I grinned. “I’m not going to disappear, Porter.”

He sighed. “See, I’m not so sure about that.”

And then Porter turned on the lights.

Pain exploded in my eyes as I screwed them shut to allow them time to adjust. After several failed attempts, I finally managed to pry my lids open.

He was still standing across the room, but his eyes were closed and he was shaking his head.

“Porter?” I whispered.

“I fucking knew it.” His abs rippled deliciously as he thrust a hand into the top of his hair.

“What?” I asked, sitting up.

His lids opened, heat radiating from his piercing blue eyes as they raked over my body. “I never should have turned that fucking light off.” He tipped his chin at me, his lips twitching. “I have a feeling I missed one hell of a show.” Then he winked—so fucking sexy.

I bit my lip to stifle the laugh. “The light definitely has its perks.” I allowed my gaze to drift down to his toes then back up to his eyes, where I returned his wink. “You are very naked,” I said, rising to my feet.

He chuckled. “So are you.”

My lips curled up as I prowled toward him, his eyes darkening as I got close.

Stopping in front of him, I rested my hands on his hard chest. “You. Are. Gorgeous.”

Folding his arms around my waist, he dipped, touched his lips to mine, and repeated, “So are you.”

And then he kissed me, hot and heavy, wiping the smile off my face at the same time that he sent a rush of heat between my thighs.

I pushed up onto my toes to take it deeper, but he lifted his head and ordered, “Put on your pants. You need to clean up, and I don’t have a bathroom in here.” He released me and went to a closet door behind his desk, his ass gloriously on display as he sauntered away.

I stared unapologetically. He had a really nice ass, and it was attached to really nice powerful thighs at the bottom and a really nice trim and defined back at the top.

It was a fantastic view, and I took full advantage.

“Small?” he asked without turning around.

“Huh?” I asked his ass.

He turned to face me so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to divert my gaze.

Aannnnd, now, I was staring at his cock. (I should note that it, too, was really nice. Long and thick, even as it hung sated between his legs.)

I jerked my eyes up to his and found him smirking.

My cheeks heated, but I shrugged and pointed at the ceiling. “Sorry. It’s the lights.”

A huge smile broke across his face. “What size shirt do you wear, sweetheart?”

“Oh. Yeah, small.”

He slid a black, neatly folded T-shirt bearing The Porterhouse logo from the bottom of a tall stack and closed the door. His bare feet padded against the wood as he walked back to me.

“Hands up,” he said, bunching the fabric together to expose the neck opening. He didn’t wait for me to obey before sliding it over my head.

“I need to put my bra on first,” I objected.

“It’s wet,” he said, tugging the shirt down my torso so I was forced to poke my arms through the holes or have them pinned at my sides.

“It’ll dry.”

He kissed my forehead and snuck a hand between us to pluck my nipple. “And, when it does, you can put it back on.”

I gasped and swayed into him, gripping his biceps for balance.

“Come on. Get dressed. I have less than seven hours before the sun comes up. I’m taking you somewhere.”

Surprised, I peered up at him. “What? Where?”

He kissed me again and then walked away, muttering, “Somewhere.”

I cried a little inside as he pulled his pants on, but then I got to work doing the same. When we were both dressed, he took my hand and led me through the restaurant, to the bathroom. Thankfully, I didn’t have to face any of his staff, as it appeared they had finished closing up during our little reunion of sorts.

After I finished doing my business in the bathroom, Porter once again wrapped my hand in his and guided me to the back door, where I waited while he went to the front to lock up and set the alarm.

It was still raining as we ran to his black Tahoe, which was parked beside the back door. He opened my door and I quickly slid inside. Then I giggled as I watched him trying to cover his head as he rounded the hood to the driver’s door.

He climbed in, grumbling, “Tomorrow, I’m buying a pullout couch for my office and a fucking umbrella.”

I laughed, and he shot me a dazzling smile.

“So, where are we going?” I asked, buckling up then turning sideways in my seat to face him.

A devilish glint danced in his eyes as he announced, “We…are going to steal a car.”

I twisted my lips, and my eyebrows pinched together. “Um…why?”

Holding my gaze, he put the truck in reverse and whispered in arrogance, “Because we can.” He paused. “And because I’m suddenly feeling seriously inadequate after seeing your BMW parked out front.”

I erupted in laughter and followed his gaze as he pivoted in his seat to see out the back window.

And then my laughter died.

Secured in the center of his backseat was a pink-and-purple flowery car seat. My stomach clenched as I stared at it. An abandoned sippy cup filled the attached cup holder, and a lone Barbie had been haphazardly discarded on the seat beside it.

I wasn’t delusional, going through life pretending children didn’t exist. I saw them every day. At the grocery store. At restaurants. Riding their bikes in my apartment complex. For the most part, I ignored them. Self-preservation and all.

But that car seat was like the ten-thousand-pound elephant in the room with Porter and me.

Porter’s daughter sat in that seat, more than likely singing songs and laughing at her father’s corny jokes. His son probably sat beside her, rolling his eyes and acting like he was too cool to hang out with them. All of this while Porter sat in the driver’s seat, stealing glances of his babies in the rearview mirror, his heart full and his smile wide.

“Charlotte?” he called, pulling my attention away from the backseat.

I blinked and realized he’d stopped halfway out of the parking spot. Shaking my head, I tried to snap myself out of it, but my gaze kept flicking back to that car seat.

“Look at me,” he urged, gently taking my hand in his and resting them both on his thigh. “What’s going on?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and squeaked, “It’s really bright in here, Porter.”

His hand released mine and moved to curl around the back of my neck, at which point he dragged me toward him until our foreheads touched. “Okay. You good with me driving your car?”

I nodded, my forehead rolling against his.

His soft lips came to mine, pressing deep before he said, “Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

And hold on I did. It only took about fifteen seconds for him to drive around the building to my car, but I clung to his hand as though he were the only thing keeping me from floating away. I tried not to dash out as soon as he got the car in park, but I suspected I failed, considering I was already in the passenger’s seat of my car before Porter had cut the ignition on his truck.

I was silently cursing myself for being such a basket case when he climbed inside and slid the driver’s seat all the way back to accommodate his long legs.

Embarrassment assaulted me. “I’m really sorry. I…”

I trailed off when my ass was suddenly up off the leather. My hip bounced off the steering wheel and my legs got tangled on the gearshift, but he didn’t stop jostling me until he had my ass in his lap.

“Thirty minutes,” he stated matter-of-factly. “I drive an extra thirty minutes every day to get to work just so I don’t have to go over that bridge again.”

My heart soared, and I lifted my eyes to his.

“I’m amending our deal, Charlotte. No questions. No judgment. No faking it.” He kissed me and then finished with, “No apologies.”

My face got all scrunchy in that hideous way that happens when you’re fighting tears back. “You’re such an amazing guy.”

He grinned. “Does that mean you don’t think I’m a serial killer anymore?”