MY legs fall back on the bed, shaking uncontrollably. Even though the air in the room is cool, there’s a sheen of sweat on my skin and on Landon’s too, making his chest and arms gleam in the soft light of the room.

He pulls out of me, still slightly hard, making my body pulse with post-orgasmic pleasure. I sigh and fall back on the pillows, watching him through heavy eyes while he gets up and takes care of the condom.

He returns to the bed to join me, handing me a tissue. After I’ve cleaned up, he takes it back from me and tosses it. We’re both silent, and I start to wonder what he’s thinking. I shouldn’t care. It’s just a one-night stand after all—although, if I’m honest, it has turned out to be the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.

“I can’t feel my legs.” I almost don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud, and when I do, I chuckle softly, slightly embarrassed.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Landon replies, “I can’t feel mine either.”

We both laugh. Even his laugh is sexy, deep, and soft. He’s so good-looking, so perfect, I can’t even fathom why he would ever need a hooker.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Go on,” he says.

“Why would someone who looks like you ever need a hooker?”

His eyebrow goes up. “Looks like me?” he repeats.

I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. Someone as hot as you are.”

“Not to mention devastating in bed,” he adds with a grin.

I hold up my hand. “I didn’t say that.”

“No.” He’s still grinning. “But you said you couldn’t feel your legs.”

“Okay, devastating in bed,” I concede with a small laugh. “Why would you ever need a hooker?”

He thinks for a moment. “Are all your clients unattractive?”

Ha! My clients. I pause, wondering what to say. “Yes,” I reply finally, imagining a string of lonely older men. “Some are too busy for relationships, others are just adventurous.”

“Maybe I’m busy and adventurous.”

My gaze travels over the raw beauty of his face. A man who looks like him wouldn’t even need to snap his fingers for women to come running. He is obviously rich, too, and yes, devastating in bed. So devastating, in fact, that right now, all I want is to run my hands down that hard chest and over his stomach…

The silence stretches, and I wonder if I should go, or wait for him to tell me he’s done with me for the night.

“Do you want another drink?” he asks. “Some water?”

I shake my head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

He sits up to look at me, affording me a better view of his still naked body. He’s still hard, I notice, excitement making me wet my lips before I realize he’s watching me stare at his cock.

I blush, embarrassed.

“You’re not tired,” he asks, “are you?”

Slowly I shake my head.

“Good.” He runs his hand down the side of my body, burning a path from my shoulder to my hip. I’m suddenly trembling, my skin tingling as he touches me. His hand moves to my back, sliding over my skin until he’s cupping my butt.

My breath quickens, and he smiles at me. Gently, he turns me over so I’m lying on my stomach with my back to him. He runs his hands over my buttocks, softly stroking the sensitive skin before kneading each cheek firmly.

I let out a soft sigh, and in response he places his hands under my belly on both sides, pulling me up on my hands and knees. Then with one hand still on my stomach, he slips the other one between my legs from behind, feeling how wet I am before sliding two fingers inside me.

I close my eyes, my body twisting as he moves his fingers, spreading them even while he moves them in and out again. “You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his voice raspy, “so wet and so hot.”

My body tightens and I move my hips impatiently, desperate for him to be inside me. I wait as he reaches for the condoms again, then his hands are on my waist, positioning me so he can slide slowly inside me.

He takes his time, pushing in slowly to the very hilt. His fingers tighten against my waist. “You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers, flexing his hips slowly as he slides out, then in again. “You feel so good.”

His voice combined with the slow, sure thrusting of his cock inside me soon pushes me over the edge. My body starts to shake uncontrollably as hot pleasure builds in my core. He bends over me, plunging faster as he reaches for my breasts, teasing my unbearably swollen nipples. I cry out, my whole body tightening with the intensity of my climax.

He doesn’t stop. Instead, he leans back up, gripping my thighs and lifting my legs off the bed. I clutch at the sheets, moaning weakly with each hot, sweet stroke. His grunts blend with my weak cries as he thrusts into me with an intense sexual abandon. Heat gathers in my core, pulsing, spreading, and my body tightens again as another orgasm washes over me. In the next moment, I hear his loud groan as he slams deep into me and comes.

He releases my legs and collapses on top of me. Our bodies are slippery with sweat as we both try to catch our breaths. He pulls out of me and gets rid of the condom.

“Now I definitely can’t feel my legs,” I whisper, half panting.

“Me neither,” he says, surprising me by pressing a kiss on my shoulder. I smile at him and he smiles back, the expression on his face almost boyish. Then he falls back on the pillows on his side of the bed.

In the silence that follows, our breathing slowly returns to normal. What now? I wonder again. It’s probably time for me to go. I stare at his naked body with regret. This has undoubtedly been the best night of my life.

“The elevator doesn’t require a code to leave,” he says, as if he knows what I’m thinking. “Just press the call button.”

I don’t say anything. I feel unaccountably sad. He turns to his side to look at me, a small frown on his face. Then he gets up and picks his trousers from the floor. He retrieves a black leather wallet and removes a couple of bills, coming around to place them on the nightstand on my side of the bed.

“I know you’ve been paid,” he says, “but consider that a bonus.”

I give him a small smile, but I can’t think of anything to say. Thank you? Is this when I tell him I’m not the hooker he was expecting? He comes back to lie on the bed beside me. “You can leave when you’re less tired,” he says, already dismissing me. “Don’t forget to leave your number.”

He closes his eyes, and I don’t know if he’s sleeping. Briefly, I toy with the idea of leaving my number, but I soon dismiss the foolish thought. He thinks I’m a hooker, which means he’s probably already forgotten about me. I’ve had a beautiful night filled with great sex, and I can go back to my life and try to work on the things that matter, like getting over Jack.

I wait a while, then I get up and pull on my clothes. Leaving the money on the nightstand, I make my way back to the foyer. Like he said, the elevator doesn’t need a code to leave, and in a few minutes, I’m out on the sidewalk hailing a cab to take me back home.