“It’s only dangerous if you don’t trust the person standing in front of you—if you don’t know their breaking point.”
“What makes you think you know mine?”
I smile against his cheek. “Have you forgotten? I know your breaking point and your tipping point, and I know exactly how to get you there.”
“It’s been seven years, as you keep reminding me. What if it’s changed?”
“I’m very good at adapting.” I pull back so a whisper of air hovers between our lips. “But it hasn’t changed a bit.”
“She thinks she’s so smart.”
Another smile tugs at my lips, and I whisper, “She knows if she drops her hand and brushes it against your groin, you’ll be hard and ready to take her in the first possible place.”
“Is that right?”
“Mhmm. A wall is the likely choice…” I rest my fingers against his belt, and he tenses. “Looks like she’s as smart as she thinks she is if you’re tense at my fingers sitting here…nowhere near the erection you’re failing to hide.”
He chuckles low, a raspy tone to it. “Your game is very, very dangerous, Miss Black.”
“And you get to play it for a whole six weeks. Aren’t you lucky?”
He curls his fingers around mine at his belt. “The only luck here will be if we leave Vegas without me f**king you against every wall of our suite.”
The promise in his voice makes my breath catch. I have no doubt he would do that, if only I’d let him.
Heat floods my body and pools in my lower stomach at the thought, moving down slowly until the heat becomes a slight throb in my clit. Sweet Jesus, a sentence has never sounded so sexy.
“And the tables turn,” he murmurs, moving my hand away. “Tell me, Dayton. Are you as easy to turn on as you used to be?”
“I dare you find out,” I breathe.
He turns his face into my cheek and I feel his lips curve against my skin. “I think I already did.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Stone?” the guy behind the bar says.
“Yes?” Aaron stands and looks at him as if he hasn’t just made me clench my—thankfully already closed—thighs together.
“Mr. Duvall has asked me to pass on his apologies, but he and his wife won’t be able to make it tonight due to her ill health.”
Aaron nods. “Thank you. Pass on our regards, and I hope Mrs. Duvall is feeling better soon.” He turns to me. “She’s pregnant—four months, I think.”
“And you were going to drag her into a casino restaurant?” I raise my eyebrows.
“She’s lived in Vegas for five years. She breathes casinos.”
I roll my eyes. “Well, if they’re not coming, then I’m going to turn in.” I throw back the last of the wine—something I wouldn’t do if this restaurant wasn’t empty—and stand. “Excuse me.” I tap Aaron’s solid chest.
His lips turn up. “What for?”
I sigh. “Don’t be difficult, Aaron. You’re in the way.”
“I’m waiting for the erection you caused to disappear.”
“Yeah? Considering the way it’s pressing against my hip, I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon, and I consider myself an expert on the male anatomy.” I step the side. “Are you coming?”
Poor choice of words, Dayton.
Aaron caught it too, if the spark in his eyes is anything to go by. He slides his empty glass across the bar and wraps his arm around my stomach as we walk.
“Is that an invitation?”
“As much as you’d like it to be, I’m afraid not. I need my beauty sleep.”
“I could call it in.”
We step into the elevator and I eye him. “You could.”
The doors close. He slides his hand up my back to my neck, his thumb brushing my skin. “So why aren’t I?”
“You tell me.” My eyes meet his with a questioning turn of my head.
“I don’t know. But I know I’m dying to kiss you right now.”
“Until we’re in the room, I’m your girlfriend.”
The doors open. He follows me to the suite door and stops me from opening it. “And once we’re inside the room? What happens then?”
His breath fans over my neck, and I tilt my face into him. “You’re the client. That’s for you to decide.”
He laughs quietly. “When you stop seeing me as a client, I’ll be sure you tell you my decision.”
***
This isn’t working.
I turn the treadmill up to the next level and pick up my pace. An all-morning session in the gym followed by a swim is my plan to shake Aaron off me—that is, from under my skin. ‘Cause dammit, the bastard has snaked his way under it already.
This is what I get for not listening to my gut feeling. This is what I get for not listening to my agent’s gut feelings. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
I need to separate the two Aarons in my mind, take away the young man I fell in love with. I need to tear that version of him up into a thousand little pieces and let them crumble all over the floor. Then step on them. I need to separate the man and the client.
In my heart, I honestly believed I’d put those weeks behind me. I’d accepted them as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience the kind of world-tilting love everyone should feel at some point. Hell, I knew that was all it could be. One summer.
We agreed that from the start, when we realized what we felt was stronger than friendship. We agreed we’d spend the summer together and then, when we got back to the US, we’d each go about our lives on the opposite sides of the country. Seattle and New York. Two different worlds. Both of us knew it wouldn’t have worked. He was at college, I still in high school…
We agreed to six weeks and sealed it with a kiss, the kind of kiss that made me wonder immediately if we’d made a stupid choice. But it didn’t matter, because it was done. We were young and crazy, and neither of us really thought about what would happen after.
Neither of us really thought about what would happen when we fell in love then ripped our own hearts out.
Neither of us realized just how painful that would be, but it had to be done. So I boxed away the pain and I moved on to what needed to be done. And when my parents died, everything changed in a way that made me glad we’d said goodbye. My life took on a whole new twist.
I accepted escorting as the reality of my life. I saw it for what it is—the money and the lingerie and the men who can’t get themselves off.