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independent woman. There was no shame in going out and getting laid like a man would. I just had to make sure my heart knew the difference.
    “What’s one night a week ?” my body asked.
    “You know one night will turn into two and two into three, and before you know it, you’ll be spending every waking hour with him. And when you’re not with him, you’ll wish you were. And when he decides he’s done with you, it’ll hurt worse than anything you’ve ever felt before all because you let yourself get attached ,” my brain fired back.
    Fuck. Those two could go at it all night, and I needed my beauty rest. I grabbed a notebook from my meticulously organized junk drawer and a black ink pen and drew a “T” across the paper.
    A pros and cons list. That ought to solve it, right? Ugh. What am I doing?
    I tore the paper from the pad and crumpled it up and reached for my phone, firing off a text.
     
    YOU WIN.
     
    Three minutes later, he called me. “I hate texting. You forget that, lovely?”
    “Sorry,” I said.
    “I win?”
    “You win,” I sighed. “But on my terms. So really, I win too.”
    “Your terms are?”
    “No strings. No emotions. I don’t even want to know your last name. I don’t want to know where you’re from or where you went to school. I don’t want to know what your favorite color is or if you secretly love superhero movies. I don’t want to know what you do for a living. Don’t ask me to run out and get pancakes with you after we fuck. Don’t call me at work. And don’t kiss me like you love me.”
    “Jesus, lovely.” I heard him breathe into the phone. “What the fuck did he do to you?”
    “Who?”
    “The last guy.”
    I ignored his question. It was none of his business, and we weren’t supposed to get to know each other. “You’re nothing more than a hard cock attached to a ridiculously attractive man, and I’m nothing more than an exquisite pussy for you to please one night a week. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
    His silence scared me.
    “Meet me in an hour,” he said at last. “Same place.”
    * * *
    The door to the hotel suite flew open, and seconds later Wilder pulled me inside. Slamming the door, he pressed me up against it, leaning into me as his lips covered mine. His hands searched my hair, gripping hold of me by the back of my neck as he kissed me hard.
    “I knew you’d come around,” he growled as he breathed me in. He stepped back and unbuttoned my coat and slipped it off my shoulders. “What are you waiting for, lovely? I want you naked and on that bed. Now. Or else.”
    “Or else what?” I sassed.
    He scooped me up in his arms the way a groom might carry his bride and tossed me on the bed, climbing on top of me. I rolled to my stomach, pulling my hair over my shoulder. His full lips pressed into my nape as his hands slid beneath my body, gliding down to my hips where he tugged on my leggings until my thong-covered ass was exposed.
    The way he worshipped my body with ease.
    How natural it felt to be in bed with him.
    How easy it was to hop in a cab and go to him simply because he wanted me to.
    It was happening already. I could feel it. My resolve and intentions were melting away like cotton candy on my tongue.
    My body demanded that my head to go on auto-pilot as Wilder had his way with me that night. It forced me to push away every thought that floated into it and just feel. I focused on the way the sheets felt as I clung to them. I concentrated on the intense fusion of pain and pleasure that seared through me as he slid himself in and out. I absorbed the sensation of his fingers raking my scalp as he gathered my hair into his hand and pulled it taut.
    When it was all over, Wilder flung himself on the bed, arms spread wide as his chest heaved up and down under the pale glow of the moon. Soft beads of spring rain hit the windows, providing a relaxing soundtrack to lull us down from our euphoric heights.
    And I scrambled out of the tangled covers,