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awe at our reflections in the mirror. My black heels bounce against Nate’s clenched ass cheeks, his skin golden and perfect, the muscles in his legs flexed and defined. His head is lowered, his face presses against my neck, his blond hair contrasting vividly against my green strands. My face is flushed, my eyes glassy, my kiss-swollen lips parted.
    I’ve never seen myself like this before, have never felt this way about a lover, crazed and out of control. And Nate is my lover. It doesn’t matter how much he pays me. It won’t change my feelings. I turn my head and suck on his skin, tasting salt and man, my man.
    He shudders and fucks me faster, taking me harder, our bodies colliding, smashing together. Each thrust of his hips shreds more of my control. Tremors sweep my body, pushing me closer to fulfillment.
    “Come for me, Camille.” Nate drives deep, filling me completely. “Come.” He makes a circular motion with his hips, grinding against my clit.
    I scream, shattering into a thousand jagged pieces, sharp shards of pleasure piercing my form. Nate bellows my name and pins me against the wall, shooting hot cum into my battered pussy, his release setting off another wave of bliss. I buck, writhe, twist. He leans his physique into mine, pressing me flat, restraining me with his muscle.
    I cease moving, too drained, too satisfied to fight him. The elevator stops spinning around me. My heartbeat slows. Nate holds me against the wall, his cock remaining inside me, the connection between us humming.
    “I like this arrangement.” I smile, feeling warm and sleepy and sexually sated, my rough edges smoothed.
    Nate raises his head and his eyes widen. “Condoms.”
    “What?” I blink.
    “We forgot to use condoms.” He lowers my feet to the floor and staggers backward. “I never forget to use condoms.”
    Shit. I knew this encounter would come back to bite me in the ass. “I’m clean.” I smooth my skirt down, his essence coating my thighs, his warmth filling me. “And I’m on birth control.”
    “Birth-control pills aren’t one hundred percent effective.” He yanks his pants upward and fastens them, his movements sharp and angry. “That’s why I only deal with professionals.” Nate glares at his reflection in the mirrored wall. “They always use condoms.”
    They always use condoms. They never kiss. I chew on my bottom lip. “Your sex life must have sucked big time.”
    “This isn’t funny.” Nate rakes his fingers through his hair. He’s extremely upset.
    “No, this isn’t funny,” I concede. “But this also isn’t your problem. It’s mine. I’ll take care of any possible consequences.”
    “You’ll take care of any possible consequences?” He snorts. “I’ve driven by the apartment building you call home. You can’t even take care of yourself.”
    I stare at him. My apartment building is situated in a very bad area of town. No one casually drives by it unless he’s armed with semiautomatic weapons.
    “I’ll handle this.” Nate releases the emergency stop button and the elevator recommences its ascent, the red digital numbers changing.
    I frown. “There might not be anything for you to handle .” His jaw juts and I grow alarmed. “Nothing has to be decided now,” I emphasize.
    “I want exclusivity.”
    “What?” My lips part.
    “Until this matter is resolved, no other man will touch you,” Nate states, a possessive gleam in his eyes. “I’ll pay for all of your time.” He pauses. “I want to ensure the child is mine.”
    It’s not like him to explain his decisions, and there are other ways to verify a child is his. Nate is an intelligent man. He knows this. I tilt my head. He’s asking for exclusivity because he wants to be the only man touching me.
    He wants a month-long commitment. At the end of this month I’ll either be over my Iceman obsession or have my heart shattered. A normal woman would run away from this no-win scenario.
    There’s nothing normal about me.