Drawing in a much-needed breath, I handed the keys to the attendant and rounded the car, smiling as I took Chloe’s hand.

The hum of voices and gentle tinkling of music greeted us as we stepped into the lobby and crossed to the elevator. I couldn’t help but think back on the last time Chloe and I were here together: of fucking her on the huge king-sized bed until she’d screamed my name, of holding her hands behind her back as I bent her over the balcony railing, the crashing waves and rustling palms the only sounds masking the noises she made.

I followed her into the elevator and like some sort of homing device, my eyes dropped straight to her ass. She knew it, too, because there was a much more deliberate swivel to her hips, an intentional shake with each step. I felt myself begin to harden and realized that if this plan went to shit, I was screwed. Literally.

Get your head in the game, Ben, I told myself, reaching to press the button to our floor. It wouldn’t be that hard, I reasoned: keep your distance, eyes above her shoulders at all times, and for God’s sake, no arguing about anything.

“Everything okay over there, Ryan?” my lady-adversary said, leaning against the wall opposite me. She crossed her arms over her chest and her breasts pressed together. Danger. I quickly averted my gaze.

“Absolutely.” I had this. I was a genius.

“You look mighty proud about something. Fire someone today? Kick a puppy?”

Oh, I see you, Mills. I see you. I kept my eyes fixed on the mirrored doors opposite me and answered, “Just thinking back on the card Sofia made for us. She must have made it with that cute little art set we bought her for her fourth birthday. But I just realized her handwriting reminded me a lot of yours.”

A small, knowing smile pulled at her mouth and she nodded, glancing up at the display as the floors ticked past.

Almost like a weight had been placed on my shoulders, drowsiness began to seep into my limbs and back; my arms felt dense with a heavy wave of fatigue. I smiled wider.

The elevator stopped on our floor and I watched as she stepped out and made her way down the hall. She waited while I opened the door to our room and then headed straight for the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I asked. What had I expected? For her to strap me down, throw me against a wall, and force me to have sex with her? And why did that sound so damn appealing?

“Just getting ready for bed,” she said over her shoulder, and closed the door behind her.