“Don’t kill me.”

He raises his eyebrow, and I laugh.

“Let’s see . . .” He thinks again. “I think about fucking you . . . a lot.”

“I already know that.”

“Oh, do you now?”

“Uh-huh.” I smile goofily. “It’s obvious.”

He chuckles. “Is it? I thought I hid it well.”

“Not at all.”

“Umm, what else is there?”

I smile as I listen.

“Never been in love.”

Oh . . .

“Well, don’t fall in love with me,” I tease as I tap his glass with mine.

“No chance of that.” He smirks. “You’re hideous.”

“Facts.” I giggle. “Come on, more.”

“I . . .” He pauses.

“You what?”

He falls serious. “I didn’t want to leave the other night either.”

“So why did you?”

He twists his champagne glass on the table by the stem as he stares at it. “Because I’m fucked up.”

Progress.

I take his hand in mine and lift it to kiss his fingertips. “I don’t believe that.”

He puffs air into his cheeks, and I know that was a lot for him to admit. Quick, onto the next question before he can think too much.

“Okay, last one . . . What is the one fact I don’t know about you?” I smile playfully.

“The one thing?” he asks.

“The one thing.”

His eyes hold mine. “It’s my birthday.”

“What? Today?”

He nods shyly.

My heart swells. He chose to spend his birthday with me.

Oh . . .

“Happy birthday, baby.” I lean over and kiss him, and he kisses me back, and somehow this kiss is different. I don’t taste a hint of the game we’ve been playing.

It’s real and raw, somehow more.

Hand in hand, we walk up the corridor of the hotel and back to our room.

He glances down at my stilettos. “I like those shoes.”

“Do you?”

His tongue slips out and runs over his bottom lip as if imagining something. “They’re going to look great around my ears.”

I know.

I smile up at my beautiful date.

This has been the best night in the history of all time. We’ve talked and laughed and kissed and made out in the elevator.

Henley James is the all-time ultimate date: handsome, funny, witty, intelligent, and let’s not forget sexy as fuck.

The entire time we were having dinner tonight, I didn’t know whether to laugh, swoon, or just bend over the table. This friends-with-benefits position definitely has its perks. There’s no denying that spending a night with this god is like winning the jackpot.

But I want more.

And weirdly enough, my gut tells me that he does too.

He hasn’t said so, of course, but I can hear the silent words hidden within his sentences. It’s the things that he doesn’t say out loud, the things he doesn’t articulate, and I don’t know how, but I already know what he’s feeling.

He’s right here with me, lost in a perfect moment of clarity. How could he not be? Together we’re perfect, and it’s not even about the sex—and trust me, the sex is a lot.

It’s the conversation, the laughter, and the way we get each other’s jokes. It’s him wrapping me in his coat on the way home so I wasn’t cold, the way he listens when I talk. The way he holds my hand, and the goose bumps I get when he looks at me.

He could have gone anywhere in the world tonight, and yet he chose to spend his birthday with me.

“How long is this corridor?” I frown. “We’ve walked at least five miles.”

He gives me a sexy wink. “This is the warm-up.”

“For what?” I play dumb.

“Bedroom Olympics.”

I burst out laughing, and he does too, and then he stops at a door. “This is us.” He fiddles around with the key as I run my hand down over his firm behind. His hands still, and I take it as a sign and unzip his jeans. He glances up the corridor and then back to me.

“I know what I want to give you for your birthday.”

“What’s that?”

I put my mouth to his ear for added effect. “I want to suck you off in public.”

His eyes widen, and I drop to my knees.

“Juliet,” he whispers as he looks up the corridor. “You’ll get us kicked out of the hotel.”

I pull his already-erect cock out of his jeans and take it in my mouth. “I don’t care,” I whisper around him.

“You’ll get us arrested.”

“We could do it in jail too.”

He chuckles and shudders as I flick my tongue over his end. Then, as if losing control, he grabs my hair in his hands and slides deep down my throat.

Who even am I?

We fall into a rhythm. His eyes flick between me and the length of the hallway.

He’s fucking my mouth with a hurried urgency, a desire so deep that he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

And I take it all like a pro. His soft moans and ragged breathing turn me inside out as I watch him come undone.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls as he pumps me hard. His crazy eyes shoot up the corridor, and he tips his head back and comes in a rush with a deep moan.

I gag. Ugh . . .

He’s a lot of man to take.

But then I see the look in his eye and I know it’s all worth it, because it’s Henley and I adore him and I want his birthday to be memorable.

I need to be burned into his brain like he is in mine.

Triumphantly I lick him clean, and the elevator dings, and he pulls me to my feet, and we both turn to face his door guiltily.

All flustered, he fumbles with the key and drops it. “Fuck it,” he mutters under his breath.

I get the giggles. His dick is still hanging out the front of his jeans.

Two old ladies walk out of the elevator. They are chatting away. “Get the fucking key,” he whispers.

“No.”

He widens his eyes at me, and I laugh harder. “Show them your dick,” I whisper.

He elbows me. “Get the key off the floor.”

“No.”

He gets the giggles too. What must we look like, facing the door, guilty as all hell, with the key on the ground in front of us? I’m laughing so hard, I couldn’t bend down to get it even if I tried.

The grannies get closer.

Henley nods, looking as cool as a cucumber. “Evening, ladies.”

“Hello.” One lady smiles without looking at us closely. “We’ve just had the best night at the opera. If you get a chance, you simply have to go.”

Henley’s eyes flick to mine, and my mouth falls open in surprise.

We forgot to go to the opera.

We lie in the dark facing each other. It’s late, and we have quenched our every desire. The night has been long and sweaty, our bodies well used. He’s a god in bed. There’s no other way to describe him.

We are freshly out of the shower and naked under the blankets.

I feel so close to him. There is no other way to explain our connection. It’s magical.

A force to be reckoned with.

Henley’s finger traces up my arm aimlessly, as if he still has to touch me, and we are both lost in our own thoughts.

I’m tired, but I don’t want to go to sleep because I know that when I wake up, my beautiful and vulnerable Hen won’t be here; Henley James the hard-ass will be in his place.

It’s as if Henley knows it, too, and is fighting sleep as hard as I am.

“How was your birthday?” I ask.