“I’ll be living here now, you know?” she said. “Did Jonathan tell you that?”

  No, he didn’t fucking tell me that ... “He may have mentioned it in passing.”

  “I’m sure he did.” She smiled. “Enough about me. How have you been?”

  “Good. I’ve just started—” I paused as she bit her bottom lip and winked at me. “I’ve just started my own company, so this will be my last year working with your brother. Are you still in business school?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.” She ignored my question and rubbed my shoulder. “It looks sexy as hell on you.”

  Is she drunk?

  I blinked as she continued to rub my shoulder in a non-long-lost-friend way. It was definitely in an ‘I’m trying to fuck you’ way.

  “Thank you for the compliment,” I said, lifting her wrist and pushing it away. “When exactly did you get to San Francisco?”

  “Earlier this week. Why?”

  “No reason.” I wondered why Jonathan didn’t tell me about this. He usually gave me notice about anything regarding his family, so her sudden appearance wasn't making much sense. Then again, everything I knew about Hayley stopped making sense years ago.

  "I'll be working at Statham Industries while I'm in town." Her hand was on my chest now, and her eyes were locked on mine. "I think that means I'll be seeing more of you, right?"

  An image of her wrapping her legs around me while I fucked her against the roof’s railing suddenly crossed my mind.

  Shit ...

  "Um." I stepped back and pulled my phone out of my pocket. “I need to go handle something.”

  “You’re leaving?” She looked disappointed. “Now?”

  “Yeah, I need to—” Get the hell away from you. “I need to go check on something. It was very nice seeing you again, Hayley.”

  “Oh, okay.” She looked somewhat hurt. “Well, I um. I guess we’ll see each other around? Maybe in your office—next week?”

  I didn't answer that. I stepped back. “Have a good night.”

  She didn’t respond. She just stood there in that perfect, purple dress—looking like the sexiest woman I'd ever seen.

  I made my way through the crowd, stopping in front of the painting I wanted most. I logged into the portal to make sure I'd rerouted the final bid to myself, and then I headed back inside the hotel.

  As I waited for the elevator, I scrolled through my list of contacts. I’d been so busy over the past few months laying the groundwork for my company that I hadn’t had much time for sex, but I needed to fix that tonight.

  I needed to make sure I screwed all the images of Hayley writhing beneath me out of my mind, forever. I settled on Hannah, a woman who never wanted anything more than sex every six months or so.

  Although she does have a problem with being on time.

  The elevator doors sprung open, and I took the cart straight to the penthouse suite. I sent Hannah a text, tipped the bellman, and sent the concierge an email.

  SUBJECT: HAYLEY STATHAM + Request

  Could you please make sure that whenever she leaves the party upstairs, that she leaves alone?

  (If you’re unsure of what she looks like, she's the most attractive woman at the party—the blonde in the purple dress)

  Also, I’m expecting a guest tonight. Let her up when she arrives. No need to call and verify anything.

  —Corey W.

  HIS REPLY WAS IMMEDIATE.

  SUBJECT: RE: HAYLEY Statham + Request

  As you wish, Mr. Walters.

  —Concierge, The Roosevelt Hotel

  TAKING OFF MY JACKET, I headed into my suite’s kitchen and took out a bottle of vintage red wine and two glasses. Too impatient to wait for Hannah, I poured a glass for myself. As I sipped, an image of Hayley’s red lips crossed my mind.

  Fuck.

  I groaned and pulled out the scotch, tossing back two shots.

  An hour passed and Hannah still hadn’t shown, so I poured myself a final glass of wine and headed to my bedroom. Hitting the lights, I took off my shirt and tossed it across the floor before falling back against my mattress.

  I should’ve known.

  No matter how many times Hannah claimed that she was "twenty minutes away," she always meant an hour. Period. On the plus side, she had a very seductive way of waking me up if I fell asleep.

  I started to send her one last, "Where the hell are you?" text, but there was no point. She'd get here around two o'clock in the morning.

  By the time I began drifting into a deep sleep, I felt her warm lips pressing against mine.

  “Did you get lost?” I asked, sliding my hands against her sides. She wasn’t wearing anything but lace panties and a bra.

  “No.”

  "Do you know what the words 'twenty minutes' mean?" I slapped her ass, and she gasped.

  "Um hmm..."

  I slipped my hands against her back and unclasped her bra. I pushed it up her chest and palmed her breasts, stopping once my fingers caressed her nipples.

  “When did you get a boob job?”

  “What?” she whispered, sounding offended. “Never. Why would you ask me that?”

  “Because, no offense, last time I saw you, you had B-cups. Maybe. These are definitely D-cups.”

  “If this is your idea of dirty talk,” she whispered, “I can give you some pointers on how to do it better.”

  "I'm sure." I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, and she gasped, stiffening again. I trailed my tongue against her skin, confused as to why she was this responsive to my touch tonight.

  Maybe she’s drunk.

  “Hannah?” I asked.

  She didn’t answer. She simply murmured when I bit her neck.

  “Hannah?” I sighed and leaned back. “How much did you drink tonight?”

  "A couple of shots."

  Why the hell is she still whispering?

  "Do you want to finish this in the morning?" I asked. "I think you've had way more than a couple of shots."

  “Not at all.” She straddled me in the dark, fumbling for my belt buckle. Then she whispered, “I want to finish it now.”

  "Whatever you say, sweetheart." I pulled her face close to mine again and kissed her lips a few more times. For some reason, her mouth felt like perfection against mine, and I couldn’t get enough of it.

  I slid a hand between her thighs and pushed her panties to the side. Pressing my palm against her pussy, I slowly slid a finger inside of her—pulling it out when I felt how tight she was. "You're soaking wet..."

  She moaned as I bit down hard on her bottom lip and gently tugged it with my teeth. My cock hardened beneath her hips as she writhed her body against me.

  Still kissing her, I grabbed her hand and placed it on my zipper, silently commanding her to pull out my cock. Instead, she slowly slipped her hand into my briefs, stopping right when she felt how hard I was.

  “Is something wrong?” I pulled away from her mouth.

  "No, I ..." Her voice trailed off, and her body was trembling. "I um ..."

  “Okay, look. We don’t have to do this tonight. I would hope that you know I’m not the type that—” I stopped mid-sentence when I rubbed my hands against her arms and felt several, smooth raised lines on her skin. I rubbed them again to make sure I wasn’t imagining this, but before I could completely form a coherent thought, her hair fell on my chest, and I lost my shit.

  This woman was definitely not Hannah. From what I remembered, Hannah didn’t have any scars on her arms and she damn sure didn’t have long hair.

  Confused as hell, I pushed the mystery woman off me and got the hell out of bed. I stumbled toward the nightstand and hit the lights so I could see who the hell she was.

  The second the lights came on, my jaw fell to the floor.

  “Hayley?” I blinked a few times, refusing to believe this. “Hayley, what the hell are you doing here?”

  She didn’t answer.

  "Hayley," I said, my tone a bit harsher. "Why are you here?"

  "I just wanted to finally have sex tonight ..." She sat up slowly, slurring her words. "I wanted my first time to be with someone I knew."

  “Your first time?”

  She nodded, covering her breasts with her hands.

  Holy shit. "Okay, babe. This is what's about to happen. You're going to put your goddamn clothes on, I'm going to take you home, and the two of us are going to act like this shit never happened. Got it?"

  “I’ll call a cab.” She fell off the bed, hitting her head against the wall. But she got right back up and grabbed her dress, slowly pulling it over her body. “I don’t need a ride from you.”

  "Like I would allow you to get a cab at this time of night.” I zipped up my pants and sighed. “For the record, Hayley, I would never sleep with you.”

  “Because of Jonathan?”

  “Because of a lot of things.” I picked up her stilettos and placed them next to her.

  "Why not? You're clearly aroused." She glanced at my pants. My erection was straining against the fabric.

  “I was aroused because I thought you were someone I knew who wanted to get fucked and—” I stopped myself. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. Let’s go.”

  I left the room and grabbed my car keys off the kitchen counter, waiting for her to step out.

  Holding her heels in her hands, she avoided looking at me as I led her to the elevator.

  I held my keycard against the panel so it would take us straight to the lower garage, and then I stared at her all the way down. Even disheveled and intoxicated, she was a vision, and I knew from this moment on that her being in the same city was going to be a problem.

  When the doors opened, she stood there—blinking, so I slipped my arm around her waist and walked her over to my car.

  "This is nice." She ran her hand over the hood. "Is this a Bugatti?"

  “It's a Ferrari.” I opened the door and motioned for her to get in.

  She didn’t step forward. Instead, she laughed and dropped her shoes—confirming that she was beyond drunk.

  I picked her up and helped her into the seat. Then I placed her heels and purse onto the floor, adjusting the seatbelt for her.

  Sliding behind the wheel and cranking the engine, I sped out of the garage and onto the empty streets.

  “Where are you currently staying, Hales?” I looked over at her as I approached a red light.

  “Hales?” She snorted. “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore. Only the people who I like can, and that no longer includes you. I told you long ago that our friendship is over. Overrrrrr.”

  I rolled my eyes and repeated myself. “Where are you currently staying, Hayley?”

  “The Four Seasons.”

  “Of course.” Her brother owned one of the exclusive penthouse suites. I wanted to ask where she would be staying permanently, but I needed to keep this conversation to a minimum.

  As I pulled onto the highway, she turned her head toward the window. “Is this how you operate these days, Corey? Leave your hotel suite open for whoever wants to come and fuck you?”

  “The weather here is nice.” I wasn’t going there with her, ever. “I think you’ll enjoy living in San Francisco.”

  “You always seemed like you were going to end up being the nice guy type when we were younger, you know? Not a playboy.” She looked over at me. “For the record, you’re sexy as hell now, and I had no idea your cock was that huge. Too bad I only felt it and didn’t see it.”

  Jesus ... “You’ll also want to make sure to check out the private marina on Fisherman’s Wharf.”

  “You didn’t like the way we kissed when I was on top of you?” She leaned back in the seat. “You were gripping my ass like you didn’t want the kiss to end, so I could've sworn you were enjoying it.”

  “I’m not sure if Jonathan is going to buy you a car while you’re living here,” I said, now speeding so I could get her out of my car and into her hotel room ASAP. “I highly suggest asking him to get you a private driver. Either that or make use of a town car service while you're here."

  “I think you prefer your sex rough.” She smoothed the hem of her dress. “I mean, it seemed like that from the way you kept biting my bottom lip. Is that true?”

  “I prefer my car rides in silence. That’s true.”

  “You know,” she said, looking over at me again. “I’ve never slept with any of my boyfriends, so that’s probably why the relationships don’t last. Did you know I was still a virgin?”

  I didn’t answer that. The image of her staring at me and saying, “my first time” was still fresh on my mind.

  “I’ll be sure to insist that your brother and his soon-to-be-fiancée schedule some city tours for you when you finally sober up,” I said. “I highly doubt you’ll even remember any of what I’m saying to you anyway.”

  I managed to drive five miles without her saying a word, but she eventually cleared her throat and sighed.

  “Hey, Corey?”

  Please don't ask me anything else inappropriate... “Yes, Hayley?”

  "I know it's been a long time since we spoke, but I still remember when you used to call."

  I looked over at her, seeing her blue eyes focused on me. "I still remember when you used to answer."

  She leaned against the window and shut her eyes, and I was grateful that this conversation was over.

  Minutes later, her eyes fluttered open, and she placed her hands on her stomach.

  “Can you pull over?” She started heaving. "I think I need to—I think I need to vomit."

  "Not in this car you don't. Just try to hold it for five seconds so I can—”

  The sudden sound of splattering liquid hitting my floor ended my sentence.

  Damn...

  HAYLEY: TODAY

  (Present Day)

  San Francisco, California

  I OPENED MY EYES AND groaned as the rays of morning sunlight stung my face. My head was throbbing in pain, and my throat felt itchy and dry. Even my lips and nipples felt sore.

  I brought my hand up to my face to shield the sun and noticed a white note attached to my tennis bracelet:

  Miss Statham,

  I’m sorry to hear that you weren’t feeling well last night.

  There are bottles of water and two aspirin on your nightstand.

  A cold breakfast (and two plates of strawberries) are in the refrigerator, as you requested.

  If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.

  Thank you for staying with us!

  —Executive Suite Management,

  Four Seasons Hotels & Resorts

  I REREAD THE NOTE, wondering when I’d requested any of the things that were mentioned.

  I rolled over and looked around the room. My purple dress from last night was draped over the master chair, and loose glitter from my stilettos was sparkling all over the suite’s hardwood floor. My hands immediately went to my chest, and I realized I was wearing a white robe I couldn’t remember putting on.

  I couldn’t remember much of anything. Well, except seeing Corey on that roof.

  All I knew for sure was that I felt awful, and I was in desperate need of a shower.

  Tossing the covers off my body, I walked over to the nightstand and took the aspirin. I untied my robe and slipped into the stone shower, letting hot streams fall over me.

  “Ah ...” I leaned back against the rocks and let out deep breaths.

  I shut my eyes and tried to remember how the hell I'd gone from bidding on a painting for my brother, to seeing Corey, and getting back to my suite without blinking an eye.

  Images from last night began shuffling in my mind—Corey on the roof, a shot of cranberry and vodka, a conversation with the concierge, but the more I tried to process them, the more my head hurt.

  As the water fell harder and hotter over my body, a much longer memory began to play: I was picking up my sixth glass of vodka and cranberry juice from a waiter’s tray and forcing myself to laugh at some random suit’s joke. I was seconds away from calling a cab when I turned around and felt my entire world stop.

  All evening I’d heard whispers about a certain “Mr. W,” and how unbelievably sexy he was. How a single glance was all it took for any woman to want to sleep with him, and how he was the most desired bachelor in the entire city.

  The second Corey’s eyes met mine, I knew for a fact that he was exactly who everyone was talking about. He wasn’t the cute and chubby Corey with messy bed-hair anymore, the boy who wore T-shirts and ripped jeans for any occasion. This Corey was the utter definition of a wet dream.

  Cocky and confident, he was standing there all alone—completely oblivious to the lust-filled gazes and whispers that surrounded him. His dark brown hair was cut low, but long enough for a woman to run her fingers through during sex. His chiseled jawline made him appear far more intimidating than I remembered, and his full and defined lips caused butterflies to flutter against my stomach. I couldn’t help but fantasize about how they would feel pressed against mine.

  The black suit he was wearing—a three-piece with an emerald silk tie, perfectly complemented his deep, green eyes. And I could tell by the way the fabric clung to his body, that he was hiding a perfect set of abs underneath.

  When I approached him, he’d looked me up and down—as if he wanted to undress me on the spot.

  I remembered asking him a few questions, setting my drink down after he left, and asking the concierge to get me a cab. That was it. No matter how hard I strained to think of what could’ve possibly happened after that, no other memories from last night came.

  Turning off the water, I sighed and hoped the rest of it would become clear later.

  I managed to get back to my suite just fine ...

  I stepped out of the shower and put on a T-shirt and jeans. I downed the breakfast the hotel staff left for me, savoring each one of the strawberries, and before I could head out for a walk downtown, the room phone rang.