5
Aaron eyes me over the top of his cards, and I bring my glass to my lips. We’ve been at this table for an hour, but this is the first game I’ve played. If my daddy taught me anything, it’s that you don’t play poker ‘til you know a guy’s tells.
And I know Mr. Stone is bluffing.
He studies me for a long moment before resting his elbows on the table and placing his cards facedown on it. “You’re bluffing.”
“Try me.” I lick my lips. “Unless you’re scared.”
The guys around the table watch us with amusement, and my fighting talk gets an ‘oooh’ out of someone.
“Scared? Not of you, Bambi.”
I ignore the old pet name and tilt my head. “Show your hand.”
Slowly, he flips the cards and spreads them across the table in front of us. “Full house.”
“Ooooh,” comes from the guys who all folded.
I shrug a shoulder and sigh. “Dammit.”
Aaron smirks.
“You should have listened.” I lay my cards out. “Four of a kind. Read ‘em and weep, handsome.”
The smirk drops from his face when his eyes crawl over my cards. “F*ck.”
“Hard luck, buddy.” One of the guys—I’ve never been good with names—pats his shoulder as they file out of the room.
I grin at Aaron across the table.
“I can’t believe you just beat me at poker.”
I pick up my glass again and empty it, keeping my eyes on his. “I can’t believe you’re surprised.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be.” He stands and walks around the table to me. He spins my chair so I’m facing him, and I tilt my head back to look at him. “What other tricks do you have stashed up your sleeves, hmm?”
“If I tell you, they won’t be tricks any longer.” I run a finger down the lapel of his jacket, the white tip of my manicure a stark contrast against the black material. “And they won’t be half as fun.”
He raises a dark eyebrow. “I guess not. Just don’t beat me at blackjack. I’m not sure my ego can take the battering.”
“Oh, I might just beat you at everything for calling me Bambi.”
“It slipped out.”
Now I raise an eyebrow. “The last time you called me Bambi you’d followed me to the Charles de Gaulle airport because you were worried you wouldn’t get to say goodbye. Now you’re saying it over poker?”
He smiles and leans forward. “Like I said, it slipped out.”
“And I’m calling bullshit. You knew what you were saying.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
His eyes dare me to keep arguing with him, but the lingering memory of the past begs me not to. I need to remember I’m not here to relive the most amazing summer of my life, no matter how hard it is to avoid.
Who the f*ck am I kidding?
“Come on. Since you won, you can buy me a drink.” Aaron takes my hands and eases me up from the chair.
“You’re going to let a woman buy you a drink? Damn.”
“Good point.” He pulls me closer to him. “I’ll buy you a drink, and we’ll make this an ‘I owe you.’”
“We will?”
“Yes, and I’m about to cash it in.”
“You are?”
“The head of the Vegas office will be meeting us at the main bar in twenty minutes with his wife.” Goose bumps erupt on my skin where he trails his fingers up my arm. “He’ll be calling my father as soon as he gets to work tomorrow, who, per my mother’s request, will ask about us. I think he should have something good to report back, don’t you?”
I purse my lips. “That’s what you’re paying me for.”
He dips his head forward. “So take the favor and make it twice as good.” His breath crawls over my mouth with his words, the warmth making me part my lips. It carries a lingering scent of the whisky he’s been sipping all night, a woody smell reminiscent of oak.
“You have no idea what you’re asking me to do,” I warn him.
“That’s the fun part.”
I flatten my hands against his chest and push him back. “I’m serious, Aaron. This is my job. Giving people something to talk about is what I do when I escort.”
His eyes hit me, deadly serious. “Give it your best.”
I pick my purse up from the table and pause in the doorway, glancing over my shoulder. “As you wish.”
I slip my hand around his arm and add some extra sway to my hips as we walk through the casino. Eyes follow me wherever I go, and I’ll bet anything that the swish of my dress is exactly what they’re looking at. I raise my right hand and smooth my hair back, letting everyone get a glance at the bracelet glittering on my wrist.
Their quiet groans form an ironically loud chorus of music that makes my lips twitch. This is where I’m comfortable, where I’m home. Men watching me, wanting me, wishing they were the guy whose arm I’m clinging to. That’s my life. That’s where I excel. Making them watch me. Making them want me.
And their wives? Their girlfriends? I excel at making them wish they were me.
We walk through into the quiet restaurant and I take a seat at the bar. Aaron orders a glass of wine for me and a bourbon for himself, turning to me when the guy goes to get our drinks.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice what you did back there,” he says in a low voice.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I give him my best innocent eyes.
His lips quirk into that smirk, and he steps forward when the barman disappears again. He rests his hand on my waist, his fingers flexing against the lace of my dress, and drops his eyes to mine.
“No, you have no idea of the effect you have on men simply by walking past them.”
“Not at all.” I run my fingers up his stomach, ignoring the feeling of solid muscle there, and tweak his bow tie. “It’s not my job to know the effect I have on them, rather, merely to affect them.”
“Well let me say you do it”—he bends his head toward mine—“spectacularly.”
“Thank you.” I pull on the tie harder and it unravels, hanging loosely around his neck. Then I undo the top button of his shirt.
“What are you doing?”
I lean up and rest my mouth by his ear. “Giving people something to talk about. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing?” My thigh brushes against his as I cross my legs.
“It’s absolutely what you should be doing.” Aaron says his words into my hair, and I turn my face into his.
“Then you should stop questioning me and allow me to do it.”
His hand flattens against my back, drawing us closer. “You play a dangerous game, Dayton.”
“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*cking 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 *. 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.
I never, ever imagined I’d see Aaron again.
I still don’t believe I have.
I can’t believe he’s f*cking with my twenty-four-year-old mind as easily as he stole my seventeen-year-old heart.
And that, in essence, is everything this trip is. A mindf*ck. I don’t believe he wants to get to know me at all. Hello, this is the twenty-first century—you use coffee for that shit. Not a six-week worldwide trip. No, the second the shock faded from his eyes, an age-old hunger took over.
All Aaron Stone wants is what’s inside my very pretty pink lace thong.
Well, mostly inside.
He’s playing the game well. He could get it any time he wants. It’s what he’s paying for, essentially. Hell, the guy could tell me to get on my knees and wrap my lips around his cock and I’d be completely powerless to deny him it.
In this game where the rules dictate we both hold equal parts power, he has the edge. I can’t use mine until he uses his. I can’t seduce him until he gives me permission.
Because the bottom line remains—he is my client.
Not my ex-boyfriend.
Not the love of my f*cking life.
My client.
And call girls don’t fall in love. But then falling isn’t the problem. That comes when you’ve already fallen once, because you know the quickest way down.
I run faster, stamping him out of my mind with every beat of my feet against the treadmill. I’m sweating him out, panting him out, pushing him out with sheer determination, and reminding myself of what I do.
I get paid. I f*ck. That is the essence of my job. The essence of me. I change my name for it, for my anonymity, but Mia and Dayton are the same person. I don’t have different personalities—not really. Mia has the same quirks as Dayton, they like the same things, and they act pretty much the same way.
Mia just gets a lot more sex. However unsatisfying it may be.
Yes, there’s no difference. They’re the same person, but I’m more Mia than Dayton. Much more—and that makes being two people much easier.
Mia is…stronger. She has more sass and confidence and sexiness, and she lacks the broken past Dayton has. She lacks all the memories and heartbreak that go with it. She doesn’t get nostalgic when she hears certain songs or visits certain places. There’s no ache when she looks in the mirror and sees her mom’s eyes in place of her own or the curl at the ends of her hair, reminiscent of her father’s.
She sees strength. Confidence. Determination. Beauty.
Mia is the girl I always wished I could be.
Perhaps the two sides of me are a lot more different than I thought.
I step off the treadmill and leave the gym. Strength. That’s what I need to be now. I need to be Mia, all day every day, if I have any chance of leaving this job the way I came into it.
And if I get desperate, then, well… I’ll just stick Post-it notes on the bathroom mirror to remind me to sort my shit out.
The indoor pool is quiet, so I quickly change into my swimsuit and dip under the water. It’s warm against my skin, soothing and relaxing me. I immerse myself beneath the water and swim from one end of the pool to the other.
I swim the length repeatedly, back and forth, only pausing to take a breath of air. When I swim, my mind is completely clear. All the thoughts melt into the water around me, forgotten in an instant.
Some people use alcohol or drugs to deal with the past, others use sex or gambling, but I use exercise. It became an addiction at one point, something I couldn’t live without, but sharp-tongued Monique kicked my ass and whipped me into shape. Aside from Liv, she became my best friend.
“So this is how you keep those gorgeous curves in check.”
I jolt around, and the first thing I notice is a shiny pair of black shoes. As my eyes travel up the body of the person they belong to, my surprise turns to annoyance.
“Aaron.”
“You could sound pleased to see me once in a while, you know.” He loosens his tie and shrugs off his jacket.
“You could wear something other than a suit. It’s a Saturday, you know.”
“I don’t know if anyone in the business would be impressed if their future CEO walked into the office wearing jeans and a polo shirt.”
“You own a polo shirt? Wow.” I lift myself out of the pool.
“Several.” Aaron follows me with his eyes as I walk to my towel and wrap it around my body.
“How did you know I was here?”
He pulls a ten-dollar bill from his pocket and holds it up between his fingers. Ah. Of course. Money talks.
“Only ten dollars? I’d be offended if I cared.”
“It actually cost me a hundred.” He opens the door and lets me pass. “For some reason, the concierge was reluctant to tell me where you were.”
“Imagine that.” I step into the elevator.
“And he asked me to hand you back your fifty dollars.” Aaron takes my hand and tucks the bill into my palm. “Nice try, Dayton.”
Bastard. “I’ll have to remember to offer him a special rate next time.”
Aaron slams the suite door behind him, and I glance over my shoulder. His eyes are hard, the bright sparkle replaced with a gaze of granite. I’m about to drop my towel when he pulls me back against his chest and cups my jaw with his hand.
His lips, close to my ear, brush against my skin when he speaks, his words steady and controlled. “Are you telling me you’d f*ck the concierge?”
“Take what you want from it.” I clench my teeth together.
“Are you telling me you’d f*ck the concierge?” he repeats, a hard edge to the words. “To avoid me?”
My lips twitch. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
I slide my hand behind me to push him away, but he’s quicker, and he grabs both of my wrists in his large hand. He releases his grip on my jaw and tugs the towel down.
“You’re on my time, Dayton. Every second of your time belongs to me, or have you forgotten that? Your actions, your clothes—they belong to me too.” His hand runs down my side, his thumb brushing the side of my breast, his fingers grazing along my bikini line. “And your body? That belongs to me as well.”
I turn my face away. “Only because you pay for it.”
“I don’t care how you belong to me.” He pulls my face into his. “Just that you do. And as long as you do, no one gets to f*ck you. Not the concierge, not a waiter, not a guy from the casino.” His breath coats my lips in a swath of heat and desire. “The only person who gets to see you, touch you, and make you come is me. Do you understand that?”
I bring my eyes to his in a silent defiance.
He grips my jaw a little tighter. “Do you understand that?”
“Yes. I understand it.” I snatch my hands from his grip and knock his fingers from my jaw. “I belong like you, like a pretty little possession.”
“You belong to me, but nothing like my possession. As much as I’d love to possess you and your naked body, you’re your own person and I respect that. Until you push me. Push me and you’ll find out just how f*cking possessive I can be.”
“I think I have a pretty good idea.”
He spins me into him, slides his fingers into my hair, and pulls my head back. “You have no idea just how thoroughly I could possess you, Bambi.”
“Don’t call me Bambi.”
Our lips are a whisper apart as he dips his head to mine. “You’ve always been Bambi to me, and I’m not changing it now just because you’ve decided to ignore our past. I refuse to ignore it, so get f*cking used to it.” He brushes his lips across my cheek. “Get ready. We’re going to dinner at seven.”