He waves an imperial hand at the receptionist who prepares two key cards for us immediately. I’d laugh if my insides weren’t a knot of nerves.

“Anything you need,” the manager croons, “we’re here for you. And may I say you look fine, Mr. Jordan. So pleased to welcome you back home.”

Home.

Hiding a wince, I take the cards and nod. I wonder if my name’s on the news yet in connection to the ‘accident’ that landed Rook in the hospital. I wonder if as soon as the elevator doors close behind us, the manager will turn to the receptionist and tell him to call a reporter, let them know I’m here.

Christ. I didn’t miss this shit. At all.

The elevator opens directly into the suite, like it does to my penthouse apartment. Shit, the apartment. I wonder if the cleaning crew fixed and cleaned everything.

As if it makes any difference. As if I’m ever going back there without reliving the moment of the explosion and the shard slicing into me.

The wound on my back gives a sympathetic twinge.

“Oh my God.” Raylin walks into the suite, lifting her hands in the air. “Oh my fucking God. This is awesome.”

Is it?

I glance around the place. White furniture, white carpets, white walls with pale gray photos in—wait for it—white frames.

Ah. The White Suite. How imaginative.

“It’s not bad,” I concede, stripping off the jacket of my dark suit and throwing it on the white sofa. It lands among white cushions.

Jesus.

“Not bad?” Raylin turns in a circle, that pretty mouth hanging open. “Not bad?”

I snort and wander in search of a bathroom. I sometimes forget she’s not used to this. The luxury, the ease. It’s what I ran away from, what I’m used to. And dammit, her excitement makes me grin, despite the darkness swirling inside my head like ink.

“Look at the TV!” she squeals, and exhausted as I am, my damn leg and back throbbing, I chuckle as I wash my hands and splash my face with cold water. “And there are chocolates! Filled with rum!”

“Some rum would hit just the spot,” I agree quietly, patting my face dry.

“And the bed! It’s huge!”

I shake my head and start stripping. “I’ll bet.”

“There’s a frigging bottle of champagne!”

“On the bed? How sloppy of them.” I push down my pants and briefs, then my socks and I toe off my shoes, stepping out of the whole pile at once.

“No, stupid, in an ice-box thingy.”

I laugh. This girl… “An ice bucket?”

“I know what an ice bucket is, smartass. This thing is made of glass and is shaped like a flower. Wait. Hey, the tongs are also shaped like flowers.”

Really. I just hope the champagne is good. I could use some, though I hope the mini-bar contains something stronger.

The water runs warm, and I step under the spray with a deep sigh. Cranking up the heat, I bow my head, letting the water sluice through my hair and beat on the knotted muscles of my back. The bandage is getting wet, but I don’t care. I let my breath slow, feel how the air fills my lungs, expanding them, then leaves in an exhale.

If I could just crawl into bed and forget this day… Maybe by the time I’m out of the shower, I’ll find Raylin curled on the bed and fast asleep.

But then of course, on the heels of that thought come ideas of how I could wake her up again. I’d kiss her body, her neck, her face until her lashes flutter. Then I’d undress her, slowly, pull that white tunic over her pretty tits and play with them, rub them and lick them and make her nipples tighten, then I’d suck on them until she’s wide awake and moaning my name.

Jesus, I’m so hard already at the images playing out in my head I’m about to shoot my load.

I’d unbutton her jeans and drag them down so I can nuzzle her panties. They’d be soaked by now, smelling of her, like sweetness and musk, and when I slide my fingers into her, she’d go crazy, her head tossing, her hips lifting—

Oh fuck. I reach down and wrap a hand around my dick, and the heavy vein underneath pulses madly. Leaning my elbow on the tiled wall, I bury my face against my arm and start stroking myself. Maybe this is what I need, to rub one off quickly, so I can cool off and settle down.

Long slide and drag, my fist a tight channel around my cock, and I press my face a bit harder into my arm, hissing between my teeth at the mounting pressure. God.

I jerk when a slick, warm body presses against my back. I puff out a breath, draw in more air. Curves. Scent of vanilla and pretty girl.

“You started without me,” she whispers, and I choke on laughter, lifting my head from my arm, staring at the tiles. White and gray, with swirling patterns. Hypnotizing.

Times like this, I think I’m in charge, that I’m the one leading this game. Then she goes and surprises me, making it fucking clear I’m the one struggling to keep up with her.

Her hand sneaks around my hip, wrapping around my dick, and my brain goes blank. Oh fuck, yeah. See? She’s gone and done it again.

And I love her for it.

Her hand moves up and down, tightening, strong for such a small hand, and yet not enough. Teasing. Bringing me one step closer to the edge and then one step back.

I drop my head back to my arm, groaning softly. Doesn’t matter. It feels good. Her scent, her touch, it’s all good. All I need.

But she releases me and tugs on my hip. I turn to face her, reaching for her, because oh fuck, she’s wet and naked, and hell, those pretty tits are right in my face, and I’m dying to lick them.

That’s when she goes down on her knees and puts her mouth on my cock, and damn, that’s when my brain self-combusts for good. There’s a rushing in my ears. I slam a hand into the wall, holding on for dear life as she mouths the head, then takes more of my dick into the heat of her pretty mouth.

Holy shit. So damn good. My hand finds its way to her wet hair, fingers tangling in its softness. Can’t remember it being so good before, but I… Can’t be sure. Can’t fucking think. My balls are tightening, pleasure sparking down my dick, muscles tightening in my stomach—

“Wait.” I tug lightly on her hair, pulling her head back. Letting go of my death grip on the wall, I hook a hand under her arm and lift her to her feet. “Come here.”

She slides up my body, her arms going around my neck, her mouth finding mine, and her velvet dark eyes send a flare of heat straight to my dick. It twitches, trapped between us and my breath catches on a groan.

Need this. Need her.

She doesn’t resist when I push her up against the wall, when I grab her hands and slam them on either side of her head. When I crush my mouth to hers and take advantage of her gasp to thrust my tongue inside and play with hers.

Holy shit. Our bodies press together, my jagged edges cushioned by her soft curves, her fingers sliding up my neck, twisting in the short hair there and tugging, sending small jolts of pain through my scalp.

Sending bright, hot arousal down my spine. Oh fuck…

Even if everything falls apart tonight, if she’s gone soon, I don’t care. She’s here now, and I have to be inside of her, feel her hot body tighten around me. Pretend this night won’t end.

Make tonight so good the memory will get me through this year, and the next—if I survive. Make it last a lifetime.

And it’s getting too damn dark in my head, so I let go of her hands and reach down, rubbing my fingers between her legs.

Need to fucking stop. Stop thinking.

So I sink into the kiss, the taste of her mouth, sweet and light, the feel of her leg hooking around my thigh, and her pussy opening to the press of my fingers. Opening up to me.

Her arms tighten around my neck, a moan escaping her when I pump my fingers deeper, harder. I fucking love this—me, her, under the beating water, my tongue in her mouth and my fingers buried in her. But I won’t last much longer, not with the way her pussy promises to be so tight and right around my dick, the way my body is clenched, balls aching and dick trembling, barely managing to hold back.