Epilogue Human Evolutionary History
THREE MONTHS LATER
*Samantha*
I stood by the window in a brand-new negligee—black, lace, extremely transparent, skintight—and watched the setting sun flatten itself into the dusty mountains.
The tournament, and therefore Andreas’s hotel, was located in the heart of the Las Vegas Strip.
Both the sun and the neon glow had sneaked through every crack in the blackout curtains earlier while I’d attempted to sleep after my red-eye from New York.
Technically, I wasn’t supposed to be here.
Andreas thought I was still in New York City, working to finish my dissertation.
But my dissertation was already finished.
And I was a free woman who wanted to surprise her boyfriend with lit candles (battery powered, for fire safety), rose petals, big hair, red lipstick, and every possible surface of my skin waxed and exfoliated and moisturized to a glassy finish.
I’d never felt less like myself.
And yet, I’d also never felt more like the person I wanted to be: fun, spontaneous, exciting, sexy, and incredibly smooth—literally and figuratively.
Tonight would be the night. I was determined. Of course, as long as Andreas consented.
Initially, my injuries had thrown a wrench in our plans.
Then, my physical therapy had caused additional delays.
After that, I’d spent almost every waking hour and ounce of energy on my dissertation, wanting to hit the end-of-summer deadline set by Dr. Hauser all those months ago.
But I’d done it. I’d finished ahead of schedule.
Which was why tonight should be a total surprise for my unsuspecting, favorite strategic mastermind.
Perhaps it was merely my imagination, but the air in the room seemed to vibrate with possibility.
Every few minutes, I paced from the bed to the bathroom to check the mirror.
The black lace looked both explicit and demure.
Covering my neck, arms to wrists, chest, stomach, hips, and down to mid-thigh, from a distance it might pass as a dress with a nude slip beneath instead of a nude body.
I loved it and I’d wanted it the moment I’d spotted it, feeling certain it would be perfect for this occasion.
My phone sat on the nightstand, the screen currently dark. Andreas had texted me earlier, telling me he’d won all his matches, and that he’d missed me, and that he’d planned to go to bed early just in case I had time for a call.
Deceiving him in this instance didn’t feel wrong. But standing here, waiting, did feel like I was counting down to the moment until the rest of my life would walk through the door.
Abruptly, a heavy thunk came from the outer door and I tensed, instantly aware of every nerve ending in my body. It’s time. He was here.
Andreas’s voice, muffled by the door, said something like, “This is a disaster. Elio is an idiot.”
His accent sounded sharper than usual. I grinned, because I couldn’t wait to see his face when he saw me.
A key card beeped. The handle turned. I could hear the scrape of shoes on tile and the rustle of plastic bags.
I thought about calling out, letting him know I was here and waiting for him. Instead, I tiptoed to the bed and sat on the mattress, deciding to wait for him to walk in and discover me.
See? Smooth. Real smooth.
A long, slow, beleaguered-sounding exhale met my ears from the entry, followed by Andreas’s voice saying, “Elio was supposed to schedule all post-match press for tomorrow. Instead, he invited three separate interview teams and did not tell me. The final match has been delayed.”
It sounded like he was speaking to someone on the phone. I bit my lip, wondering if I should call out after all. The last thing I needed was to startle him while he was on the phone, only half paying attention to his surroundings.
What to do, what to do . . .
There was nothing for it. I decided to alert him.
Inhaling deeply, I called, “Andreas! I’m here to surprise you.” Wincing at the words, hoping they were the right ones, I tucked my hands under my chin and waited.
A pause, then, “Samantha?”
“Yes!”
Immediately, he spoke rapid fire, “SorryIwillcallyoubackbye.” His words sounded slurred because he’d said them so fast.
I heard his footsteps move around the suite as he said loudly, “Where are you?”
“In the bedroom,” I answered, and instantly regretted how much it sounded like a porn setup.
Another pause. “Which bedroom?”
My heart did a weird, uncoordinated dance.
“The main one,” I said, and instantly started second-guessing my entire seduction strategy.
What if he’d had a terrible day? What if he was too tired, or too anxious, or just wanted to relax like the vegetables he loved so much?
Maybe I should’ve waited, or at least worn something less “Seduction: Funeral Edition.”
His footsteps echoed closer, deliberate and hurried. Then, he appeared in the doorway, and his gorgeousness took my breath away. He wore an impeccably tailored suit and, as usual, he was put together so precisely, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on his body and mess it all up.
For a second I thought maybe he hadn’t registered what I was wearing, or maybe he was so deep in chess brain that I’d have to wave my arms and shout, “Hey! Objectify me!”
But then the scowl melted off his face, and his eyes did that thing where they went from ice to wildfire in a nanosecond. He stood very still, looking me up and down, the rising and falling of his chest a perfect, escalating rhythm.
Then he said, “Holy shit.”
I stood from the bed and held my arms out, wanting his inspection. “Like it?”
He closed the distance in three strides and, with zero warning, lifted me off the floor.
He held me for a beat, as if weighing my entire body in his arms was a math problem he’d waited all his life to solve.
Then he kissed me. Not the careful, practiced kisses he’d portioned out while I’d been injured, but the kind from before.
The ones that left no doubt who I belonged to, and who he belonged to, or what was about to happen between us.
Between kisses, he sorta growled, “Is this to tease me? It better not be.”
Leaning away, I moved my lips to his ear, my voice barely above a breath, and whispered, “No. To satisfy you.”
He groaned, the sound low and seismic. Andreas set me gently on the bed, encouraging me to kneel on the mattress. His hands were already under the lace, fingers splayed on my back, skimming the edge of my ass, grabbing it, massaging it, giving it a tight, sudden smack.
I sucked in a pleasantly surprised breath and he groaned. “I need you,” he said, seemingly already lost to the moment. “Fuck, I need you so badly.”
I’d expected this part to be awkward, maybe a little rushed, but instead it almost felt choreographed.
Perhaps he, too, had been planning and thinking about this moment for a long, long time.
His mouth traced a line from my ear to my collarbone over the lace, then dipped lower, pausing just long enough to bite at my shoulder while his fingers moved to the front of my body.
Administering a punishing pinch to my nipple, his mouth curved into a smile at my gasp.
Releasing my weight fully to the mattress, Andreas stepped back and began stripping off his suit, his eyes darkening as they moved over my body, and I shivered under his stare, the sweep of reverence but also possession I knew was echoed in my own gaze.
He looked like he had plans, and I loved that for both of us.
Unable to help myself or hold still, I worked on the buttons of his shirt, tugging at the ends until he gave up and yanked it over his head, sending three tiny discs pinging off the floor and wall.
When his body was bare, I wanted to stop and stare, because seeing him in sweatpants and T-shirts was great, but seeing him naked and hungry and absolutely mine was my favorite.
He noticed the staring and smiled, just a little, just enough.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” I asked, because I wanted him to have an out. We could do so many other things tonight. I didn’t want him to feel even a little bit pressured.
He didn’t hesitate, reaching for me and speaking against my neck. “I have been ready since December of last year. I want you, I need you. Please. No more waiting. I need you. I love you.”
It’s easy to be cynical about declarations. But the way he’d said it—voice dark, eyes bright, body already trembling with anticipation—I believed every word. Not just that, but I knew Andreas. I trusted him. He always told me the truth, even when it made one or both of us uncomfortable.
He kissed me again, deeper this time, and when his hands slid under the hem of my negligee, I let him find what he was looking for. I was wet and so ready for his touch. He teased me through the lace, fingertips drawing lazy circles over my nipples, then down, then back up, until I was panting.
“I love this, but I want it off,” he ground out, pushing up the negligee before I could utter a protest.
Not that I would.
Tossing it to the foot of the bed, Andreas stared at me like I was the world’s rarest treasure, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer, skin to skin, my breasts pressing against his chest, our hips aligning in a way that felt both accidental and preordained.
His cock was hard and hot against my thigh, and I reached down, palming him, hungry for his reaction. He sucked in a sharp breath, then a shuddering laugh escaped him.
“If you do that, I will not last long.”
“We can always do it more than once,” I said, hoping my voice sounded casual, and nowhere near as desperate as I felt.
He shook his head, eyes narrowing. “You are so smart.”