’t sane. Or maybe it’s like he said last night—maybe he really does care and nothing I’ve done in the past matters to him.

Not that him caring about me makes a bit of sense—the man knows almost nothing about me. But there’s a little part of me wondering if we’re both so fucked up that together we might cancel those broken parts of ourselves out.

Of course, that might be the dumbest thing I’ve ever allowed myself to think. There’s no way he sees me as anything more than a conquest—and now that he’s had me, I’m sure he’ll make some excuse to leave as soon as he’s satisfied. But the way he makes love to me… There’s something so intimate about how he wants me to look into his eyes when I come—and the way he looks into mine. I don’t see how anyone could put on an act like that—how anyone could say that doesn’t matter—even if he does have needs that seem almost insatiable. Maybe he really is like this with every woman, but I have my doubts. I only wish I could understand him the way he seems to be able to understand me.

There’s no way this is going to last. He’s admitted he loses interest pretty quickly, and I’m almost positive as soon as any inkling of emotion begins to creep in for him, he’ll be gone. Like with the starlet he was with on the yacht a few summers ago—he hadn’t said as much that night at the clinic, but he hadn’t really needed to. I already knew. When the tabloids hinted there might be more than just sex involved between Leo and his lover—that maybe he was ready to settle down—he had abruptly ended the affair.

My heart twists around on itself, and my chest begins to ache.

It’s going to hurt like a motherfucker when he decides to end it with me.

I look over at him, and I have to physically restrain myself from stroking his chest. I know if I so much as touch him, he’ll wake up. And if he wakes up, he’ll fuck me senseless again. Not that I would mind at all, but I’m not sure my body can take another round—he seems to wring out every last droplet of energy from me with his lovemaking. I’m not sure I’ve ever been this physically exhausted—not even after pulling never-ending night shifts during residency.

If only the tabloids knew about this part of him…

Tabloids.

Fucking tabloids. Why the hell haven’t I thought about it before now? I bolt upright, blinking a few times. I lift the sheets to cover my chest and my gaze darts between the windows in my bedroom.

They know everything about him. What he eats. Where he shops. Who he fucks.

Who he fucks.

I cross my arms over my chest. My breaths are coming too fast. I’m about to have a panic attack—why the hell did I let him into my bed?

My stupid body. My stupid fucking body and allowing it to control everything. Letting it get away with turning my brain and all sense of reason into some afterthought—hell, turning everything into an afterthought.

They’re going to find out about me. They’re going to find out everything. The things I told Leo last night are nothing—hell, I’d walk a few blocks down to the pier and tell everyone there about those things any night of the week. Those events are nothing compared to the disgusting filth I really am. And Leo… If he even speaks to me when he finds out, it won’t matter. His family would make him an outcast for being with someone like me.

I’m not worth it.

It’s the same song that’s been playing in my head for years. I’m not sure why I thought it would be different this time. I guess because he pursued me—he made it seem like he was interested in me. Like he cared. And maybe he does, but it doesn’t matter now. He needs to go before they find him here…

Here. Why is he here?

I look over at him again and he shifts, almost as though he’s somehow able to sense my thoughts. None of this is making much sense—he clearly doesn’t know about my past, and I would prefer it stays that way. There is always the possibility my mouth will overrun itself again in some moment of passion, but I’m fairly confident I won’t ever talk about that particular secret. That one will never come out. But the press—I mean, it wouldn’t be easy, but if someone really wanted to, they could certainly dig up every last thing I’ve been trying to hide. Leo might be a lot of things—a playboy, a womanizer, a spoiled rich boy—but he isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t knowingly put me in a position like this—would he?

He’s hiding from the paparazzi—or maybe from something else. Hiding here.

He shifts again and I can see by the fluttering of his lashes he’s about to wake up. I’m not sure why I’m feeling so shy around him all of a sudden—it isn’t as though he didn’t taste every last inch of me last night. But something is wrong. So, so wrong about all of this, and I know now my stupid oversexed body was keeping me from seeing it.

He smiles at me—that same smile he’s given me eight times now since he lifted me into the shower last night. He reaches over and tries to pull the covers away from me.

My brow furrows. “Leo.”

His eyelids are hooded, and I’m pretty sure he’s not even listening. He rolls onto his side and hooks an arm across me, pulling me over to meld his body against mine again.

My breath catches and I close my eyes, arching my neck to him, almost begging him to kiss it—to take me again. And he obliges, pressing his lips to the sensitive area beneath my ear before trailing the length of my neck with his tongue and nipping at my collarbone.

I blink a few times and snap myself awake—out of this lust-fueled daze I’ve been in for the past twelve hours. I sit up and scoot myself to the edge of the bed. I yank the covers back up over my chest before I look back over at him. “Leo.” My voice is a bit more curt than I intend.

He groans with disappointment before he rolls onto his back and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “I know.”

“You know?” I look over at him, my eyes wide. “How do you know?”

His voice is still low and he sounds half-asleep. “Because I was the one taking them from the drawer.”

“What?” I glance over at the bedside table and see the half-opened drawer—the empty condom box is turned on its side.

“You can fetch us more later. Of course, there are other alternatives, Elle, and I wouldn’t be opposed to—”

“I would be opposed.” I have to close my eyes for a second, trying to remember what it is I wanted to say in the first place. “And I’m not about to go fetch you anything. I’m not a dog.”

“We’ll find a delivery service, then. But I can assure you I’m regularly tested—”

“Ack, no.” I consider putting my hands over my ears then think better of it. “And I don’t want to even think about why you felt the need to tell me that, Leo.”

“For the sake of honesty, Elle.”

Right—honesty. It’s a concept I’m fairly certain neither of us is very familiar with.

He rolls onto his side and rests his head on his hand. His eyes skim over me, almost like he’s peeling the blanket from me with his gaze. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes in a long breath. “I’m not sure I can wait for the delivery service, Elle.”

I feel the pull at my core again—I hate that my body is doing this to me, setting itself on fire because of how he’s looking at me. He hasn’t even touched me this time—but I guess it’s the anticipation of his touch that makes me want to push him to his back to straddle him. Again.

But I pull the covers up further, clutching them to my chest. I try to will that feeling between my legs to go away. I glance over the edge of the bed and see my robe on the floor where Leo cast it aside last night. God, I barely remember which time that was—until I do. It was right after the first time—when he disappeared into the kitchen for no reason.

I slide off the bed and grab my robe, trying to keep myself covered as I throw it over my shoulders. I tie it around my waist, adding a second knot in case he gets any ideas—not that it will stop him, but it might give me enough time to break myself out of the dream state I seem to go into whenever he looks at me like he’s looking at me now.

My gaze meets his and we’re locked like that for a moment too long. I’m ready to have him again, almost tortured by the distance between us.

This has to stop.

I know this is a temporary thing—this not being able to get enough of each other situation we’re in now. I know it doesn’t last—part of me wants to enjoy it while it does, but the other part knows we’re both going to do more damage to each other if it doesn’t stop now.

“So, last night—”

“Come back to bed, Elle. Last night doesn’t have to end.” He tilts his head, giving me that same lusty smile before he runs his hand over the sheets next to him. “The bed is so much warmer with you in it.”

I have to ball my hands into fists, pushing my fingernails into my palms to keep myself from returning to him.

“And I promised you a half-dozen different ways, did I not?” He closes his eyes. “Mm. I only count five.”

“Eight. Eight times. I think you’re going for a world record or something.” The words fall out of my mouth and I balk, my mouth hanging open. I can’t believe I just said that out loud.

“Eight times but only five ways…” A slow smile forms on his lips, his eyes still closed. “I’m nothing if not a man of my word, Elle.” His eyes flutter open and he tilts his head, inviting me to lie next to him again.

I shake my head and cross my arms more firmly over my chest. “I need to know what happened last night.”

He grins. “I don’t believe I need to explain the mechanics. You were bewitchingly proficient.”

Heat rises in my cheeks and I’m sure my face is bright red. “I meant in the kitchen.”

“Ah, the glass. I’d forgotten. I did see a member of the housekeeping staff with a broom, however. I’m sure we can locate it—”

“Not the glass, Leo.”

His smile falls only slightly, but I can see it’s no longer genuine. He’s definitely hiding something. “I was merely lost in thought, Elle. Overcome by your beauty and the memory of the first encounter we shared—”

“You’re so full of shit.” I shake my head again.

“Every word I’ve stated is true. You’re exquisite, Elle—”

“Thank you. That’s all fine. But I know something was wrong in there. You’re hiding, aren’t you?”

He breaks our gaze, his eyes dropping to the bed. He shifts around, straightening the covers over him before he speaks. “I don’t know what you’re speaking of.”

“Hm. I think you do. You know, I was pretty surprised to find you here. It was a little disarming—”

“You,” he interrupts. “You are the one who is disarming. You have no idea the restraint I’ve had to force upon myself in your presence since we’ve met—”

“You’re changing the subject, Leo.” I let out a long breath. “Why are you here?”

“I thought that would be obvious, particularly after the night we’ve shared.”

I groan and hold up my hands. “You’re incredibly frustrating.”

He falls back onto his pillow, grinning. “That is not my intent.”

My arms cross over my chest again. “Okay, how can I ask this so that you won’t deflect the question?” I pause for a moment. “If you wanted to see me, you could have sent for me—you could have met me in your stupid private hotel.”

“Indeed. However, you made it quite clear in Rio de Campo that you would never accompany me to that location.”

“That was before. And you know that—”

He sits up, interrupting me. “Elle, my life is complicated. That part of my life is particularly problematic.”

“And yet you’re here. In my house. People know you go to that hotel, don’t they?”

He frowns and his shoulders lift into a small shrug.

“Was someone following you? I guess I just don’t understand—”

“You don’t need to understand. This was the easiest way.”

My brows knit together. “The easiest way for what, exactly?”

“For all of it.”

My mouth falls open and I stare at him for a moment. “All of what?”

He lets out a groan of frustration. “Elle.” My name comes out on almost a growl. “We don’t need to discuss this at the moment. If you would come back to bed—”

“Are you trying to protect me? From them?” I motion toward the window with my shoulder. “The media? The people who follow you around constantly?”

“It’s not that simple. I can handle the media.”

I nod. “You’re hiding from someone else, aren’t you?”

His jaw tightens and he closes his eyes. “Come back to bed.”

I fold my arms across my chest again. “For how long?”

He opens his eyes to meet my gaze. “Until we both decide we need breakfast. At the moment, I find I’m only hungry for you—”

“Leo, will you fucking talk to me? You’re using my house as some hideout, aren’t you?”

His jaw tightens again and his cheeks flush, but he doesn’t confirm my suspicions.

“How does this end?”

He speaks through his gritted teeth. “Not well.”

“And what does that mean?”

He lets out a sharp breath. “It means I’m leaving. Today.”

It feels like someone has driven a knife into my heart, twisting it with so much force I think my knees are going to buckle. I have to blink back the tears that come to my eyes when I realize the truth.

He used me.