Now he carried a black Amex, drove a luxury sports car packing a lot of horses under the hood, and lived in a three-story penthouse that had previously been the HQ of the magazine most teenage boys spent hours with locked up in the bathroom.

He infinitely preferred this life, the control it brought him. He’d done the blood and sweat thing to get here and his hard work had paid off. He had everything he’d ever wanted, except the woman who’d drop-kicked his heart and walked away without so much as a good-bye.

Hudson checked the LeCoultre strapped to his wrist; ten minutes had passed. He was so over this shit.

But some things were worth waiting for.

Just as he reached for the check with an impatient hand, there was a knock at the door, then a male voice. “Mr. Chase, Miss Alessandra Sinclair is here.”

Hudson looked across the immaculate office at his assistant. The guy was a wrestling match between hipster-geek and an ad for J-fucking-Crew. Dollars to shit piles, those horn-rimmed glasses he wore weren’t even prescription. And the bow tie, the motherfucking bow tie. But the guy was a good assistant and didn’t pull any crap.

“Thank you, Darren. That will be all for the evening.”

His assistant’s brow shot up. “Ah, thank you, Mr. Chase. Have a good one.” The surprise on Darren’s face was obvious, a direct correlation to the numerous hours the guy had been pulling at Hudson’s demand. And well compensated for, he might add.

Whoever said being a CEO was a fairy tale had their head up their ass. Sure, you may have the castle in the clouds, climbed the fucking beanstalk to get there, but at the stroke of midnight you were more likely to find yourself wanting a few hours of shut-eye versus waking Sleeping Beauty to go a round with a glass stiletto digging into your ass.

Darren exited the office, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. A second later, Alessandra stepped through the archway.

Damn. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

“Good evening, Alessandra.” He moved around his desk. “Take your coat?”

“I’m fine.” He could tell by her tone this wasn’t a pleasure call. She was doing her job, nothing more.

“Nice office,” she said. “I saw a crew hanging the new sign downstairs. Did you buy the whole building?

“Not the entire building, no.” A smug grin curved his lips. “But enough that they let me put my name on it.” He leisurely crossed his arms over his chest, watching her with fervent eyes as her gaze slid over the black leather couch, then shifted to the numerous flat screens mounted side by side on the wall. The silence stretched on as she absorbed every detail of her surroundings. The artwork, the view, even his oversize desk. When her stare lingered on the bar showcasing a collection of crystal decanters, he dropped his arms to his sides and shifted his stance. “A drink, perhaps?”

The gold flecks in her eyes shimmered with defiance. “No, thank you.”

Hudson let out a short laugh. “You’re killing my attempts at being a gentleman, Alessandra.”

She reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her blonde curls were down this time, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. As Hudson watched her, he found himself wishing it were his fingers buried in her hair.

“I believe you have a check for me, Mr. Chase?”

“Ah, yes. My generosity.” He twisted around and lifted all those zeros off the desk.

“Thank you. This will go a long way toward making the new school a reality.” She took the check and stuffed it into her purse, then paused and looked at him. “Why did you insist I come here? You could have easily mailed it.”

“As I said on the phone, I lack confidence in the US Postal Service.”

Liar. Fucking liar.

“I offered to send a messenger,” she shot back.

“I wanted to make sure you got the money, Alessandra.” Hudson stared into those amazing eyes of hers. “I know how important it is to you.”

A little wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Your preference for men who are taller when standing on their wallets.” Screw tiptoeing into the minefield; he was going in at an all-out sprint.

“You know nothing about me or my preferences.”

“I know ten years ago you got a good, hard look but went running to that Ivy League fuck as soon as he flashed his trust fund your way.” His words were clipped and cold.

Her voice raised a couple octaves. “It wasn’t like that.”

“How was it, then?” Hudson’s gaze was rock-steady as he stared into her flushed face, her gaping mouth. “You sure as hell had no problem telling me no. Leads me to believe you have an affinity for spreading your legs if the price is right.”

Alessandra’s pupils dilated. For a split second she was stunned silent.

That’s when he saw it coming.

Her palm opened and her hand traveled through the air. Hudson’s body fully engaged, his weight shifting from one foot to the other, and in a flash of movement he caught her wrist and hauled her against him.

She glared back at him, her chest rising and falling. He knew he should push her away, send her out the door with his check and never bother with her again. But she stayed in his arms, her fiery gaze almost daring him to make the next move.

He slid his mouth over hers, thrusting his tongue between her lips, and a deep, primitive sound vibrated in the back of his throat. He was a selfish bastard for taking her like this, but he couldn’t let her leave without having a taste. Her breath was sweet and the scent of her went straight to his thickening cock.

Alessandra shoved against his shoulders but Hudson held her in place, tightening the arm banded around her waist and fisting his hand into her hair. As if a sigh of relief, her resistance dissolved. Her purse dropped to the floor with a thud and her hands found their way around his neck and into his hair, pulling on the dark waves.

He groaned into her mouth. Goddamn, he wanted her to pull harder.

Hudson deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth in lush, firm strokes. His heart pounded and his muscles flexed with restraint. She was delicate and thin against his powerful frame and his body was aware of every soft curve. The contrasts between them extended far beyond the physical. If she was the hottest summer, then he was a stage-five hurricane altering everything in its path.

His hand shifted, splaying his fingers on her ass and urging her against him. God, he wanted her in a way he’d never wanted any other woman, and his cock was pounding, ready to take.

To own.

After all those years of wondering and wanting, he was going to have her, and there wasn’t going to be anything slow or gentle about it.

In a surge of power that roared through his body, Hudson lifted her, and with their mouths still fused, laid her out on his couch. Leveraging over her with his knee pressed into the rich leather and his elbow flush with the cushions, his body lowered, stretching over hers. His hand gripped the back of her knee, curling her leg around his waist. The slit of her burgundy dress fell open and he pressed between her thighs, hissing at the contact he’d been craving. The feel of her beneath him was everything it had been ten years ago; hot, passionate, and so fucking good.

He took her mouth again, kissing her deep and long. As her tongue slid over his, Hudson’s hips rolled with fluidity, massaging the thick ridge of his erection against her sex. The rhythm was deliberate and inexorable.

Allie moaned and her hips tilted up to meet his, responding to his every touch.

“Christ . . . you’re killing me.” He dragged his open mouth down Alessandra’s throat to the deep V of her wrap dress, his lips relentless in their pursuit of her skin. Irritation burned through him at the clothes between them. Lacking the patience to fully undress her, he wrenched open the fabric, exposing perfect breasts covered in black lace.