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“My only rule is that you tell me if it’s ever too much.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Promise me that.”

I give him a quick kiss on the mouth. “I promise.”

“Your place or mine?” He reaches for my hand.

“Your place,” I answer quickly.

He tugs me to my feet. “We’re not taking the train this time. It would take too damn long and I’m too damn hard.”

I glance down at the front of his pants. It’s clear that he’s a large man in every sense. “What are we waiting for?”

He turns to face me, stalling in place. “I need you to know something.”

My stomach knots instantly. Dread rushes through me. “What?”

“I would have waited even longer.” He kisses my hand. “You’re worth the wait.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say as my heart thumps inside my chest.

Wrapping his arm around my waist, he whispers in my ear, “Let’s go.”

I suck in a deep breath and take the first step toward a night I know I’ll never forget.

***

His apartment isn’t a reflection of him. It’s cold and sterile. The black leather furniture offsets the white tile floors.

There are walls of sheer curtains covering floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the skyline of Manhattan.

Music is softly playing as we enter the space. It’s something classical and grand, like the man who lives here.

“My fridge is bare,” he confesses as he helps me slip out of my jacket. “I can call down to room service if you want a drink.”

It’s one of the benefits of living in an apartment inside of a hotel I suppose.

“I’m not in the mood for a drink.” I place my purse down on a glass coffee table. “How long have you lived here?”

He slides his jacket off and hangs it next to mine on an ornamental coatrack. “Not long. I rented it once I knew I was coming back to guest conduct.”

I nod, wanting to ask where his next adventure will take him. I know, from what I’ve read online, that he’s a wandering soul. He’s always on the move.

He may have roots in New York in the form of his sister and her family, but he’s in demand on all corners of the globe.

I look over to where a piano is sitting in the corner, surrounded by windows. “Was that an addition that you requested?”

His gaze follows mine. “It came with the place. I had it tuned the day I moved in. I’ve played it infrequently since.”

I want to hear him play but I want something else more.

I’ve never been brazen with men.

I’ll admit to being vocal in bed. I steal my release before I devote myself to my partner’s pleasure. Tonight is different. I feel uninhibited. I instinctively know that he’ll

accept me as I am. He’ll fulfill any desire I have.

I sense he’s a considerate, attentive lover.

“You want to fuck me, Olivia.” He closes the distance between us with heavy, measured steps. “You’re thinking about it now.”


Tags: Deborah Bladon Just This Once Erotic