He groaned, holding her tight as his brows scrunched, his groans turned primal, and he came too.

  * * *

  They lay tangled up in each other, clothes still half-on, having fallen into bed.

  “If my calculations are correct, that was twice,” he said, as he ran his fingers through her hair. He loved the feel of her hair against his skin.

  “That has never happened to me before,” she said, still dazed, and he wanted her to look like that again and again with him. As soon as he thought that, he realized he didn’t want a one-night stand with her. He wanted two nights, three nights, more and more. To make her come again and again. To bring out that response.

  “We can do it again,” he said, offering in a tone that was both playful but truly sincere. He wanted her to know he meant it. He turned on his side, propping his head on his hand, running his fingers down her hipbone. “Michelle with two Ls, what would you think about another time?”

  “Well, I should hope you’re planning on another time in about, say,” she stopped to look at her watch, “fifteen minutes.”

  He laughed lightly. “Yes, obviously this room is for multiples of multiple orgasms, and I fully intend on fucking you again in, say, ten minutes.” Then he turned more serious, because he wanted her to know that this could be more than one night. Funny, how he hadn’t expected that, and had figured a quick romp and then goodbye would be all that was needed. But even though he had no intention of anything serious happening, because he was no good at those type of relationships, he could go for dinner, and another night like this. Or just skip the meal and have her come over to his penthouse apartment, drink wine, and then enjoy some window sex in front of the full-length glass in his living room that overlooked the park. Yeah, he could go for either, both, any combo. “But I also would love to see you again. What are you doing this weekend?”

  She paused, the corner of her lips quirking up in a half-smile. “Just Jack, are you asking me out on a date?”

  He grinned, then leaned in for a quick kiss, brushing his lips against her bruised and red ones, the evidence of how she’d been kissed, and desired. His mark on her, this woman he wanted. “I suppose I am.”

  “Then you’re going to need to be more than Just Jack. Want to cough up that last name now?” she said, making a gimme motion with her hands.

  He parted his lips to answer, but was cut short when Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” started playing, a loud crescendo of the most famous part of the piece of music. Michelle twitched, her shoulders visibly tensing. She sprang out of bed, hunting for her purse, then fishing around in it for her phone as she buttoned her shirt. Possibilities flashed through his brain—was she married? Was this the Bat Call from a friend, saving her from a man she didn’t want?

  “Michelle here,” she said in a crisp, business-like tone as she tucked her shirt into her skirt.

  Maybe it was work. He didn’t know what she did for a living.

  Listening to the call, she nodded several times as she stuffed her feet back into her black pumps, then smoothed a hand down her shirt. “I understand. Please tell her I will call her in three minutes.”

  She hung up, and sighed heavily. “Jack. I’m so, so sorry. That was my service. A patient of mine needs me. But I swear I want to see you again, so please take my number and call me tomorrow, okay?”

  He narrowed his eyes, not sure if he believed her. “If you just want a one-time thing, that’s cool. Or if you’re married and rushing home to your husband, maybe let me know that too so I can stay far away.”

  She walked quickly to the bed, bending down to drop a kiss on his lips. “I swear I’m not married, not even close. And I haven’t been involved with anyone in ages, and I would really like to see you again, so give me your number and I’ll call you right now so you have mine in your phone,” she said, and she seemed so earnest and bullshit-free that he chose to believe her. He knew what she did now; she was a doctor, and that made sense since she’d said she made people feel better. Noble profession, and all. He rattled off his number, and she dialed it. His phone sounded from his pocket.

  She arched an eyebrow. “You like Ravel?”

  He nodded. “Classical music aficionado here.”

  “We have so much to talk about. Text me tomorrow. And, Jack?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for the two best orgasms of my life.”

  “Next time, we’ll make it a double of a double.”

  “I’m going to hold you to it. And on that, I need to run,” she said, slinging her purse higher on her shoulder then opening the door. It clanged loudly behind her when it shut, the sound of the night ending far too soon.

  He shifted to his back, tucking his hands behind his bed, and staring at the ceiling. Too bad the room didn’t have an hourly rate, because they’d only used it for thirty minutes.

  The sound of a siren echoed in the distance, the noise of New York inserting itself into another moment. The room closed in on him, suddenly too small, too empty as he longed for both her company and her body.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ONE NIGHT WITH HER

  Your 2 p.m.

  Jack wiped the slight sheen of sweat from his forehead and took aim, cleanly delivering the basketball through the net.

  “Did you miss me last night?” Nate asked as he grabbed the ball.

  Jack laughed. “Not one bit.”

  Nate raised an eyebrow as he dribbled the ball between his legs. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

  His friend knew him too well. But then, any man would know what he meant, because that’s where a man’s mind was most of the time. Nate was no different. Besides, now that Nate’s friend Bryan had settled down with Nate’s sister, Jack was the one regularly quizzed about his late-night antics. He hadn’t had much to say lately though, and he certainly hadn’t shared details of his sex life with Aubrey back when they were together. Though his times with her had never been as exciting as only one night with Michelle.

  It was okay that he was the quieter one when it came to the morning-after report. Nate usually had enough fodder for the both of them.

  “Maybe it does,” he said as Nate took his turn shooting.

  “And does that mean you’ll be the one canceling drinks next time?” Nate asked as Jack grabbed the ball.

  “You know what? It just might mean that. But for a much better reason than working late on a deal.”

  “That deal is going to make my company a lot of money¸ though.”

  “That’s a good thing then.”

  “Yeah, but not as good as other things.”

  He flashed back to last night. To Michelle’s body, half-naked. He’d need to get the rest of her clothes off tonight.

  “You’re right. Definitely not as good as other things that I’m going to engage in again tonight,” he said with a wicked grin.

  “Lucky bastard,” Nate whistled as the ball sailed through the net.

  Maybe he was talking about the ball. Or maybe he was talking about the possibility of another time. The latter was a hell of a lot more exciting.

  So exciting that he sent Michelle a text as soon as they finished shooting hoops that morning.

  J: Are you still holding me to that foursome of orgasms tonight? Because I plan on delivering.

  M: Four? Consider me game.

  He texted her on and off throughout his day, until it was time for his appointment, and even then he kept up the volley on his walk to the Lexington Avenue building.

  * * *

  M: By the way, did I tell you that I woke up this morning thinking about what you did to me against the wall?

  J: Did you touch yourself?

  M: What do you think?

  J: That you had that gorgeous sexy O mouth going on this morning in your bed.

  M: Maybe I did

  J: Would love to see that. Fingers or toys?

  M: Both. And if you want to know more, you’ll have to take me to dinner.

  J: That can be arranged, but I’m going to need to eat food, and eat you.

  M: How about you make arrangements for the former, and I do for the latter?

  J: I’ll make reservations at a restaurant. I might need to taste you first though. Not sure if I can wait. I’ll text you later. I have a meeting in five min. Walking into the building now.

  M: Mmm . . . I like the way you think . . . and I have an appt too. Can’t wait to see you again.

  J: Can’t wait to see you.

  Michelle grinned wickedly as she turned her personal phone to silent, then tucked it into a desk drawer. She always gave her clients supreme focus, and that included not only silencing the phone, but placing it completely out of sight. Besides, Jack was already front and center in her mind; she didn’t need to clutter her thoughts with even more of him when she had to focus on her next patient. He was some kind of magic, though; he’d been the only man whose touch had made her forget Clay. She hadn’t thought of her good friend once last night. Jack had been so overpowering, so dominant that there was no room for anyone but Jack in her head and heart.

  He was a good drug, the kind who could wash away the bitter aftertaste of unrequitedness.

  Now, here in the light of day, her mind tripped briefly back to Clay. She’d been in love with that man for ten years, and it sucked that he hadn’t loved her back. She’d hoped that Liam, the charming actor she’d dated a few months ago, would blunt her feelings. But as she flipped open her laptop to check on her next appointment, Michelle knew there hadn’t been enough of a spark with Liam—there wasn’t a true light-up-the-night ignition that could erase the past.

  It would take a once-in-a-century eclipse to blot out the ache she’d felt for Clay, who was now so happy with another woman. Longing had camped out in her heart for so many years it had squatter’s rights. She wished someone had warned her that loving someone who doesn’t love you is like a permanent sore in the mouth—painful, and you want to touch it all the time, to worry away at it. The ache had dulled in the last few months, but he was still in her heart and she had no clue how to fully erase him.

  She clicked open her calendar, checking on the details of her next session. At least she had her work to focus on. Her clients and their challenges fed her, made her whole in a way that only her work as a psychologist could do. She scanned the notes from her office manager who’d arranged the appointment, though she knew very little about the man coming to see her. That was par for the course. She rarely knew much in advance, and her job was to get to know clients during their time together.

  But she knew this much. No first name, but the last name was Sullivan. His sister had called to set up the appointment for him, citing intimacy issues. There was a line about “difficulty moving on from last relationship,” and a reminder that discretion of the highest order was vital, since the patient was a prominent businessman.

  Not a problem. Never a problem. Discreet was Michelle Milo’s middle name. She hadn’t even breathed Shayla’s name out loud to Jack when she’d called her service late in the middle of the night to talk.

  Well, let’s see what we’ve got. She was ready to focus on this Sullivan fellow for the next hour.

  When she heard a knock at two o’clock sharp, she opened the door to her office, and all thoughts rushed out of her brain but one.

  One word. Blaring like a neon sign.

  Smoldering.

  This man was smoldering.

  And she’d already met him last night.

  NIGHTS WITH HIM

  Nights With Him Index

  About

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Epilogue

  ABOUT

  NIGHTS WITH HIM

  A sensual, sexy, standalone romance novel in the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Seductive Nights Series by Lauren Blakely...

  Jack Sullivan is a Sex Toy Mogul.

  An extremely eligible bachelor in New York, he’s the full package, right down to his full package. Hell, this man could be the model for one of the toys his company, Joy Delivered, peddles. Instead, he’s the powerful and successful CEO and he’s got commitment issues a mile-long after the tragic way his relationship with his fiancée ended.

  He’s looking for a way to erase the pain and that arrives in the form of Michelle Milo. From her pencil skirts to her high heels, she’s his perfect fantasy, especially since she has no idea who he is the night they meet at a hotel bar. He doesn’t have a clue either that she’s the brilliant psychologist his sister has arranged for him to see to help him get over his past.

  His touch helps her forget that other man.

  When he shows up at her office door the next day, there’s no way in hell she’s going to treat him after they’ve slept together. Jack isn’t willing to let go of the first woman he’s felt anything for in years so he proposes a deal – share her nights with him for thirty days. At the end of one month of exquisite pleasure, they walk away, having helped each other move on from their haunted pasts.

  But soon, all those nights threaten to turn into days as the lines between lust and matters of the heart start to blur. Can two people so terribly afraid of love truly fall head over heels?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Surprise

  No way.

  There was no way she was his shrink.

  This was a cruel joke his sister was playing on him. Casey had to be setting him up, right? Or his buddy Nate, who loved to pull these sorts of pranks. Except Nate had no clue he was here. He hadn’t given Nate a single meaningful detail about last night.

  Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him and he was seeing Michelle everywhere. If he closed his eyes, counted to ten, and opened them again, perhaps the Dr. Milo his sister had booked his appointment with would turn out to be a school-marm type. A grandmotherly lady. Hell, how about a man?

  Anyone fucking else, please.

  Anyone but the absolutely enticing sex kitten he couldn’t stop thinking of since last night’s mind-blowing up-against-the-wall-in-a-dimly-lit-hotel-room sex. Not the owner of the hottest pair of legs, the most sinful mouth, and the wildest abandon he’d ever encountered.

  He had plans for her. So many plans. Positions. Places.

  Frozen still, they were two statues caught in shock. Jack gripped the doorframe and swallowed hard. Michelle’s brown eyes were wide, etched with complete surprise as her hand remained wrapped around the doorknob, her knuckles white from the tight hold she had on it. The silence lasted, spinning from one second to the next to the next. As if this moment of sheer dumb bad luck would unspool if they did nothing. As if it would rewind into something that made sense. Finally, she went first.

  “I suppose I have the answer now to the ‘what’s your last name’ question,” she said in a strained voice.

  He nodded. “Sullivan. Jack Sullivan.” Then, manners and protocol kicked in. He extended a hand. She stared at his hand as if it were an object acquired from a distant planet, a space rock she needed to study. But then, she took it, and the second they made contact, memories of her hands slammed into him.

  He pictured them in his hair, grabbing his ass, trailing over his chest. Touching her own breasts.

  Desire rolled through him, and he tried to tamp it down. To banish the thickening lust that was clouding his head as he flashed back to last night.

  Was he supposed to tell her all his problems? All the troubles that gnawed at him? The guilt that liked to play hide-and-seek with his heart, reminding him when it peeked out from around the corner that Aubrey’s death was something he’d unlikely ever come to peace with. That’s why Casey had sent him here; Casey was the only one who knew precisely why the mythology the press had assigned to his newly-single status was horseshit. As if they could understand his heart, and his reasons. He hardly understood them himself.

  He barely unloaded on his sister; he couldn’t imagine telling Michelle what had brought him here.

  Correction. Dr. Milo. Doctor of Psychology, as the diploma on her wall informed him.

  “And you’re Dr. Michelle Milo,” he began. “Or Dr. Milo, which was the name I had on my schedule. I didn’t know last night that my Michelle was the same Dr. Milo.” She flinched when he said my Michelle. The words surprised him too; he shouldn’t feel any sort of ownership for her, less than twenty-four hours after meeting. But hell, she was the first woman he’d felt a real thing for, a true fucking emotion, since Aubrey. Maybe that emotion was lust. Maybe it was lust plus possibility. He didn’t know, but he’d enjoyed his time with Michelle in and out of the sheets. Even if it was too early, he was staking his claim to her. She didn’t seem to want it, though, because she let go of his hand.

  Crap. Did she think he’d scoped her out beforehand and tried to seduce her? That he’d pursued his shrink in advance, in some sort of clandestine operation? “I swear, I had no idea,” he added, wanting to make sure they were crystal clear on that point.

  She shook her head and shushed him, then grabbed his lapels, jerked him into her office and shut the door with a lightning kind of speed.

  “I don’t want anyone hearing us,” she said, still in a whisper. She stepped away from him, walked to her couch, and pressed a button on a noise machine on an end table. A low hum filled the room. She turned around. “To preserve confidentiality,” she said, waving her hand at the whirring machine.