He looked so beautiful. The hair, the eyes, the long legs

and broad shoulders. I thought of him with his hand on his

prick, coming at my command. I thought of him on his

knees, his mouth on my knee, my thigh. My cunt.

I thought of the bracelet that marked him as my

responsibility.

I thought of a lot of things as I watched him head for the

elevator and punch the button. I thought of even more as I

watched him wait for it to arrive, its progress from the top

floor taking forever and marked with a ping and the floor

number lit above the sliding doors. I got to my feet in my

armor, with my shield. The plastic plant blocked the view a

little, but he could've seen me, had he looked.

Eric didn't look around. He bounced on the bals of his

feet. His bag slapped his side and he let it slide from his

shoulder to grab the strap. The elevator pinged but didn't

open, stuck on the third floor. I heard him mutter

something. I stepped away from the plant. The elevator

opened.

Sometimes, you turn back.

And sometimes, you walk away.

I watched him get into the elevator and the doors closed

behind him. I watched its progress up and up, the lit

numbers showing me exactly how far he went. Then I

turned on my high, spiked heel and went to the front desk,

where I puled a letter from my black clutch purse.

It was an explanation, short but firm, and a final list of

commands for Eric to folow. He would be disappointed,

but something told me he'd be relieved, too. Some things

are better left in fantasy.

I handed it to the clerk. "Would you see that the gentleman

who just checked in under the name Rose Thorn gets this

note, please? It's important."

The staff at the Hilton are wel trained, and this boy was no

exception. Or maybe it was the clothes and the way I said

the words, as though I had no doubt he would jump to do

my bidding without even the snap of my fingers. He

nodded and took the paper from me. He looked at the

blank front and then at me, and nodded.

"Absolutely, ma'am."

"Right away," I said.

"Yes. I'l do it myself." He looked to the girl beside him, who shrugged, not at al taken in by any of this.

He didn't peek as he walked away, and no matter what he

might have done the moment the elevator closed behind

him, I would never know.

It was done.

Austin opened the door after I'd knocked three times. He

looked me up and down, his mouth slowly curving. He

opened the door, wide, and stepped back to let me

through. I didn't miss the way he leaned toward me as I

passed him, or the way he breathed me in.

I stopped in his living room and pivoted to face him.

"Austin."

"Paige," he said patiently.

I took a breath so deep it lifted my shoulders, and I

dropped my purse. It hit the floor and bounced, but neither

of us looked at it. When I opened my arms he came into

them, and when I kissed him, he kissed me back.

"I want you," I said.

I showed him how much with my hands and mouth.

"I'm sorry," I told him.

Austin kissed me harder.

"I love you," I told him.

It was not the first time, but I didn't want it to be the last.

Austin gathered me close and breathed into my hair, his

big hands hot and restless on my back. "I love you, too."

Sometimes, you turn back.

Sometimes, you turn back.

Sometimes, you walk away.

And sometimes, you find the place you're meant to be, and

you stay there. You find a way to make it work.

Whatever it takes.

SWITCH

ISBN: 978-1-4268-4601-4

Copyright Š 2010 by Megan Hart.

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