She rolled back her shoulders. Just because things had never been hot between her and Chaz didn’t mean they couldn’t be. She’d never fought to make their sex life better than it was. She’d been a coward, but not anymore.

She knocked and waited. Nothing.

The windows were dark. Should she have called? Had he gone to bed? She’d wanted to surprise him. She’d dressed in a black skirt and halter, an outfit that revealed more than her normal choices. She’d never dressed like this for him because she hadn’t thought he’d like it. But then she hadn’t thought he’d like black leather lingerie either and look where that had gotten them.

She knocked again and put her ear by the door, listening for the sound of footsteps. Nothing.

She could call him. But maybe he’d gone to bed and this was her chance to slip under the sheets with him and wake him up in a much more interesting way. Why didn’t the idea appeal to her more? This was her potential future-fiancé. She shouldn’t be mildly put-off by the idea of waking him up with her body.

She held her breath and turned the knob, hoping he might have kept it unlocked.

When it turned and the door opened, apprehension rose up in her. She was really going to do this.

She and Chaz had had sex plenty of times, but this was different. This would change everything between them. At least she hoped…

From the door, she could hear the music pulsing from the bedroom. She frowned and followed the sound, walking through the great room. Maybe he’d been getting things ready for her and hadn’t heard her knock. She turned into the bedroom and froze.

A blonde was on all fours in the middle of the bed and Chaz was behind her, guiding her h*ps as he took her from behind. He was so lost in his own pleasure, he didn’t even notice Riley until the laughter bubbled from her lips.

She didn’t bother watching him scramble as she let herself out, giggles wracking her body, edging closer to hysteria with every step. She’d wanted some excitement in their love life and her wish had been granted.

“Riley!”

She’d almost made it out the door when his fingers wrapped around her arm. “Fuck off, Chaz.” The words felt strange in her mouth—foreign—but delicious.

“I can explain.”

She shook her head. “No need. What, did you want me to join you? Or am I just supposed to stand aside while you give her all your sexual energy and screw me like a puritan?” She yanked her arm from his grasp.

“You’re angry. I get that. But cool off, and tomorrow we’ll talk.”

Another bout of laughter seized her. She snorted. She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt the tears on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “She’s nothing to me. Just some woman I met in the casino. Just a good time to burn off some energy.”

Her laughter tasted bitter on her tongue. “What about the texts, huh, Chaz?”

He pulled a hand through his dark hair. “Seriously? You’re angry that I forgot to send you a text message? I was busy tonight.”

She released a puff of air. “I can see that.”

“Listen, I’m not sure why you came over like this, but did you think maybe you should call first?”

Her jaw worked, but she couldn’t find words. He was angry. As if he’d been wronged.

“Riley, I proposed to you today and you turned me down, so don’t make me out to be some asshole.”

“I said I needed time.” She looked up, willing her tears to hold off another minute. “Whatever this was between us, it’s over.”

He pulled a hand through his dark hair. “You don’t understand. There are some things a man wants to do, urges that he has he doesn’t want to satisfy with the future mother of his children.”

She flinched at that twist of the knife. “Aren’t you talking out both sides of your mouth now? You did it because I won’t marry you, but I’m going to be the mother to your children?”

“Won’t you be, Riley? Eventually?”

The blonde emerged from the bedroom, a gold satin robe wrapped around her.

“I can’t talk about this right now,” Riley said, because the last thing she wanted was to have this conversation while looking at the woman with whom Chaz wanted to satisfy his “urges.”

She needed to call a cab. She was out on the sidewalk, reaching for her cell when it rang. Call from Charles Spencer.

“Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to you right now.” She hated the sound of her voice—shaky and pathetic as her chest shook with her tears.

“Whoa! Hold up. What happened? Did I miss something?”

A sense of calm washed over her. That wasn’t Chaz’s voice. It was Charlie’s.

***

I love you.

Charlie frowned and paced through his suite. What the hell had just happened? Why was she pissed? “Riley, tell me what just happened.”

I love you.

She wasn’t the first woman to spring those words on him, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

She’s the first woman you liked hearing it from, a voice in his mind nudged.

He shifted on the couch in his suite and waited for her explanation to the rapid change in her attitude. Maybe she was embarrassed she’d typed the words at all, and now she was taking that out on him.

“Charlie?” she said, and his name sounded like a question.

“What’s going on, Riley?” Because, hell, he deserved to know. He’d been pushing it by asking her to come to him, but he couldn’t go to her. He needed to know that she wanted this as much as he did. He’d needed her to make a move live and in-person because his male ego refused to continue playing second fiddle to some other guy.

I love you.

Fuck it. He needed her to come to him because he wanted to believe someone like Riley could love someone like him.

“Holy crap,” she whispered. “I—I’m sorry. I thought you were Chaz.”

“Chaz…your boyfriend?” So that’s why she hadn’t come over. She was busy fighting with that idiot—a fight that had her in tears from the sound of it. That just went to show Chaz was too damn important to her for Charlie’s peace of mind.

“He’s not my boyfriend. Not anymore.”

He collapsed on the couch, leaning his head back and grinning. “Good to hear you say it.”

“Did you…” She took in a shaky breath. Tears were making her voice thick. “Tonight? Oh, Jesus, last night. Our text messages? They were…”

“Special?” he supplied. “Sexy? Wicked hot?” He felt his lips twist into a grin. “And, tell me if I’m on target with this last one, but I was going for orgasmic.”

She laughed, and Charlie relaxed—Chaz or no, there was nothing he enjoyed more than making this woman smile.

“Tell me about your fight with Chaz,” he said, then wished he hadn’t. He didn’t need to get himself involved in their relationship. He didn’t have the heart not to paint Chaz as the bad guy in any scenario, partly because it was likely the truth and partly because Charlie was a selfish ass who wanted Riley to himself.

I love you.

Yes, he wanted her for himself, and that want was made all the more intense by her feelings for him. If Riley had fallen for him, she must have seen him as more than the womanizer she’d accused him of being. She must have seen him for more than the kid from the wrong side of the tracks who had some luck at the poker table.

Her sigh was heavy, and Charlie found himself wondering if it was confusion or regret weighing it down. “I don’t think Chaz is the man I thought he was.”

“We rarely are,” he said softly, his eyes drifting to the subpoena papers on his desk. If Angela had really known what kind of man Charlie was, she wouldn’t have bothered with this legal bullshit. If she’d had a clue what he was about, she would have owned up to the secret she’d kept from him for sixteen years and asked him to do the tests. “Anything specific bring this to your attention?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” she said.

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t want to talk at all. I just want…I want to stop being a coward.”

“Riley, you are no coward. In fact, you’re—”

“I have to go, Charlie.” The line went dead, and Charlie was left cussing at an empty room.

He pulled a hand over his face. She had him tied up in knots, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to do next.

He looked at the papers from Angela. It had been interesting meeting “Derrick” today. Riley wasn’t the only part of his life where he’d been dealt a hand he wasn’t sure how to play, and every good poker player knows decisions need to be made with confidence.

Five minutes later, his phone beeped, alerting him to a text message. I’m downstairs.

His stomach clenched. Riley. God, every time he pictured her face, he grew hard, still imagining her placing the vibrator between her legs last night. He liked knowing she’d been thinking of him, not some as**ole kind-of boyfriend, when she came.

And now she was here.

Chapter Eleven

“I was going to come to your room,” Riley whispered to Charlie when the elevator doors opened.

She’d grabbed a key from housekeeping that would get her into Charlie’s suite because the elevators wouldn’t go to the penthouse floors without it. Stairs weren’t an option. She was able to take the stairs to her office every day because, in the executive tower, the alarm wasn’t programmed to sound if the stairs were used. In the penthouse tower, on the other hand, the standard automatic door alarm was still engaged. Those stairs were for fire escape only. Opening the doors would wake every living creature in the place…probably some dead ones too.

She looked at Charlie’s face. His soft smile, those ice blue eyes turning darker as he stared at her. This was about more than a fire alarm.

Riley had wasted two years betting everything on a man who had offered nothing in return, and seeing him with that woman hurt. But she’d also been a little…relieved.

When Charlie called her and she realized her phone had been mis-programmed, she’d wanted to come here, she’d wanted to prove to herself that she could be wild, that she could live in the moment just once.

She’d come knowing she’d have to get in that elevator. She’d come wanting to face that almost as much as she wanted to be with Charlie.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she said.

From inside the elevator, Charlie extended a hand.

She shook her head. “But I am,” she whispered. “I want to so much. But I can’t.”

“Look at me.”

His Oxford shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and he’d rolled his sleeves to his elbows, exposing thick, muscular forearms.

He was beautiful—sexy, with hungry eyes that devoured her from where he stood. The way he looked at her—ran his eyes over her, lingering on her hips, her breasts—was erotic and every bit as effective as if his fingers touched each place his eyes lingered.

During their short phone conversation, her sluggish brain had clicked together all the pieces and rewritten history—sexy texts in her office from Charlie, instructions to touch herself with her vibrator from Charlie.

The decision to come to him—to be with him—had been the easiest Riley had ever made.

It was a damn shame the elevator stood between her and that objective.

Charlie took a step forward. Framed by the elevator’s gaping mouth, he pressed one hand against the door and extended the other to her.

She looked into his eyes and took his hand. She could do this.

She stepped into the elevator and jumped as the doors slid closed behind her.

“You are so much braver than you think,” he said, his breath against her ear.

The space was too small. The walls too solid. There wasn’t enough room.

“Riley, close your eyes.”

She gasped and blinked. There wasn’t enough air. She had to get out.

She eyed the ceiling for the panels people always climbed through in the movies, but when she lifted her gaze, the ceiling dropped two feet closer to her head. Her stomach pitched.

“Close your eyes, Riley.”

She couldn’t breathe. Air wasn’t entering her lungs. She clawed at the neckline of her shirt. She had to—

Charlie’s warm hand slid under her shirt and he pulled her back against him. “Relax.”

“I can’t relax. You don’t understand. I’m—”

He swept her hair over her shoulder and pressed his mouth her neck. “Close your eyes for me.” His voice was deeper, softer, his breath against her ear.

She let her lids drift closed and irrationally wished he had done this in her office earlier. Her office, the hall, the restaurant, the middle of the street—anywhere but closed up and trapped inside this—

“Whatever you’re thinking about, stop. You’re not doing yourself any favors.”

“What...what do you want me to think about?” she asked, feeling her panic rise again. She kept her eyes closed. If she couldn’t see the walls, she could breathe. She couldn’t risk opening them now.

He slid his hand further around her, circled her navel with his thumb. “Think of something that relaxes you,” he said, moving his hand to brush the underside of her breasts. “Think of why you came to me. And relax.”

Oh, boy. This certainly didn’t relax her. Her pulse spiked but not in the thready panicked way of ninety seconds ago. This was a powerful spike. The kind that sent signals to the brain to pump more blood and to pump it all to her breasts, nipples, and the sweet, hungry spot between her legs—ASAP.