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caffeine fix had come from, she was grateful. But she was not at all happy about what she knew was coming next. “You’re leaving,” she accused.
    â€œIt is unavoidable. I must work, Chelsea. You understand that.”
    â€œI do, but—” she felt like hurling the cup across the room, letting it splash against the silk curtains, the floor-to-ceiling views of the city. “It would be one thing if you went to work like an ordinary man and I knew you’d be home in time for the evening news.”
    â€œWe both know you would not love an ordinary man.” His tone was patient, but the words were laced with the faintest hint of danger. Chelsea knew it wasn’t her place to question what he did, but the idea of him leaving her there, alone, felt like a force that would scour her empty.
    â€œMaybe,” she said, petulance lacing her words, “I’d love you a little more if you were a little more ordinary.”
    Then she looked directly into his eyes—just in time to see the fire blaze to life. He went still, the corner of his mouth tightening.
    If this was a staring contest, Chelsea already knew she was doomed. But she glared back defiantly nonetheless. Of course she hadn’t meant what she said—she didn’t want Ricardo to be anything like the bland, predictable men who went to work every day in the gleaming high-rises of the city. And he wouldn’t be who he was if he allowed her, or anyone, to dictate his comings and goings.
    But she hadn’t chosen to have her life disrupted, hadn’t chosen to be spirited away like a refugee, even if her cage was gilded, even if she was surrounded by luxury beyond anything she’d ever experienced before.
    She lifted her chin a little higher.
    â€œDangerous words, querida ,” Ricardo said, his voice as rough as gravel over steel. “I’ll give you a moment to think, before you beg my forgiveness.”
    Everything was still and silent, other than the drip of water from the faucet and the faint hum of the air conditioner. The air was steamy and fragrant with the soaps and lotions Chelsea had found in the bathroom, and a rivulet of water slid slowly down her face.
    Deep inside her, the ferocious, unquenchable need awoke. It had never really been asleep, not since the first time Ricardo glanced at her with that smoldering, provocative gaze. But she usually managed to keep it contained in the hours and days when they were apart, at least long enough to work, to run, to eat and sleep, to take care of the everyday tasks of her life.
    But here, in the protected aerie dominated by her lover, Chelsea was like a vibrating guitar string. He could set her off with a look, with a whiff of his scent, with an idle caress. The best thing for Chelsea would be for him to walk away, at least long enough for her to catch her breath, to get her bearings.
    All she had to do was say she was sorry, and he would leave.
    The need grew. Between her legs, her pussy swelled. Her nipples tingled, anticipating his touch. Blood rushed to her face, warming her cheeks with a blush; itrushed elsewhere in her body, readying her flesh for the dance that had been practiced since the dawn of time. It was too late for her to retreat now. Her mind wavered, but her body knew what it wanted. Without consciously meaning to, her hips jutted forward, her lips parted, her tongue darted out to moisten them. Her fingers twitched, longing to touch him.
    â€œNo,” she whispered.
    The word no, to any other man she’d been with, was an end, a door closed. She’d said no as often as she said yes—and she’d said yes a lot, inviting a steady stream of men into her bed. When she was bored, she kicked them out. When their touch left her feeling lonelier than being alone. When her own company was less painful than their efforts to get close to her.
    For Ricardo, no had an entirely different meaning. It wasn’t that he disregarded her