The elevator doors slid shut, encasing them in a small, silent box of gold and glass. Emma could feel the heat radiating from James's body without touching him. She stared at the numbers climbing, her heartbeat thundering in her ears with each floor they passed.

She risked a glance at him. He was not looking at her. He was staring straight ahead, but his jaw was tight, a muscle jumping in his cheek. He was not as calm as he pretended to be. The thought sent a dangerous thrill through her.

When his hand finally moved, just his fingers brushing the small of her back, electricity shot up her spine. Her breath stuttered.

"Nervous?" His voice was low, intimate in the confined space.

"Should I be?" She tried to sound confident, but her voice came out breathless.

His eyes dropped to her mouth. "Probably."

The suite itself embodied impersonal luxury, all glass and steel overlooking city lights. But when he looked at her, his gaze dark with raw hunger, Emma felt anything but cold.

He backed her gently against the cool wood of the penthouse door. Her knees went weak. His hands came up to brace the door on either side of her head, caging her in. His scent, sandalwood and rain and something purely male, filled her senses. Her eyes were drawn to the way his suit fit his shoulders perfectly, the warmth emanating from him.

His eyes were dark, almost black with want. "Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice rough with barely controlled desire.

Instead, her hands reached for him, fingers gripping the lapels of his suit jacket and pulling him closer. "Don't stop."

He kissed her then, his mouth claiming hers with a hunger that stole her breath. His lips were firm and demanding, yet tender, exploring her with a reverence that made her head spin. She gasped against him, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping in to taste her. Her body arched instinctively as his hands slid down her sides, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.

She could feel him, hard and ready against her stomach, and a wave of liquid heat pooled between her thighs.

He lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to the bed. The world narrowed to the feel of his body against hers, the taste of him on her tongue, bourbon and mint and pure male desire. He laid her down on the silk sheets, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck, down to her collarbone, sending shivers across her skin.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. His hand found the zipper of her simple black dress and slowly dragged it down, his knuckles grazing her spine. The sensation made her gasp. "I've been thinking about this since the moment you looked up at me with those defiant eyes."

She tugged at his shirt, yanking it from his waistband. Buttons scattered as she revealed the hard planes of his chest, scattered with dark hair that trailed down his toned abdomen. Her hands explored him, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her palm, the heat of his skin.

"Impatient," he murmured, amused. But his own hands were just as desperate, peeling away her dress to reveal the simple cotton bra and panties beneath. They were so different from what women in his world wore, but the hunger in his eyes made her feel like the most desirable woman alive.

"These," he growled, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties. "Off. Now."

She lifted her hips, and he dragged them down her legs in one smooth motion. The cool air hit her overheated skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he stared at her, completely bare to him.

"Fucking perfect," he breathed.

He trailed kisses down her throat, across her collarbone, lower still. His mouth closed over her breast, his tongue circling her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. She moaned, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him to her. The sensation was overwhelming, pleasure bordering on too much, and when his teeth grazed the sensitive peak, she cried out.

"James."

"I want to hear you say my name like that again," he demanded, his voice rough. His hand slid down her body, fingers finding the slick heat between her thighs. "So fucking wet already."

She should have been embarrassed by how ready she was for him, but the raw approval in his voice only made her wetter. His fingers parted her folds, one thick digit sliding inside her as his thumb found her clit.

"Oh God." Her hips bucked against his hand.

"Not God," he corrected, adding a second finger and curling them to hit that perfect spot inside her. "James. I want you to remember who's making you feel this way."

He worked her with expert precision, his fingers pumping in and out while his thumb circled her clit in maddening strokes. Pleasure built like a storm inside her, coiling tighter and tighter in her core. Her thighs trembled, her hands fisting in the silk sheets.

"That's it, Emma. Come for me. Let me feel you."

The command in his voice sent her over the edge. Her orgasm crashed through her in waves, her inner walls clenching around his fingers as she cried out his name. Stars exploded behind her eyes, pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

She was still trembling when he shed the rest of his clothes. Her eyes widened as she took him in, all of him. He was big, thick and hard, his cock jutting proudly from the dark hair at his groin. A bead of moisture glistened at the tip.

"See what you do to me?" he asked, wrapping his hand around himself and stroking slowly. "I've been hard since the moment I touched you downstairs."

He positioned himself between her legs, the blunt head of his cock pressing against her entrance. She was still sensitive from her first orgasm, every nerve ending alive and singing.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, his voice rough with barely leashed control.

She did, lost in the intensity of his dark eyes as he entered her slowly, inch by inch. The stretch was exquisite, a perfect fullness that made her gasp. He was so much bigger than she'd expected, and her body struggled to accommodate him.

"Breathe," he murmured, kissing her jaw, her neck, giving her time to adjust. "That's it. Take all of me."

When he was fully seated inside her, they both groaned. He stayed still for a moment, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath coming in harsh pants. "You feel incredible. So tight. So perfect."

Then he began to move. Slow at first, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, hitting depths she didn't know existed. But slow wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

"More," she demanded, her nails digging into his back. "Harder."

Something primal flashed in his eyes. "Careful what you ask for."

His control snapped. He withdrew and slammed back in, the force of it making her cry out in pleasure. He set a punishing rhythm, thrusting deep and hard, his hips pistoning against hers. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, mixed with their gasps and moans.

She met him thrust for thrust, her hips rising to take him deeper. The pleasure built again, faster this time, a second wave rising to crash over her.

He angled his hips, and suddenly he was hitting that perfect spot inside her with every thrust. "Right there!" she gasped. "Don't stop, oh God, don't stop."

"Never," he growled. His hand slipped between their bodies, his fingers finding her swollen clit and rubbing tight circles. "Come again. Come on my cock, Emma. I want to feel you fall apart."

The dual sensation, him filling her completely while his fingers worked her clit, was too much. Her second orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, even stronger than the first. She screamed his name, her entire body convulsing as pleasure whited out her vision.

"Fuck, Emma." He thrust twice more, hard and deep, before his own release overtook him. He groaned her name as he came, his body shuddering, his face transformed by raw pleasure.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her into his arms immediately. Their skin was slick with sweat, their breathing harsh in the quiet room.

For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Emma felt his fingers trailing lazy patterns on her shoulder, his other hand resting possessively on her hip.

"That was..." she started, unable to find words.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice still rough. He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Give me ten minutes and I'll show you it gets even better."

She laughed, surprised by the easy intimacy between them. This was supposed to be a one-night mistake, but it didn't feel like a mistake. It felt inevitable.

True to his word, ten minutes later he was ready again. This time he took his time, exploring every inch of her body with his mouth and hands. He discovered that the spot behind her ear made her gasp, that she was ticklish along her ribs, that she made the most beautiful sounds when he used his tongue between her thighs.

He made her come twice more with just his mouth, holding her hips down as she writhed and begged. Only when she was trembling and oversensitive did he finally enter her again, this time taking her slowly, deeply, drawing out the pleasure until she was sobbing his name.

When they finally collapsed together again, exhausted and sated, the first hints of dawn were coloring the sky beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

James pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin. His hand stroked her hair with surprising gentleness. "Stay," he whispered against her hair, his voice thick with sleep. "Don't go."

"I'm right here." She pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder, breathing in his scent, now mixed with hers. Warmth spread through her chest. He wasn't untouchable. He was just a lonely man who'd found something real, even if just for a night.

Her body felt deliciously used, marked by him in ways that would linger. Small bruises where his fingers had gripped too tightly. The pleasant ache between her thighs. The slight burn on her skin from his stubble.

She should have known better. Should have kept her walls up. But wrapped in his arms, feeling safer than she had in years, she let herself believe, just for a moment, that this could be more than one night.

He was asleep, his breathing deep and even against her back. One heavy arm was draped over her waist, holding her close even in sleep. For the first time in years, Emma felt a sense of complete safety.

Then her phone began to vibrate against the nightstand. Once. Twice. Five times.

Pure anxiety cut through the warm haze. Before she even looked, she knew with bone-deep certainty that everything had changed.

The screen's harsh blue light illuminated nine missed calls from Mercy General Hospital.

Her world stopped.