I wake up slightly disoriented, wondering where I am. The memories of the trip and Landon’s uncharacteristic behavior last night flood in all at once, and I get up, still wondering what the hell happened. I thought the whole point of being here together was to have sex—again and again, according to him. Yet last night, even though it had been obvious that he was at least as aroused as I was, he had held back. Why?

I could have seduced him, tried at least to shatter that steely control, but I’d held back, mainly because it seemed unnecessary to make it so obvious how much I wanted him. I’m paying for that now as my whole body is highly strung, wanting the release it had been expecting last night.

I’m wearing one of the t-shirts I usually sleep in, having had no reason to bust out my sexy lingerie last night. I walk over to the windows, admiring the San Francisco skyline and trying to pick out some of the more popular buildings. My phone rings and I hurry back to the bed to pick it up. It’s Laurie.

“I just wanted to make sure you arrived safe and sound, and he hasn’t kidnapped you and taken you to his lair.” She says the last word with a theatrical evil voice.

“Nothing like that,” I tell her. “We’re at the Rosemont Royal in San Francisco. You won’t believe how lavish it is.”

“I can imagine.” She sighs. “I miss you though. There’s nobody to complain about my addiction to reality TV.”

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Make sure you enjoy yourself. Brett and I are taking advantage of your absence.”

“TMI, Laurie.”

“What? We have no secrets between us. So…what happened with Landon?”

“Nothing, actually. We arrived, then went to bed…separately.”

“Really?” She sounds doubtful. “That’s boring. I thought he was going to make you come until you begged him to stop.”

I sigh. “I tell you too much.”

“I don’t mind.” There’s a short pause on her end. “I have to go now, meeting.”

“Talk later.”

“Yes, and make sure you have something to talk about.”

After the call, I check the time on the phone. It’s already past eight in the morning, far later than I usually wake up. I hurriedly take a shower in the oriental-themed bathroom and dress in a pair of cream pants, a blue cotton shirt, and a jacket. I brush my hair and let it hang loose, applying nude lip gloss and one coat of mascara before leaving my room.

From the living room, the doors to the balcony are open. I find Landon already dressed in one of his exquisitely tailored shirts, a dark gray one this time, with a black silk tie and dark trousers encasing his long legs. He’s sitting in the sun at a low, wrought iron table surrounded by four cushioned chairs. His hair is combed back and gleaming golden as he sips from a glass of orange juice with a newspaper spread out on his lap. For a long moment, all I can do is stare at him, my stomach twisting with yearning.

I tear my eyes away from his perfection, transferring my gaze to the view behind him, which is almost as breathtaking as he is.

He notices me standing at the doors. “Good morning,” he says pleasantly, his eyes following me as I join him at the table. “Did you have a good night?”

“Perfect,” I reply, giving him a bright smile. I’m certainly not going to tell him I spent the whole night wanting him.

He smiles back. “Juice?”

I nod and he pours me a glass of the cool fresh drink. As I savor it, a uniformed waiter wheels in a breakfast tray and starts to set the table. “I asked for toast and fried eggs with some coffee,” Landon informs me. “If you would prefer something else, you can let the cook know.”

“This is fine.” I watch, entranced despite my annoyance with him, as he butters a piece of toast, his fingers moving deftly. How does someone make something as simple as buttering toast look so sexy?

He hands it to me and starts on another one. “Tony is arriving this morning. He’s going to be staying a floor below for a few days before he returns to New York.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll leave for the Gold Dust after breakfast,” Landon continues. “You’ve discussed your itinerary with him?”

“Yes. I meet with the hotel manager today, tomorrow the designers, and the photographers after that.”

“Good. I’ll be busy all day. I’m meeting with the whole refurbishment team then the project managers to iron out a few issues before the project closeout.”

Is that his way of telling me he won’t have any time for me? I eat my breakfast, wondering if now that I’m available, no longer presenting a challenge, he’s lost interest in me. I sneak a glance at him and he’s watching me. He doesn’t look like someone who has lost interest. No, I’m not getting that vibe at all.

We finish breakfast, and as the waiter clears the plates, Landon glances at his phone. “Tony’s here,” he tells me. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” I get up, intending to go to my room to pick up my bag, but when he gets up too, he’s standing in my way. He lifts a finger to my mouth and wipes a speck of butter from the corner of my lip, a spot the napkin must have missed. Then he lifts the finger to his lips and licks it, making me go weak at the knees.

“I’ll wait in the living room,” he says softly, as if he’s oblivious to the effect that simple action has on me.

I hurry to pick up my bag, legs shaking, heat pooling between my thighs. I don’t understand what’s going on anymore, and if it continues, well, I’m going to have to confront him. I almost do that on the elevator ride to the ground floor, but it only takes a few seconds for us to get to the lobby, where Tony is waiting.

“Good morning, Mr. Court, Rachel,” he greets cheerfully, shaking my hand.

I return his smile. “How was your flight?”

“Smooth.”

We walk outside to the entrance where under the awning, a gleaming black car is waiting. Landon is talking on the phone, but he opens the door and waits for me to get in before walking around to the other side.

The interior of the car is black leather and I sink into the seats, thinking how I could get used to the luxury that’s par for the course with Landon. In the car, I listen with half an ear as Landon and Tony talk about issues concerning materials and delivery delays.

Unlike the Rosemont Royal, the Gold Dust is set far back from the street. There’s a short drive to the entrance, edged with flowers and artwork on the lawns. The front of the building looks newly painted, a testament to the refurbishment going on. The sign over the entrance is still covered with some sort of protective sheet. Inside the lobby, the floors are also covered but the walls are bright, with freshly painted moldings and panels. The high ceiling is a dome, decorated with gold leaf.

“It’s lovely,” I breathe softly.

“I’m glad you think so,” Landon says from beside me. I wasn’t even aware he was so close. I look up to see those blue eyes on my face, and my breath catches. “I’ll see you later,” he says, patting my arm before leaving me to start with his itinerary for the day.

An arm pat—seriously? I came all the way to San Francisco for a pat on the arm.

I also came to write an article, so I concentrate on that, forcing all thoughts of Landon and his mixed signals from my mind. Tony hands me over to the hotel manager, a Frenchman named Claude Devin. “I’m to show you around and tell you everything you need to know,” he tells me in a lilting, sexy accent. “I know everything about this place. I worked here when I was younger, when it was still run by the Sinclairs. Then I went back to France. Mr. Court lured me back with the promise of running the finest hotel in San Francisco, and he was perfectly right.”

He keeps talking all morning, peppering information about the hotel with gossip from the old era as he shows me around the facilities, from the world-class gym to the spa, the bar, the meeting rooms, and the restaurants that will all be run by world renowned chefs. There are two ballrooms, several conference rooms, a presidential suite that puts the luxurious suite where I’m staying with Landon to shame, along with indoor and outdoor pools.

“It will be the jewel of San Francisco when it opens,” Claude promises. “Court has kept all that was good about the old hotel and brought in everything no one else could have known it lacked.”

By lunchtime, Landon is still in his meeting. Claude shows me to one of the furnished offices where I can set up my laptop and start to piece my notes together. I have to send a progress sheet to Mark tomorrow, so I really can’t slack off.

Claude leaves me to work, going back to his own office after assuring me he’ll let Landon know where I am as soon as the meeting is over.

The sound of the door opening interrupts my work, and I look up to see Landon entering the room. Hours of meetings haven’t done anything to lessen the potency of his attractiveness.

“How’re you getting on?” he asks.

“Okay. Claude was very helpful.”

“Good.” He nods. “We’ll go out to lunch. Afterward, if you’re done with Claude, you can return to the Rosemont. I’m going to be here for a while.”

“That’s fine.” I get up, intending to pack up my stuff, but I stop, unable to repress the question that’s been gnawing at me since last night. “Did you change your mind about this trip?” I hold his gaze. “Did you decide you don’t want to fuck me anymore?”

His expression doesn’t change, his silence seeming to confirm my fears. He turns back to the door, and I almost think he’s going to leave. Then as I watch, he turns a button in the door handle, locking it, and turns back to face me.

For some reason, my heart is pounding, but I stay silent as he comes to stand behind me. My blood is rushing hotly through my veins, my whole body eager and anticipating. As if from a distance, I hear the noise as he pulls my chair out of his way.

My whole back feels heated, as if I’m being seared by being so close to him. I stiffen as he presses a hand flat against my stomach, pulling me back to mold my body against his.

I gasp at the contact, feeling his arousal, hard and thick against my back. He leans forward, his breath teasing my ear and neck. “Does this feel like I don’t want to fuck you?”

“No.” My voice is a whisper.

Still holding me against his rock-hard body, he uses his other hand to undo the buttons of my top, one by one, until it’s hanging open, along with my jacket. He pulls it out of the waistband of my pants and then reaches up to undo the clasp of my bra.

“I want you so much it fucking hurts,” he whispers at my ear as his hand finds my breasts under the loose bra. He pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger and I groan, loud.

“I can hardly keep my mind on anything else,” he continues. “I’ve never wanted anyone so much.”

I know what he means. I feel as if my body has only just been awakened. “But last night…” I manage to ask through the haze of my arousal. “Why…?”

“Why did I stay away? Why did I try to give you a chance to change your mind? I have no fucking idea. I must have been crazy.” The hand on my stomach slides down to my pants, undoing the clasp with one sure flick of his fingers. Then those same fingers are sliding into my panties, over the wet slickness between my legs.

My hips buck, rubbing against his fingers. Releasing my breast, he uses that hand to pull down my pants then abandons his ministrations between my thighs so he can push my panties down over my hips. His fingers find me again, stroking the swollen mass of aroused nerves that my clit has become, while from behind, he inserts two fingers into my wet pulsing core.

“Oh God!” I cry out as he starts to fuck me with his fingers, fast, giving no room for anything else but the sensation of his touch and the maddening sensation of him teasing my clit. I’m going mad, I think as pleasure overtakes me, or else I’m dying. I cry out, loudly, past the point of caring who hears, as my hips buck uncontrollably.

“Landon!” I scream his name, helpless against the coming orgasm, my brain dying with each stroke of his fingers. “Oh fuck! Landon!”

“Let it go,” he whispers against my ear, rubbing harder against my clit at the same moment he presses his fingers against the bundle of nerves inside me. I let out a harsh scream and collapse forward on the table, spent, my body trembling with the aftermath of my orgasm.

My body is slick with sweat, making strands of my hair stick to my face and neck. I try to catch my breath, which is almost impossible as Landon continues to stroke my clit.

He reaches between us to loosen the waistband of his pants, and soon I can feel his cock, warm and hard against my butt. I rub myself against him, eliciting a low growl from him.

“Are you on the pill?”

I nod, impatient to feel him inside me. “Yes.”

“I’m clean, Rachel, and I want to fuck you like this, with my skin against yours. I want to feel your heat. I want to come inside you.” The finger on my clit moves lower to press against the wet opening to my body.

“Please,” I hear myself beg. “Please, now.”

Immediately, I feel the warm crown of his cock pushing against me, and in the next moment he plunges deep inside me, filling me so completely, I let out a sob of pure, undiluted pleasure.

He starts to move, his muscles bunching as he goes deeper with each successive thrust. He pulls me up to press my body against his, his hands at my breast and my stomach. I’m helpless against the pleasure of his thrusts, his grunts of pure animalistic pleasure making me even more aroused.

Heat spreads from between my legs, taking over my entire body and drowning me with pleasure. I surrender to the waves of another orgasm just as Landon’s body tightens, his muscles stiffening as he thrusts deep inside me, burying himself to the hilt as he groans, coming inside me.

He collapses onto the chair behind us, taking me with him. He’s still inside me, still hard even though he just came. He starts to stroke my shoulders, his hands moving over my skin in a slow caress. By the time he gets to my breasts, I’m already moving my hips, riding his still hard cock. He squeezes my breasts, groaning softly as I move up and down his length.

“You’re so hot,” he whispers.

“You’re so hard,” I reply breathlessly.

He sighs and drops his hands to my waist, gripping me on both sides and taking control of my movements. Unbelievable pleasure spreads through me, fed by the soft rocking of his hips, the strength with which he moves me up and down, and the low grunts from his lips.

We come at the same time, his cock rocking into me as my body tightens and explodes. He groans as he comes and my pulsing body squeezes everything out of him.

Afterward, I end up sitting on his lap, his arm around me. I’m exhausted, about to fall asleep. “You said something about lunch,” I remind him.

“Yes.” I feel the deep rumble in his chest as he chuckles.

“I’m sleepy, but I’m also unbelievably hungry.”

His chuckle turns into a wry laugh. “Me too, for some reason.”

With his hands around my waist, he lifts me off his lap. Still sitting, he retrieves a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeds to wipe between my legs. He folds the hanky and then wipes himself before folding it again and putting it in his pocket.

I wrinkle my nose. “You’re not going to keep that as some sort of weird memento, are you?”

He grins. “I don’t need a memento when I have you,” he replies, pulling up my pants and redoing the clasp while I button up my blouse. Then he gets up and adjusts his own clothes, going back to his usual impeccable appearance almost immediately.

You only have me for a week, I want to remind him, already mourning the future end of our temporary arrangement. But, I keep silent, helping him pack up my laptop so we can go to lunch. It’s when I pick up my phone off the desk, right before we leave, that I see the missed calls—five of them, all from Jack.