The Billionaire's Fantasy. Кейт Хьюит

      Or maybe she’d just get her heart broken.

      “I’ll think about it,” she said, and Jaiven gave her one of his slow, toe-curling smiles that she’d come to know—and respond to.

      “You do that,” he said, and he leaned forward and kissed her. A soft kiss, not one that was a prelude to sex but one that was just because. And it affected her more than anything else he’d done to her so far.

      He stepped back and she blinked, suddenly, bizarrely near tears. This was so not a good idea.

      Those bombs she was juggling? One had just started to tick. She needed to be smart, and smart meant never seeing him again, ever. Never cracking open the window to her soul even a little. Sex was personal and intimate and incredible, and you couldn’t have it with someone and then just walk away. At least she couldn’t. She’d start to read things into it, to feel things she absolutely couldn’t feel.

      And she didn’t have any fantasies, anyway.

      “I’ll be waiting,” he said softly, and with one last knowing grin he stepped backward, opened the door, and then was gone.

      Louise sagged against her desk, her mind spinning, her heart still thudding. What on earth was she getting herself into?

      Nothing, she reminded herself. You are not doing this. You will not see him again. Your one foray into casual sex is officially over.

      What she should do was find a nice, respectable, safe, boring man to go out with. Have vanilla sex and spend the weekend reading the newspaper in bed. Totally her style.

      Jaiven was so not.

      And yet it was Jaiven she wanted. Jaiven she dreamed about, Jaiven who came into her office and woke up her body so she felt more alive and real and whole than she had in ten years of staying safe.

      She was in so much trouble.