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His eyes find mine in the gloom—the shades are open but the lamp’s off so the only light is the weak rays of a cloudy afternoon. Rain patters against the windows, quiet compared to our harried breaths and the beating of my heart thudding in my ears.

"I don't want to push you."

I laugh. "You're not. Trust me. I can handle you."

Oh, he likes that. His eyes glow with a dangerous glint. When his lips come back to mine, it's slower. Gentler. But his grip on me has tightened. The mad passion replaced by calculated seduction. I shiver from the shift. From his control.

"You'll have dinner with me?" Omar asks, his voice deep, using this intimate moment to go after what he wants…because I guess this, his hand trailing up my side, his tongue pulling my earlobe between his teeth, isn’tallhe’s after. I hiss, press against him. Fuck, I need this.

"Maybe," I answer, my voice hoarse.

He stops, pulls back, meets my gaze—dark eyes serious. “Angela." My name comes out quiet. “I want to get to know you. Not just fuck you.” The smile that steals over his lips isn’t shy.

I swallow. "Our schedules. I'm not really… it's hard."

"That was very eloquent," he says, the hand in my hair slowly massaging my scalp, that not shy smile toying with his lips.

I huff a laugh. "You know what I mean."

"I don't let schedules or anything else get in the way of what I want." His voice is stern. As if I've challenged him. "I want you to have dinner with me."

"What if I say no."

He smiles, those lush lips of his spreading, showing just a glint of teeth. "I'll say please."

Fuck, why is that so hot?

One hand still tangled in my hair, the other slides up my side, slipping under my sweater. His fingers brand my naked flesh, turning my words breathy. "I do like a man unafraid to beg."

His smile grows. "I beg you, please, agree to dinner with me."

"It means that much to you?"

"It does."

I can't tell if it's a genuine desire to extend our relationship beyond an afternoon in a hotel suite or just that my reluctance to offer my continuing companionship has him so hungry for it. Pulling against his hold in my hair, I reach for his lips.

He lets me capture them. Lets my hands wrap around his neck. Lets me press my body flush to his again. Hands run down my body and grip my ass, lifting me up, so that my legs wrap around his waist. Then he walks, still kissing me, into the bedroom.

ChapterEleven

"I'm sending someone,"Mary tells me. "This has gone on long enough. You need an assistant."

"Mary—" I start but she interrupts me.

"Angela, I gave you months. Now you're on a press tour without help, and it's making my job harder. Your training forThe Last Guardiastarts in eight weeks, and we need someone taking care of you." Mary references my next film project—a sci-fi thriller about a female sword master on a mission to save her brother.

It's nothing likeThe Benefactor—there will be no Oscar talk or protestors—but it couldn't exist without the birth control pill. It's hard to imagine a sexy, independent, sword-wielding heroine if she can't fuck without getting pregnant.

When we talk about strong female characters, we are talking about women who have agency. Women who have power over their own bodies. Without contraception the sex scene on page sixty isn't hot, it's stupidly dangerous…for the woman.

"But—" I try again.

"Remember when I gave you Archie?" Mary doesn't wait for me to reply. "You didn't think you wanted a dog, and now what would you do without him?"

Have a total emotional breakdown. Maybe attack my head of security in a supply closet. Fuck a prince. Hard to say.

"Well, you're going to love Lloyd just as much."