Simon's fingers massaged her scalp through the towel with slow circles, each rotation pitching her deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation.

Which was a good thing, because she was anything but relaxed. Since entering the lobby of the hotel, each step toward their destination–his room–caused her insides to coil tighter and tighter. When he'd offered to dry her hair for her, she couldn't move, unable to turn and take the fluffy white material from him for fear she might run instead. Run out of this room. Run away from him.

Over the years, after every encounter, Mary had been the one calling the shot. In control. Of the situation. Of her feelings. Of Simon. Sex was the goal. Sex was the outcome. Nothing more. And the moment she left, because she always did the leaving after satisfying her desires, life went back to the way it was before. She returned to her world, continued to try to find a place for herself in the political landscape that held advantage for both her and her father. Restore the Montgomery name to its former glory.

Tonight, however, felt different.

She wasn't in control.

She was everything but in control.

Shivers ran up and down her back.

"We should get you out of this wet dress." Simon's words, low and soft, tickled the back of her neck.

Arms crossed to hide her shaking hands, Mary stared at her reflection in the hotel room window, the suite surrounding her, anything but the man who radiated heat. The fact it was a suite and not a standard room filtered through the part of her brain that noticed these things and tried to make sense of it. Maybe the conference offered discounts to attendees. Or perhaps he'd been upgraded due to lack of room. He could have used points, but that would mean Simon travelled enough to earn points, and that didn't fit into the neat little box she put him in.

So many things this evening, no these past few weeks strained against the confines of the plain cardboard box she stuffed Simon in in her mind. The small-town guy she assumed never left Bridgetown who travelled to New York, Washington, and who knew what other metropolises regularly. The beer slinging bar manager, who appreciated fine wine, knew her favourite boutique brand. The burger tossing café owner who frequented niche dinning experiences and dreamed of opening a Michelin Star worth restaurant.

And what was that bit about being the silent investor in Henry's expansion endeavour? Simon had the money to sink into what many considered one of the riskiest business propositions these days—opening a new restaurant. Henry had asked Sophie to invest, but she couldn't come up with the fifty thousand buy in. But Simon could? Was that whim or smart entrepreneurship?

The man in question held up a robe in the two-dimensional vision the window offered. "I brought you this." Damp material clung to his body, his shirt and pants soaked in their mad dash from the restaurant. The hair he'd so carefully combed now in disarray, tousled and dripping in a way that made the lower half of her torso clench in desire.

It wasn't a question anymore. She couldn't resist giving in to her want. Her need for him. A small voice in her head tried to bring reason, demanding she listen. If she slept with him tonight, things would be different. This wasn't the man she was meant to be with. He offered none of the qualities Hunter could provide. There'd be no road to the white house, no political influence. She would not make her father proud.

Right now, she didn't care.

Or she cared too much.

Mary swept up her bedraggled hair in one hand and placed the other against her pounding heart. "Unzip me?"

Cold fingers brushed against her shoulder, the nape of her neck, sending goosebumps flying across her skin. She watched Simon's doppelganger in the glass, his expression a reflection of her own. Desire mixed with... apprehension. He knew it, too. Knew this was not another meaningless sexcapade.

Far too slowly for her, Simon drew a line down her back, the tight material of her dress loosening as it came apart under his touch. The garment stayed in place only because her hand pressed against her chest. She turned away from the window, away from the world out there, toward the room, toward him.

And let go.

His eyes never left hers. As the fabric of her dress floated to the floor. As she stepped out of the circle of material, into his open arms. As his muscular chest met hers, solid arms encircling. She entangled her hands in his hair, bringing their foreheads together. They created a world of two.

"Mary." Her name felt like a benediction from his lips. A prayer for what was to come. What could be. Fingers dug into her skin, hot breath beat against her cheek, and his chest moved up and down in rapid succession.

His body shook, from the wet clothes or something else she wasn't sure. "You're cold."

The bars that were his arms pulled tighter around her. "Warm me then."

Closing the small gap that remained between their lips, her mouth found his. The sweetness of eggs, milk and sugar that was Crème Brulé mixed with the undeniable, essential taste that was Simon. Just as every other time she kissed him, a fire erupted inside her, pulsing through her uncontrolled and rapid. A guttural noise from Simon reverberated through his chest to hers, his lips to hers, and the flames licked higher. Finally, she got what she'd longed for atop the Empire State Building. Simon was right to pull away then, because now that she had him in her arms again, nothing would stop her from having him.

Except the fact he was wearing altogether too many clothes. Wet clothes. They didn't feel good against her skin. Only he did. They had to go. She pulled back with the goal of getting him in a more naked state, even if it meant halting the best part of the evening so far.

The manoeuvre worked, their lips separating enough for Simon to expel a fierce "no" before diving back in for her. The soft caress of earlier disintegrated into a desperate mashing of his mouth against hers. Mary tried again, and this time Simon relented. The disappointment on his face made her stomach clench.

She touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek, trying to erase the expression, make him look at her. "I want you," his eyes found hers, widening at her words, "out of these clothes." A boyish smile spread across his face, the pain of earlier gone.

But now it was her turn to be disappointed. Simon let go of her, stepped away, and turned to the opposite wall of the room. The sudden loss of contact with him physically hurt, like tearing off a band aid from a fresh gash. The wound being her heart.

With the press of a button on the wall, the bright lights of office towers and condos that made up their view of New York shrank as heavy curtains on a motorized track drew across the window, enclosing them in their own cocoon. The room sank into darkness until Mary assumed he pressed another button and muted pot lights dimmed to life over the small seating area comprised of a couch and two chairs.

Still, he didn't come back to her. Instead, from far too far away, he undid the buttons of his shirt, at the wrists first, then slowly but determinedly down his chest. He watched Mary the entire time as she gnawed on her lower lip, trying to use the pain to stop her from tearing across the room and ripping the sodden material off Simon.

Shirt off, Simon stepped out of his shoes, took off his socks. Mary decided she'd had just about enough of this tantalizing but far too slow undressing and strode toward him. Hands working quickly, she undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and performed an unzipping of her own.

All the while, he grinned at her. "Impatient much?"

"Always. You know that."

"I do." He took a strand of her hair between his finger and thumb, curling it. "And I like it."

With a little help, they peeled off the wet material clinging to him, and they were both left in their underwear. Simon traced a finger up her arm, across her collarbone and along the lace trim of her bra. Mirroring him, she ran her finger over his skin in the same motion, landing her hand on his naked chest above his heart. Below her touch, his heart beat strong and steady.

She watched his lips form words. "Simon says, kiss me."

Action was her answer, the inferno inside her raging to life again with contact. Pressing herself against every part of him she could, Mary did her best to transfer the heat burning inside her to warm Simon. A cold wall hit her back as he assisted with her goal, hands in her hair, body pushed so close with such force she could barely breathe. Simon held her head at the most scrumptious angle, soft lips tasting and teasing her in a way that made her toes curl.

When she figured he'd had enough, Mary drove her hands into his hair, asking for control. Without hesitation, Simon gave in, dropping his grip to her waist. She tilted, adjusted until a low moan rumbled through him. And then she kissed him without abandon, pouring all the pent-up energy of weeks of not being able to kiss him into the exchange.

Surfacing for air, Mary studied her handiwork. Simon's lips were flush and swollen from their actions, eyes hooded and his breathing rapid. Good. She liked him like this. Raw and real. Not the happy-go-lucky Simon, the wanton Simon. She dipped in to get more and tasted air.

Simon bent down and swooped Mary up in a fireman's lift, resting her solely on one shoulder, his hand firmly grasping the back of her thigh.

"Hey."

Simon growled something intelligible, and before she could ask him to clarify, she flew through the air, landing softly on the king-sized bed. While his lips attacked her neck, he unclasped her bra and hands no longer damp or cold found their way to her aching breasts. She sucked in a breath at his touch, fissures of pleasure running like waterfalls down into her core.

Before she lost herself in him completely, she pulled together the last of her reserves. "Condoms." She spit the word out, trying to maintain sensibility against the small circles Simon drew on her alert nipples. The rotations stopped. Mary had to bite her tongue not to cry out.

"I... I don't have any."

"Purse." She pointed to where she'd placed it on the slim foyer table in the hallway. Simon tore himself away from her, her body leaning in the direction he moved, like a magnet against steel. He returned with her clutch in hand. She grabbed it, flipped open the flap, unzipped the inside zipper and pulled out the trio of condoms she always kept. In case.

Simon raised an eyebrow at her, but wordlessly took the plastic packets and her purse, placing both on the table beside the bed. Mary clawed at him to hurry, come back to her. He obliged, climbing onto the bed beside her, his hands finding their way back to her chest, his lips her mouth. She tugged on his underwear, unsuccessful in her endeavour to remove them. Faster than Mary could have thought possible, his hands left her, removed the offending material and stark naked returned to her.

Before she had a chance to fully admire the specimen before her, fingers curled around the lace of her last remaining piece of clothing and the fine material caressed her skin as it slid down her legs. Simon took the opportunity to observe her, and Mary felt heat rise on her cheeks with the expression of awe drawn on his face.

"Like what you see?"

"Yes." His answer was plain and honest. Just like Simon.

Placing her cheek against his chest, Mary admitted out loud words she'd only ever thought. "I feel safe with you." Simon's chest shuttered. "Safe to be myself. No pretence, no expectations. Just me being... me."

He wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear. "I'm glad. I want you to know you never have to pretend with me."

Mary felt sure she could spend the rest of the night like this, with him holding her, and it would be enough. More than enough. For his part, he didn't seem in a rush either, his hand gently stroking her bare back. Yet each pass along her skin stoked the fire inside her and she began peppering his skin with kisses. A different kind of heat pressed against her abdomen, and Mary reached over Simon, picked up a condom, and tore it open.

As they became one, his desire washed over her body, bled into every cell, and rewrote her makeup, her essence. Simon was a part of her now, and she'd never be able to undo the fact.