And because this is Jackson—because we both need and want this—that is exactly what I do.

He teases me with one finger, playing with my clit and generally keeping me on edge. “Christ, you’re beautiful when you’re aroused. You’re lit from the inside, as bright as a candle. I want to make you burn, Sylvia,” he whispers as he raises my skirt all the way, and then reaches around and slips his hand between my legs from behind, then teases the rim of my anus. “I want to reduce you to ashes, to discover all your secrets.”

“I don’t have any,” I say. “Not from you. Not anymore.” My body is thrumming with desire, and I am craving the sweet intensity of release.

He brushes his lips over my ear and the soft touch of his tongue and breath drive me just a little crazy. And when he speaks, his words almost melt me. “I’m so tempted to fuck you in the ass right now. To take you in the most intimate way possible right here in the middle of the day, twenty-six stories above this city. Tell me, baby. Does that excite you?”

I can hardly deny it. “Yes.”

“I’ve never taken you like that. Tell me you want it.”

“I do.”

“Why?”

Why? Because I think it will feel good. Because I want to surrender to his every whim, every pleasure. Anything he could want to do to or with me. I have no shame where Jackson is concerned. Only pleasure and need.

I don’t say that, though. I say only, “Because I want you. Because I trust you and need you.”

He makes a soft sound of approval, then carefully slides my skirt back into place.

I turn in his arms, flustered. “But—”

I cut myself off, confused. Not only has he not done what he promised, he hasn’t even made me come. All he’s done is arouse me. Very, very thoroughly.

His smile holds a hint of mischief. “Soon,” he says.

I raise a brow. “Bastard,” I counter, making him laugh.

“I believe it’s a workday, Ms. Brooks.” He looks me up and down. “I certainly hope you’re able to concentrate.”

I’m trying to think of an appropriate insult to fling at him when his intercom buzzes. It’s Lauren, letting him know that both Evelyn Dodge and Arthur Pratt are outside waiting to see him.

I glance at Jackson, who’s grinning. “Perfect timing,” he says.

I roll my eyes and adjust my clothes, and hope that I don’t look as flushed and horny as I feel. “Let’s go see what they need.”

“Wait,” he says, then pulls me back and kisses me—the kind of kiss that is a substitute for sex, and fills me all the way to my core. “A promise of things to come.”

I sigh with pleasure. “I’ll hold you to it, mister.”

“I hope that you do.”

We find Evelyn and Arthur next to a table that has an in-progress model of the resort. Jackson uses it to work through spacial issues, and while he swears that it is neither final nor to scale, I think it looks amazing, showing the private bungalows, the hotel-style buildings, the recreation areas, and more.

I want to tell him how incredible it looks. How every stone and angle complements the earth. How every brick and line seems to burst forth from the backdrop of the bright blue sky.

Architecture has always been a passion of mine, and I am a bit awed that this man I love can so spectacularly mesh form and function.

But I am looking at him. At the line of his jaw and hard angles of his face. He stands erect and proud, and right now it is so easy to see the strength and force of will that had the power to create such magnificence. Watching him, my fear dims a little. Because a man who can accomplish what Jackson can is not a man to be restrained.

Maybe we really will get through this.

Evelyn nods in greeting as she turns, then hooks her thumb back to indicate the model. “Nice work. Can’t wait to kick back there for a long weekend.”

“You’ll be comped, of course,” I say.

“In that case, make it a long week.” She turns to Pratt. “Look who I found in the elevator. And since I’m as curious as you are to find out what our intrepid investigator knows, I’m going to ignore the ladies first rule and let him talk.”

“So you’ve learned something?” Jackson asks.

“Learning,” he corrects. “It’s a process. But the pieces are coming together.”

Jackson leads us all to the newly built-out conference room, and Pratt remains standing while the rest of us take a seat around the table.

“So a couple of things. We got some security footage from a neighbor a few doors down. Range of vision isn’t stellar, but at least five people approached Reed’s door the night of the murder.”