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“Come to my room with me,” he said. Then he took her upper lip between his two. Kissing her intently, long enough to stroke his tongue inside, then he pulled back only to let her answer.

She tried to keep her composure.

“Come to your room, huh? What, to see the great view?”

She felt his smile against her lips. “You’re a mouthy woman.” He kissed her again, taking a deeper taste, the feel of his warm tongue inside her mouth making her eyes flutter and her whole body heat ten degrees in a single second. “And the only view I’ll have is between these pretty thighs of yours.”

His voice was raspy, and Hannah opened her eyes to see him looking at her. His hands on her. Waiting for her to give the go-ahead.

She couldn’t deny this man, this Grant Laythem.

Because she had a feeling if she walked away now, she’d miss out on something she’d never have the chance to feel again . . .

Chapter Four

Grant shifted between dream and waking and, through the fog, wondered if last night had been real. He smiled, not opening his eyes because he felt the soft flannel sheets of the bed. Not his bed. His sheets were pressed and cold and back in a sterile penthouse apartment in New York. These sheets were warm and soft and well loved.

His wife’s sheets.

His wife’s bed.

His smile widened, knowing last night had been real, and he opened his eyes, hoping to be met with the sexy, warm body of his wife . . .

Empty.

He looked around the small room. The dresser had random jewelry, a sweater, and two coffee mugs on it. The little chair in the corner held a basket of clean laundry. And Hannah was nowhere to be found. The sun was shining through the window, and the slightest smell of ocean air wafted through the entire place.

He was in his wife’s home, small town, and bed. And yet, he was alone.

“This will not do,” he mumbled to himself. He missed her. After last night he was sure she missed him, too, and the rest of these two weeks would fly by. Because he remembered how quickly things had heated up between them the first time.

She was stubborn. She made him work for it. For her. And he liked that. The woman had refused to even meet him the first night on the ship. He’d had to go track her down, and even then, she’d pegged him. From moment one, she saw something deeper in him that no one else ever acknowledged. And from moment one, she was a pain in his ass. But he saw the sadness in her eyes. It was a match made in hell, on a ship, and the best thing to ever happen to him.

Because Hannah was everything. There wasn’t just one moment that made him know that. It was all moments. Even down to the way she melted for him . . . depending on her mood. Oh, she always melted, but the level of aggression was always measured by her needs. Needs he loved fulfilling. Whether it was making love; hot, passionate sex; or full-on, dirty fucking. Whatever she was in the mood for, he’d do it all, because it was all good with her. And then he’d convince her to come to New York with him, and the rest would be history. Love and happiness for all.

Boom.

Done.

Good plan.

His cell phone rang from the bedside table, and he lunged to grab it.

“Grant Laythem,” he answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up in bed.

“I’ve left two messages and stopped by your apartment yesterday. Where are on earth are you?” the familiar shrill voice barked from the other end of the line.

“Hello, Mother,” he said. “I’m out of town.” He made sure to leave out details, because while he was required to love his mother, he also wasn’t blind to her motivations. Which were money. Particularly his late father’s money.

“Well, we have a company to run. I need to discuss the logistics of your father’s will, and your lawyer hasn’t called me back.”

“That’s because he can’t talk to you. Your lawyer needs to talk with him, and honestly, Mother, there’s not much to talk about. Dad left everything to me. You two haven’t been together in years.”

“But we’re not legally divorced. You know that,” she said. Grant could almost hear her pearls shuffling around her neck.

And yes, he did know that. Though his parents had split up over ten years ago—due to his mother’s infidelity—his father kept paying her expenses after their separation because he was a good man. And his mother took full advantage of that. Something she would not continue to do with him. No matter how big a fit she threw.

“I’m not going to discuss the company with you,” he said. “I’ll be back in New York soon.”

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