She stared straight ahead. “Done what?”

He came up behind her and spoke softly into her ear, “Been with a stranger.”

She shivered. “Yes.”

It was kind of the truth. She had fooled around with guys she had met only a handful of times at parties, but she had never allowed them to go further than that.

“I like the mystery of not knowing.” He trailed his hand down her arm.

She had to do everything not to shiver all over again. “So…you do this often?” She didn’t keep the bite out of her voice. He laughed melodically behind her and nipped at her neck. “Is this why you’re separated?”

He sighed. “No. That’s…complicated.” He clearly didn’t want to talk about it. “But to answer your first question, I don’t do this often. And I’ve certainly never met anyone as beautiful as you.”

“Flattery doesn’t work,” she said.

“Oh?” His hand trailed down the gold zipper of her form-fitting dress. He stopped right before it reached her ass and then splayed his hand out across her lower back. “It’s hardly flattery when it’s the truth.”

“A name.”

“Any name?”

She turned around to face him and stared up into his intense dark eyes. What secrets is he hiding? Could it possibly be as many as I am keeping?

She felt it in the pit of her stomach that somehow he felt as empty as she did. She walked through life, surrounded by a sea of blindingly happy people. Life had been laid out before them, and they didn’t have a care in the world.

But when she looked up at him, the emptiness that had consumed her after her parents’ divorce, maybe even before that, seemed to find a twin.

“Just a name. It can’t be that hard.” She breathed out slowly in anticipation. “I’m Bri.”

With the nickname, she could at least keep him from figuring out that she was Bryna Turner. There weren’t many Brynas in Hollywood, even fewer pronounced Brihn-uh. She wasn’t ready for him to know that name, not when it could lead him back to the fact that she was in high school.

He mulled over the name for a second before sticking his hand out and responding, “Jude.”

“WHAT’S GOING ON in that pretty little head of yours?” He took a drink of his scotch. His eyes stared straight through her.

“Just admiring your taste in scotch.”

Bryna distracted herself from that stare by taking a sip of her drink. Single malt, undeniably smooth, and utterly delicious. She did not need this to feel more confident. She was not nervous. In fact, she wanted this.

She was Bryna Turner. Nothing could break her stride.

His lips quirked up. “You know one of the first things I noticed about you?”

“My tits?” she joked, deflecting.

His eyes flicked down to her exposed cleavage and then back up. “After I saw how beautiful you were.”

“What?” She was intrigued.

“How truly empty you looked.”

In shock, Bryna faltered backward a step. She didn’t care that his words exactly mirrored what she thought about him every time she looked into his eyes. It didn’t matter that she truly did feel empty or that her parents’ divorce had rendered her this way. How could he say that to my face?

“I am not empty,” she spat.

“I’m sure that’s what you tell everyone.” He set his glass down on the coffee table and came back around to stand behind her. “You hide behind a wall of self-confidence. No one can see past the hardened exterior.”

She felt the faint brush of his hand along her shoulder and up her neck.

“But I do. I see what you keep hidden, what you want no one else to see.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is who I am.”

Jude’s mouth replaced his hand, and suddenly, it took everything in her not to lean back into that kiss. Chills ran up her arms. The anticipation of what was to come increased her sensitivity to his touch. Every brush, every touch of his lips sent a shock wave through her system.

“This body,” he murmured, running his hands down her sides and over her hips, “hides how hollow you are on the inside.”

He dug his fingers into her hips, and she struggled to remember how to respond.

“I…no.”

“Something stripped you down and left your soul bare.” His hand slid to her thigh and under the hem of her dress. “As bare as you’re about to be.”

“Jude,” she whispered. She didn’t know what else to say. She wanted to argue. But really, what’s the point? How can he see what no one else has been able to?

“You know I’m right.” He roughly turned her around and looked deeply into her eyes.

His fingers twined in her hair, and she closed her eyes as he tilted her head up toward him.

“Tell me I’m right.”

Trying to keep her walls up around him was futile. Everywhere else, she had to pretend that she was whole and fine, that nothing could bring her down, nothing could hurt. If the opportunity to be herself and to be with someone who understood her pain was presenting itself to her, then she was going to take it.

“You’re right.”

He didn’t ask her to talk about it or explain the feelings behind her emptiness. And she didn’t ask him to try to make it better. A mutual understanding bloomed between them, something no one else could touch. In that moment, she knew she was lost.

His lips crashed down on top of hers, forceful and demanding. He was in charge. He took control. It was clear he knew exactly what he was doing.

Her scotch glass disappeared from her hand, and then he guided her back to his bedroom. The glass balcony doors, covered in sheer curtains, let in a dim glow of light. A king-sized bed took up the center of the room with a black leather bed frame, a charcoal bedspread, and black throw pillows. It was dark and exotic.

Jude’s lips melted with hers for a minute, tasting and testing. When he pulled back, she was left wanting more. She didn’t feel as hollow with his lips on hers.

“Stand right here,” he instructed, positioning her to face the bed.

She curiously looked at him as he sat down in front of her. She wanted to make some comment about how she could have just stood at the bar, but she held her tongue. She was confident in her skin. She didn’t mind him examining her from head to toe.

And he did just that.

“Now, take off your dress. Slowly.”

She arched an eyebrow, and he just smirked back in return with a challenge glinting in his eyes. She could play this game if that was what he wanted even if it would be her first real striptease.

Turning to face away from him, she spread her legs more than shoulder width apart, stretching the elastic material until the dress rode up her legs. Then, she reached for the zipper on the back and very carefully dragged it down. First, she revealed the royal-blue La Perla bra, then the matching lace panties, and finally the curve of her ass. She dropped the dress off of each shoulder and then gingerly pushed it over her hips where it pooled at her feet.

She heard his intake of breath, and it encouraged her to continue.

She slowly walked in a small half circle to face him in nothing but her lingerie and Louboutins. Red lacquered heels were her specialty.

“Proof that your dress looks better on my floor.”

Bryna walked forward, one foot in front of the other, swaying seductively. She pushed him backward on the bed, climbed on top of him, and threaded his tie through her fingers. “So will your suit.”

“I’m going to fuck you in those heels.” He rolled her over on the bed and started stripping out of his suit. “Just those heels.”

“You’ll have to do something about this lingerie.”