in mischief as he pressed her palm down hard. Hard. “Yes. I’ll be your special friend.”
Monica’s breath tangled in her throat as the unmistakable bulge of his erection filled and practically
overflowed her small hand. Had she given him that? When? How?
Her eyes held his green ones in stunned silence, that incredibly sexy smile of his still in place.
She began to shake violently under the combined shock and pleasure of feeling his hardness in her
hand, and she feared no amount of brainpower could suppress the tremor that went through her. An
empty ache settled between her legs, completely unexpectedly.
A car honked, and Daniel slowly returned her hand to her own lap, then he changed gears and sped
ahead, staring at the street, his smile gone. He spoke in a low, raspy voice. “Your place or mine?”
Monica’s heart pounded in nervousness. “I warn you I’m really bad at this. Really bad, Daniel.”
“Yours or mine, Monica?”
His voice sounded even thicker. His eyes glimmered. Her heart was near bursting.
“This would only be for a week or two. Roland and I are supposed to talk and try to work things out
when he returns from London,” she rushed. “So, no sleeping over, no complications, and definitely no
press. Just friendship and … sex. Also, please, not every day. Just when I … call you.”
The smile in his eyes held a strange new intensity. “Just tell me where you want to do it first.”
She expelled a breath. “Yours. Yours is closest.”
He changed gears again, and she noticed how the engine went from a low purr to a hard roar. He
went to second. Third. Fourth. Back to third. Second. Third. Fourth. The motor hummed, and with it,
her excitement grew, a heady mix of anticipation and relief overwhelming her.
She’d tried many times to have sex, never with such anticipation and never, of course, with such an
experienced man. Or with someone who inspired such trust in her. She wasn’t sure whether her sudden
agitation was due to the fact that she’d always failed and could never quite get to the finish, or due to
the fact that she and Daniel had fallen completely silent now, and the silence was the first one between
them in years that was full of tension. It crackled like a fire, heating the air between them.
She stifled the urge to fidget with her hair and began to wonder who he’d been dating recently, but
then she told herself it didn’t matter. Did it? She wasn’t looking for commitment from him. He’d be
the last man standing, she was sure, when all the rest got married. He enjoyed his single status too
much, had fun aplenty with his variety and his big-boy toys. And Monica really needed to get to the
bottom of her problem.
Roland had gotten angry two weeks ago when Monica had, once again, failed to climax, and her
failure to get aroused had caused his own erection to wilt. She’d asked him to please help her achieve
orgasm, but he’d seemed to think she was blaming him for her lack of passion, and that had really not
been the case.
She didn’t know why she had so much trouble shutting off her mind. While a man would touch her,
she would think of Davenport’s, make lists of errands she needed to complete, remember things that
happened in her childhood, and she could never really quiet her mind enough to enjoy her body. But
there was no denying the enjoyment she derived from the mere sight of Daniel. A simple smile from
this man caused … a reaction. There was no way a woman could keep closed off from a man like him.
Was there?
Hell, if she couldn’t react to a man with his experience tonight, then she might as well stop even
trying and become a working nun.
Minutes later, with her heels in one hand, she followed Daniel barefoot into his building. She’d
been here before. She’d actually lived with his family upstairs in the penthouse for over a month,
almost a decade ago. The Lexingtons owned the top two floors, and even after her brief stay, Daniel
had later invited her over to proudly show her his new, separate, apartment.
Rather than killer views, he’d chosen security and technology, and Daniel had built the place with
steel outer walls that were able to withstand a nuclear bombing, among other natural disasters. Now,
as Monica stood next to him, he pressed his fingerprint into the first of three steel doors. When they
moved to the second nook, the space narrowed, and he stood behind her, taller and wider than her.
His chest pressed into her back, his outstretched arm grazing her shoulder as his thumbprint was
recognized. Her tummy whirled and suddenly she was aware solely of that contact of their bodies. As
though her cells had absorbed the knowledge that they would be having sex, she could feel a strange