Page 10 of One Night Only

“Not at all. I even met this girl at the reception. She invited me to her room, and we hooked up.”

My mouth falls open just as the elevator doors swish open. The mirrors in the car frame us, and my belly lurches as it rides up.

Our eyes meet in the reflection. Tall and broad, Dr. Cross engulfs me. But our bodies don’t touch at any point. I wish they did.

“If I remember right, my… performance wasn’t great that night.”

Laughter bursts through me, reminding me why I have a crush on him. Even without having met him. “What happened?”

“I ate too much.” He pats his flat stomach as if in remembrance. “She was one of those uppity princesses who didn’t want to do anything. She just laid there and expected me to do all the work.”

“Whereas you prefer to put your partner to hard work?” I blurt out.

My gasp is as loud as the violent boom of thunder in the small space. Heat floods me. For all that I have all these urges, I’m not great at flirting. I mean, the fact that Rahul and I clung to each other under the guise of a relationship was testament enough.

But this man… he does something to me. Flips a switch that makes me feel bold, brazen, and utterly unashamed of my needs.

Dr. Cross chuckles. His warm exhale blows over the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck, sending tingles to my lower belly.

“I do,” he says, catching my gaze in the mirror again. God, the man can eye-fuck like it’s an Olympic sport, and he’s going for the gold. “And then reward my partner for all that hard work in as many inventive ways as I can think of.”

Chapter Seven

Ethan

Annika Rao…I roll her name around on my tongue, tasting it anew.

It’s unique and gorgeous, like her.

She’s also twenty years younger than me. She’s strong but also fragile in how she perceives herself. She’s sexy and witty and pulls all that protective, possessive bullshit out of me.

The naked gleamof want when she asked me if I liked to put my partner to work… my dick twitches at the memory.

Tugging at the collar of my shirt, I pace the small confines of the suite. The steady stream of the shower only heightens my awareness of her presence.

Her stilettos sit next to the door, and her crossbody bag dangles from the back of the armchair. Everything about this situation is so… new. I want her here, but my brain is baffled at seeing her things in my space.

In the twenty-odd years since my ex, Sophie, and I divorced, I haven’t had a girlfriend. Becoming a dad at nineteen andgetting hitched while struggling to get into med school was hardly the ideal gateway to marriage. We were barely more than kids ourselves when Jonah came along. By the time we realized it was better to separate, the experience thoroughly burned me.

Getting through med school and providing Sophie with the funds to raise Jonah meant I was a stranger to him. Especially in those early years. For years, I buried myself in work. In establishing my reputation, in climbing the career ladder as high as it would take me.

Looking at my reflection in the French doors rattling against the wind, I thrust a hand through my hair.

I achieved everything I set my mind to: a distinguished career in cardiology, properties in more than one city, a fat investment portfolio, and the ability to look after Mom after she slogged multiple jobs to get me through college.

I’m paying for Jonah’s med school and have set up trust funds for any kids he might pop out. I even set up a pension fund for my cousin Arthur, who always shared what little he had with me.

It’s only in the last few years that Jonah and I are trying to get to know each other as two adults. Meeting my son as a grown man is both unnerving and exhilarating. Especially since it’s a miracle that his mother’s and my flaming-hot-mess of a relationship didn’t traumatize him.

Now, at forty-three, I have everything I ever dreamed of. But I’m lonely.

The stark truth hits me in the face, and I flinch. I have no one to share all that I achieved with. No one to come home to. And until this moment, I didn’t know how much that loneliness was gnawing at me.

Is this a mid-life crisis then? This… madness with a girl half my age? Some innate biological drive to prove that I can still build something meaningful out of my life?

A groan rumbles out of my chest. Outside, the storm is painting the sky in violets and blues, matching the chaotic, intense feelings that Annika stirs in me.

Nothing has ever felt more electric than this strange connection between us. Or more real.

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