The second the waitress walked away, he spoke. “What do you do for a living, Gillian?”

“I’m—” I remembered what Meredith said about lying tonight. “I’m a pilot, a captain actually.”

He raised his eyebrow. “You look a little too young to be a captain.”

“My high number of flight hours say differently.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” I barely managed to remain standing as he took my glass from my hand and set it on the ledge.

“Are you a commercial or a private pilot?”

“Private.” I needed to ask him what he did for a living, to run away from this lie and subject as fast as possible, but he leaned back against the railing and pulled me closer to him, making me lose my train of thought.

As he pressed his hands against my hips, I stood still between his legs, so close to him that I was convinced he was about to press his mouth against mine and kiss me, but he didn’t.

“How long have you been flying?” he asked.

“As long as I can remember.”

“Hmmm...” He trailed his finger against my bottom lip, appearing even more intrigued. He looked as if he were waiting for me to jerk back or tell him to stop, but when I didn’t, his smile returned. “So, which airline do you fly for, Gillian?”

“It’s a really small one...” The rough way he said my name affected me even more than his intense eye-fucking. “You wouldn’t know it. Trust me.”

“I would.” He lowered his voice, his lips nearly brushing against mine. “Try me.”

“It’s um...It’s a small, private one.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice even deeper. “We’ve established that it’s private, Gillian. However, that’s not what I’m asking you. What’s the name of the airline?”

Shit... “I can’t tell you that. It’s too personal.” I surrendered as his hand caressed my back, as his fingers teasingly trailed the imprint of my bra. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a bestselling author.”

“What?” My mind raced with questions. “Really?”

“No.” His lips latched onto mine without warning and I lost all sense of time as his tongue slid deeper into my mouth—as he bit down hard on my bottom lip, making me even wetter than I was before. His hands were gripping my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin, and I let out a soft moan as his mouth continued to control mine. “I’m not really a fucking author...” He whispered against my lips, and a knowing smile crossed his face as he pulled away from me. “But since you’re pretending to be a pilot, I can pretend to be whatever I want to be, correct?”

“Yes.” I felt my cheeks heating. “I guess so.”

“Did you come here alone?” he asked.

“I think you should’ve asked that before you kissed me.”

“If your sexy ass mouth wasn’t such a distraction, I would’ve,” he said. “Did you come here alone?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

His fingers were running through my hair, and his mouth was close to mine again. My panties were soaked and sticking to my skin.

“Gillian?” His smirk slid into a cocky smile. “Did you come here alone?”

“Yes and no.”

“It can’t be both.”

“I came alone,” I said, barely hearing my own voice.

“Hmmm.” His fingers slid down to my neck, his heated touch setting my skin on fire. “Did you plan on leaving here alone?”

“What if I did?”

“Then I think you need to change your mind.” With that, his hand went around my waist and he pulled me close, kissing me deeply, making me forget the people around us. His kiss was controlling my every breath, my every thought; it was the type of kiss that would never be forgotten. A kiss that was already cementing itself into my future memories.

The party around us ceased to exist—the light sounds of the piano and party chatter all diminished to a hum so soft I could only hear the two of us breathing.

His grip tightened around me and I surrendered full control of my mouth to him, letting him show me how pleasurable a night with him could possibly be.

All of a sudden, a loud applause sounded—disturbing our moment, and we both slowly pulled away. The crowd’s attention was focused on a man who was standing atop a small stage and giving a speech, but our eyes were still focused on each other.

“What will it take?” he whispered, looking upset that we’d been interrupted.

“What will it take for what?”

“For you to leave with me.”

“Um...” Butterflies fluttered against my stomach and my heart raced at a completely foreign rhythm. I’d never been instantly attracted to any man I’d met in my life, never felt as if I didn’t need to talk at all, but this man was more than worthy of an exception.

“Is ‘um’ indicative of a yes?” he asked.

“No, it’s...Look, I don’t typically do one night stands.”

“Then we won’t call it a one-night stand.”

“A night of meaningless sex, then?”

“A night of fucking,” he said, his voice low. “A night of me owning your pussy on every single surface in my hotel room. If we make it past the alley, that is.”

I swallowed, knowing that no matter what this man said, I was going home with him.