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  “Turn around.” His hands skimmed her body as she followed his order. A gasp escaped her lips at the discovery that she was an inch from the floor-to-ceiling window of glass, thirty floors above the streets of Boston. “Is this still what you want?”

  “Yes.” She shivered.

  “You’re not afraid of heights?” He spanned her waist, his grip promising to catch her if she fell. Rather than push back into his touch, she closed that last ribbon of space between herself and the window.

  “No.” She settled her smooth cheek against the cool glass. “I love them.”

  “Good.” Taking his cock in hand, he rubbed the tip through her wetness, then worked it up and down, through the crevice that divided her buttocks. Bending his knees slightly, he placed the head at her opening, working the tip into her swollen tissues. She squeezed around him, and he groaned.

  He wanted to surge forward, to seat himself inside her, but forced himself to slow down and savor the moment. Dipping his head, he inhaled the spicy scent of her shampoo, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She sighed, a soft little sound of contentment that reached right through his rib cage and grabbed his heart in a tight fist. He needed to get closer to her; he wasn’t sure he could get close enough.

  Pressing a palm to the window to brace himself, he began to move, filling her at a slow but steady pace. She gasped once he was sheathed inside her to the root, her greedy center clenching around him. Pleasure tightened in his core, and he pressed his forehead to the chilled glass, trying to get himself under control. He wanted this to last.

  Amy had other ideas. Pressing her own hands to the glass, she arched back against him. Bending at the waist to allow him to slide in just a little bit farther, she gave a delicious little wiggle of her hips.

  “In a hurry?” Fred’s voice was amused. “Got a hot date I don’t know about?”

  “I’m so sorry,” she replied, her voice thick with arousal and dripping with saccharine sweetness, “but I thought you said you wanted to give me what I wanted. And what I want is to get fucked.”

  Heat shot through him like he’d touched a live wire, a single sizzle from head to foot, and he growled. Clasping her by the hips, he dug the tips of his fingers into her soft flesh. “Then I’d suggest you hold on.”

  Using her as his anchor, he began to move. Slow, punishing thrusts at first, as deep inside her as he could go. They both made incoherent sounds every time his hips met the curves of her behind; both exhaled when he pulled back. The deep thrusts quickly gave way to shorter ones, harder ones. His pace quickened until he could hear their flesh slapping together, a sound that shouldn’t have been erotic and yet was the dirtiest thing he’d ever heard.

  “Fuck, yes.” Her hands, damp with sweat, slipped on the glass. He wrapped his arms around her waist to anchor her, continuing to move inside her as his entire world narrowed to the place where her soft pink flesh squeezed around the steel rod of his erection. “Please, Fred. I can’t wait any longer.”

  “Come for me.” Dipping his head, he nipped at the delicate curve where her shoulder became her neck. She growled, a purely animal sound, so he did it again, this time giving her a sharp bite since he already knew she liked a bit of pain with her pleasure. Her pussy tightened around him, and her body stiffened, hot and tight beneath him. “Now. Come now.”

  He watched her shudder, felt the vibrations through his flesh, and then she screamed, the cry bouncing off the smooth glass. He moved through it all, her pleasure spurring on his own. His arousal starting to barrel through his body like a runaway train, and finally he could hold back no more. One thrust, two and three and four, and he poured himself inside her, pleasure causing stars to dance behind his eyes.

  They were both out of breath, panting hard enough to create mist on the glass. Heat had sealed them together, and as they both laughingly tried to catch their breath, Fred realized that he could quite happily stay like this, right here with this woman, for the rest of his life.

  The realization should have been terrifying. It should have had him easing out of her body and running for the door, never mind the fact that this was his apartment. Instead, he found that it felt...well, it felt right.

  He knew he had to pull out, but he resented it, even as the slow drag through her tissues sparked pleasure yet again. Carefully, he eased them to the ground, sitting with his legs apart, and Amy between them.

  “Think anybody saw us?” Amy murmured, nestling back against him, her back to his front. They were looking out the window they’d just been pressed against, watching the bright lights of Boston at nighttime, twinkling thirty floors beneath him. “Whatever would your neighbors think?”

  “They’d be jealous,” he replied with certainty. “They’d look at this incredibly hot woman, writhing on my dick, and wonder what I’d done to get so fucking lucky.”

  She laughed, and he liked the husky sound. They were silent for a moment, and Fred held his breath. This was the point at which she usually withdrew, or ran, or otherwise broke their connection.

  When she twisted around to give him a soft kiss, he found that he could exhale again. She wasn’t running. He could relax.

  He wouldn’t, though. Not until he’d figured out a way to make her see how right this was, this thing between them. Not until he figured out a way to make her stay.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE NEXT DAY, Amy was sore. Deliciously so, her every movement a reminder of the ways Fred had used her body—the ways they’d used each other.

  Several times today, a dirty memory from the night before had flashed before her eyes, as vivid as a summer day. Her on her knees at his feet, his cock heavy on her tongue as he fucked her mouth with bossy thrusts of his hips. Her on hands and knees, face pressed to the plush carpet as he spanked her ass, leaving wicked heat in the wake of his blows. The strange, exciting sensation of cold, slick glass pressed to her breasts, her belly, her cheek as he claimed her from behind.

  This morning, the searching tenderness in those green eyes of his when he’d pulled up in front of the house she’d grown up in, where she still lived. He might not have known what a big step that was for her, letting him see the old brown house that was so much shabbier than its newer, fancier neighbors, but she’d wanted to do it—wanted to give him a little piece of herself.

  That alone told her how much trouble she was in. It was like she was on board a train that had been set into motion five years ago, one that kept going faster and faster and was bound to crash, to end in a giant, fiery explosion, but she couldn’t get off—didn’t want to get off—because the speed of the ride felt so damn good.

  After sending her midmorning client out the door overjoyed with their new ink, she stretched to loosen her tight muscles as she stood behind her front counter, contemplating her lunch choices. She had no plans for that evening and found herself wondering what Fred was up to. Picking up her phone, she thought to send him a text asking just that, but stopped herself.

  This—these floaty, good-sex feelings, the emotional buzz—this smacked of a relationship.

  Was it a relationship?

  If it was...would that be so bad?

  The chiming of the bells hanging in her doorway took her attention from her phone. Her stomach clenched with excitement when she spotted the familiar ginger head brushing against the copper of the bells because of his height.

  “I was just thinking of texting...” Her voice trailed off when the man stopped just inside the entrance of her shop, looking around. “You’re not Fred.”

  “Guilty as charged.” The man held out his hands, palms facing her, with a self-deprecating smile. It was a familiar expression, one that she’d seen on Fred’s own lips, but while she found it sexy on her Vaughan twin, on this one it just seemed contrived. “I don’t think we’ve ever actually been formally introduced. I’m Frank.”

  Closing the space between them, h
e offered her his hand. She shook it, though she arched an eyebrow as she did. “Trying to steal me away from your twin brother at a crappy club in Amsterdam doesn’t count as an intro in your world, then?”

  He laughed, and she experienced a discordant moment. He looked so much like Fred that parts of her assumed he would sound like Fred, and he did a bit. The tone of his voice was a slightly higher pitch, though, and the inflections in his words a little different.

  Given the thoughts she’d been having about this man’s identical twin all morning, this was just...weird.

  “Did you do all this yourself?” Tucking his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, Frank rocked back on his heels, making a show of looking around her space.

  “The art, you mean? Or the wall painting and light fixtures?” Her brow furrowed as she watched him. Why was he here?

  “Both, I suppose.” Nodding, he cast her an approving glance. “Good job. It’s very different than I thought it would be. It’s really nice.”

  That’s a hell of a backhanded compliment. It was on the tip of her tongue to say just that, but something had her biting her tongue. She was pretty sure that something was Fred, and the fact that she didn’t know where they stood exactly. Still, she wasn’t pleased that Frank seemed oblivious to the fact that she didn’t need or want his approval, and it made her tongue slightly sharper than it would be with the ordinary lookie-loo. “Can I help you with something? Would you like to see some designs?”

  “Some tattoo designs?” He looked at her with amazement. “For me? Oh, I don’t think so.”

  She caught what he wasn’t saying—that tattoos weren’t for people like him, they were for people like her. Her temper flared—she and all three of her sisters had more than their fair share of it—but the bells in her doorway jingled again, distracting her.

  “Hello.” The six-foot-four-inch man with auburn hair who entered her shop this time was the right one. As Fred approached the desk, she thought she could actually feel her body vibrate with excitement. He looked at Frank, then cast Amy a quizzical glance, to which she shrugged. “What are you doing here, Frank?”

  “Just giving her a second chance to choose the right twin,” Frank countered, grinning slickly at his brother. He winked at Amy and seemed a bit startled when she frowned in return.

  “Good luck with that.” Fred winked at Amy, too, and while she had not appreciated the gesture from Frank, from Fred it made butterflies flutter in her belly. She expected him to make some kind of bro-type comment, like the fact that he’d proven he was enough man for her, but when he continued, she realized that she was coloring her expectations with past experiences. “She’s a woman who knows what she wants.”

  And there, right there, she knew that she was falling head over heels in love with him. Mouth suddenly dry, she groped blindly for the bottle of water she knew was sitting somewhere on her desk.

  “Well, if there’s no hope, then...” Frank rolled his eyes at his twin, then nodded at Amy with a small smile. “I guess I’ll take my leave. Looking forward to speaking more with you later.”

  What did that mean? She didn’t have time to ponder, because she was still grappling with the realization that she’d gone and fallen in love with the man standing in front of her. The one who was looking at her strangely as she stood there with crazy eyes, frantically flailing about for her water bottle.

  “Are you okay?” He cocked his head, moved in closer. “You look...warm.”

  “Water,” she croaked, gesturing to her desk. With deft movements he grabbed her water bottle—it had been literally right in front of her, because of course it had—unscrewing the cap before handing it to her. She took a long sip, both to quench her thirst and to give herself a moment in which to compose herself.

  “Better?” He didn’t give her a moment. Instead, he nipped the bottle from her hand once she was done drinking, setting it back on the desk. He studied her with a small smile that made her knees quiver. “Hmm, I’m thirsty, too. Wanna share?”

  Before she could suck in another breath, his lips were on hers, his tongue stealing away the droplets of moisture that remained. What started as a light, teasing kiss quickly deepened, pulling her under to a place she never wanted to surface from again.

  “I like the way you say hello,” she gasped when he finally released her. He grinned, grabbing her around the waist and tugging her against him. He dipped his head to nibble at the lobe of her ear, and she felt dampness pool between her thighs. “Didn’t you get your fill last night?”

  “Never.” He spoke with such certainty, looking into her eyes, that her heart skipped a painful beat. She didn’t know what to do with these feelings—didn’t know if she was ready for them—so she tried to lighten the current passing between them.

  “What are you doing tonight, then?” Sex, she thought. Bring it back to sex—back to familiar territory. Rising onto her toes, she rocked her hips against his, felt the first stirrings of his desire as she pressed a finger to his lips. She sucked in a quick breath when his tongue darted out for a taste. “Maybe you can fill me some more.”

  “Dirty girl.” He sank his teeth into the tip of her finger, then licked again to soothe the sting. “That’s why I stopped by, actually. To see if you had plans tonight.”

  “I don’t.” She let her finger slide from his lips, down his chin, his solid chest, down until she could hook it in the leather of his belt. She felt the flat plane of his belly quiver in response. “Unless you can think of something I should do?”

  He hissed out a swear when her fingers dipped into the waistband of his dress pants, dancing over the head of his cock. He grabbed her by the hips, squeezed, pulled her tighter.

  “I can think of lots of things you can do. Things that you will do,” he started, grinding his pelvis lightly against her. “But before that... I’m hoping I can convince you to join me for dinner.”

  “I like to eat,” she replied lightly, rising on her toes to nip at the line of his jaw. “Bet you can think of something I’d really like to put in my mouth.”

  “Woman.” With his grip on her hips, he pulled back, huffing out a pained laugh. “Stay with me here. I mean real dinner. With food. A nice meal. And...company.”

  “Company?” She stilled her hands as she looked up at him. “Your company, I presume?”

  “Mine,” he agreed, watching her carefully, “and my family’s.”

  “What?” Startled, Amy pulled back from him completely. “Why on earth would you want me to have dinner with your family?”

  She looked into his face, searching for a sign that he was kidding. He was not.

  “I was under the impression that there’s something between us, here. Something bigger than I’ve ever felt before.” He narrowed his eyes. “I want my family to meet you.”

  “Fred. You can’t be serious.” She shook her head as panic bubbled up in her gut.

  “Of course I’m serious.” He seemed taken aback by her reaction, and frustration followed her panic. “Why would I joke about this?”

  “Your family owns this mall,” she reminded him, planting her hands on her hips. “They’re the ones trying to kick me out.”

  “Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Reaching out, he rubbed his hands up and down her upper arms. “That won’t come up tonight. You’ll be there strictly as my...my...”

  “Your what?” Temper heated her words. She was getting whiplash from her own emotions. “The woman you were supposed to tell to shape up or ship out? The one you also happen to be fucking? Do they know that, by the way? Is that why Frank was in here? To keep an eye on me?”

  “That’s not fair.” His voice was quiet. “I was a part of my family before I ever met you. Part of being a Vaughan means participating in the family business. Of course I said I’d deliver that letter. I had no idea I was supposed to deliver it to you.”

  “Well, now you know.�
� She tapped a foot on the floor, trying to release some of her pent-up energy. “And I assume they do, too. What do you think will happen tonight? I show up to dinner, and they’re going to think I’m sleeping with you to keep my retail space. Or worse. They’ll think I’m a gold digger.”

  “Amy.” His voice was filled with frustration. “I get that it’s not an ideal situation, but that’s part of the reason I want them to meet you, to spend some time with you. I know once they get to know you, they’ll see that that petition was ridiculous. That you should stay.”

  “I’m not going to beg them.” A dart of hurt burrowed its way into her chest. “If they can’t see what I bring, then they don’t deserve to have me.”

  “No one expects you to beg.” This time his voice dripped with frustration. “Give me a break here, would you? I want you to come to dinner so that my family can meet you, end of story. Come have a nice meal and let them meet the woman in my life. I’m sure they’re going to be as wowed by you as I am. And if that affects their thoughts on that petition, that’s just a bonus. Okay?”

  Amy sucked a breath in through her nose, her temper still sharp. She was under no delusions here.

  That petition was essentially a piece of paper that the other vendors of the plaza had signed to say that Amy didn’t fit in and they didn’t want her there. Not nice, but also not surprising—Amy had never fit in anywhere, and usually she was fine with that. What had surprised her about this whole nonsense was the fact that Vaughan Enterprises—the company made up of Fred’s family—had looked at what was essentially an opinion and had acted on it. They’d issued her a warning telling her to conform, to toe the line, while ignoring the fact that she had just as much right to be there as anyone else. More, if they’d stopped to examine just what she brought to the table.

  This meant that the company, and Fred’s family, was very concerned with image. She looked down at her right hand, with the four roses tattooed along her knuckles, and knew that she did not fit their aesthetic. She never would.