The commencement.

I paused at the doorway to the Park Avenue high-rise and stared at the building's name engraved on the stone. Jordan had already pulled away from the curb behind me. He probably felt I was safe enough to be left with the doorman who held the door for me while I stood frozen in thoughts.

This was real, a big step, a GIANT step, moving deeper into Santana's life than anyone had ever been before. I was excited, of course. I loved her. But did I really even know this woman? Could I truly love her based on the little I knew about her? Her address had been a mystery to me until two minutes ago when her driver had dropped me off. And what would I find inside the building? What was inside Santana Lopez, what was behind the mask she wore so well?

I felt like I'd seen the true Santana, like I was probably the only person in the world who truly had. But, I'd barely scratched the surface. There was still so much left to uncover and learn about the young business woman who had captured my heart.

She held secrets. She'd abandoned her mind games and predilection for manipulating women before meeting me, but the possibility of her past habits returning was very real. As real as the possibility of mine returning.

And that was the fear that overwhelmed me most; that I might be driven to my old habits of obsession. Of all the relationships I'd destroyed with my stalking and unfounded jealousy. I knew that destroying this one would destroy me as well. Thankfully, so far, I had felt fixed with Santana. But I think that only time would tell if that would last.

The doorman looked at me, an anxious expression on his face. Should he continue holding the door open for the crazy indecisive woman, or should he let it go?

I eased him with a smile. "Hey."

He returned the smile with a nod and closed the door.

Taking a deep breath, I looked toward the top floor where The Santana Lopez's apartment was surely located. I didn't even know in which floor she was. Was she awake up there? Was she looking for me from her window? Could she see me down here, hesitating?

She said she'd be sleeping, but it was that last idea that gave me the courage to move. I wouldn't put it past her to wait up for me and I didn't want her to suspect I felt any doubt at all. Because I didn't have doubts. Not about her. My doubts were about me, about whether I could handle us. And truly, if I let my hopes take root—hopes that I could finally have a real relationship with another person without losing myself to the fears and unhealthy habits of my obsessive past, then even those doubts were superficial.

The doorman smiled again as I stepped toward him, opening the door for me. Inside, another man sat at the security desk in front of the elevators.

"Ms. Fabray?" He asked before I had a chance to give him my name.

I shouldn't have been surprised. Santana said she'd leave a key for me at the desk and it was three-thirty in the morning. Who else would I be?

I nodded.

"Ms. Lopez left you this key. Both elevators on the left will take you to the penthouse. Simply insert the key into the panel when you get inside."

"Alright, thank you."

The doors opened the minute I pushed the call button. Inside the elevator car, my hand shook as I inserted the key in the panel, and I was grateful to no longer be in sight of the security guard.

The ride to the penthouse was fast, but not fast enough. As soon as I'd squashed down my trepidation, the emotion had been replaced with eagerness. I wanted to be in Santana's space, in her strong arms. I wanted to be with her. Even the minute that it took to arrive at the top floor was too long to be away from her.

The doors of the elevator opened into a small vestibule. I stepped out and turned the only direction I could, finding myself in a foyer. The space was quiet, but I could hear the sound of a clock ticking somewhere nearby, and there were very few lights on. I suspected the bedrooms were to my left, because my right opened up to a large living room with floor-to-ceiling windows.

As anxious as I was to find Santana, I turned instead into the living room, attracted by the gorgeous view. Before I made it to the windows, though, a lamp flipped on and I saw Santana sitting in an armchair.

Startled, my mouth fell open and then stayed open as I ogled the gorgeous woman dressed only in boxer shorts and a bra. Her voluptuous breasts quickened my heart before my gaze caught her brown eyes in the dim light. I'd never seen her in boxer shorts, and damn, had I been missing out.

It struck me again how little I knew her, but this time the thought didn't scare me, it excited me. How much more there was to discover about this woman? And I was ready to dive in and explore.

Yet, the excitement didn't ease the awkwardness, the anxiety. This was new territory, and I didn't know how to proceed. Certainly, Santana felt the same.

My hand held tight to my purse while the other absentmindedly clutched at the blue fabric of my dress, a short A-line that hedged the border of professional and sexy. It was the type of outfit I always wore at the firm and at the night club where I worked as an assistant manager and as their lawyer. The same night club Santana owned. The place I'd met her.

A memory flashed through my mind of the first time I'd seen her sitting at the end of the club's bar, of how she took my breath away. I'd known then I should have run. But I didn't. And now, I couldn't be more grateful.

She took my breath away now like she did then. With a meek smile, I braved breaking the silence.

"You're awake."

"I thought it would be best to be waiting for you when you got here, so that way you wouldn't be disoriented."

"But you should be sleeping." As president of Lopez Industries, a multi-billion dollar company, her hours conflicted with mine at the club. Coming over in the middle of the night, when her daily wake up time was six in the morning?

What was I doing? How could our two very separate lives ever be compatible?

No, I couldn't think that way. That was an excuse to deny myself happiness. And Santana and I both deserved some happiness, for once in our lives.

The object of my desire stood and crossed to me, lifting the hand that held my purse. That simple touch quieted my trepidation to a dull buzz, easy to ignore under the thud of my heart. That's what Santana did to me, overwhelmed and astounded me in such a beautifully delicious way.

"I slept. Now I'm awake." She took my purse from me and moved to set it on the end table.

Without her contact, my nerves returned and mindless small talk slipped from my lips. "I've never been in a penthouse before. Unless you count the loft." The loft above her office, the place where she'd fucked me to oblivion. Thank god the dark room hid my blush. "This is beautiful, S."

"You've barely seen any of it." She didn't cringe at my absurd nickname for her. Perhaps she was getting used to it.

"But what I can see…" My eyes scanned the expansive living room, noting the ornate detail of the architecture and the simplicity of the styling. "It's incredible."

"I'm glad you like it."

"It's much different than what I expected. Not like the loft. That's what I thought it would be like."

The loft was black, couches covered with leather. This place was white and light. I could tell that even in the low glow of the lamp and the moon.

"Quinn."

My name on her tongue sent goose bumps to the surface of my skin. How could she still do that to me? Turn me on with just a word? Turn me into knots so easily?

"The furniture is so different, too." Nervousness drove me to talk, avoiding the connection we'd make the minute I gave in. I stepped toward the white sofa and ran my hand across the expensive upholstery. "But Brittany decorated this place too, right?"

Her body tightened. "She did."

Brittany S Pierce, her childhood friend and ex-fiancée. Well, not really, but practically. I don't even know why I had brought her up. Was I trying to destroy us? Brittany had been a constant source of tension in our relationship since Santana had hired me to convince her mother that we were together. Maribel Lopez, thought that her daughter was incapable of love, and she tried to set her up with the daughter of her good friends —the S Pierce. Maribel thought that it was a perfect match for Santana. However, even if Santana couldn't feel anything for her, Brittany could at least keep her in line, she could keep Santana from getting in trouble with her addictions; waste money in illegal races and alcohol.

Except... it turned out that Santana could love. And during our ruse, she'd fallen in love with me.

Still, Santana had something with Brittany, a bond that fueled my jealousy. Deflecting, I moved to the windows. "The view here… "

"Quinn."

I pressed my face against the glass and looked down to the world far below. I must look like a loser, if that word still applies.

"It's gorgeous." I said again.

Santana came up behind me, her warmth emanating against my back even though she hadn't yet touched me.

"Quinn, look at me."

Slowly, I turned to her.

She lifted my chin up, forcing me to meet her eyes. "You're nervous, don't be. I want you here okay?"

Her words were the consolation I needed, sending calm over every part of my worry like a blanket smothering a fire. "Are you sure?" I'd been eased, but I wanted more from where that came. "You've never brought a woman here before, have you? It's weird, isn't it?"

Her thumb stroked my cheek, my skin awakening under her caress. "It's different, because I haven't brought a woman here, but it's not weird. And I am completely sure that I want you to be here."

I thrilled at the confirmation that I was the first woman she'd allowed in, the first woman she'd make love to in this house. Not even Brittany.

"Me, too. I mean, I'm sure that I want to be here." I stupidly said.

Her gaze burned into me. I could get lost there forever and that scared me just enough.

Looking for a way to keep myself, for only a moment longer, I glanced over at the room connected to the living room. "What's over there? Is that the dining room?"

"I'll give you a tour in the morning." She brought her other hand up to cradle my face, capturing my eyes again with her gorgeous brown eyes.

"A tour in the morning," I repeated. "Not now."

"No, not now. Now I want to welcome you to my home." And just like that, her mouth crashed into mine.

She took me to dizzying heights that put the view behind me to shame. Her lips sucked my own before her tongue slid inside my mouth with delicious strokes that threw me off balance, provoking me to throw my arms around her neck and hold on for dear life.

She moved a hand from my face to wrap around my waist and pulled me into her where I could feel her erection against my thigh through the thin material of her boxers. Her other hand reached behind my head to tangle in my hair. I pressed my breasts into her, needing to feel her with every part of my body.

A moan caught in the back of Santana's throat, vibrating underneath our kiss and kindling the desire in my belly. I shifted, trying to get closer, my leg antsy to hook around her.

Her lips still wrapped around mine, she said, "I do have one room I want to show you tonight."

"I hope it's the bedroom?"

"It is." In a blur of motion, she lifted me in her arms and headed back to the foyer I'd come from. Just like that she carried me away, the movement mirroring the effect she had on me in general, with her, I was a branch in a roaring river, rushing toward the sea. And Santana, she was the current, pulling me whichever way she wanted to take me. I was at her mercy.

She'd promised me that she wouldn't play her manipulative games with me, that she'd never try to control me. But it was a promise she couldn't keep. She swept me away with her whether she intended to or not. And that was perfectly fine with me.

She carried me through the foyer, kissing me as she did until we reached the end of the hallway where she turned into what had to be the master bedroom. My attention still entirely on her, I only registered that she was laying me on a king-size bed, the light gray sheets disheveled on one side, the left side. Her side.

The intimacy of being in the place that Santana slept, had slept in earlier that evening, shot a pang of need to my already aching core. I wanted her on me and in me, not standing above me gazing down with those eyes.

She'd take her time with me though, and there was no reason to dispute. Though, as a dominant lover, she always focused her attention on my needs, always attended to me in the ways she knew best. And god, did she know me best, knew how to turn my body boneless and sated, just as she knew how to arouse and love me, even when I didn't.

Her hand lagged down the length of my leg to my ankle where she removed my strappy sandal with a gentleness that had me writhing. She repeated the action with my other shoe, then knelt over me for a brief kiss. I reached up to pull her in for more, but she resisted.

"Last time we went quickly. This time I want to take my time with you." Last time had been fast and fraught after an argument over a guy who was staring at me, it was on the new couch in the manager's office, my office, and she hadn't left me with any complaints. But doing this slow sounded nice, too.

With a trail of wet kisses, Santana made her way down my body to the hem of my dress. With a wicked gleam in her eyes, she shoved the material up around my waist, placing a kiss on the center of my want.

A moan escaped my lips and she chuckled softly. Her fingers slipped under the band of my panties, pulling them off and tossing them aside. She hooked my leg over her shoulder and then her mouth was back on me, licking and sucking greedily at the bundle of nerves between my thighs.

I was already delirious from pleasure when she slipped two fingers inside me, probing and twisting until she pulled my orgasm from me with ease. I shuddered and quaked while she climbed up to reclaim my mouth where she kissed me with deep hunger.

The soft sounds she made as she devoured me, the taste of me on her tongue, the package of her cock in my thigh—it was only half a minute before the tightness built again in my belly, ready for another ride up the hill to ecstasy.

Drawn to touch her, my hand found her dick and rubbed it through her underwear. Her mouth broke from mine with a moan of pleasure. I nudged at her to roll to her side while I continued to stroke her.

"Boxers?"

"I use them just to sleep."

"I like it. I've never seen you in them." My hand slipped inside the opening of her shorts, marveling as I always did at the softness of her big shaft in my hand, at the heat rolling off her skin.

"Because when I go to bed with you-" Her voice broke as I ran my hand across the tip. "I wear nothing."

It was my turn to slip my hand into the band of her underwear and shimmy them down her strong legs, my eyes pinned on the gorgeous sight of her erection as I did.

As soon as her boxers hit the floor, she drew me to her again. Her fingers were already tugging my dress up over my belly and I sat up to help her pull the outfit over my head. She tossed the dress aside and her hands circled around me to unhook my bra before doing the same with hers, freeing our breasts. Then she was stretched out over me, she put her hot shaft at my entrance for only a second before she plunged inside of me, filling me in that way she only could.

She turned to her side, taking me with her, and I wrapped a leg around her waist, urging her deeper. She'd wanted to savor me, but either she changed her mind or she couldn't contain herself, unleashing her passion with rapid thrusts. Each time she drove in, she hit a tender spot that made me crazy, drawing another climax to surface, starting in my core, tightening my thighs, traveling down to curl my toes as it rolled through my body.

Santana continued, increasing her speed until she grunted out her own release. She collapsed, still inside me, and gathered me in her arms to spread kisses down my face; an unusually tender gesture from the guarded woman I'd grown to love. I delighted in the sweetness of it.

"Did I mention that I'm glad you're here?" She asked breathless, breaking her sentence to continue her trail of kisses.

Hearing those words meant everything. I recognized it as Santana's version of I love you. She hadn't brought herself to say it to me directly. She was too new to the emotion, and I didn't expect it. Though, she had accepted it earlier in the evening when I'd informed her that I knew she was in love with me, and she hadn't freaked when I told her that I was in love with her too.

Still, I didn't fool myself into thinking we'd have instant hearts and roses. Baby steps. Saying how she felt at all was a step in itself. That it included how she felt about me equaled two steps in my book.

I ran my hand through her hair as her mouth lowered to my neck. "You did say it. And if you hadn't, I think I figured it out." I waggled my eyebrows to make sure she knew I was referring to what had just occurred physically. "But you can tell me as many times as you'd like." In as many different ways as you'd like, I added silently.

She shifted over me and sucked further down my body, heading toward my breasts. Obviously, we were already headed for round two.

"I'm glad you're here, beautiful." She tugged my nipple between her teeth then eased the sting with a swirl of her tongue.

I drew in a deep breath, delighting in the mix of pleasure and pain as she showered my other breast with the same attention. Her nickname for me, beautiful, floated through my mind as her mouth licked at my skin. She'd called me that since our first sexual encounter, nearly two months ago. Had it only been that long? And had it only been nine months before that when I'd first met her at the club? when I didn't yet know she was the Santana Lopez? The boss of bosses.

It already seemed like a lifetime. The term of endearment she used for me had held weight from the first moment she'd said it. But we'd only just met then. Maybe it didn't have as much meaning as I attributed to it.

Curiosity overtook me even though my body was already vibrating under her ardor. "Why do you always call me that?"

She answered without looking up. "Because you are."

"Am I?" I asked, not sure if I was asking to myself the question.

She propped her elbow up on the bed and leaned her head on her hand. "Of course you are. I knew the minute I first saw you."

For a brief second I thought she meant at the bar—the first night I had seen her. Then I remembered she'd seen me nearly two weeks before that when I was still working on my MBA and because of her work, Santana had been in the audience during my graduate symposium. I hadn't found out about that until later, and she'd barely said anything about it.

I eagerly waited for her to continue.

"You were on that stage," She said, her hand stroking along the dip and curve of my waist to my hip. "When you started your presentation, you were nervous. It took you a few minutes to fall into the rhythm of your speech. But when you hit your stride, you were magnificent. Yet you had no idea. It was completely obvious that it never crossed your mind that the room was full of people who would have hired you had you spoken to any of them. Thank god, you didn't. Because I watched them watch you and I knew. I knew that they saw you were smart. They saw you had business savvy. But none of them recognized the rare jewel that stood before them. Beautiful."

No one had ever seen me like that, no one had ever looked at me like that. Not my parents before they died or my brother, Jason, or any of the men I'd ever dated or obsessed over. No one.

"I love you, Santana." It was out before I could think not to say it, before I could worry about her freaking out like she had the first time I'd voiced my feelings for her.

I wouldn't have been able to keep the words inside if I'd wanted to—they were always at the surface now, at risk of tumbling off my tongue at any given moment. If we were going to make a relationship work, then we'd both have to get comfortable with it.

My eyes never left her while she processed my declaration.

Then, in a flash, she covered her body with mine. Bracing one hand under my neck, she circled my nose with hers, nuzzling. "You can tell me that as many times as you like," Santana said, repeating my earlier words.

"I plan on it." I said with the biggest smile but it came out mumbled, lost inside her mouth as her lips overtook mine, and we expressed our emotions with our tongues and hands and bodies and a slew of other ways that didn't require talking.

For now, it was enough.