By the time we get to the casino hotel it's almost midnight. But the Vegas strip is so lit up that you would almost think it's daytime.

This time I'm sure it was an Uber Black that picked us up at the airport. When we arrive, Gabe makes a quick call to Max. From what I can hear of the conversation, he's checking to see if the meeting is over and if he should bring me up to the penthouse.

That's odd. If Max is still tied up in a meeting, wouldn't Gabe take me there anyway just to wait for him?

Apparently it is the penthouse, just as I suspected. I wonder what you pay for a night in the best suite at this over-the-top hotel. Maybe if you're a high roller it's a moot point and they comp you, but it didn't sound like Max gambles on the regular. At least not enough to get comped the penthouse.

There's a separate elevator for the penthouse suites, apparently. Gabe also points out that there's more than one, but that none surpass the one Max is in.

"It seems a little over the top to me, honestly," I tell Gabe as the elevator whisks us higher and higher.

"These things matter," Gabe says, leaving me to wonder, matter to whom? I have a feeling I'd be impressed by even the cheapest room at this luxury hotel, casino and resort all in one.

"So, is Max back?" I ask Gabe, and he gives me a puzzled look.

"Back?"

"From his meeting."

Gabe smiles. "He's waiting for you."

Before I can question him further, the elevator door opens directly into a lavish entranceway. Gabe sets my overnight bag on the ornate couch directly across from the elevator, then steps back into the elevator again.

"It's right through there," he says, gesturing toward a set of double doors made of highly polished wood. Then the elevator door slides shut, and he's gone. I reach for the gold handle on one of the doors, but before I can turn it, the door swings open and Max is standing on the other side.

He's wearing a tailored navy suit with a white t-shirt, and my breath catches in my throat when I see him. For some weird reason, I suddenly feel nervous. It's like I'd forgotten how incredibly hot he is. Or maybe it's just because this is the first time I've seen him since those late-night conversations about my fantasies. And his.

He has just a hint of stubble, like it's been awhile since he shaved, and I'm already imagining what it will feel like brushing against my skin.

"Hadley." He says my name, and now I'm staring at his mouth. I feel giddy with the thought that we have all night to do whatever we want.

And right now, I can't remember ever wanting anything as much as I want to be with Max.

"You have a bag?" he asks me, and I nod and glance back toward the entranceway. Max steps through the door, brushing past me close enough that I catch the scent of his cologne. It fills my senses. It's so distinctively Max.

He picks my bag up and brings it back inside, setting it on a chair.

"We'll take care of that later," he says, then shuts the doors behind us and flips the lock to the Do Not Disturb setting.

"Take off your jacket," he tells me.

"Why don't you take off yours?"

He smiles, but instead of taking his jacket off, he walks over close to me and reaches out a hand for mine. I slip out of it, and he lays it over the back of the chair where my bag is. I take a step to the side and set my purse down too, glancing around the penthouse.

Across the large, open floor plan are huge windows that showcase the Vegas strip at night, just as I imagined it. There are cozy sitting areas and a fireplace, and what looks like a conference room off to the side.

Now I get why Gabe called. Max has been hosting the meetings here. That's why he has the penthouse. It's a statement to the people he's dealing with.

And that's why Gabe had to check before bringing me up here. To make sure the people Max was meeting with were gone.

I imagine a group of Mafia dons sitting at the conference table, and swallow hard. I have no business being with a man as dangerous as Max. It goes against my safe, carefully planned out life.

Those thoughts just dissolve when Max moves closer to me again.

"I'll give you the tour," Max says. "Later."

My sundress is halter-style, with a low vee in the front. Max puts his hand on the narrow strap that goes around my neck and, I think he's going to reach back and unfasten it. I take an unsteady breath and wait for the smooth fabric of the dress to shimmy down my body and fall to the floor.

But instead, he runs his hand down one side of the vee, his fingers curling slightly under the fabric, knuckles grazing my skin. Everywhere he touches, my nerve endings catch fire. When he reaches the point of the vee, his hand moves slowly back up the other side.

Having his hands so close to my breasts has my nipples tingling and getting erect. He's looking directly at the effect he's having on me, which only increases what I'm feeling. There's no way I could be wearing a bra with this dress, and he knows it.

His hands travel the same journey two more times, agonizingly slow, and now his eyes are focused on mine. I watch the brilliant blue of them go darker.

"I thought—" I begin, but just then his hand dips a little farther and I can't get the words out.

"You thought," he says slowly, his fingertips moving over my breast—almost to my nipple—but then away again, "I was going to slam you against the door, rip your panties off, and take you right here."

He moves his body closer, and the smell of his cologne mixed with his own masculine scent is intoxicating. "Take you hard and fast and have you screaming my name when you come."

"Yes," I breathe. My knees go a little weak and stabs of arousal travel like lightning directly to my center.

He leans down, and I feel the slight scrape of his stubble against my cheek, his breath on the side of my neck. His voice is low and seductive. "You'll scream my name Hadley, count on it. But I'm planning on taking my time with you tonight."

While he's talking, one of his hands finally, thank God, closes over my bare breast. He pinches my nipple, tweaking it between his fingers until I feel suspended between pain and pleasure.

I just want more. I try pressing against him to keep his hand exactly where I want it, but Max is in control. He does what he wants, and he takes his time about it.

He's still working my nipple with those talented fingers when he slides the other hand behind my neck. My sundress slips down my body to the floor, leaving me wearing nothing but a lacy thong and my strappy high heeled sandals.

Even in my heels, he's still taller than me, and I arch my back, pointing my breasts upward. He's using both hands now, stroking both my nipples in that slow pattern, alternating between rubbing his palms over them and pinching.

I'm breathing faster now, and I hope I don't embarrass myself by coming just from his hands on my breasts.

Adding to the edge is the fact that he's still completely dressed, and I'm standing here in nothing but heels and a thong, my nipples betraying how aroused I am already. As much as I'm yearning to get his clothes off as well, this is just incredibly erotic.

"You're making me crazy, Max," I tell him.

When he looks at me, his eyes are still dark with desire, but they have a wicked glint that tells me he knows exactly what he's doing to me with his slow, deliberate pace.

"I've been crazy all week, stuck here in meetings and realizing I probably wasn't going to make it back for our date at the club tonight."

My answer turns into a moan as he slides his hands around my body and grips my bottom.

"Come on," Max says, "let's get a little more comfortable."

He takes my hand to pull me after him. When I almost trip over my sundress, he simply picks me up instead and carries me to one of the seating areas looking out over the Vegan strip. Neon signs, newer LED screens, colorful sky beams, and bright lights are everywhere, spilling out of the casinos and moving through the streets. The headlights from the cars look like an illuminated, winding serpent.

Finally, Max takes off his jacket and I get another rush looking at his defined muscles through the tight t-shirt. He sits down on one of the upholstered chairs in the living room and pulls me to stand between his legs.

"That's better," he says.

"Maybe for you, Max. I'm still standing here in three inch heels."

"Not for long," he says, tugging me into his lap. I'm straddling him, and now I can feel his warm breath on my breasts instead of my neck.

He raises an eyebrow and pulls me closer. "This is just too temping," he says as his mouth closes over my nipple and his tongue gets busy.

I've got both my hands on the sides of his head, fingers digging into that thick, wavy hair. I arch my back, delicious thrills running through my entire body. I'm just getting used to the feeling when all of a sudden, he slips a hand between my legs and starts stroking my clit through the little lacy triangle of my thong.

The sudden pressure is so strong I yell his name, and he lifts his head for a moment and grins at me.

"I told you I'd have you screaming my name."

His mouth goes back to doing all the things before I can even react. Then all I can think about is his hand stroking me. I try to move my body, not even sure if I'm trying to press harder against him to increase the pressure or pull away.

I can do neither. Because I'm straddling him, his fingers have free play to do whatever he wants, and now his other hand is on my bottom, holding me in place and moving my hips in a rhythm that soon takes off on its own.

I feel the rip in the thong the same moment I hear the silky fabric rending.

"Dammit Max, I told you I love my underwear."

"I'll buy you two dozen new ones for every time you come tonight," Max says, and now there's nothing between those relentless fingers and the hardened nub of my clit that he keeps teasing and pressing until I can't hold back any longer and I go flying over the edge.

The orgasm is sharp and fast and goes all the way to my core in dizzying waves, and it's just so glorious and uncontrollable that I'm screaming his name again, and I don't even care.

I slump against his chest while I try to recover.

"That's one," Max says, and I tilt my head up on his chest to look at him.

"How many are you going for?" I ask him, thinking that at this rate I won't be able to walk in the morning.

"As many as we can before we pass out," Max says. Then he stands up, simultaneously hoisting me over his shoulder.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, Hadley, I'm taking you to my bed. But this time, it won't be to tuck you in."

He sets me down right by the elevated bed in a room that is everything I would have imagined the penthouse would offer. There's a fireplace in here, too, and the same spectacular view out the floor to ceiling windows. A white shag area rug surrounds the bed, and the whole set-up feels like an oasis.

Before he can do anything with those hands again, I get mine moving and strip the t-shirt off him. I want skin to skin, and I want it now. I want him inside me, in this huge bed in this stunning room that seems right out of a fantasy.

But it's not a fantasy. It's real. I don't even have to pinch myself.

Max pulls me closer, my skin pressed against his. When I tilt my head up, he kisses me, and I want it to go on forever. It's like the kiss on the plane but so much better.

When he pulls back, the absence of his mouth on mine is like a shock. Then, before I can even think, Max is naked. I am too, except for those strappy heels that I'm beginning to think won't be coming off anytime soon.

We tumble into the bed and Max pulls me on top of him.

Something in the air changes.

I straddle him, looking down at that face that could have been carved in marble by Michelangelo, angles and planes making him so devastatingly gorgeous. I just stare at him while his hands explore me. He grips my waist, then slides his hands upward over my stomach, my ribs, moving slowly around my breasts, his thumbs finally settling on my already swollen nipples.

"So beautiful," he says, voice low, his eyes never leaving mine. I think I could drown in the blue of their depths.

He reaches for a condom on the bedside table and unwraps it. I take it from him and slide it over his thick, hard length while his gaze travels over me in a way that makes me feel both wanton and beautiful. I take him inside me and begin moving slowly, the motion of his hips matching mine in an erotic dance until he is thrusting even deeper, but still slow and deliberate.

And suddenly, I want it all right now. I quicken the pace, moving my hips faster, urging him along, but Max isn't cooperating.

Instead, he flips our positions and I find myself under him. Now he's in control, his arms braced on either side of me, my legs resting on his shoulders.

"We'll do fast later," he tells me. "Right now, I'm going to take my time with you."

I pout, even as my arousal builds, steady and inexorable as the tides. "What if I want to be in charge?" I ask him.

The sexy half-smile he gives me has my heart leaping into my throat.

"Later," he says. "Now stop talking."

And I have no choice but to stop talking, because he covers my mouth was his and I'm kissing him back, slow and deep, sending delicious tremors through my whole body. No one has ever made love to me so deliberately before, with such care. I'm just realizing that there's a difference, and it's the complete attention to detail. The certainty that every part of him is completely focused on me. It's a heady feeling.

Meanwhile those long, slow thrusts are going deeper, and I feel stripped of my defenses. I can only exist in the moment. And the moment is all Max.

I start to tremble as the orgasm builds and builds until it lifts me up like a tsunami and slams me onto the shore, shocking in its intensity. And damned if I don't hear myself screaming his name. Again. Still, he's moving inside me, taking me through the aftershocks with little waves of pleasure.

When I feel him tense as he comes, I go over again myself in a quick, sharp flash that only lasts a few seconds but leaves me breathless. What the hell is happening here?

Moments later, we're lying side by side on the bed and I'm trying to get my breathing back to normal.

I sigh, and Max rolls onto his side to face me, leaning on his elbow.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. I just never got to take my bubble bath."

"What?"

"I was going to take a long hot bath with lots of bubbles this evening," I explain. "Then slather myself with scented lotions and put on my sexiest dress to meet you at the club. Then there was that change of plans before I had a chance to do any of it."

"Sorry to disappoint," he says, a tad sardonically.

"You could never do that," I tell him. Then I glance toward the en suite that I'm betting has a pretty amazing whirlpool tub itself - probably way better than the one at the condo where I've been staying.

"Later," Max says, reading my mind.

"Is that your word for the day? Later?"

"I have other plans for you at the moment," Max says, and incredibly a little flame of arousal is trying to reignite.

"My negotiations today," Max explains, "were long and tedious, and, let's just say I'm dealing with people who take awhile to get to the point. And can't be rushed. Unless you want to end up at the bottom of a river. "

"Max!" I sit bolt right up, scared more than ever by the kind of people I can only imagine he's dealing with.

"Just kidding," he says, raising his hands to profess innocence, but I'm pretty sure he's not.

The little voice in the back of my head tells me I ought to run now while I still can. I ruthlessly squelch it. I can be sensible later.

"So," Max continues, and I spot that little glint in his eye again that means trouble. "I had plenty of time earlier today to imagine what I'd do if I had you naked on that conference table."

He raises an eyebrow. "Care to take a meeting with me, Hadley? The conference room is waiting."

All I can think is oh my.