IT’S late in the afternoon by the time we’re ready to leave. Laurie decides to stay, though she’s not sure yet if she’ll go home with her parents, who live only a few minutes away, or stay up all night playing video games with Dylan.

After we say our goodbyes, I follow Landon to his car, the silver Jaguar I’ve only seen him drive a couple of times. We’re both quiet as he pulls out of the gravel drive and onto the road, the only sound, that of the car engine purring beneath us like a jungle cat.

“Do you come home often?” he asks.

“About once a month. My mom’s very pushy.”

“Is she?” He seems surprised. “I thought she was sweet, and your aunt too.”

“Ha,” I say, but I’m smiling.

He returns my smile. “Are you eager to get back to the city?”

I give him a teasing look from under my lashes. “Why? Do you have plans for me?”

He nods. “Actually, I do.”

I’m staring at his profile, so when he turns, he catches my eye. He gives me a sexy grin before turning back to the road. “My parents had a home in Sand’s Point. We split our childhood between there and the hotel. I made a call while we were at your parents, so if you want to go see it, it will be ready for us.”

“Yeah, of course.” I’d love to see the home where he grew up.

In thirty minutes, we’re already there, cruising up the long drive to the front entrance of the two-story, Greek revival mansion.

As soon as we step out of the car, the front door opens and an elderly, gray-haired man walks out onto the front porch. Landon takes my hand and leads me up to the porch steps, grinning affectionately as he shakes the older man’s hand. “Good evening Wilson, sorry to disturb you on such short notice.”

“It’s your home, Landon,” the man says with a smile that’s almost fatherly. “And we’re always happy to see you.”

“This is Rachel.” Landon turns to me. “Rachel, this is Wilson Hayes. He used to run the Swanson Court Hotel in New York, and he’s been the caretaker here since my father passed away.”

Wilson smiles at me. “Welcome Miss Foster. It’s great to see a new face at Windbreakers.” He holds open the door to let us into a large hallway, while I’m still trying to digest the fact that the house has a name. Inside, I pause to admire the perfectly maintained vision of the shiny marble floors, elegant curved grand staircase, and molded ceiling from which a classic crystal chandelier is hanging.

“I took the liberty of ordering dinner from town,” Wilson tells Landon.

Landon nods. “Thanks. We’ll eat upstairs at eight. How’s Betsy?”

“My wife is coping with me as best she can,” Wilson replies, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Landon chuckles and starts in the direction of the stairs. He leads me upstairs, through another hallway into a suite at the end of the hall. From the window of the exquisitely furnished sitting room, I can see the beautifully manicured lawns, and beyond that, the beach and the waters of the Long Island Sound.

I lean my head against the glass. “The view is lovely.”

“I agree.”

Something in his voice makes me turn around. His eyes are on my body, and he raises them to mine, his expression unrepentantly and blatantly sexual.

“Come,” he says, holding out a hand to me. “I want to show you the bedroom.”

Warm lust pools in my belly. “You’re supposed to show me around the house,” I say as I walk toward him on legs that suddenly feel rubbery. “It’s the polite thing to do.”

“I’m not very polite,” he says, leading me toward the bedroom. “What I am is very aroused.” He closes the door as soon as we’re in the room then gently pushes me back to lean on the door. He drops gracefully onto his knees, pulling my dress up simultaneously. His hands cup my butt, then his fingers link under the waistband of my panties and pull them down, just enough that he can cover the lips of my sex with his tongue.

My legs go weak. If not for his hands holding me up, I would fall. His tongue slips between my folds, hungry and teasing, searching and finding the most sensitive places to drive me completely crazy.

I’m moaning softly, my hands pressed back against the door. Even as he licks and sucks me, he slides my panties farther down, freeing my legs so he can lift one of them onto his shoulder, opening me up to the pleasurable assault of his tongue.

My body is shaking, losing control. My weak moans fill the room, and yet he doesn’t stop. He licks my outer lips then sucks on my clit, deftly plunging his tongue inside me again and again until I cry out, coming apart as my body surrenders to the pleasure.

I’m still shaking when he lets my leg drop to the ground and rises to his feet. “Tell me that wasn’t better than showing you around the house.”

“What house?” I pull his face down toward mine, sliding my lips over his. I can taste myself on his lips, and it makes me so hot. I slide down to my knees and start to unbutton his fly, hurriedly undoing his zipper and pulling down his pants and briefs.

His cock springs free, already erect. I take the rock-hard length in my hands, and his low growl of arousal sets me on fire. I look up at him. His head is thrown back, his eyes closed. Wetting my lips, I take the head of his cock in my mouth, slowly licking around it before sucking in the rest of him, until I can feel him tickling the back of my throat.

He groans loudly, his hands fisting in my hair. I tighten my mouth around him, sucking deeply as I rock my head. He lets out a tortured moan, and one hand leaves my hair to support his weight on the door behind me. His hips are rocking into my mouth. The powerful motion is almost too much for me, but I take it, his carnal enjoyment arousing me too.

“Oh God!” he groans, jerking his hips. “Oh, fuck, Rachel—I’m going to come.”

I respond by cupping his balls, letting my fingers skim the soft skin, and he lets out a labored sound, his body stiffening as he spurts his warm seed into my mouth.

I swallow quickly, licking every remaining drop from the tip of his cock. He groans and pulls me up, pulling my dress over my head and dispensing with my bra with lightning speed. He removes the rest of his clothes with the same urgency before carrying me over to the huge king poster bed. He sets me down at one of the posts and pulls my hips back toward him, sliding into me from behind.

I hold on to the post, my whole body sweet and liquid as he thrusts into me with an intensity verging on feral. His hands cover my breasts, his fingers teasing my swollen nipples even as his thick cock strokes every sweet spot inside me. Pleasure permeates me, my climax seizing my whole body. He continues to fuck me even as my shudders subside, his grunts joining with my soft cries. I feel another climax building, and I clutch at the post, my whole body tightening as an orgasm ripples through me. At the same moment, Landon thrusts fiercely inside me, burying himself completely as he groans his release.

Afterward, we lie in a tangle on the bed, sexually sated. He’s stroking my hair, and my face is against his chest, where I can hear his heart beating. It feels so natural to be so close to him, it always has, even from the first time.

I look up at his face, wondering if he feels it too.

His hand stills on my hair. “What are you thinking?”

I shrug. “How good this feels, just lying here with you.”

He pulls me closer. “I know what you mean. There’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be.”

I close my eyes, letting the words wash over me. I burrow as close to him as possible, and I hear him laugh, his chest vibrating.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

I nod. “Starving.”

“It’s eight,” he observes. “Dinner’s probably waiting for us.” Nudging me to sit up, he gets up from the bed and goes to an adjoining dressing room. He returns with two robes, shrugs one on his perfect frame, and hands the other to me before opening the door to the sitting room.

He’s right—there’s a dinner tray with covered dishes and an ice bucket with a bottle of wine chilling in the ice.

I watch as Landon uncovers the dishes. “Wilson seems to know what you want when you have guests over,” I comment. “Does he have a lot of practice?”

Landon turns a grin in my direction. “You can ask if I’ve brought a lot of women here. Your jealousy flatters me, actually.”

I return his smile. “So? Have you?”

“No, never.”

“Not one?”

He shakes his head. “I’m not the playboy the gossip magazines make me out to be. I’ve had a few relationships, all with women who knew what the terms were.”

“Like me?”

He hands me a glass of wine. “There has never been anyone like you.”

I search his eyes, wondering if I can dare to hope, but he turns away and busies himself with setting plates on the table.

“What exactly were the terms?” I ask.

“Exclusivity, but no commitment in the long-term.”

Just like I’d asked for. “And you never felt tempted to make an exception with any of the women you’ve been with?”

He shakes his head. “No, never. I’ve felt pressured, but usually as soon as a woman starts to demand more than I can give, I walk away.”

“Oh!” I take the seat and the plate he offers me, trying not to let my feelings show on my face. If he always walks away when a woman shows signs of wanting more from him, then it’s only a matter of time—likely very little time—before we’re done.

“Lucky for me I never asked you for a long-term commitment,” I say with a lightness I don’t feel.

His eyes burn into mine. “This is just sex, and I don’t want to pretend it’s anything more,” he says. “Those were your exact words.”

Back when I had no idea I was going to fall in love with him. “Yes,” I say in a small voice. “I remember.”

He refills my wine. “Do you like the food?”

I nod, and we start to talk about other things. After we eat, he finally shows me around the house. It feels almost decadent, walking around the beautiful rooms in just our robes, but there’s no one else in the house. Wilson has retired to the apartment he shares with his wife on the property, and the maid has gone back to her home in town.

We end up on one of the upper balconies, watching the stars while seated on a long divan with a blanket covering us both. The silence is peaceful, with only the sound of the insects in the garden and the distant surf. Farther off, the lights of the city look like fireflies in a fog. I mention it to Landon and he laughs. “Very descriptive,” he teases. “I think there might be a poet inside you somewhere.”

We talk late into the night, and finally, with his arms around me and the steady rhythm of his heart against my ear, I fall asleep.

I WAKE up alone, lying in the big bed with the covers around me. Landon is sitting at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. I don’t need to ask to know he’s been dreaming again.

I reach for him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

He gets up, moving away from my touch. “Yes, I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

I frown. “No, not when you’re going to stay awake the rest of the night.” I get up too, pulling the covers with me. “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Why?” he asks testily. “Because you’re curious?”

“Because I care!”

His throat works as he swallows. “Forget about it, Rachel. You’ve already helped more than you know. These past two weeks with you have been the most peaceful I’ve had in a very long time.”

I cup his cheek with one hand, aching to comfort him. “Come back to bed,” I whisper.

Later, when he’s lying in my arms, his head on my chest, I listen to his breathing as he sleeps, praying that whatever demons he faces in his dreams won’t come back before morning.

WHEN I wake up in the morning, I’m alone again. I find a note in Landon’s handwriting on a sheet of Swanson Court stationary, telling me that my clothes are in the attached dressing room.

I take a quick shower and brush my teeth with a new toothbrush that’s been thoughtfully placed in a toothbrush holder on the sink. In the dressing room, my dress from yesterday is hanging, freshly laundered, and my undies are folded on a shelf next to it. After putting on my clothes, I find my way downstairs where the smell of breakfast leads me to the kitchen.

I’m disappointed when I don’t find Landon there. Instead, a plump woman with a rosy face is making toast and frying strips of bacon.

“Good morning,” she greets me with a cheerful smile. “You must be Rachel. I’m Betsy—Mrs. Hayes. Did you have a nice rest?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Why don’t you sit,” she suggests, going back to her cooking. “Landon is outside looking around the gardens. I’m sure he’ll be back in a moment.”

At that moment, Landon steps into the kitchen through the back door. He looks freshly showered, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts that show off his broad shoulders, sculpted chest, and long muscular legs.

“You’re finally awake,” he comments, coming to the table to drop a kiss on my lips. “I thought I was going to have to transport you back to Manhattan unconscious.”

My eyes drink in his features. How is it possible to love him now even more than I did yesterday? “I was tired,” I reply to his question.

“Understandably.” He grins and I try to hide my blush from Betsy, who is smiling.

“Take a seat,” she tells Landon. “It’s been a while since I had young people around to feed. Eat up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Landon says, grinning fondly as he does as she says.

Wilson joins us, and we all have breakfast together. The older couple are obviously fond of Landon and proud of both his and Aidan’s accomplishments. They’re the closest thing Landon has to real parents, I realize, feeling grateful toward them.

The house has a long stretch of beach attached to it, along with a tennis court, a swimming pool, and unending gardens. After breakfast, Landon takes me for a walk along the beach. We find a secluded area, where he takes my clothes off and makes slow, sweet love to me amidst the sound of the surf breaking on the sand. My toes are tingling as we walk back to the house, and when we wash the sand off our bodies, we make love again. This time, I ride him, dictating our movements as I take him deep inside me. By the time we finally start the drive back to the city, I’m drowsy, and pleasantly sore.

I spend the first few minutes on the phone with Laurie while Landon drives. She’s back home after spending the night at her parents’ place. Afterward, I scroll through Landon’s playlists, wrinkling my nose at the hard rock songs before finally settling on some classical music.

I sigh with contentment as the car fills with the sound of “The Blue Danube”. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Landon watching me. “What?”

“Nothing.” He turns back to the road, smiling.

I swat him on the arm playfully. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

“That I love to look at you.” His eyes are on the road. “I enjoy the way you enjoy little things.”

I’m about to respond when my phone rings. I look at the screen and I’m surprised to see Jack’s name. Landon’s eyes are on the road, and I frown at the phone. If I don’t take the call, Jack will keep calling, and it’ll just look weird if I don’t answer.

I answer the call. “Hello.”

“Hi Rachel. What’s up?”

“Nothing much? What’s up with you?”

“I’m great now, but I caught a bug before, which you would know if you hadn’t abandoned me. Not even a call for an old friend.”

I sigh. “How’re you now?”

“Perfect, though I had to come back early.”

“So you’re in New York?”

“Yes.” There’s a short pause. “I want to see you. How about we hang out tonight?”

“Not tonight.”

“Why not? Have pity on someone who’s dying to see you.” When I don’t answer, he sighs. “Tomorrow then, after work. We can go get a drink just like old times.”

I steal a glance at Landon. “Yeah,” I tell Jack. “Why don’t you call me tomorrow?”

“Great. See you then.”

After the call, both Landon and I stay silent for the rest of the drive. His face is impassive as he navigates the traffic going into the city. I toy with the phone on my lap, my mind on Jack. It’s hard even to remember the feelings I used to have for him. It’s almost as if, in my head, I’ve let go of everything I ever felt before I fell in love with Landon.

I stare at his fingers on the wheel, feeling helpless. I want to tell him I’m in love with him, but I know that will only make him push me away.

He glances at me and sees me looking at him. After a second, he turns back to the road. “That was Jack Weyland on the phone.”

It’s not a question. “Yes it was.”

“And you’re going to see him tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t say anything else. At my building, he parks on the street and turns to me. “We’re here,” he says.

I nod. “I had a great time.”

“I’m glad I could be of service,” he says drily.

The change in attitude has to be because of my conversation with Jack. I recall Landon’s reaction to him back in San Francisco. He admitted then that he was jealous. Does he still feel the same way? Deep down inside me, I accept that maybe I agreed to go out with Jack because I wanted to see a reaction, a sign that Landon would care if he thought he might lose me.

“I’m just going to have a drink with him,” I say softly.

His fingers flex on the wheel. “It’s fine. You said yourself that you can’t just get over someone you’ve loved for years.”

“I was talking about Laurie.”

“So it doesn’t apply to you and Jack? You’re completely over him?”

“Yes.”

He exhales and taps his fingers on the wheel. “So why do you need to go out with him?”

I fold my arms. “Because he’s a