A romance author who can't get laid and a billionaire playboy with a dark past...what could go wrong? ***** Stepping closer he asks roughly, "Do you ever think about me? About that night?" I twist my hands nervously. "When I'm in b-bed?" "Yes, Ellie." He walks up to me slowly, stopping just inches away. "When you're lying in bed, all alone, do you think about how hard you came from just my voice?" My gaze lowers. I can't lie to him. "Y-Yes..." "Does it turn you on?" "Yes." "And what do you do?" Brushing a strand of hair off my shoulder he asks again, "What do you do when you're aching and thinking about me all alone in bed?" My eyes lock onto his and I know he already knows the answer. His pupils dilate, black pools rimed by silver. "Adrian," I whimper.