His room is larger than mine, all grays and charcoals with a built-in bookshelf for a headboard against one wall. There’s an enormous flat screen on the opposite side of the room, along with an executive-style desk in one corner.

I peruse his personal space, but there’s no sign of the man himself. It’s not until I hear a sigh out the French doors that I know where I’ll find him.

He doesn’t startle when I come to stand before him. He’s slouched in a cushioned chair, his legs spread wide and his head resting back. He sits just a little straighter and drags his cerulean-blue eyes up and down my body, taking me in as I stand before him in his clothes.

His focus shifts to my face, and anger colors his expression before he speaks.

“You shouldn’t be standing on that ankle.”

“Agreed.”

My voice trembles, but I swallow down my doubt and steel my spine, then take three steps forward until my knees are pressing into the cushion of his chair. When he doesn’t immediately swat me away, I make my move.

I climb into his lap, then spread my legs wide, straddling him and lining us up in the process. His body tenses below me as he gives me the most threatening glare. We stare at each other, unblinking, silently warring over what’s right and what’s real. But then his hands slide up and grip my ass, one hand digging into each cheek as he pulls me closer and pins me in place.

“Who takes care of you?” I ask, my voice breathy as I lean in and test the waters. I run my lips against the sandpaper stubble of his neck, then trace a line from his throat to his ear with my tongue.

“Hmm?” I ask, nibbling on his earlobe and grinning in satisfaction when his hips shift beneath me. I run my hands through his hair, over and over again, caressing him until he sighs and lays his head back against the headrest, granting me more access.

“Maddie,” he scolds. His protest is halfhearted, at best. He’s still squeezing my ass. And he grunts when I swivel my hips, the fabric of the sweatpants he loaned me making it all too easy to feel the growing hardness of his arousal.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” I whisper in his ear before placing a trail of kisses down the side of his neck. “Immediately. Without hesitation,” I promise, pulling back to look him in the eye and show him my resolve.

“I just want to do this for you. Without expectation.”

He tenses when I brush both hands down his torso, stopping at the button of his pants.

“I know you,” I declare.

He shifts up slightly and scowls, but I keep going before he can object.

“I’m learning you,” I amend, softer.