Addicted (Tempting #4) - Alex Lucian

ADDICTED BOOK FOUR IN THE TEMPTING SERIES

ALEX LUCIAN

CONTENTS Preface Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Epilogue Acknowledgments Books by Alex Lucian

Addicted (book four in the Tempting series) by Alex Lucian © 2016 by Alex Lucian All rights reserved. Cover Designer: Najla Qamber Designs Interior Designer: The Write Assistants Editing: M. Wiemer, Jon Perry No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Addicted is a standalone in the erotic Tempting series. You do not need to read Tempting, Beguiling, or Provocative in order to understand this story. Elias, the main character in this novel, was introduced in Tempting and continued in Provocative, however neither book is required reading for you to follow the events that take place in this book. ----------------------About the erotic Tempting series Book One: Tempting (Adele & Nathan, part one) A romance between a college student named Adele and her hot professor, Nathan, that is much deeper than just the forbidden aspect of their relationship. Released November 2015. Book Two: Beguiling (Scarlet & Leo, standalone) A romance about Leo, the all-star quarterback, and his pain-in-the-ass, preacher’s daughter neighbor, Scarlet whose bucket list will make their summer fly by a little bit faster. Released March 2016. Book Three: Provocative (Adele & Nathan, part two) The continuation and conclusion to Adele and Nathan’s tumultuous romance. Released July 2016. Book Four: Addicted (Ruby & Elias, standalone) Elias, a man haunted by his beloved sister’s death, hires an escort named Ruby who is much more than she seems. Released October 2016.

To Kate, because your beauty and grace will always be timeless

CHAPTER ONE

I arrived twenty minutes early, scoping out the hotel’s lounge and reception for the usual suspects. I didn’t frequent the same places in order to avoid suspicion, which kept my guard up and my eyes alert. These were important things to remember. The lobby bathroom was decked out, black marble for miles, with itty specks that sparkled under the low lighting. I touched up my makeup and reapplied deodorant and lip stain. I gargled the mouthwash I’d brought, double checking that I had a toothbrush and floss for later. After smearing a good lot of lotion across my arms, I grabbed the hand sanitizer from my bag and squirted a glob of it into my palms. I didn’t want to dry out my hands with the hotel-provided soap. Ten minutes to go. I left the bathroom for the lounge and idly looked over the heads of the patrons. Tall, dark, and bearded. That’s what he’d told me. It wasn’t much to go on, but he’d also let me know he’d sit beside an aquarium if he arrived first. I debated going to the bar for a beverage when I didn't see him there. I usually brought my flask, filled with only a shot’s worth of vodka to keep my head level but still enough to chill my nerves. But in my haste to get downtown and not have to walk seven blocks to the hotel in my black stilettos, I’d forgotten the flask on my kitchen countertop. It didn’t matter how many times I did this; I was always a little bit nervous. As my eyes searched the lounge, I became aware of a gentleman at the bar, who was staring at me unabashedly. Refusing to meet his eyes, I made my way to another side of the bar while I waited. I pulled out my phone just to make sure I didn’t have a text message from him informing me he was late before tucking it away. I didn’t need my phone as a distraction right now. The bartender set a fruity-looking drink in front of me. The maraschino cherry on top bled into the whipped cream and I stared at it like the unwelcome intrusion it was. “From the gentleman down there,” the bartender said in a low voice as he cocked his head to the blond-haired man who’d been ogling me when I walked in. I regretted flicking my eyes to him because in doing so, I had to see the way he stared

at me. There was no doubt that the dress I wore showed off my assets—it was why I’d worn it. It was black, with an opaque panel that covered my breasts and lower half. The panel was open between my breasts, but it wasn’t totally indecent, because over the panel was black lace fabric that covered the opening all the way up to my neck, stopping at my shoulders to leave my arms bare. The dress came to midthigh, and with my simple earrings and my midnight-black hair braided in one plait over my shoulder, nothing about me screamed that I was asking for attention. Especially not from the blond man, and his slug-like lips. Ignoring the drink, I looked to the entrance for the man I was meeting, but felt a little spike of urgency in my blood when the drink-buyer stepped into my sights. Always be alert: it was my mantra. “Helllllo,” he said, looking me up and down. In his hand was a short drink, and it sloshed against the sides as he leaned against the bar top. I took him in, the shirt that looked like it was inspired by a tropically located bathroom’s wallpaper. “You look lonely.” I wanted to ignore him, but seeing how he was none-too-subtly encroaching on my personal space, I couldn’t exactly pretend not to see him. “I’m not, thank you.” Pointedly, I looked over his shoulder at the entrance for the lounge. The man stepped closer. “That drink looks like Hawaii, don’t you think?” Ah, Hawaii—explained the shirt. I sized him up. Six foot, two-hundred and fifty pounds. Mid-forties with leathery-looking skin most likely thanks to repeated sun exposure. Glancing at the fruity beverage, I said, “It looks like a diabetic coma.” “You’re too good for a piña colada?” He sounded displeased and I pushed the drink to him. “Not too good, no. Just not in the mood for sugar-laden drinks or the strangers who buy them for me.” My eyes were steel as I looked up at him. “I’m waiting for someone.” Get a hint, buddy. “Let me keep you company while you wait,” he invited, sitting in the seat beside me and effectively blocking my view of the lounge entrance. “I don’t need company,” I said as calmly as possibly. I’d dealt with pushy men like this guy, men who couldn’t take a hint if it slapped them across their smug faces. But it usually got my guard up, regardless. We weren’t in Hawaii, and this man wasn’t someone who was a genuine threat, which made him easy to dismiss. “I’m just going to sit here anyway.” “Then you’ll be sitting alone,” a deep voice said at my back. The mere proximity of him set my skin afire with goosebumps and I reigned in any reaction I may have had for the sake of professionalism. I felt the man’s presence come to my side and when he said, “Hi, Ruby,” I recognized his voice immediately. I liked the way he said my name, his voice all rumbly and warm. I turned my head, already curving my lips in welcome. But then I took him in— as much of him as I could, at least.

Christ. He was huge. And dark. And daunting. Dark hair covered his head and wrapped around his jaw in a beard that made me think of flannel and wood smoke. His eyes were direct and intense, like he was memorizing my face. One bead of sweat slid slowly down my spine. He was … wow. His dark eyes searched me before he looked beyond me, to the man whose jaw had likely collapsed to the bar top. “Get lost.” Two words. Two one-syllable words and the Hawaiian-shirted man was gone before his shadow could catch up. “Elias?” He nodded once, slowly, hailing the bartender over with the lightest beckon if his hand. There was power in him, something I immediately found alluring. This was a man who owned not just the room he walked into, but the people in it as well. “Get rid of this,” he motioned to the whipped cream monstrosity before turning to me. “What would you like?” I smiled politely as I contemplated. I normally might have ordered something stronger. But something about Elias’ presence made me change my mind. “Martini, three-to-one ratio of vermouth please.” “Dirty?” The bartender wiped down the counter where the fruity drink had sat, and placed a small, blood red napkin in its place. I shook my head and the bartender disappeared down the bar. “Dirty martinis are for rookies.” Elias sounded impressed, even pleased. I angled my head and smiled softly. “I like to taste my alcohol.” “I’m surprised by the three-to-one ratio, though. Isn’t it usually five-to-one?” “Wet.” I didn’t need to tease this man with sultry words. He’d seen me before I’d seen him—he was already interested. But that didn’t make my answer any less sexual-sounding. “I like my martinis to be wet.” The low light masked his eyes, but I sensed a shift in his gaze nonetheless. “What about you?” “I prefer wet, too.” Considering he hadn’t actually ordered any alcohol, I knew he was alluding to something else. It gave me a genuine smile, not the practiced, carefully crafted smile I usually wore for situations like this one. He had a warmness that the Hawaii man had lacked, a sort of wry sense of humor at our situation. The bartender set the drink in front of me and Elias laid a shiny black card on the equally black bar top. But still, his eyes were on me. He was taking every single inch of me in, like he didn’t already know what I looked like. His eyes trailed over the braid and I registered his swallow. He’d told me over the phone, he liked the photo he’d seen of me with a braid. “Start a tab?” the bartender asked. Elias looked at me with a question in his eyes. I subtly shook my head to Elias. “Just the one drink for me.” “No tab,” Elias said, not taking his eyes off of me. “Just the check.”

I shifted on my seat, pressing my thighs together. “Thank you for the drink.” “You’re welcome to more.” He gestured an arm out and I took in his clothing. He was as he’d described on the phone—tall and dark. But he was much more than that. He was early thirties, deeply tanned, with lips that held just a bit of a pout in the lower lip. And he was in excellent health, judging by the whites of his eyes and the fit of his body. There was no hint of muscles—oh no, the muscles were obvious, but not in a way that was meant to distract. The dark charcoal sweater wrapped around his arms with just enough slack to show the curves of the muscles that coiled around his thick arms. He wore dark jeans and black dress shoes. His clothes insinuated money, which was a good sign. The heavy silver watch at his wrist touted money too, but not flashy in the way of diamonds or a large logo. My sense of professionalism was never far, however and I was reminded that this wasn’t what it appeared to be. I was almost sad when I shook my head. “I don’t make a habit of getting drunk,” I said, not adding in situations like these to the end of my sentence. It wasn’t necessary, just like the alcohol wasn’t. I was already excited. That’s what the little curl in my blood was from. Elias projected just enough masculinity and a certain kind of peace—despite his massive height and the broadness of his shoulders. Like he could keep me safe. Shaking my head slightly, I told myself I wasn’t looking for a bodyguard. “Sorry, I was a couple minutes late.” “It’s fine,” I assured him, touching a hand to his arm just because I wanted to feel the muscle beneath. I touched just his forearm, but even that smallest bit held a powerhouse of muscle shifting under my hand. And I didn’t let go for several seconds. “You’re stunning, Ruby. I regret not telling you the second I sat down.” It caught me off guard. He said it with complete sincerity. I didn’t doubt him, but I didn’t often indulge in compliments like that. Too many and they’d go to your head; make you lazy. “Thank you.” I took the opportunity to eye him up and down. “I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised.” He laughed lightly, his shoulders moving up and down. I couldn’t stop staring at him. I couldn’t wait to see what was under the sweater, beneath the dark jeans. “I feel like I’m at a slight advantage. I knew what you looked like.” My fingers played with the end of my braid. “That’s what this meeting is for, so I can determine if this is going to work.” His eyes were dark when he asked, “And?” I smiled. “I’m feeling confident tonight.” He licked his lips and it was so sexy—so primal— that I took another sip of my martini to keep from fanning my face. “I’m glad you were willing to work with my schedule,” he said, touching my hand when I brought the glass down. It wasn’t a line, and I hadn’t meant to lower my voice with its delivery when I said, “I’m quite flexible.” But he smiled nonetheless, a kind of big bad wolf smile as his lips spread. His beard was thick, but not so much that I couldn’t make out the

sculpted jaw underneath. I swallowed hard, feeling my pulse race a little. There was heat and more than a little danger in that grin. I was little red riding hood and he was out for me. He pressed his forefinger against the back of my hand, and I felt a shiver up my arm from the contact. The air around us was electric as I pushed the drink away from myself, indicating to us both that I was ready. But before we left our seats, Elias reached behind his back and revealed an envelope. I blinked at it several times as my brain fired off little reminders to pay attention under the cloud of lust that was coating us both in a heavy fog. “Oh,” I said, breathy and very, very warm. “You just leave that in the bathroom once we’re in the room.” “Are you sure?” I looked down at his hands, his very large, very masculine hands, and because I wanted to, I reached down and touched them. This put my own hands inches from his crotch, a fact that made me stutter a little. “Ye—yes, please. Just leave the donation in the bathroom.” “Donation.” His mouth curved just enough to make me feel warm all over. This was the first time, in recent memory, that a client had made me this excited. But that’s who he was, I reminded myself as he helped me down from the bar stool. I had to remind myself again as he led me to the elevator, with the tips of his fingers on the small of my back. He was a client. When he opened the door to our room for the night, or the hours we’d agreed on, rather, I looked him in the eyes and reminded myself that he was a client. He was still a client when his fingers slid down my arm like he was gliding across piano keys, before his hand wrapped around mine and he pulled me, all too willingly, into the room. The door closed quietly behind me and he stepped forward, so that I was backed up against it. As his mouth descended and his breath warmed my face, my insides shivered and I once again reminded myself he was a client. And I was his escort, paid to give him a thorough fuck.

CHAPTER TWO

Right before my lips hit hers, I stopped. Just to see what she’d do. To see if I could. Because fucking hell, Ruby was so goddamn sexy that it was almost obscene. The fact that she was being handsomely compensated to look at me as if she wanted to go at my dick like it was covered in chocolate didn’t even matter, because I could already tell she was worth every penny. The sleek lines of her black dress couldn’t conceal the luscious swell of her tits or the tight, long curve of her waist. Her lips, holy hell, her lips. They were indecent. Oh, the things I’d do to them before she left the room. So when she let out a soft huff of air through her nose—the smallest level of frustration that she could have possibly shown—I grinned. “When you smile like that, like you did at the bar,” she said, her impossibly dark eyes trained on my lips, “you remind me of the big bad wolf.” My smile dropped and I braced my hands on the door on either side of her face. Her lips pursed when I still didn’t kiss her. Using the tip of my nose at the edge of her jaw, I pushed so that she tilted her neck to the side. She smelled like spice and sin. Then I whispered into her ear. “That’s an excellent way to view me, because before this night over, I will have devoured you fucking whole.” Still pressed up against her like I was, I bent my knees and rolled my hips up against her, letting her feel how mother fucking hard I was inside my jeans. My dick felt like a steel pipe, and I was more than gratified when she let out a breathy exhale against the side of my face. “But before I get you out of that dress, you better tell me if there’s anything I’m not allowed to do.” Ruby palmed my dick through my jeans and rubbed, ripping a groan from my throat. “How about you show me what I get to play with tonight first?” I pulled back and met her eyes before yanking my sweater off with one hand. She licked her lips when I tossed it away, her gaze tripping over my chest and stomach. Maybe she was just that good, maybe she reached out and traced the tip of one finger down all her clients’ happy trails, humming appreciatively. I’m sure every man who paid a professional wanted to feel like they were different, that they got a side of her no one else got. But I wasn’t a fucking moron, and I also knew that Ruby was making seven hundred dollars off of me for two

hours, so she’d have to be good. So even though my skin tightened at her lazy perusal and her easy touch of my skin, I wasn’t dumb enough to think that she didn’t make every guy feel that way. Her long, graceful fingers pulled my belt, unhooking it from the loops with efficiency. Ruby licked her plump, porn-star lips and looked up at me from underneath her long, dark lashes while she pulled down my zipper. “Pull your dress down,” I ordered. “I need to see if they’re as good as they look on your website.” It was the first picture of her that I’d seen, and it’d caught my eye immediately. Though her face was cropped out of that particular shot, she was wearing a man’s shirt that was unbuttoned, teasing at the edges of her nipples so that all you could see of her skin was the perfect line of her stomach and the generous curves of her breasts, which were almost too big for her lithe, small-boned frame. Instead of listening right away, Ruby snaked her hand into my opened pants and wrapped her fingers around the base of my dick with a surprisingly firm grip. “They are.” I smirked, trying not to come in her hand like a fucking high-schooler. “I like your honesty.” Instead of acknowledging my compliment, she gave a slow twist of her hand before letting go. “Go sit on the bed.” “Am I not the one in charge?” I let one finger drift down the deep V of her dress, but she stepped back before I could trace the curve of her breast. “Of course,” she said easily, but lifted her chin at the bed anyway. “I just want you to have a better view of what you paid for.” I narrowed my eyes, waffled with the idea of just yanking up her dress, pushing down my jeans and taking her up against the wall so she knew who was calling the shots. But she had a spark in her dark eyes that hardened me further, and I imagined her putting on a show for me. So I did as she asked, walking back into the perfectly appointed room, shucking off my jeans before I sat on the edge of the bed. Ruby eyed my dick appreciatively, as she should, considering all nine inches were aimed straight up between my legs at the current moment. It was why I preferred to keep my sexual experiences to professionals. Their healthy appreciation for sex, their careful approach to who they took on, and the absolute desire for no connections after I walked out the door was what I loved about them. With slow, swinging steps, Ruby came to stand in front of me. She turned slightly to the side to reach the zipper of her dress, and it made the long, thick braid of her hair fall over her shoulder again. I clenched my hands on the tops of my legs, wanting very badly to fist it in my hand while I took her from behind. I smiled, knowing that was exactly where I wanted to start with her. Holding her slight hips in my big hands, seeing her on her hands and knees in front of me. Her dress loosened on her frame and she held my eyes the entire time she pushed it down her body. Every inch of skin she uncovered made my mouth go dry. I’d been with dozens of beautiful women. Some blonde, some brunette, some with big tits, and some with small, perfect handfuls.

Ruby, naked in front of me with only her stilettos and the neatly trimmed landing strip over her pussy, was the most fucking stunning creature I’d ever seen in my life. Her tits were far, far better in person than the pictures I’d seen. Heavy and full with dark pink nipples. All of her was lean and taut, except for those. And I knew, with perfect forethought, that one night would not be enough. Suddenly, I didn’t want her on her hands and knees, hiding the front of her from me. I clenched my jaw and crooked a finger at her. “Come here.” Her arms were loose at her sides while she walked the remaining distance to me. I lifted my hands to frame her waist. She pushed her fingers through my hair, and I fought not to shiver. “Now that I’m here,” she said from where she stood in between my legs, “what are you going to do with me?” Her belly button was just below eye level to me, and I stared at the small oval indentation in her smooth, flat stomach. I pressed two fingers against it and drew a straight line down until I hit the coarse, short hairs of her landing strip. Ruby widened her legs and balanced one hand on my shoulder. I turned my fingers over and pushed through her slit. “I guess you do like it wet,” I said, glancing up at her. The color in her cheeks was high, which made me happy. Her soaked pussy did too, so I pushed both fingers in while I held her eyes. Leaving them in, I stood so that I could tower over her. She was tall, especially in her heels, so I didn’t have to crouch to move my fingers in and out of her. The way she stared up at me, one hand still on my shoulder and the other wrapped around my bicep, whipped up a firestorm in my belly. There was a spark of challenge in her eyes. She was daring me. To do what, I wasn’t quite sure. So I turned us, only pulling my fingers out to push her back on the bed. The mattress and bedframe were tall enough that I only had to bend my knees slightly if I wanted to feed the head of my cock inside of her. “Condoms are in my bag next to the bed,” she whispered. I nodded, leaning down to grab one. I held the edge of the wrapper in my mouth and tore it open with my teeth, which made her smile. “That’s funny?” “No,” she said, still smirking up at me, pulling her hands up to cup her breasts. “I just knew you’d do that.” “You’ve got me all figured out, huh?” She blinked and I rolled the condom down, pinching the top while I did. “No. But I don’t need to.” I had a fleeting thought to lean over her and take her mouth, but I held back. It felt too intimate, too soon. Ruby wasn’t a giggly, fawning escort. And trust me, I’d had that kind. Kissing them had felt appropriate, expected even. But not with her. She held the power, even though I was the paying customer. And the unexpected challenge of that, of wanting to fuck her hoarse, feel her clench around me in undeniable pleasure, flooded my veins.

Ruby pulled her knees up like she expected me to crawl over her body, but I stayed standing. Holding her eyes, I braced my clenched fists on either side of her waist and leaned down to suck her right tit into my mouth in one hard pull. She arched her back up on a gasp when I scraped the nipple with my teeth as I let it go. My tongue traced the space of skin over to the left one, and I laved the flat of my tongue up over the curve, groaning at the musky taste of her skin. As I straightened, I thumbed tiny circles over her hardened nipple, watching a slight flush spread over her chest. With firm hands, I gripped both of her calves and propped her feet up on my shoulders before fisting my cock and bending my knees enough that I could fit the head into her pussy. Ruby held her breath when I did, hissing out a breath when I slowly fed her every inch until I rested against her. “So full,” she moaned while I stayed like that and attempted to regulate my breathing. “Yeah?” She nodded slightly, tightening around me with a wicked grin on her lips. “Yeah.” “Good.” Then I pulled back and slammed into her. “Fuck,” I said on a roar when I did it again. Ruby fisted the comforter while I hammered into her, each hard thrust punctuated by a delicious bounce of her tits. I snapped my hips, hooking up at the end with each movement and she arched her back on a gasp. “Oh, right there,” she moaned. Her eyes were shut, so I couldn’t tell if she meant it, or if it was just something she said. It might have pissed me off, if she didn’t feel so fucking good around me while I slid in and out. I was holding her thighs so tightly against me that I worried I’d bruise her. But I didn’t let go, my chest heaving like a freight train was roaring through my veins while I fucked her. I let go of her leg so I could thumb her clit and she tightened again, one rolling pulse that almost took my breath. So I made tight circles and her gasps deepened. Heat pulled at my lower back and I fought to keep the orgasm at bay. “Come on, Ruby, let me feel that cunt around me.” “Oh god,” she moaned, turning her head to the side when I picked up my speed. “Come on,” I said again, feeling the tingle of my impending release gather up my spine. I moved my thumb at just the right time with my thrust and she fisted around me, her mouth falling open while she did. With a roar, I came, flooding the condom. I slowed my thrusts while I milked both of our orgasms. Ruby tilted her chin up, hiding her eyes from me while she came down. When I had my breath again, I gently lowered her legs and fell into the bed next to her. She smiled over at me. “Good?” I asked her, tracing a small circle around her nipple. “What do you think?” she said dryly. “I think that in about thirty minutes, I’m going to need you to ride my dick.” I

smiled when she snorted. “That was fucking phenomenal.” I almost said worth every penny, but as I wasn’t a jackass, I held my tongue. But fucking hell, she was. And before my time was up, I’d feel her again and again, until neither of us could walk, if I had anything to do with it.

CHAPTER THREE

When he came out of the bathroom, I knew he’d left the donation on the counter. He walked to the mini bar on the other side of the room and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. He held it up for me, one dark eyebrow arched in question. “No, thank you,” I said, climbing off of the bed and picking up my dress. When I lifted my head, his eyes were on my body. I glanced sideways at the bed, thinking of the last couple hours we’d spent rolling along the expensive sheets. It’d been the most fun I’d had doing this, mostly because Elias was something else—this man who emanated power and strength. He could flip me from my front to my back with the flick of his hand, leaving me breathless and bouncing throughout. I gave him a small smile as I stepped into the bathroom to freshen up and collect the envelope of cash. I wish I could say I felt disgusted with myself every time I did this, taking money from a man who had taken over my body, but I felt very little. I tucked the stack of hundreds into a pocket in my clutch and stepped into my clothes. Then I ran through my head everything I needed to do still, which included an all-nighter studying. Which was part of the reason I had turned down Elias’ offer of a drink; I couldn’t study for my Comparative Theology final with a head clouded by whiskey. I rolled my neck, feeling only a twinge of regret for agreeing to this ‘date’ with Elias tonight. Being that it was the week before finals, I hadn’t planned on seeing any clients. But my manager, Lenore, had forwarded me Elias’ information along with a “he’s very eager to meet you and will pay extra if need be” note. In truth, it wasn’t the money that made me agree to come along tonight—it was the fact that someone was eager enough to meet me to offer extra. I wasn’t knocking myself—I knew I was, by New York City standards, very attractive. But I’d been handed so many clients that had been turned away from others, the busier girls Lenore managed, that I didn’t have anyone dying to meet me. With my dark hair and looks, I didn’t fit the “market ideal” as Lenore often told me with her sympathetic smile. I didn’t care, regardless. I had a steady enough stream of clients to float me through grad school so that I didn’t need to sling burgers or fetch hundreds of coffees for impatient bosses.

Not that what I was doing was any better, especially not by any moral standards. But I didn’t have any moral conflict about having sex for money, even when it was wrapped in pretty words like “escort” and “donation.” I wasn’t trying to justify the fact that I spread my legs for men with enough money to compensate me for a tumble in the sheets. I peeked at my cell phone and tapped out a message to Lenore, All is well. It was our code. Lenore may have been a little detached, but she took care of her girls. All is well meant that there were no problems. Anything else meant trouble. Luckily, I’d never needed to text Lenore anything other than “All is well,” but I knew several other of her girls had found themselves in tricky situations. Even an “I’m great!” signaled Lenore to rally her henchmen. It was a bit dramatic to call Dave and Taylor henchmen, but that’s essentially what they were. Lenore vetted every client before they came to us, but that didn’t mean someone couldn’t flip on a dime. Having Dave or Taylor within a couple minutes from us provided safety and security. I faced my reflection in the mirror and brushed my teeth. I always left appointments as fresh as I came in, which was why I reapplied my lipstick and powdered my nose in the mirror. My hair, however, was much messier than when I’d arrived. I huffed as I tried to tuck the strands back in my braid, but it was useless; my braid looked exactly as you’d expect it would after someone—Elias— had tugged, yanked, scrunched, and pulled on it. He was forgiven for it, too, considering that he knew precisely what to do with the finer parts of his anatomy. Unfortunately, not all clients did. Men like him were a treat in my line of work. When I stepped out of the bathroom, Elias was standing by the window overlooking the skyline. He’d sprung for a nice room, which I was grateful for. Some guys didn’t try to impress, not that I blamed them. I was a product they test drove, so a nice room wasn’t something necessary in their eyes especially after they spent so much on the ‘donation.’ When I’d texted Lenore, I still had about thirty minutes left on the clock with Elias. I wasn’t in a hurry to leave, despite the studying I had to do tonight. And besides that, I was looking for a steady client to carry me through the summer, when I was finally on break from classes. So I pushed a smile on my face and walked to stand next to him. “Do you want something to drink?” he asked in that low, gravelly voice. “Water is fine,” I said, giving him a grateful smile when he handed me a cold bottle from the mini fridge. “So, Elias,” I began, before taking a sip of the water and licking a stray droplet from my lips. I watched as his eyes trained on my bottom lip. “What do you do?” His clothes said money, but he had the kind of aura of a man who could live off the land, in some dark cabin in the woods. He smiled slightly and looked down, his wispy black lashes sweeping his skin. “I’m a photojournalist.” “Oh, that sounds interesting.” It surprised me. I didn’t peg him as some Wall Street elephant hunter, someone who spent time looking for the next big shtick.

But the fact that he was a photojournalist gave me pause. It was a more creative field than the men I usually dealt with, so I sized him up with that in mind. “Do you do much traveling?” “Often.” His tongue lashed over his bottom lip and I suddenly, strangely, felt unsatisfied. Those few hours in the bed hadn’t been enough. “I seem to be in the air more than I’m on the ground.” Wistfully, I said, “That must be exhausting.” But I didn’t quite mean it. I’d been holed up inside of libraries and my dorm and then my apartment for so many years that I hadn’t explored the world the way I wanted. I studied Himalayan Buddhism from the inside of a textbook, but what I really wanted to was take the hike all the way up to the Tiger’s Nest in Bhutan, a temple built into the side of a cliff. “And you?” He raised that eyebrow again, and that slight movement, that black eyebrow raised, made me want him again, in a way that didn’t define us as an escort and client. “I’m an escort, of course,” I said with a curve of my lips that didn’t quite meet my eyes. “That’s not all, though. You seem very intelligent.” He brought his drink to his lips and the ice cubes inside clinked. “You’re professional.” He took a sip, never taking his eyes off me. “Why does a beautiful young woman do this?” If I was anyone else, I might’ve bristled under his gentle, but still intrusive, questioning. But I didn’t feel shame for what I did, or who I was, so I debated telling him. I knew my bio on my website wasn’t specific, except to say I was an educated young woman. “Currently, I’m getting my master’s in theological studies. I already have a master’s in sociology.” “Ah.” He smiled, as if this news was somehow pleasing to him. “And a bachelor’s in?” “Religious studies.” I kept my voice even. I very rarely delved into this side of my life with a client, not because I was purposely private about it, but because clients rarely asked. He laughed shortly. “Religion.” He broke his concentration on me to look out the window. “The socially acceptable form of insanity.” His tone was brittle, and I didn’t miss the way his fingers on his glass clenched a little tighter. “If that’s what you believe,” I said calmly. “I believe in syncretism, that there are practices from various religions and belief systems that combine easily.” I sipped my water. “I think many people do too, actually, which is what fascinates me the most.” He looked back at me and tilted his head to the side. “How so?” “Well,” I began, surprised that he wanted to know my opinions, “it’s not uncommon for someone who receives the Eucharist to also tout their belief in karma. Karma is a concept in many religions, but not in Christianity.” “Christians don’t have a form of karma?” he asked, and I saw the way his eyes changed. He was absorbing what I was saying, genuinely interested in my thoughts. He was unlike any other client I’d had before.

“An argument can be made that karma is similar to how Christians view sin and its effects. But that’s debatable.” “Hmm.” He finished his whiskey and stepped around me to pour another mini bottle into his tumbler. “An argument can also be made that it’s all a load of horseshit.” I listened to the tinkle of the ice cubes as he poured whiskey over them. I didn’t get upset when people asked why I was an escort. For me, it was a job, something temporary as I pursued my studies. But Elias essentially calling my degree ‘horseshit’ raised my hackles. “You have a grudge against religion?” He turned around, and there was a little fire burning in his eyes. “I was raised Catholic. I received the Eucharist. I was faithful.” His voice hadn’t raised, but I could feel the tension radiating off of his body. “I was faithful,” he repeated, “until that supposed God ripped away my sister. I don’t understand a divine being who can allow terrible things to happen to good people.” I was taken aback by his admission, and it caused me to forget the only relationship we had at that moment. I spoke the first thing that came to my mind, which in hindsight was probably not wise. “In all your years as a Catholic, did you study the Bible?” “Of course I did.” He didn’t seem angry with me, but he did seem angry at God. “Then you’ll remember John 16:33, ‘You will have suffering in this world.’” Elias stared at me, his eyes hooded and his mouth in a line. “The God you believed in never said it might happen, he said it would happen. And First Corinthians 13:12, ‘Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but I will know everything completely, just as God knows me completely.’ This infers that you’re not meant to know. Not in this world.” He stood there, just feet from me, a cloud overtaking his eyes. And then I realized my gaffe and felt the blood rush to my cheeks. “I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, a little embarrassed that I was adding that in belatedly. “And I’m sorry for the theological treatise. That’s not what you needed.” But he didn’t say anything, he just stared at me with that fire burning. Despite the anger in his eyes, I didn’t feel any threat to myself. In fact, I noticed in a rather inappropriate way, how attractive he looked like that, dark all over and storming silently inside. I knew then that I’d said too much, so I wrapped my hands around my clutch and resolved to leave. Giving him an apologetic smile, I stepped up to him and tentatively placed my hand on his chest, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “Goodbye, Elias.” As I stepped out the door, I marveled at his complete silence. And I knew that putting my foot in my mouth had nipped in the bud any chance for a steady summer client.

CHAPTER FOUR

Regardless of the fact that Ruby was the best sex I’d had in recent memory, that flash of stubborn backbone and mildly haughty intelligence at the end—not to mention the fact that I was her paying customer—should have ensured that I never thought about her again after walking out of the hotel only twenty minutes after she had. Except that’s not what had happened. Her words kept turning over and over in my head, as did the flash in her big, dark eyes when she spouted words at me that I had no problem admitting I had to look up after she left. I liked it. A fucking lot. Ruby was a pleasant surprise, much more than the easy release that I’d been expecting. Her pictures had intrigued me, her aloof personality sparking a challenge that I hadn’t felt in a while. The sex was better than good. No way was she faking when she clenched around my dick. And I knew more than one escort who told me they used lube before even laying eyes on the client so that it came off as natural. But those last few minutes were inked on my brain for the next couple days. I was still getting settled into my Upper West Side apartment, finally outgrowing the bare bones landing spot I’d rented in between jobs in the Meatpacking District. Maybe my mid-thirties were changing the biology of my brain to the point that I needed more than a mattress on a floor and a television bolted to the wall to keep me satisfied. The good thing about my spartan home base in Manhattan for the last decade was my savings account. Women were my only vice outside of travel. And to my way of thinking, they were worth every penny. Just like that, a flash of Ruby on her knees, bracing her hands on the wall of the hotel while I fucked her from behind the second time made me close my eyes. It had taken everything in me not to call the next morning and try to set up another appointment. The only reason I hadn’t was because I’d seen in her in eyes when she kissed me on the cheek that she never expected to see me again. My stony silence— intentional silence—had ensured that. But in that moment, I’d still been so fucking stunned that our post-coital

conversation had somehow turned to my sister and how her death had ripped the curtain back on any belief system I might have had. It was far more likely to me that there was some cartoonish Wizard of Oz character hidden up in the clouds than an omnipotent savior dictating the events of my life. And she’d all but nailed me to the wall calling me out on it. I still couldn’t figure out why that was making me hard days later. Not thinking too deeply about it, I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and tapped out a text to the number she’d given me. I’d like to see you again. I was staring at the screen to make sure it said delivered when someone called my name. Randall Francis from the last office I’d done freelance for in Pakistan was jogging across the street with a wide smile on his face. “Good to see you, man.” I nodded, giving him a polite smile. “What are you doing over in my neck of the woods?” “I was over at the Lincoln Center for something and thought I’d walk back to work. I didn’t know you lived over here.” “Just.” I hooked a thumb over my shoulder at my building. “Moved in a few weeks ago, but I like it so far.” “The wife and I do too. We’re actually hitting up a place tonight for dinner that she just heard about, thought it sounded cool. The Library Bar?” “Oh yeah,” I said, tucking my phone away. “I’ve never been.” Randall smiled indulgently, like he always did when he was talking about his wife. I didn’t know him well, but he seemed like a nice guy. A lot like the rest of the guys I came into contact with through work but never went past surface politeness. “Sarai always finds the best places. You should check it out, man.” He lifted his arm to look at his watch. “Hey, I’ve got to run. Are you coming to the dinner in a couple weeks?” I lifted my eyebrows. “Not sure yet.” “Fuck, man. Your pictures are part of the book. You’ve got to come. Bring a woman maybe, so Lizette in Accounting can stop salivating over you.” We both laughed, because Lizette was pushing sixty and had more jowls than a fucking bulldog. “See ya, Randall.” While he clapped my shoulder and walked past me, I felt my phone vibrate. With a deep breath, I pulled it out. Ruby: What did you have in mind? I slicked my tongue along the underside of my front teeth while I thought through what Randall had said. Part of the reason I was going to be in New York for the longest stretch that I’d been in years was my contribution to the book he’d mentioned, a collaborative effort of over a dozen photographers’ work from the last eight years in the Middle East and Asia. There were more events that I was strongly encouraged to attend, but I fucking hated them. Hated the tedious, inane

conversations with strangers who felt like they knew me. Who felt like they had a right to ask intrusive questions about what I’d seen. Hated the monkey suit that I had to wear that felt like a straightjacket most nights. As I stared at her response, I had an idea. Care to meet for drinks? The Library Bar on W 60th at 9? Ruby: Just drinks? For now. Miss Ruby was about to go on an audition, and she had no fucking clue. I arrived before her and was sitting in a dark leather couch on the first floor, the lighting in the second level giving a perfect view of metal railings and case upon case of books. The low hum of chatter around me was soothing after my quiet day of developing photos. The beer I’d ordered was crisp on my tongue, somehow feeling like a more casual choice than whiskey. I’d just set my glass back down on the round, oak table when I saw her. Tonight she was wearing white, a long, sleek column of white covering her damn near divine body. It was sedate, covering her shoulders with only the slightest hint of cleavage and wrapping down around past her knees. Nothing about it screamed sex appeal, but because it was on her, I couldn’t stop my grin. The look she gave me back when I stood to kiss her on the cheek wasn’t a smile. It was a smirk. “You look like you should be illegal,” I said as she sat on the opposite side of the couch from me, crossing her legs so that I had no choice but to look at the wicked spiked heel of her sandals. “I am.” When I lifted an eyebrow, she laughed under her breath. “Touché.” My eyes roamed her face, and she stared back, unabashed. “But you’re worth the risk.” “Thank you,” she said with a slight lift of her chin. “I have to admit that I didn’t expect to hear from you again.” “After your theological treatise, you mean?” Ruby was about to answer when the server came back to our table and about fucking drooled over her when she ordered, looking up at him through her long, dark lashes. “Grey Goose and tonic, please.” He scurried off and Ruby turned to me again, regarding me with banked interest in her dark chocolate eyes. “Yes, after that. Though I’m impressed you knew what that meant.” “I didn’t,” I tossed back, holding my beer up to my mouth while she smiled at

my honesty. “The second you fled from the room, I had to look up about half of the words you used.” “I find that hard to believe,” she said, angling her legs more in my direction when the server dropped off her drink only seconds later. “My talents don’t lie up here,” I told her, tapping the side of my head with two fingers. “Not all of them, at least.” Her eyes not-so-subtly dipped down to my lap. An erection wasn’t prudent, given where we were, and who I knew would probably drop by our table at any minute. “Glad you don’t have any complaints in that department.” Ruby’s tongue poked out of her mouth to press along the edge of her plump upper lip, and all my skin tightened. “I almost felt like I should have paid you after the third orgasm.” I pulled in a slow breath through my nose and leaned forward so I could speak more closely to her ear. “If you’re looking to get fucked in the bathroom of this bar, then by all means, keep it up.” I was fully hard, and nothing about our interaction felt like she was selling her body and I was one the buying it. Adrenaline bubbled under my skin and I desperately wanted to use her as the outlet. “Elias,” Randall boomed from behind Ruby and I had to blink out of the sexual haze that had wrapped around my head. “I see you took my advice.” “Randall.” I stood, hoping my dick wasn’t at a right angle against my zipper. We shook hands and he gestured to a pretty, petite woman next to him. “Sarai, this is Elias. We work together.” She smiled and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you.” “Likewise.” I held a hand out to Ruby, watched her settle an amused look in my direction while she took it and stood. “Randall, Sarai, this is my friend, Ruby.” “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” she said, clasping both of their hands with a warm smile on her face. “Are you a photographer too, Randall?” He laughed good-naturedly, wrapping an arm around his wife. “No. I leave the exciting stuff to men like Elias. Couldn’t handle all the travel and being away from this one.” While Sarai beamed at her husband, Ruby wrapped an arm around my bicep and gave them such a genuine smile that I had to blink at her. “That’s so lovely. How long have you been married?” “Seven years,” Sarai answered, still smiling up at Randall. “Seven is the number of perfection in most cultures,” Ruby said, still holding on to my arm. “It certainly seems true with the two of you.” Well fuck, if they weren’t eating out of her perfectly manicured hand before, they were after that gem. We made small talk for a few more minutes before the Francises had to leave. As I sat, I motioned to the server for another beer. “Another Grey Goose?” “I’m fine, thank you.”

“One of the reasons I wanted to meet you here tonight was to make sure I didn’t remember you incorrectly.” She breathed out a laugh, taking the last sip out of her lowball glass. “I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to take that.” “As a compliment,” I assured her. “Despite your sermon at the end of our date the other night, I find myself wanting more.” “I’m certainly open to negotiating that,” she told me in a low, throaty voice, her eyes glowing in the dim light of the bar. “That’s good. Because I have numerous events over the next month to attend while I’m here. And I’d like you to be at my beck and call for the next thirty days. For whatever I need. Whenever I need it.”

CHAPTER FIVE

I wished for more Grey Goose at that moment. “A month?” I said, trying to keep my voice smooth. I didn’t want to reflect any of the shock I felt. “Yes.” His eyes were warm and intense. “That’s,” I began, but didn’t know exactly where I was going with it. “I don’t have rates for extended periods of time.” “I’m sure your manager does.” He raised an eyebrow, and I felt a little silly for saying I didn’t know the rate for thirty days. But it had never been offered to me before. “I’m sure she does,” I said. “You know, I’ll take another drink after all.” I pointed my head at my empty glass. “Would you excuse me a moment?” He nodded, not appearing to be the least bit fazed by my leaving the table. But I needed to text Lenore, and gather my thoughts. The bathroom was bright white, decorated with whimsical, floral prints depicting literary quotes. I tucked myself into a stall to pull out my phone and when I looked up, I faced a quote that was framed and glued onto the back of the stall door. “Money, like vodka, turns a person into an eccentric. – Anton Chekhov.” It made me laugh, possibly erring on the hysterical side. Because while I may not have felt eccentric, I certainly felt strange. The idea of thirty days at Elias’ beck and call and the amount of money that would bring in was making me feel unstable. I typed out a quick text to Lenore. What is the rate for something like thirty-days exclusivity? I knew Lenore would see dollar signs in her eyes and gently encourage me to accept such an extravagant offer. I had dollar signs in my eyes too—the six figures’ worth of student loan debt that followed me into situations just like this, the very reason I’d agreed to take Elias on in the first place. Lenore: Exclusive? Meaning every night? I don’t know. “Beck and call” is how he described it.

Lenore: 15. See if he bites. Fifteen thousand dollars sounded like five months’ rent. It sounded like a nice dent in my student loans. It sounded like freedom. It also sounded like it might be suffocating. One man, for thirty days. Right when I was coming out of my finals. I returned to the table, still not decided yet. “Sorry about that,” I said and smiled appreciatively at the filled drink on the table. I picked it up and sipped it. “Why?” I blurted out. “Why what? You’re going to need to be more specific.” He looked ever the picture of calm confidence. He didn’t doubt I’d take him up on his offer, especially with very little convincing. “Why me?” I realized immediately how that sounded and cooled my voice as I continued. “You’re obviously not a gremlin. You could pick up a date very easily. Why would you need to pay someone?” He leaned back against his seat as he regarded me. “I know that.” He didn’t say it with a smirk, like he was highlighting his enormous ego. He sounded matter-offact about it. “But I don’t want to pick up a date, especially not one with expectations.” At my look, he continued, “You know, dates and meeting the families and friends. Chick flicks. Along the line, moving in together. I’m quite happy with the life I’ve carved out for myself and I’m not interested in complications at the moment.” “Chick flicks are a deal breaker for you?” I asked, tucking my tongue between my teeth to keep from smiling at that. “They are. I’m not interested in traditional dating. I’d much prefer an agreement that you could provide for me, whereby you’re available when I need you and when you leave, I’m not obligated to do anything else.” Sipping my drink, I contemplated. “Okay. But I have finals this week.” “I’m flexible,” he said immediately. “What do you have after finals?” “Nothing, but—” “Great. Then it’s settled.” I narrowed my eyes a little. Not threateningly, but enough to show him my annoyance at being interrupted and his assumption I’d agreed. “It’s not settled yet.” He leaned forward, his lips coming inches from mine where I leaned across the table. “That—that’s why I’m asking this of you. Because you’re whip-smart, and controlled. I need someone who can do what you just did with my buddy, who can hold themselves well when introduced to a stranger. Because I know what your body is capable of. And, after I’ve fucked you, I’d like to listen to you talk some more.” The way “fucked” rolled out of his mouth made me want to indulge in the shiver that slid up my spine. But he was right; I was controlled. So I kept my feelings in check, only nodding briefly as I measured the idea in my mind. “It’s fifteen,” I said

quietly, feeling a little out of my element publicly discussing something as gauche as the price of my companionship. He nodded, didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the amount. “That’s fine. Do you have a passport?” I thought of the passport in my drawer at home, something I’d purchased years earlier when I’d entertained the idea of traveling to Thailand during my winter break, but had never had the courage to actually do. “Yes.” “Where do you live?” It was the first question I didn’t immediately answer, and instead I cocked my head to the side. “I don’t give that information out,” I told him. “I don’t need your exact address, Ruby.” He leveled me with his gaze and I realized I liked the way he said my name, the way it made his bottom lip pout a little bit. “Just, what area.” “Greenwich,” I said. “Good.” He nodded. I sipped the rest of my drink and carefully placed it on the embossed napkin. “I have to say, I’m incredibly flattered by your offer. Normally, I wouldn’t say yes to something like this,” I told him. “My schedule is quite packed, as you can probably imagine. But,” I ran my tongue over my lips, “I’m about to have an open summer, so this is good timing. Once I’ve finished my finals, that is.” “Understood.” Elias lifted a hand for the check, but didn’t move his eyes off of me. “How does tomorrow work for you?” “Tomorrow is great.” “I’ll message you,” he told me as he slid a black credit card into the check presenter and handed it back to the waiter. “Great,” I told him, smiling as I stood. He took my hand in his and ran his thumb over the peaks of my knuckles. “Goodbye, Elias.” “Goodbye, Ruby.” I took a cab home from the restaurant, which was more of a splurge than I normally partook in. But in my five-inch heels and white dress, there was no way I could let the subway grime touch me. My apartment was a relatively roomy studio near the top of a brick-studded walkup. It was a quiet building, home to retirees and single cat-ladies. I laughed to myself about that as I trotted up the steps to my studio, but when I opened the door to my tiny apartment, the first thing that greeted me was my fluffy white ball of a cat, Fletcher. “Hey, baby,” I said, scooping him up into my arms. He meowed as I scratched behind his ears before I set him down. Fletcher flopped to his back and I thumbed through the mail I had on my counter, kicking off my heels and rubbing my foot over his belly. He was my one companion, the only sensible one I could have with my studies and my escort responsibilities. He was a two-year-old stray that I’d adopted from a local shelter a few days before Christmas last year.

All my mail was bills, which was the story of my life. I made enough from escorting to pay everything my student loan couldn’t float, with some extras for cocktail dresses from time to time. I’d need a few new ones for Elias’ offer, I realized, and winced at the balance on my credit card statement before I tucked it away to deal with after finals. Sighing, I stepped behind the bookcase that concealed my sleeping area from the rest of the apartment and unzipped my dress, taking in my very neat bedroom, all my books lined up over the headboard on three white shelves. After changing into lounge pants and a sweatshirt, I picked Fletcher up and grabbed a textbook off the room separator bookshelf and collapsed onto my small sectional. The sounds of taxis and hollers outside rapped against the window, but my apartment was like a cocoon. A space that was all my own, almost completely white except for the splashes of colors that I used sparingly, from the coral-colored Dutch oven that lived on my stove due to the lack of storage, to the simple watercolors that dotted the one long wall. My phone dinged and I picked it up. The number was unknown, so I swiped up on the screen to read it. It’s Nicholas. Let’s get together, I’ve been thinking about you. I gagged. Nicholas, my ex-boyfriend. The remnant of the one serious relationship I’d had. He’d become too manipulating—to a point that I’d changed my phone number and moved after the end of us. There was no way I was going to reply to his message. I deleted it quickly, not wanting his phone number to sear itself in my brain. Minutes later, my phone dinged again and I grinded my teeth. “I don’t know how the fuck you found my number, Nicholas, but leave me alone,” I muttered as I picked it up. But, thankfully, this text was from Lenore. Lenore: Should I mark you off for the next month? I thought of Elias, his dark features and his intense gaze, and felt a strange quiver, one I didn’t usually get after seeing a client. I’d have to be careful to keep him at an arm’s length. This was new territory—not just a repeat client but someone I’d be spending considerable time with. I just had to get through finals before I could get steadily under Elias. My fingers didn’t shake in the slightest as I typed out a response. Yes.

CHAPTER SIX

The last of my meager boxes were unpacked, and I tossed the final flattened cardboard into the pile near the stainless steel fridge which held three takeout boxes, a six pack of beer, and bottle of ketchup. Pathetic, I thought, looking around my sixth floor apartment. There was furniture, a brown leather couch so new that it still squeaked under my ass when I sat on it. That was fucking weird, so I still chose the battered recliner that I’d had since college and had taken with me to every place that I’d laid my head for the last ten years. Absently, it made me wonder what kind of place Ruby lived in. I’d met working women who could pull in high six-figures a year, if they found the right long term clients. Ruby had said she lived in Greenwich, which gave me visions that escorts in NYC could probably make a killing, especially her; with the body meant for Maxim and the eyes that screwed you without her needing to move a single muscle. She was good, all right. So good that I’d willingly agreed to hand over fifteen thousand dollars for one month. What a fucking idiot I was. Good pussy could be found all over, if you knew where to look for it. Wild pussy was something else, and unfortunately, that’s exactly what I craved. The spark of fire in her eyes, the steel backbone that appeared at the slightest hint of challenge from a strong man. That was the kind of woman that brought me to my knees. Every single goddamn time. I pulled a beer from the fridge, cracking the top off and taking a long pull. The last woman like that that I’d pursued, who’d genuinely piqued my interest, had left me standing in the cold to go back to my former brother-in-law, Nathan. Literally, in a cold parking lot in the middle of winter in Boston. My sister Diana had been married to Nathan Easton for a few years before she died in a car crash, courtesy of a drunk driver who blew a stop sign. Knowing Nathan had suffered through her loss was one of the only comforts I’d had since Diana’s death. When I showed up one day out of the blue and Adele, his girlfriend, had answered the door, I’d actually felt the breath sucked from my lungs. Oh, she was wild. It was radiating from her. She’d cussed me out, followed me around their house while I looked for something of my sister’s, looking completely out of place in the perfectly appointed house that Diana had decorated. But she was

Nathan’s—not mine. There hadn’t been a single woman to catch my eye since Adele. Until Ruby. More than likely, it was a sad commentary on me when I was relieved to be thinking about a paid escort and not a woman that had barely been a blip on the radar of my life. But Ruby had that same feel to her. Like a live wire laid somewhere underneath her skin, and if I could only dig deep enough, she’d electrify us both. The next thirty days with her would be the longest I’d stayed in NYC for years. The bustle of travel and taking as many jobs as I could to keep me busy had been the best coping mechanism I could find for ignoring the realities of my life. Reality #1- My best friend for my entire life died in the middle of the night when her car wrapped around a tree. Reality #2- My parents hadn’t figured out how to function in the years since her death, making their home into a veritable shrine for Diana. Reality #3- Staying in one place for too long made me feel like I needed to make plans for my life. Make a future. Future implied hope, and hope was a fucking lie. I’d drained my beer in only a few swallows and tossed the empty bottle into the trash bin with a loud clang. The hazard of me having no work to do and no plans was that it was too easy for me to want to drink my boredom away. Boredom was dangerous for a man like me. It made my mind slip into dark places that I didn’t ever want to descend to. The last time I’d gone there, I’d ended up in a fist fight with Nathan, goading him into hitting me by talking about Adele’s tits. The moment he’d made contact, ramming me into the wall, I’d actually felt relief. And in all honesty, Adele’s tits were amazing. But somehow now, months removed from that whole situation, I couldn’t remember them exactly. All I could see in my head was how Ruby’s sat heavy above her slender rib cage. How perfectly they filled my hands, which were big. I pressed the heel of my hand against my eye socket, knowing damn well it wouldn’t do me any good to think about her. Not only would it not do me any good, but I felt vaguely pitiful, sitting at home on a Saturday and pining over a glorified prostitute whose cunt had felt like tight heaven around me. The buzzer of my speaker rang through the room, and I lifted myself up out of the chair with a sigh, poking the button with a gruff greeting. “It’s Jack, let me up.” I did without a response, smiling a little at how he didn’t actually ask if it was a good time. Jack and I had been friends for a few years. He was a reporter for one of the news magazines that I’d shot some pieces for, and I just couldn’t get rid of him. I’d tried. But like a leech or a fungus, he wouldn’t go away. When I heard his whistling out in the hallway, I unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open. “Deadbolt, huh?” he asked, punching me in the stomach as he passed. Jack was

almost as tall as me and worked out just as much, so it actually made me grunt when he made contact. “Afraid of the big bad wolf, are ya?” I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help but grin a little at the memory of Ruby that it stirred up. Her staring up at me while I had her up against the door, telling me that that’s what she’d thought of me when she saw me smile for the first time. “He smiles,” Jack said in an awed tone. “Must have found a girl.” There was only one person in the world who knew my proclivity for escorts, and it was Jack, so I nodded and grabbed him a beer from the fridge. I handed it to him while he sat on the couch. He froze when the leather creaked obnoxiously under him. “What the fuck?” “It’s new,” I said on a sigh, falling back into the recliner. Jack held himself perfectly still on the couch, staring over at the other cushions like he was afraid to move. “Didn’t you try it out in the store? I feel like I’m sitting on that plastic shit that my Nonna used to put on all her furniture.” “Ordered it online. I don’t have the patience for the sales people in stores like that. Every time they circle me, I feel like punching something.” “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “that says a lot about you. It shouldn’t surprise me.” “I don’t know why I let you in.” “Because no one else can put up with your brooding silence and death glares at anything that radiates happiness.” Ruby put up with me, I thought, but took a drink of the fresh beer in my hand instead of saying it out loud. Against my better judgement, I gave him a dry look. “So what does it say about me?” “Your history with women has always fascinated me.” “You need a hobby, man,” I interjected, turning on the TV and scrolling through until I found the Yankees game. “Hear me out. I feel really smart right now.” He set his beer down on the end table in between the couch and my chair. “You buy your furniture online because you hate the dance. Haggling on price or delivery options with someone who just wants the commission off your purchase. Right?” “Right.” “And the way you look at women is the exact same thing. You go online and flip through pictures, only reaching out when one catches your eye. You know she’s safe and professional, will keep her mouth shut about you and not want anything from you that you’re not willing to give because going to bars, trying to ferret out what the woman drinking the margarita on the rocks might want from you the next morning is way too exhausting.” My beer was suspended in front of my mouth when I turned to stare at him. “You actually sound really smart right now.” “I know.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Did you say ferret?”

Jack shrugged, turning his attention to the game. “They’re on my mind because Grace has it in her head that she wants one, so I’ve been doing my research. Did you know that if a female ferret goes without sex for a year, she could die?” “I think I can sympathize,” I muttered. Jack laughed. “That’s the beauty of paying for it, my friend. You’ll never have to know.” “You should try it sometime. It’s pretty fucking spectacular.” I could say it to him because I knew Jack didn’t judge my choices. “More power to you for finding what works for you, seriously.” He shook his head. “I just couldn’t do it. I need to know she’s looking at me and seeing me, not a paycheck.” We fell into easy silence after that, and his words settled into my head. Ruby hadn’t looked at me like I was a paycheck, even though we both knew that’s what I was. And I knew why Jack felt like that. His wife had died shortly after Grace turned two, so his attempts at relationships were few and far between, and only if he saw it being something long term. Combined with his easy sense of humor, Jack was pretty much my opposite in every single way. “This one felt different,” I said after a few minutes. “Probably makes me sound stupid to say that, but she did.” “Not stupid if it was true for you. You’re allowed to feel like it was.” “I wish I didn’t. I just gave up a hefty chunk of change to have her to myself for the next month.” He choked on his beer. “Come again?” I sighed. “Seriously, you’re kidding, right?” Jack gaped at me. “Why not just try out a new one? Or sleep with her one more time and make sure you’re not losing your mind over some quality pussy?” “You know how many bullshit events I have to go to over the next month with the book. She’s fucking smart, Jack. Smarter than me, that’s for damn sure. And then I get that quality pussy every night during the month, if I want it. Trust me, if I decide you’re not too much of a jackass to meet her, you’ll see what I’m talking about.” Jack shook his head at me, a disbelieving look all over his stupid, smiling face. “Oh, I’ll meet her. No way I’d miss the chance to see the woman who finally spun your head around.” “Shut the fuck up and watch the game,” I said and glared at him. Next week. Next week, I’d try to get rid of him again.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I was rarely late. I was the person who set five alarms whenever I had to be anywhere, typically eight minutes apart. But thoughts of Nicholas’ text had kept me up through the night, and more than once Fletcher had crawled up to nibble on my earlobe. So when I’d woken up on the third Saturday of that month, a few days after agreeing to Elias’ offer, I peered at my alarm clock with confusion. Surely, I hadn’t slept all the way to ten in the morning, right? But after checking my phone and the stove clock as I started a cup of coffee, I realized I had, indeed, overslept. Most Saturdays I was up at six and on my way to the gym thirty minutes later. I wasn’t blessed with a svelte figure; I had to work very hard to keep myself sliding into my size four cocktail gowns. Because I loved food, I was a slave to exercise. I loathed the elliptical, and if I indulged in deep thought over that hatred, I might surmise that my disdain for the elliptical had to do with the fact that it simulated climbing, but in reality I never went anywhere. It was a metaphor for my life, a student for eight years who still hadn’t decided on a career path that wasn’t defined simply by being an eternal student. Yes, I had a master’s, almost two of them. But those two pieces of paper racked up serious debt that I’d never have a chance of paying off without my job. Normally oversleeping wouldn’t be a problem, especially since I didn’t have a client that evening. But the first and third Saturday of every month was reserved for lunch with Lenore and the other girls. And as I downed my coffee, I realized I had less than an hour to be ready before I had to make the trek to the Upper East Side. Lunches with Lenore served two purposes: one, so that we could discuss what would be happening over the next two weeks—getting an idea of what our schedules were like—and two, so she could, in her words, make sure we were “taking care of the product.” It sounded insulting, but she was first and foremost a business owner. She couldn’t afford to sell something—or, rather, someone—who was letting themselves go. If one girl let themselves go and a client noticed, Lenore would get less business. She certainly wasn’t the only glorified pimp in Manhattan. Escorts relied on word-of-mouth marketing, so we had to be top in everything to

get repeat or referral clients. Which was why I took my time gently curling my hair so that soft waves spilled down my back, and why I redid my lipstick when my lips looked the littlest bit uneven. Even though I was solidly booked for the next thirty days, I still needed to present myself as completely perfect to Lenore. After one final skim with the lint roller over my black and white patterned dress, I set off to hail a cab to a small restaurant Lenore favored in the summer, one that had patio seating so Lenore could scrutinize us in the daylight. I arrived with minutes to spare, which caused me to lightly break out in sweat. Lenore wasn’t only a stickler about how we presented ourselves, but she was very strict about being on time. And to her, on time meant ten minutes early. I cursed under my breath as I made my way to the table on the patio, where Lenore was already sitting with everyone she managed except for me. “I’m sorry,” I said to her with what I hoped to be a contrite expression. I gave a smile to Stella, one of the girls I was closest to, and slid into the empty seat between Lenore and Stella. “Did you get lost?” Lenore asked, with a tone that bordered on apathetic as she surveyed the menu. “No, I overslept.” As soon as I’d said it, I wished to suck the words back in my mouth. “Overslept? Are you ill?” Lenore was more in tune with our daily schedules than most managers would be, but it enabled her to be a solid manager, someone who could detect when something was off with any one of us. “No, my phone died last night and I didn’t set an alarm.” The lie slid as easily from my lips as the admission of my oversleeping had. “I’m fine.” I gave her a smile, which she looked at with scrunched eyes for a moment before she turned to the rest of the group. “What’s everyone ordering?” Lunch was always Lenore’s treat, but I said that lightly because she always made sure we were eating balanced meals. Not too much fat, because it would affect our skin. Each girl took their turn telling her about the salad they’d selected from the menu, something which made me curl my lip a little. Lenore knew my penchant for eating steak and always ordering dessert, something she didn’t approve of, but had said very little to me about because I went to the gym enough to keep myself slender. When it was Stella’s turn, I held my breath. “I’m eyeballing the Croque Monsieur, with some hashbrowns on the side.” Lenore turned her head to Stella so slowly that I swore I could hear her neck creaking. “Really, Stella?” I elbowed Stella, whose favorite thing was this—antagonizing Lenore to the point where her temper was tested. She was, as Lenore coined her, the quintessential New York girl, which wasn’t necessarily a compliment. But she fit the bill for men who weren’t married but didn’t want someone obnoxiously out of

place to accompany them to events. Her accent wasn’t cultured or smooth, like the rest of us, and her manners reflected that too. “Calm your tits, Lenore, I was just eyeballing it.” She discreetly elbowed me back. “I’ll get the tomato-gruyere omelette.” When Lenore raised an eyebrow, Stella added, “With the berry salad as the side.” To anyone else, Stella telling Lenore to calm her tits may have sounded radical, but Stella was Lenore’s first girl and still looked barely legal; she could get away with this stuff. The rest of us had to keep our manners in check. Every group had its wild card, and Stella was ours. After the waiter took our orders, Lenore pulled out her tablet and a notebook, laying them on the table. She put eyeglasses on and as she studied her notes, she looked the picture of a successful businesswoman. I’d never asked about her age, but I guessed she was in her early forties. Not that she showed wrinkles—no, wrinkles were abhorrent to Lenore. From her trim black suit to the black hair she wore, pixie style, she was just … compact. That was the best word to describe her. “Jessica, you have two clients next week and one the week after.” She peered at Jessica, a young blonde who was the quietest of us all. As Jessica smiled, Lenore asked, “Have you been to a dentist recently?” Jessica quickly lost her smile and Lenore added, “See if you can be fit in for a cleaning,” before she turned back to her notes. “Ana, you have three clients next week. And two clients the following week. One of them,” she paused and I could tell she was waiting for the blowback, “is Mr. Peters.” “Yikes,” Stella said under her breath at the same time that Ana groaned. “Mr. Peters?” Ana asked. “Fish hands, Mr. Peters?” I shuddered in sympathy for Ana. Though I’d never had the misfortune of spending time with him, I knew he’d “tried out” most of the girls. He was in his sixties, widowed for the last ten years, and a very frequent customer. And, from what the girls had concluded, his hands were always wet and slippery. Like he routinely squirted them with lube. “Can you swap?” Ana begged Lenore. “Please?” Lenore raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow at Ana. Such a request was a bit unorthodox, especially at our lunches. But before she could say anything, Stella spoke up. “I can take one for the team,” she said. “Give me Mr. Peters next week.” Lenore turned that raised eyebrow to Stella. “I’m afraid he requested Ana. Your particular … style … was a little overwhelming for him. Besides, you have three clients next week already, four the week after and, according to the schedule you provided me, you won’t have room for another.” She wrote something on her notepad before flipping to another page on her tablet and turning to the last remaining girl, Brienne. “You have four clients next week. Three are back to back.” She paused. “Your Friday is married and requested you be as discreet as possible.” Brienne pulled up her phone and made a note. “Got it. Mens deodorant on

Friday.” “And no lipstick,” Lenore added, marking a check next to something she’d written. “The following week, I have you off for your family reunion.” She gave a look to Brienne. “I hope I don’t have to remind you to be careful around the potato salad.” Brienne nodded her understanding and sipped a big glass of water. Then Lenore placed the tablet and notepad back into her oversized purse and said, “That’s all for next week.” “Whoa,” Stella said, “What about Rubes?” “I wish you wouldn’t call her that,” Lenore said with a sigh. “Why?” “Because it sounds like Pubes,” Ana said with a giggle. “Or Lubes,” Stella said thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her pointer finger. “Rubes Lubes. Could be good marketing material, Lenore. You’re welcome.” Lenore gave her a look of annoyance before saying, “Ruby has a client for the next month.” There was silence around the table as all their gazes fell upon me. “The same John. For the whole month?” Stella asked. “Precisely.” Lenore gave me a smile that bordered on pride, an emotion she showed so rarely. “You could learn a thing or two from Ruby.” “What kind of voodoo magic did you do with your vag, Ruby?” Stella asked before I gave her a look, one that I hoped relayed to her I wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. She merely raised an eyebrow at me, indicating that we’d be catching up after lunch. After everyone had eaten and Lenore had paid the check, the table slowly began to clear. When it was just Stella and me, she turned with a fork pointed at my face. “Spill it.” I tilted my head to the left for a stretch. “There’s nothing to spill. We had one night, and then we met again. I think he kind of had a trial interview for me in mind and I must have passed. That’s literally all the information I have.” Stella looked at me like she was trying to figure out if I was being honest or not. “Trust me, I’m sure I’ll have more for you as the month goes on, but right now I’ve got nothing.” “Is he hot?” “He is.” I nibbled on the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. “And he’s got a big dick, too.” “Oh, fuck off,” Stella said, but there was no heat in her words. “You would get that lucky. Men flock to you like you’ve got some neon blinking sign pointing to your pussy.” “And what would that sign say?” I asked before sipping my ice water. “Best Cock Trap in the Five Boroughs.” I rolled my eyes. “That’s a little dramatic.” But it made me think of the text from Nicholas, and I found myself staring intently at my water as condensation dripped down the side of the glass. “But speaking of men flocking, guess who

texted me?” “Who?” “Nicholas.” Stella scoffed. “What does that fuck face want?” “He said he wanted to meet up.” “And you said?” “Nothing. I deleted it.” The thought of his text had made me look at my phone cautiously every time a text beeped through. “Good. Don’t give him the time of day.” I wasn’t planning on it. But I still couldn’t shake the unease that stuck to my skin.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Are you sure you don’t want more salad, sweetie?” my mom asked from across the table, holding up the white china serving bowl like the contents would singlehandedly make my life better. Also, file ‘sweetie’ under the worst term of endearment possible for a man in his mid-thirties. The sheer, unadulterated feeling of emasculation behind it was staggering. I almost cupped myself under their twelve-person dining room table to make sure all my equipment was still there. But I didn’t say anything, because the biggest lesson I’d learned when it came to dealing with my parents in the years after Diana’s death was that I had a well of patience so deep that I’d yet to find the bottom. And my mom only called me things like that when she was in a good mood, so I’d shut my mouth and take another helping of the bland salad. “Sure, thanks.” I tried to hide my smile when she filled half my plate with the wilted, underdressed salad. “Why didn’t you replace Martha when she retired?” “I’m perfectly capable of functioning without a cook, Elias,” my mom admonished. “And it’s not a necessary expense considering that anyone cooking for us is only doing it for two people. Waste of money, if you ask me. We kept Martha on because she’d been with us for so long.” I shoveled in a bite of salad with a grimace. She had. Martha had baked me and Diana cinnamon cookies after school, and given the overcooked pork chop that I’d pushed around my plate before my extra helping of salad, I would have given my left testicle for one of her meals just then. My dad must have been thinking the same thing, because he lifted his fork and stared at the piece of pork chop like it had done him personal injury. “You know,” my mom said, pretending like she didn’t see what my dad was doing, “you could always bring someone with you when you come for dinner.” As subtle comments went, it was fairly reserved for my mother. It had started slowly, only about six months earlier. Apparently Nathan had decided it was time to face my parents and they’d succeeded in reaching some sort of a tenuous truce after years of tension between them. He was … happy now. Happy with Adele, a woman so opposite of my sister that it seemed unbelievable that they’d worked out their

issues last winter. And my parents, for their part, seemed content to let him be that way. Or, as content as they were capable of, at least. My mom was still prone to outbursts of tears, my dad long silences while he stared at one of her pictures. The one he favored was from her college graduation. She was flanked by me and mom, her bright smile wide and unaffected. I had my arm around her shoulders, and my mom, an arm around her waist. I had the same photo in a simple frame, but I kept it in a box, unwilling to pull it out unless I was feeling depressed. Lately though, I’d seen a few more cautious smiles, warm conversations and the occasional guilt-trip about my somewhat nomadic lifestyle. If I remembered correctly, the first had been a quiet comment about how difficult it would be to maintain a serious relationship with all the traveling I did. The next had been an innocently posed question about whether the guest bedroom upstairs would make a nice nursery, just in case they ever had grandkids who needed to sleepover. “I know I could bring someone along, Mom,” I said patiently, grimacing when my fork made a horrible screeching sound against my plate. “But I’d need to have someone to ask.” “Whether it’s a woman,” my dad spoke up, then darted his eyes away from me, “or a man. We don’t judge.” My eyes fell shut, the distinct beginnings of a headache forming at the base of my skull. “I know you don’t judge, but if I was gay, I would tell you.” “Not all kids do,” my mom said, an excited gleam in her eyes. “Mona down the street didn’t know her daughter was a lesbian for four years, can you imagine? Now she’s got a wife and little black baby that they adopted. Cutest thing I’ve ever seen. You could adopt one too!” I set my fork down, giving them a long look before speaking. “I’m not gay and I’m not adopting a little black baby. Any color baby, as a matter of fact. If I’m ever in the kind of relationship where those kinds of discussions need to happen, with a woman I might add, you’ll be the very first to know.” “That’s all we ask,” my mom sighed. She was sad now, it was apparent in the downward curve of her mouth. Diana had been their shot, their gimme at being a grandparent considering she and Nathan had been married for almost four years at the time of her death. And that shot was gone now. They were starting from scratch with a son who avoided relationships like they carried the Plague with them. So I couldn’t fault her interest. “I’m sorry I’m a relationship delinquent.” I attempted a smile when I said it, and she clucked her tongue while she patted me on the forearm. “Nonsense. You’re a smart boy. You’ll figure it out.” Then she shared a look with my dad. “Hopefully before we’re dead.” Instead of answering, I shoved another bite of salad in my mouth, willing the hands on the clock to move faster so I could be on my way home to call my paid escort about the dinner she’d be joining me at in a few days. I almost laughed,

thinking about my parents’ faces if I were to tell them that. My mom thought I was smiling at her, and the slight look of happiness on her face was worth the nagging I had to endure. Almost. “Hello, Elias,” Ruby greeted me, the smile in her voice drawing one of my own. “If I ask you what you’re wearing, does that make me a cliché?” When she laughed under her breath, I settled back against the massive headboard of my king sized bed. The mattress was still so new that it barely budged underneath my considerable weight. “Maybe I’m wearing nothing.” I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly, flipping through the mental pictures that I had of her naked body. “I’m sure you say that to all the men who call.” She made a thoughtful noise, and I could hear the shuffle of papers in the background. “You know, I don’t have many phone conversations for … work.” “You’d make a killing if you switched to phone sex,” I told her honestly. Just the sound of her voice in my ear had me semi-hard. “Oh, but then I couldn’t have fun with men like you. That would make for a sad Ruby.” “We wouldn’t want that,” I said with a smile. “Is that why you called? To convince me to change my career?” I clicked the screen of my phone so that she was on speaker and fisted my shirt behind my neck so I could take it off. “No, I’m calling about Friday night. There’s a black tie thing that I’d like you to accompany me to.” “Thing?” “Yeah, it’s for a publishing house that I worked with on something. Same place Randall works. You met him and his wife the other night.” “Ahh. Yes, they seemed nice.” She paused and I could hear her walking around. “What time on Friday?” I squinted, at the invitation in my hand. Fuck, I needed glasses. “Seven. Do you want me to send a car for you?” “No,” she said quickly. “Thank you, though. If you text me the address, I’ll meet you there a bit before seven.” “Sounds good.” We lapsed into silence and I closed my eyes, trying to picture where she might be sitting, what her place would look like. “Are you really wearing nothing?” Ruby laughed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? If the sound of your voice just made my clothes simply disappear.” “I’d never stop talking. Your body is … God, Ruby. It’s fucking incredible.” She hummed, and my scalp tightened like she’d just run her hands over it. “Thank you. So is yours. How you know just exactly what to do with it, too.” I pulled in a slow breath through my nose, hardening fully when I thought about how it felt to slide inside of her with her long legs flush up against my chest.

“You trying to tease me, Ruby?” I unzipped my jeans and reached my hand down to grip myself. “Because I’m going to need you to finish me off if you are. You told me you’re off limits this week, and that means I’ll have all sorts of shit pent up when I see you Friday night.” “Are you hard?” she asked quietly. “What the fuck do you think?” I chuckled, the sound dark and devious. “Just thinking about you gets me this way.” “Good. I’m already thinking about how I want you take me when you see me.” I tightened my fist and lifted my hips so I could use my other hand to lower my jeans down my ass. “Yeah? I’ve got a few ideas of my own.” “Tell me,” she demanded. “Fuck,” I groaned, twisting my hand with a slow jerk, from root to tip, feeling a bead of precum slide out of the angry, red head of my cock. “From behind again, maybe in the bathroom mirror so I can watch your fucking perfect tits bounce when I thrust in.” “Mmm, yes. I like that. I want to be able to see your face the whole time. See what it does to you to be inside of me. Fucking me.” She sighed. “You can do so much behind me. Spank me, bruise me, go so deep that it almost hurts.” “Fucking hell,” I panted, moving my hand faster. “Yeah, all of it. Do I get your ass, Ruby? Will you let me go there?” Ruby whimpered, and I imagined her sleek, elegant fingers moving in tight circles over her clit. “Tell me, baby,” I growled. “My dick is so hard it hurts, I can’t jerk it hard enough right now thinking about your pussy. Tell me how you feel.” “Wet, oh God, so wet. I wish I could see you, Elias. I wish I could see you jerk yourself off. I want it on me, on my skin,” she panted. “Come on, Elias, come for me. Let me hear it.” I tugged again, grinding my teeth as the orgasm fled up my spine in a blinding flash of heat. I came in long, hot spurts on my stomach. I milked the last few waves of pleasure, unable to hear anything but my own heavy breathing in my ears. “Good Lord, woman. You are potent. I haven’t had phone sex since I was nineteen.” Ruby laughed, and I grimaced when I realized she sounded completely puttogether. Unruffled. “You didn’t actually touch yourself, did you?” I asked, trying not to sound pissed. But just under the surface, I was. Because that had felt real. Maybe because I hadn’t set down an envelope of cash, who knows. “Of course I did.” But I didn’t believe her. I sighed and leaned over to grab a tissue from my nightstand, shaking my head while I wiped my stomach clean. “So I’ll see you Friday at seven, right?” “Of course,” she purred into the phone. “Call me again if you need a little pick me up. Free of charge.” I snorted when I hung up. Free of charge, my ass. So far I’d paid fifteen grand for

a self-given orgasm. Ruby was making me lose my fucking mind.

CHAPTER NINE

Finding a dress for this black tie event had proven harder than usual. I’d stared into the bowels of my closet for what felt like an eternity, mentally rejecting everything my gaze fell upon. Everything was too flashy, or too boring—there was no inbetween. So I’d dragged myself through a nearby shop, handing over more cash than I typically spent for a dress that would wow. If Elias could fork over fifteen thousand dollars for my company, I should certainly look worth every single red cent. I was in just my bra and panties, two wisps of lacy fabric held together by some wire and heavy duty-thread. Their scarlet color matched my dress, which hung from my closet door as I finished up my makeup. The dress was unlike anything else I owned—it screamed for attention in capital letters—from the sweetheart strapless neckline all the way down the column to where it fanned out, mermaidstyle, at my feet. Usually, I opted for demure; classic. I favored dresses that were understated in their elegance, but my presence had rarely been required for events like this. I often played up my face with makeup, but the dress didn’t need any competition in that way. So I wore a nude lip with a smoky eye. As I stood in front of the full-length mirror, I pressed a hand to my stomach as I took myself in. I wore my hair over one shoulder, full waves that came to my breasts. And in my eyes, I wore the lightest trace of nerves. Elias wasn’t like any of my other clients. For one, Elias was hot. And I’d had fun with him, something that wasn’t typical of any escort. Sure, many men had tried to please me, but after I’d pushed them away from giving me oral sex—a no-no in this industry—they usually just accepted what I could give them, without worrying about reciprocal pleasure. But Elias had pressed all of my buttons, paid attention to my cues, made sure that I was enjoying myself as much as he was. Which also made him the tiniest bit dangerous. I was paid to provide pleasure to my clients. Receiving pleasure, while not necessarily unheard of, was rare. And, what’s more, Elias had never treated me like an escort, like someone who was paid to open her legs. He’d treated me like someone he’d had instant chemistry with, someone he genuinely wanted to get to know. For the next thirty days, at least.

I checked the clock, which was closing in on five. The address Elias had texted me was on the other side of Manhattan, so I’d hired a car to bring me there. Again, a splurge—a break from the usual for me. I didn’t trust a taxi, not when I was wearing a dress like that and sliding on seats that probably hadn’t been wiped down in so long they were sticky from various bodily fluids. The mere thought gave me a shiver of disgust, remembering the time my yoga pants had physically stuck to one taxi seat. I’d never determined what the sticky substance was, not that I’d actually spent much time trying to dissect it. Fletcher wrapped himself around my legs and I reached down to rub his head. “You going to be okay without me tonight?” I cooed to him as my recently manicured nails lightly scratched down his back. My phone chimed and I picked it up instantly, half expecting Elias to text me, telling me he was coming to pick me up himself. He had a little bit of an alpha air about him, something I knew I’d need to watch for. The thought itself had strange timing, when I opened the text message to see something from an unknown number, but no doubt my manipulative ex-boyfriend. It’s Nicholas. I’m not sure if you received my text the other night. Let’s get together. Tonight? With disgust, I dropped my phone and shook my hand, as if I was shaking his presence from my life. I debated for only a fraction of a second to reply, to tell him, politely, to fuck off. But he wasn’t worth even one letter, so I picked my phone back up only to delete it and block his number. Just then, a text from Stella came in. Stella: What dress are you slaying with tonight? I held my phone up and took a photo of the dress, still on the hanger, and then pressed send before I applied the final touches on my makeup. Another text came in just as I was packing my clutch. Stella: Hot. What makeup are you wearing? I sent her a photo of my face and then slipped into the dress finally, realizing the car would be arriving at any moment. When my phone buzzed again, I was nearly headed out the door. Stella: With a dress like that, you need a red lip. Don’t even argue with me on this. Stella was a pushy bitch. I equally loved and was annoyed by that, but when I looked at myself in the mirror by my door, I decided, with great reluctance, that she was right. After swiping a tube from my vanity, I slicked the bright red on my lips

and took another photo of my face, with an added middle finger held up for her, too. Stella: Nice manicure. And much better—he’ll be thinking about those lips wrapped around that Godzilla dick of his all night. I laughed at that and tucked my phone in the clutch so I could lock my apartment up. A black car was waiting curbside, outside. As soon as I’d stepped up to the curb, a man in a suit walked out of the driver’s side and greeted me. “Hello, Miss Stavros.” I smiled at Joseph, Lenore’s driver. “Hi, Joe.” He opened the back door and I slid in, settling into the cool leather and breathing a sigh to eliminate my nerves. Joseph worked for Lenore, but he didn’t come free to us girls. He was more affordable than most drivers, but Lenore took a cut of our earnings to use him. “How are classes?” Joe asked, his crinkled brown eyes peering at me through the rear view mirror. “Just finished my finals,” I said, my voice betraying none of the excitement I felt at that. This would be my first summer off of studying in eight years, and I was looking forward to not combatting stress pimples every few weeks. Lenore hated when I got them. The drive to upper Manhattan felt fast, mostly because talking with Joe was like talking with an old friend. But by the time he pulled up in front of a spectacle of lights and rope, the nerves returned to my belly. Joe stopped the car and got out to open my door as I looked through the window, seeing if I could spot Elias. There were so many people, and the entrance was blocked off by thick ropes as people stood in front of a backdrop emblazoned with logos, to have their photos taken by the photographers who waited on the opposite side. When Joe opened my door, it was like I’d been in a noiseless bubble that had suddenly burst. There were people hollering, loud chatter from those in line to get in, and the beeps from the cameras that were flashing frequently as they took photo after photo. I’d never been to an event like this one, which did nothing to calm the anxiety that slid with me out of the car. Once my heels were firmly planted on the sidewalk and I’d thanked Joe, I searched again for Elias. He should’ve been easy to spot, but considering I was surrounded by a sea of men in black suits, my search for him was difficult. But then, suddenly, he was there. The throng of people in front of me separated enough to allow his body to fill their void, and he was walking straight to me. All the clothes I’d seen Elias in before erred on the side of business casual, so seeing him in a tux was surprising. His hair was slicked back, and his beard was very neatly trimmed. It was strange, looking at him like he was a completely different person. But when he was directly in front of me, giving me a wicked smile,

heat burned in my belly all the same. “You clean up nice,” I told him and cocked my head to the side to admire him more fully. All the black covered up the ink that covered his arms and upper chest, and already I couldn’t wait to see his body again, under the expensive threads. “You…” he shook his head as his eyes glided down my body and then up again, taking all the time in the world to admire me. “Exquisite.” His eyes echoed the heat that lay low in my belly as he took my hand in his and gently pulled me to him. He leaned down and put his lips near my ear so I could hear him above the noise. “Ready for this?” Nodding, I turned my face and kissed him where his beard started so as not to leave lipstick on his face. With my lips at his ear, I told him, “I’m ready for the after.” When I pulled back, the look in his eyes was enough to make me nearly ask if he was up for blowing off the party altogether.

CHAPTER TEN

Ruby tucked her hand into the crook of my arm as we bypassed the main entrance into the hotel, choosing a smaller door to the right of the press line to avoid the cameras. Her red dress was too perfect, everything about her tonight too stunning for her to not draw notice from a nosy photographer who might want to know who she was. Especially since my name was on the book we were celebrating. She didn’t know that yet, of course. Not even my parents did. I gave my name to a sharply dressed woman holding a clipboard and she checked it off and was on to the next. The massive hallway decorated in rich colors and gold crown molding along the stamped iron ceiling felt old, a strange contradiction to the black and white photos from the book that were blown up and evenly spaced along the walls. “Whoever decided on this location should be shot,” I said under my breath. “Does it offend your sensibilities?” Ruby asked in a teasing voice, tightening her hold on my arm. I shook my head, staring at the shot that I had taken of an old wrinkled man smiling over his cart of vegetables. He was missing most of his teeth, and his eyes all but disappeared into the lined skin because of the wideness of his expression. “On its own, no.” I gestured to the picture. “But these get lost among the decadence. They should be the showcase, not add to the busyness. You can’t even appreciate this because your eye is drawn to so many other places.” Ruby watched me and I felt a flush on my face. “What?” I said after her curious look got to me. “Nothing. Just thinking about how I’d like to see the world through your eyes, just for a day. You must think visually all the time.” We kept walking, pausing every so often to look at another shot. A blank-faced server carrying a tray of champagne stopped us just as we turned the corner into the ballroom, and when Ruby smiled, I took two flutes. She sipped on hers, looking around the room with wide eyes. With the makeup she was wearing, which was different than anything I’d seen on her, she looked so polished and so beautiful. Almost as decadent as the room itself. And I was the one who would get to gorge myself on her when the night was done.

“Oh, look at that one,” she said, turning to another photo against the far wall. I followed her, smiling when I realized that it was one of mine. The two women, one much older, leaned up against each other on a weathered bench. One was laughing, clutching the wide gold hoops that adorned her neck while the other smiled down into her lap. Their clothes were dirty and tattered against their dark skin, despite the gold jewelry they held in their hands. “What do you think?” I asked her. She was staring at the picture with such a rapt expression that I felt a rush of pride. I’d been in Myanmar for two weeks before capturing that shot, and every day leading up to it had been spent getting to know the families in the village. “They look so happy.” “You see those gold hoops around their necks?” “Mmhmm, they’re beautiful.” She glanced at me. “They look a little out of place though.” “That’s how they survive. They make jewelry; those are customary for that area, and these women sell it at a local market because the husband of the older woman died. He provided all the income, so they had to figure out a way to feed their children.” “You took this?” I nodded, watching her carefully. People milled around us, but no one was paying us any attention. It felt like a private moment, despite the grandeur of the room. She smiled at me, her eyes honest and direct. “You like it?” “It’s amazing, Elias.” “Thank you,” I said gruffly, feeling a touch overwhelmed by her simple praise. “Let’s go find our table.” Ruby gave one last look at the photo before holding on to the arm that I offered her. “Will you show me more after we eat?” I smiled. “Of course.” Randall and Sarai were seated next to us, and they were as besotted by Ruby as they had been the first night. As was the rest of our table. She asked questions and listened with intent when anyone answered her. The interest that she showed in the book and the publishing house was so well-received that she got a job offer within the first hour from someone in the marketing department. She laughed, leaning into me where I had an arm around the back of her chair. “That’s so kind. I’ll let you know if I send my resume over.” When I slid a hand up her back and rested it on her shoulder, she gave me a tiny wink. “Did you like your dinner?” I whispered into her ear. “The chicken was a bit underwhelming. Do you think we’ll get dessert too?” I dropped my chin, laying a kiss underneath her ear and taking a deep inhale of her scent. It was light and clean, not overwhelming, but potent all the same. “I think you and I will get dessert later.”

“Ruby,” Sarai said from the other side of me. “You never told us what you do.” The table quieted, all eyes on my luminous date. “I’m a perpetual student, I’m afraid. Every time I finish one degree, I find that I haven’t quite satisfied my thirst for knowledge. Nothing too exciting there.” “Nonsense,” the sixty-plus year old woman across the table said with a kind smile. “What do you study, dear?” Ruby took another small sip of champagne before she answered. “Well, right now I’m finishing up my first year of a master’s in theological studies. Before that it was a master’s in sociology.” “Goodness,” the woman laughed. “That sounds awfully exciting to me.” With a slightly embarrassed smile at all the attention on her, Ruby looked at me. “What can I say? People fascinate me.” Everyone laughed and Ruby blushed just enough that only I could see it. “And your family? Do they live here too?” There was a slight tightening around her mouth, a cooling of her eyes when she smiled again. “No, home was Pennsylvania.” It was a strange feeling, to know that she wasn’t lying, but that there was a definite emotional line that she wasn’t willing to cross with that subject. Ruby had been forthright with me in almost every area, but it was apparent to me that her family, her background, was a soft spot. Join the fucking club. “Dance with me?” I asked her, standing and holding out my hand. She gave me a relieved smile, gripping my fingers and letting me help her up. Randall and Sarai stood after we passed the table, taking our lead toward the dance floor. “Thank you,” Ruby said under her breath when I pulled her into my arms. “The spotlight can be bright sometimes.” I laid a hand on her lower back, taking a deep breath when her hand smoothed up my chest and settled over my heart. “I don’t mind the spotlight,” she said as we swayed together to the soft strains of music. Her heels brought her tall enough that it would take barely anything for me to dip down and kiss her. I still didn’t know what her mouth tasted like, and when I pulled my head back to search her face, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the redpainted curves of her lips. I decided to let her statement stand, even though I knew she didn’t want the questions. Tucking her closer into my chest, I felt my skin close up around my bones when she made a subtle rocking with her hips, bringing us even tighter against each other. I was completely at war with myself, feeling her against me like that. On one hand, I wanted to rush, wanted to have her in a bed immediately. But on the other hand, I wanted to draw this night out. Enjoy her, enjoy the things that I knew we could do to each other. “Are you teasing me again?” “Maybe,” she whispered, tilting her chin up so she could meet my eyes. “Do we

get to leave soon?” I laughed, smoothing a hand up the curve of her spine. “God, I hope so. You in that dress is the worst form of torture.” “Wait until you see what’s under it,” she said against my ear, her lips brushing my skin with each word. “And with that, we say our goodbyes” I announced, grabbing her hand and walking us off the dance floor.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The car ride over to the bar had been intense, intoxicatingly full of desire emanating from both of us. Elias was fucking hot. As he sat beside me in his hired car, his hair slightly mussed and his eyes intense, all I could think about was curling my fingers into the front of his shirt and ripping it open. I wanted to see that expanse of tanned skin, decorated with black ink that I’d only had a glimpse of before, not enough time to give it a leisurely perusal. His eyes were dark in the car, but I knew the whole time he was blatantly staring at me. He didn’t make me feel like his property, not like I was something he owned —even for the night. Which made sense, because he didn’t make me feel like he was my client. It was surprising how easily I forgot the rules of our relationship. The bar was in the lobby of the hotel Elias had booked a room at for the night. It sat tucked to the side of the reception, all dark golds and blacks. It made it intimate, and I would have bypassed it completely for the hotel room if it wasn’t for the fact that I wanted to heighten the anticipation by just a few more notches. Elias and I sat at the bar, which I was grateful for so that I could straighten my legs a little more in the dress. “Martini?” Elias asked me and I nodded, shooting a quick text to Lenore. Even though I was under an agreement with Elias, Lenore still needed to make sure all was well. Elias turned to the bartender who was drying off the stem of a wine glass. “Martini, three-to-one ratio of vermouth. Not dirty. And a bourbon. Neat.” I smiled a little, pleased that he’d remembered how I took my martinis. “You remembered.” “Hard to forget that you said you liked your martinis wet, Ruby.” His eyes were dark, and had a direct line to my core. “You have a good memory.” I plucked a piece of popcorn from the bowl the bartender placed in front of us and popped it in my mouth. I hadn’t eaten a lot at the event, and if I was going to drink a martini, I’d need to fill my stomach with something a bit more substantial. Flavor burst on my tongue and I looked at the popcorn as I savored it. “What is this?” “Rosemary and butter,” he said, which told me he’d been here before. With

another escort? I looked at him, but he was plucking a piece of popcorn himself. “An upgrade from the typical peanuts and pretzels, right?” I nodded and chewed another piece of popcorn. “Did you know where Rosemary gets its name?” “The Virgin Mary?” he asked, sliding his card across the bar top to the bartender when he returned with our drinks. “Well, there is the legend that Mary spread her blue cloak over a rosemary bush, turning the white blossoms blue in the process. But it has origins from earlier than that.” I glanced at him, to gauge his interest. But his eyes were open and his face looked as if he actually wanted to hear, so I continued. “The name Rosemarinus means ‘dew of the sea.’ Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, stepped forth from the ocean draped in rosemary, born from the waves of Uranus’ sperm after his son had castrated him.” Elias laughed. “His son cut off his dick? That puts most father-son discords to shame.” “Uranus was kind of a dick himself,” I said with a smile. “And Cronus tossed his genitals into the ocean, thus resulting in Aphrodite’s birth.” I popped another piece in my mouth, chewing as Elias drank his bourbon. “And, of course, rosemary is an aphrodisiac.” Elias’ eyes traveled down my body for a moment as he held the drink between us. “I don’t need an aphrodisiac tonight.” An eruption of butterflies in my belly caused me to forget that this wasn’t a date. The chemistry I felt with Elias was new and strange, but not unwelcome. However, as I watched him toss the rest of his bourbon back and I ached to lean forward and lick the droplet that clung to his bottom lip, I reminded myself that he was a client. And he’d paid for my company. When the bartender came back over, Elias glanced at my still-full drink and ordered another bourbon, which prompted me to pick up my glass and catch up. “So, why theological studies?” I blotted my lips gently with my cocktail napkin, not wanting to smear red all over my face à la the Joker. “Well, initially I just focused on religious studies. I wanted to learn about all religions; their stories, their practices and their deities. After I got my bachelor’s, I wanted to learn more about mankind, how we socialize and how our behavior is affected by social change.” I sipped more of my martini as I carefully crafted my response. It wasn’t necessarily that I was lying to Elias. But telling him why an orphan would want to study sociology wasn’t something I wanted to delve into. “And now that I’m working toward my master’s in theology, it’s more of a way to understand what Christians believe.” I laughed at the look on his face, which defined perplexed. “I know what you’re thinking. Why is an escort studying a God that would frown upon how she earns a living?” “That’s not what I’m thinking,” Elias said, his voice low but warm. “I’m just absorbing what you’re saying. I think it’s fascinating, actually. That you have such a well-rounded and informed way of looking at religions and societies, and can

appreciate them for what they are. You’ve talked about Buddhism, Greek mythology, and Christianity with me. They’re things to ponder.” I’d been pleased when Elias had remembered how I drank my martinis, but the pleasure I felt from hearing that he was actually interested in what I had to say made me even more ready to ditch the bar for the hotel room. So I picked up my martini and tossed it back in one gulp, giving Elias a meaningful look as I stood from my stool. And that’s when I heard my name, that one word uttered by a voice that I’d know in my sleep. “Ruby?” I froze for only a moment, making sure my expression was mild when I turned. “Nicholas,” I said, looking at my ex-boyfriend with absolutely no feeling reflecting in my face. What is he doing here? I asked myself, hoping this would be brief. He pushed a hand over his forehead, brushing back his blond hair that was too long and slightly greasy-looking under the lights of the bar. His eyelashes were practically transparent against his pale skin, and his pale blue eyes looked like he had a plea in their depths. “I’ve been messaging you.” I thought of Elias at my side, who, out of my periphery, was sizing Nicholas up. Elias easily had seventy pounds of muscle on Nicholas, but Nicholas had the benefit of knowing me better than Elias did. “I thought my lack of reply would have given you enough of a hint not to continue,” I said blandly. I kept my voice steady, not betraying a single ounce of my anxiety at seeing him again. “I’m not interested in speaking with you.” He stepped forward and instinctively I grabbed the crook of Elias’ arm as if I was protecting myself with his presence. That seemed to be Nicholas’ first hint that I wasn’t alone, because he looked up at Elias and swallowed before turning back to me. “I just need a few minutes.” “No,” I said and turned to leave before Nicholas stepped back in front of me, blocking our way out of the bar. My grip on Elias tightened and I closed my eyes, wanting him to just go away. “Hey,” Elias said, his voice low and threatening. “She’s clearly not interested. Leave her alone.” Nicholas stared at Elias for one long, tense moment. A vein rippled up Elias’ neck and I couldn’t take my eyes off of the way he stared Nicholas down. “You have my number, Ruby,” Nicholas said, not taking his eyes off of Elias. “Call me.” “I won’t,” I told him and Elias tugged me away, not giving me a chance to stay. Not that I would have. I knew Nicholas watched us walk out of the bar, but I didn’t turn my face to look at him. That would only give Nicholas satisfaction, seeing me turn my attention away from the man who could’ve kicked his ass with the slightest push of his hand. Elias led me to the bank of elevators and punched at the up button on the wall. An elevator opened immediately and Elias pulled me on and pushed the button for

the twenty-first floor. As soon as the doors closed, he turned to me. “Who was that?” His mouth was in a line, and I detected a trace of the tension still remaining from when he’d stared Nicholas down. “A former client,” I lied immediately. Elias and I may have had a month-long arrangement, but I didn’t owe him anything of my past during that time. “A former client?” he asked with a raise of his eyebrow. He didn’t believe me. I swallowed back the nerves I felt under his gaze and nodded. “Yes.” Elias laughed under his breath before he stepped forward and punched the emergency stop button on the elevator.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“What are you doing?” she asked, her eyes wide in her face. Her pale face. Ever since that douche stepped into her space, all the color had been sucked from her skin. Which is how I knew she was fucking lying to me. No former client would have given her that kind of reaction. That guy knew her. And not just biblically, but definitely that too, given the crazy-ass gleam in his eyes when he looked at her. When I didn’t answer right away, she fidgeted, crossing her arms over her stomach and then letting them drop again. Then she swept a hand through her hair, making sure the curls were still laying over one shoulder. “Beck and call, right?” I rasped out, leaning my shoulder against the wall of the elevator. “What?” “You. You’re at my beck and call for these thirty days, right? This being day one.” She mimicked me, leaning her shoulder against the opposite wall, essentially facing off with me in the small space. “That’s right. Do we need to discuss this now?” There was a slight edge to her voice that I’d never heard before, and I wasn’t ashamed in the slightest to say that it hardened me even further. “Why not?” “Because I prefer not to have business discussions when I’m in a box that’s suspended sixteen floors above the ground.” “We’re not going to have a discussion.” I straightened, undoing my belt. Her eyes tracked the slow movements of my hands. “I’m not having sex in this elevator.” “No, you’re not.” I raised one eyebrow, and lifted my chin at her. “You’re going to get on your knees for me. I want to know what your lipstick looks like on my dick.” Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, and she never dropped my gaze. She wanted to say no, wanted to push me on it, but she couldn’t. She’d agreed to this when she got out of that car earlier and showed up where I wanted her to. And

maybe she wouldn’t believe me, but if we’d never run into that douche, I wouldn’t be doing this right now. But Ruby needed to get out of her head. And the strange feeling of ownership that I’d felt when I saw the possession in his eyes had manifested itself in a churning, dark swell of emotion inside of my body. When I knew she was lying to me, I snapped. He didn’t have her anymore. And I wasn’t stupid enough to think she was mine. But for tonight, for the next thirty days, I could fucking pretend. Ruby opened her mouth, and I expected her to tell me to fuck off, but she merely swiped her tongue over her bottom lip, then held out her hand so I could help her down to the floor. “Good girl,” I said, gripping her fingers in my own and holding her eyes while she lifted her dress enough so she could lower to her knees. “I’m not a girl,” she told me, eyes flashing as she ran her hands up the front of my thighs. “No,” I agreed with a smile. “You’re not.” My smile dropped when she lowered my zipper and pushed my pants open enough to pull my aching cock out. I hissed in a breath through clenched teeth when she dragged her thumb down the vein that ran along the underside. “There better not be cameras in this thing,” she whispered, looking up me with innocently widened eyes as she moved her mouth closer and closer to where I needed it. “Because if there are,” she placed a kiss on the side, leaving scarlet-red lip marks, “someone is about to get one hell of a show.” “It’s only me. I don’t want anyone’s eyes on you when you’re with me. Only mine.” I worked my fingers through her silky hair and gripped. “Now show me what you can do.” Ruby wrapped a fist around the base of my dick and lowered her mouth slowly, working the flat of her tongue against me in slow waves. I cursed at the hot, wet feeling of suction. She pulled back, using the edge of her teeth on my sensitive skin just hard enough that I knew she wasn’t happy with me. “God,” I groaned, tightening my fingers in her hair. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you? Trying to top me from the bottom.” As I expected, Ruby didn’t answer, just bobbed her head, pulling me in and out of her lips while she twisted her fist at my base. Pleasure flooded me, and my hips started making tiny thrusts into her mouth. I went a little too far on one thrust and she made a gagging sound when I hit the back of her throat. “Fuck, why is that so hot? Seeing you take so much of me?” Her eyes held mine and they glowed in her face, like the darkest parts of a fire that you can barely stare at because it’s so mesmerizing, so hypnotic. She went back at it, moaning around me when I gripped her hair in a fist and tugged. The vibration of the sound made me gasp her name. So I did it again, and was instantly rewarded by her guttural noise of pleasure. “Yeah, baby, you like that. I’ll do it again later. I’ll make it feel so good, it almost

hurts.” Then a voice came over a speaker in the panel of the elevator, making us both freeze. “This is hotel security. Is everyone okay in there? Do you need emergency help?” I cursed, pulling myself from Ruby’s mouth, only smiling when she wiped along the bottom of her mouth with a feisty as fuck expression in her eyes. Punching the button much harder than necessary, I told him we were fine. I helped Ruby back up and pulled the emergency stop back out so we could resume our smooth ascent up to the twenty-first floor. Ruby was grinning at me from the other side of the elevator when I finished zipping my pants back up. “Something funny?” “I’ve just never done that before.” She lifted her eyebrows when I must have looked like I wanted more clarification. Which I needed because there was no fucking way that girl had never given head before. I’d remember the feeling of her mouth around me while I was on my death bed. “Blow job in an elevator.” My frustration at being stopped before I could come in her mouth was momentarily abated at the thought that I’d done something with her that was new. The craving to repeat it was sudden and fierce. I had twenty-nine more nights after this one, and I was going to make them fucking count. The elevator stopped on our floor before I could say something cheesy, and I gestured for her to exit first. Ruby waited for me, wrapping her hand around my arm so I could direct us to the room. Feeling the weight of her fingers on my suit jacket after the last few hours, after the strange roller coaster we’d been on since I saw her standing on the sidewalk, made something snap in me. I stopped walking, even though we weren’t at the door for our room and looked down at her. “What is it?” she asked with a concerned look. Instead of answering her, I withdrew her hand from my arm and walked her backward until her back hit the wall. “I am not giving you a blowjob in the hallway,” she said, narrowing her eyes. I only grinned, which made her squint her eyes at me even further. Ruby’s hands were braced on my chest, her fingers edged underneath my jacket and curving into my chest. I wondered if she could feel the thundering of my heart, a product of the unreleased tension coursing through my body. Or, that was part of it, at least. The other part was her. She did weird fucking things to me, in my head and in my heart. She was about to speak again when I cupped the back of her neck, halting her immediately. Her mouth hung open while she stared up at me, confusion clear in her eyes. There was a beat where we were frozen like that before I kissed her. She let out a soft puff of air into my mouth when I slanted my lips over hers and pressed against her with my entire body. Our tongues tangled and her arms wrapped around my

neck, holding me tightly against her. Her taste was sweet and warm, her tongue slick against my own. Everything was wet and hot, and I wanted to know if she felt the same underneath her dress. If only I could slide my hand up and find out. If only I’d waited to do this when we were behind the privacy of a door. More, more, more, a voice chanted in my head and I deepened the kiss. We were wrapped so tightly around each other—or as much as we could be with her in that fucking dress—when someone walked past us and cleared their throat. Ruby pulled back with a gasp, and the flush on her cheeks was so fucking satisfying that I couldn’t help but smirk. I wanted to make her come so hard that it would cover her entire body. “Where’s our room?” she asked, staring at my mouth. I backed away, yanking my wallet out to find the key. As soon as it was free, she snatched it from my hand and gave me a smile so devilish that I couldn’t believe I didn’t come right there. Her hand gripped the lapel of my jacket and she walked backwards, holding my eyes until we came to the right room. She only turned long enough to slide the key into the slot, and I wrapped my hands around her tiny waist, dipping my head so I could suck on the curve of her neck. The door opened and we went in. There was a frantic energy in her hands when she turned and shoved at my jacket, and there was a brief moment where I worried that she wasn’t feeling the same mind-numbing desire that I was. But it didn’t matter whether she did or not, I had to remind myself. Because I was her client. No matter what that douche did to her, or who she was when she left this room, I was her client. So I ripped at my shirt, matching her frenetic pace, knowing that I’d do my damndest to fuck her until we were both raw from the inside out before the sun rose.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Where the fuck is the zipper?” Elias growled against my neck as he pawed at my body, big hands searching for the zipper tucked against my side. His breath was hot and sent shivers down my bare back. I guided his hands in my own to the zipper, which he dragged down roughly. Rough enough to break the zipper, but in that moment I didn’t care. I’d worn this dress for Elias. I couldn’t imagine wearing it again for someone else. Just then, a thought of Nicholas popped into my head, momentarily distracting me from Elias. “Fucking finally,” he breathed, when the dress slid down my body to a heap on the floor, around my ankles. He stepped back to get a better look. “Jesus.” I was in heels and a matching bra and panties. From the way I was already breathing, I knew my breasts were heaving, spilling out of the top of the bra’s cups. He traced a finger over the lace, dragging his nail along the curves of the petallike cups. Then, he dipped a finger between the top of the fabric and my skin, and yanked so one breast fell out and into his awaiting palm. His face was in the shadow of the dark room as he rolled my nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, twisting gently at first and causing my body to jut in reaction. “You like that?” he asked quietly, but with a hint of darkness in his voice. I nodded and he moved his fingers to the other lace cup, dipping his finger in and releasing my breast from its confines so that I stood there, my breasts spilled over the slip of lace still wrapped below them. My breasts were generously sized, but not so much that they didn’t work with my body type, and when Elias covered them with his palms and curled his fingers down, they felt like the perfect size. “You’re perfect,” he said huskily, as if he was echoing my thoughts. “Back up.” I did as he asked, walking backward toward the bed until he stopped me with his hand. “Turn around.” Once again, I obeyed, turning so that I faced the mirrored closet doors. “Put your hands on the mirror.” I didn’t even hesitate. As I placed my palms on the mirror, I took in my face. Lipstick was smeared all around my mouth, my hair was much fuller than it had been earlier. My nipples were pointed and a pink flush covered my chest. And, in

my reflection, I saw Elias admiring me over my shoulder, from behind. I watched as he stepped closer to me, his features becoming more defined the closer he stepped, so that his face wasn’t in the shadows but was in the light the mirror reflected. He’d removed his dress shirt, so when his arm wrapped around the narrowest part of my waist, I got to see the way all of his tattooed skin looked when it laid across my bare stomach in the mirror. “I like this,” he said reverently as his face came to my shoulder. “I can see. And I can touch.” My legs felt rubbery, like they were suddenly carrying too much weight as I watched his hands slide up the curves of my hips to my waist and to my breasts again. Once again, he covered them with his hands and curled his fingers down, squeezing hard enough that I bucked against him. Not in discomfort, but in the sharp pleasure his touch had caused. He dropped his hands and his gaze in the mirror to look at my ass. “I didn’t give this nearly enough attention the first time,” he said as his hands slid down my back, sending shivers of anticipation up my skin. He pulled on the back elastic strap holding my underwear in place and then let go so it snapped against my skin. The sting wasn’t uncomfortable; if anything, it made me more eager to see this through. But his hands kept gliding down my ass, over the rounded curves of each cheek. When he reached the bottom of them, he cupped them in his hands. “I like holding all the curves of you, just like this.” He’d crouched behind me so that I couldn’t see his reflection in the mirror anymore. I could just feel him, admiring my backside as he touched all that his eyes could see. His fingers came to my inner thighs and tapped, motioning for me to spread my legs a little. My body was teetering on the edge of impatience, but I did as he asked, spreading my legs so they were a little more than shoulder-width apart, and was instantly rewarded with his fingers slipping in between the thong and my pussy. All he did was rub along the seam of my lips with two fingers, and I felt that impatience simmer violently within me. I pushed myself into him, wanting his touch to become more firm, but he removed his hand from between my legs and stood behind me. “Are you needy?” he asked, bringing his hands up to my breasts to pluck and pull at my nipples. I could only nod because the sharp stings of pleasure were making my body react irrationally, pushing me against him when I should’ve pulled away at the assault on my nipples. Then his hand slid down my torso, coming to rest at the top of my panties, his fingers then sliding beneath the fabric to brush against the front of my pussy. When he scraped one finger against my clit, I bucked against him again. But he slid further down my front, spreading my lips with two of them as a third finger grazed against me.

“Please,” I said, my head falling back as he teased my opening, circling around it before pulling away. “You want more?” he asked, his lips right at my ear, his breath hot on my neck. His other hand came up to my neck and tilted my head back further, so I rested it on his shoulder and his fingers rubbed against the skin of my throat. He dipped one finger inside of me and I felt myself clench down, greedy for the contact. “Yes,” I answered him, but my voice sounded foreign to me, all breathy and broken. “Where should I fuck you?” he asked, using his teeth on the sensitive skin down my neck. “Here? In front of the mirror?” My fingers on the mirror curled to hold me steady, because I was coming unglued from his voice and his touch as he dipped inside again and swiveled that finger around before hooking and pulling down on its way out. “I want you on the bed,” he said, before pulling his hands from my body. I nearly whimpered at the loss of touch, but he had turned me around and, holding onto my hips, walked me back to the bed that was covered by a comforter that reminded me of a cloud when he laid me on it. “Look at you,” he said, standing over me and undoing his pants. “You look like some kind of Goddess.” It made me smile, watching as he unbuttoned his pants and freed himself of his clothing. I reminded him of a Goddess, but there he stood before me like Adonis, the most prominent lover of Aphrodite. His hands came to the straps of my panties and stretched them. “Are these expensive?” “Very,” I said. “I’ll owe you then.” And then he ripped them by the lace that held them together before tossing the scraps away. He tapped my inner thigh again and I spread my legs, feeling like this position was much more intimate than when he’d been behind me in front of the mirror. Here, I was laid out for his perusal, open and vulnerable. His fingers dragged between my lips before his thumbs spread me open. I watched his face descend and his mouth was a second from kissing me in the most intimate place on my body before I grabbed his face and yanked him up to kiss me on the mouth. If he was surprised by my interruption, he didn’t show it. His tongue speared into my mouth, and feeling that alone was enough of a hint of what he might’ve done to me had I not stopped him. I felt his arousal against my belly and lifted my hips to bring him closer. “Fuck,” he said against my mouth before rolling off to grab the condom off the nightstand. As soon as he’d sheathed himself, I climbed over him while he was still sitting up, still wanting to be in control by being on top, and gave his balls a squeeze before I positioned myself right above the tip of his cock and slid down. The sensation of being filled by him made my eyes close in sheer pleasure. His

body was so warm, and when his hands tangled in my hair, I dropped my head back. “Fuck me,” he ordered, moving a hand to my hips. I opened my eyes to look at him, and took my time lifting my body up and down, raising myself up so high that he nearly fell out before I sank back down slowly. I could tell, from the vein that bulged in his neck, that my pace was undoing him. But he’d teased me in front of the mirror. Over and over, I rode him slowly, little breathy sighs escaping my lips when I wasn’t careful. But then he gathered me in his arms and tipped me back onto the bed so he was on the top, and pumped into me while holding my wrists in his hands above my head. Each thrust was bringing me closer and closer to falling into a white hot kind of oblivion, but I didn’t want to be on the bottom when I came. “Let me ride you,” I said, when his lips came to my breasts. To his credit, he maneuvered me agilely, flipping me to my stomach before his arms came around my waist and pulled me up so that I was sitting on his lap, both of us facing the mirrored doors. “Do it,” he ordered again, and this time I did, sliding up and down on his cock over and over as the orgasm built even higher within me. His hands again tangled in my hair and pulled my neck back so that he could kiss my skin. And when my body started tunneling into my orgasm, Elias pressed his finger right against my clit as he bit down, gently, on my neck. White spots flashed behind my closed eyelids and one long moan rang from my lips as he grunted his own release. And after, when Elias was in the bathroom disposing of the condom, I realized how completely and wonderfully distracting he had been. I hadn’t worried about Nicholas once.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A crack of sun slipped through in between the hotel room curtains, hitting me full on the face. I squinted, stretching my arms over my head with a groan. Every muscle in my body was loose and relaxed, the kind you can only get from a thorough fucking. And I’d had that. Three times the night before, in fact. Next to me on the bed, Ruby sighed and snuggled into her pillow. Her dark hair was in tangles around her face and over her shoulders. We were both stark naked, realizing after the second round that it was probably easier that way. The third time, I’d woken her up by sliding into her from behind, using short, hard thrusts to bring us both to completion. Getting up to throw away the condom had felt like the biggest chore in the world afterwards, given that my body had wanted to do nothing more than wrap around her just like that and fall asleep. When I’d returned to the bed, she was already rolled onto her side and breathing deeply, apparently lulled to sleep by her third orgasm of the night. I grinned, tucking my hands behind my head and letting out a deep sigh when I thought about how perfectly we seemed to match each other in bed. I turned my head to face her, skimming my eyes over the smooth, unblemished skin of her back, the plump curve of her breasts where they were pressed against her arms. Her mouth was relaxed and her face looked younger than it did in the light of day. Ruby was a fucking stunner. Maybe even the most beautiful woman I’d ever been with. The fact that she seemed to have the brain and the personality to match was almost staggering. How had she fallen into the life of a paid escort? I wanted nothing more than to dig around and figure it out, but there was no doubt she was good at shutting down, cutting off the flow of personal information with the ease of twisting a faucet off. With a frown, I carefully stood from the bed and searched for my boxer briefs, only sliding them on after I took a piss. She was still sound asleep when I flushed, and it did strange things to me. In her line of work, it didn’t seem possible that she could sleep so heavily unless she felt comfortable. Maybe with me, Ruby recognized that she was completely safe.

Using hushed tones, I called the concierge and ordered some room service. “Yeah, two orders of buttermilk pancakes, side orders of bacon and sausage patties. A ham and cheddar omelet and some coffee.” I glanced over at the bed and saw her stir. “And make sure to add extra syrup, please.” I hung up and made my way back to the bed, sliding in next to her and burying my nose in her hair. She shook with laughter when I started growling, nipping along her shoulders and down her spine with tiny, sucking bites along her skin. “You’re insatiable,” she said in a sleep-thick voice. It made me ravenous for so much more than food. For her. I wanted to swallow her whole and see how she felt if she was completely inside of me. “Your fault. If you woke up looking like a hag, I’d be able to leave you alone.” “Ah, but you’re not paying me in order to leave me alone,” she teased, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head. I lifted my eyebrows, strangely disappointed by her words, even though they were true. “You’re right. I’m not.” Before I could say anything, she smiled at me, all but erasing any annoyance that I had. “Did you sleep well?” She was sitting naked in the bed, with the sheets only covering parts of her legs, and she was asking me if I slept well with a sweet smile on her face. “Like a fucking rock.” Ruby laughed. “Me too. And you say that a lot.” “Fuck?” She nodded, finger-combing her hair into some semblance of order. It didn’t really work; she still looked a little wild and a lot hot. “Did you know that one of the earliest instances of the word fuck was in the thirteenth century and had nothing to do with sexual intercourse?” I couldn’t contain my smile. Ruby blushed. “What?” “You’re so fucking sexy when you teach me things.” Her eyes darkened when I said it, and she crawled to me, using one hand to push me back on the bed. “We could play a game next time I see you.” “Oh yeah?” I sounded breathless, because she was dragging her fingers down my chest, using the tips of her nails to lightly score my skin. “I’ll be the teacher; you can be my naughty student.” Ruby leaned down and tugged on my earlobe with her teeth, which made me hiss. “I’ll even bend over my desk for you.” “God, you’re potent, aren’t you?” I gripped her face and took her mouth in a hard, fast kiss. Her hips started making tiny, maddening swivels on my lap when there was a knock on the door. “Fucking hell, why do we keep getting interrupted?” I groaned while Ruby flopped onto the bed next to me. I opened the door wearing only my boxer briefs. A smiling hotel worker moved to push the cart past me and I shook my head,

preventing her from entering the room. “I’ll take it from here. Thanks.” For a second, her eyes dipped to my chest before darting back up again. I handed her some cash and pulled the cart into the room. Ruby was clutching a pillow to her chest, smiling up at me when she saw how much food there was. “Good Lord. Hungry?” With a pointed look between her legs, I said, “Starving.” She rolled her eyes, scooching to the end of the bed so she could lift the metal tops of the various plates. “Mmm, I love pancakes. Thank you.” “I had them send extra syrup in case we wanted to play a little bit before we left.” Ruby didn’t even flinch at that, taking a delicate bite of pancake off of her fork. “Too sticky. I prefer whipped cream if we go that route.” I laughed. “Noted.” It felt perfectly natural, to sit on the bed with her and share breakfast. She took a bite of my omelet and I shared the bacon with her. We didn’t even talk all that much, which made it even more interesting. Sharing silence with someone is the ultimate test of compatibility, at least to me. If it feels awkward, then you know you’re not fully comfortable with them. But Ruby and I didn’t seem to have that problem, unless she was that good with all of her clients. The thought gave me pause, so much so that my fork was suspended in front of my mouth. “So,” I started after setting the utensil down. “You said that guy was a client, right?” “What guy?” she asked, licking a spot of syrup off of her lip. I raised an eyebrow. “From last night.” “Oh.” Ruby took a deep breath, visibly shoring herself up. “Yeah. A client.” There it was again, that careful blankness in her eye. Suddenly the silence didn’t feel easy. It felt loaded. Like she damn well knew that I didn’t believe her, but she had no plans to let me in further. “How long did you see him?” “On and off for two years,” she said without batting an eye. “Long time.” I took a sip of my coffee, watching her over the rim of the mug. She shook her head, meeting my gaze head on. “Not really. A lot of us get repeat customers.” “So what happened with him?” “He got too attached.” There was no life in her eyes. Not a single spark of the woman who’d used her teeth on my dick the night before. “Simple as that, huh?” “Simple as that,” she repeated. Whether I believed her or not about him being a client, I couldn’t help but think about what I would be like if I saw Ruby for two years. Even if it was once a month, I’d feel like she was ingrained in me. She’d made her mark on me in the two weeks since I first laid eyes on her, so how much more invested would I feel after

countless nights together? It was unfathomable. Again, the impermanent nature of our relationship was like someone flashing bright lights in my eyes. Thirty days was probably nothing to her. Maybe she’d had long term clients like me before. I clenched my teeth and took a deep breath. “I’ve got a busy day ahead,” I told her. “I’m going to go hop in the shower.” If I wanted her to tease, to beg, to plead with me to stay, I would have been sorely disappointed. “Okay,” she said, smiling at me before taking a sip of her coffee. I showered quickly, using rough hands to wash my skin off, trying desperately to forget how she’d looked at me in the mirror the night before. Like I was the force of gravity holding her down to the earth. Because it wasn’t real. She was a professional, and I was the chump believing every second of it.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I think I need to change your food, Fletcher,” I told my ball of white fluff as I picked up yet another hairball beside my bed. “And brush you more often.” After throwing away the paper towel wrapped hairball, I scooped him up and ran my hand over his long, white hair. “Sorry I left you alone all day.” He purred in my arms and rested his head on my shoulder, something that was common for his breed. He was a Ragdoll, and didn’t object to me picking him up for a snuggle from time to time. I was scratching behind his ears when I heard the knock on my door, alerting me to Stella’s arrival. After setting Fletcher back down and wiping the white hairs that clung to my black silky chemise, I opened the door and immediately moved aside for the hurricane that was Stella on girls’ night. “I got beer. And Riesling. And,” she paused, her arms laden with plastic bags as she pulled out a bright green bottle. “Jager?” I asked her. “Are you tending bar, or are we drinking?” “The wine’s for you, pussy.” She stepped in my tiny galley kitchen and leaned down to let the bags fall from her arms to the counter. “But after the fucking week I’ve had, I need me some bitch slap number threes.” I closed the door and followed her into the kitchen, a look of pure confusion on my face. “What’s a bitch slap?” “A bitch slap number three,” Stella amended, setting glass bottles onto the counter with a loud clank. “It’s Jager and grape soda.” She held out the two-liter of grape soda and shook it to illustrate what she was saying. “It’s basically like wine.” I pulled my corkscrew from the drawer next to the fridge and gave her a raise of my eyebrow. “It’s not quite ‘basically like wine.’ It’s more like soda and a liqueur.” I handed Stella one of the ice cold glasses I’d put in my freezer just for her. “And what happened?” Stella spun the top off the grape soda and poured it over the jager in her cup. “Let me get a little buzzed first. But let’s just say, Lenore got her revenge on me after our lunch together.” She rolled her eyes before tipping the glass back, downing the full cup in one go. “Are you trying to get drunk before you spill the beans?”

“Oh, God. Beans.” Stella gagged on air before making a sour face with her mouth. “Just wait. Before I fill you in, distract me. How’d the thing go with Godzilla dick?” She certainly had a way with words. I laughed and she did too, shaking so hard that the high pony she wore shook, fanning her auburn hair all over her face. “Great. He kept me busy, to say the least.” Stella’s sour face returned and she pushed her drink to me. “You get preferential treatment; I know you do. Lenore loves you, so she gives you the Godzilla dicks and I get the dudes with flatulence problems and creepy obsessions.” Ooh, this was going to be good, I could tell. But to assuage her, I filled her in on my night with Elias. “You gave him a blowie in the elevator?” she asked, on her third drink and the color high in her cheeks. “Up top,” she said, holding her palm up for me to highfive her. “I knew you had it in you.” “Oh, I certainly did,” I said with a coy smile, sipping my wine and leading Stella to the couch so we could sit before she delved into her own exploits. “But if it makes you feel better, Nicholas showed up at the hotel bar.” “Fuck outta here,” she said. “He did not.” “He did.” I’d hardly thought about it, not since running into him. “Elias asked who he was, and I told him a former client.” “Why? From how you described Elias, he could’ve kicked your ex-boyfriend’s ass just with a look.” “He probably could have,” I agreed. “But Elias isn’t my boyfriend. He’s my client. He’s not paying me for my baggage, and besides,” I shrugged, “I don’t think he needs to know who I’ve dated. Or really, anything about my past.” Stella nodded thoughtfully, sipping her drink as she looked off at one of the walls of my apartment. “Okay. But you still could have said he was an ex and then not gotten into it.” “I just didn’t want to create any illusion of intimacy.” “Are you serious with this shit?” she asked. “He’s fucking you. A whole hell of a lot, from the sounds of it. What’s more intimate than that?” “That’s just it,” I said. “I can fuck—that only requires my body. But intimacy, for me at least, is deeper than me spreading my legs. It’s my past, my future, and talking about those things with someone who isn’t important to me personally is not something I take lightly. I’m certainly not going to put myself through that with a client, of all people.” “Whatever,” Stella said, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “As long as you’re not mixing up feelings, who cares? It’s just sex, like you said. And after these thirty days, maybe you’ll see him again. Or maybe you won’t. But him knowing a part of you doesn’t mean he owns that part.” I gave her words some consideration. Stella and I approached escorting from different directions. For Stella, she was bored. Being with different men kept things interesting for her and required zero emotional effort from her. Though she might

play at being closed off, under her armor she wore her heart on her sleeve. I escorted purely for the money. The fact that we both enjoyed sex made it much easier to stomach accepting money for our services. “How did Nicholas know where you’d be?” she asked, bringing the conversation back. “I’m not sure. I don’t even know how he got my number.” I sipped my wine and thought. “I mean, we ran in the same circles a year ago. Maybe someone, a mutual friend, gave him my number. But I still don’t know how he knew where I’d be.” “Maybe it was a coincidence. That hotel is near where he interned his third year, isn’t it?” She wasn’t wrong. I’d known Stella longer than I’d been escorting, and she’d kind of pulled me into it after my breakup, but she’d been around when the Nicholas bullshit had been happening. “Yeah, I guess it is on the same block. Maybe he used to drink there. Beats me.” Nicholas had never taken me out when we’d dated. He was usually too busy, or his manipulative ways were too exhausting. That dress is too short, he’d tell me when I’d get ready to go out with him. Or, do you really need that much lipstick? Everyone is going to be staring at you. My appearance had been one of the things he worried about more than nearly anything else. “Well, be careful. And find out who gave him your digits. That’s not cool. He could’ve creeped in your direct messages, like dudes do nowadays.” “I’m sure he’d have realized I’d block him,” I told her dryly. “But the whole exchange reminded me how badly I needed to be in control.” “Which is why I brought you in to the business,” Stella said. “Sex is great, but at least you know you always are in control as an escort.” Stella shuddered. “Nicholas gives me the mega creeps, Rubes. I hope you’ve blocked his number from your phone.” I nodded. “I did. Now tell me why half of that bottle of Jager is already gone.” Stella dropped her head on the back of the sofa and sighed. “Fucking Lenore thinks she’s got jokes.” She lifted her head and pinned me with an unamused look. “She set me up with a dude who likes sploshing.” “What’s that?” “It’s where you eat food off of the other’s body.” I pursed my lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad.” “Of course it doesn’t, because you didn’t have someone pouring baked beans all over your body while you laid on a tarp. Five cans, Rubes. Five fucking cans of baked beans, from my neck down to my,” she circled between her legs. “I had to cut him off when his tongue traveled past my belly button, but dear God, I felt like I was wet dog food.” “And he was the dog, slurping you up?” “Yes. And he made eye contact with me the entire time.” She winced and her lip curled in disgust. “Do you know how fucking awkward it is to make eye contact with a guy for ten minutes as he, loudly, slurps up beans off of your body?”

I shook my head. “And he had beady eyes. Beady eyes! Who gets off on eating baked fucking beans off of someone? And that was just the first course. The second course was spaghetti. From room service. He poured that shit all over my chest and slurped up each noodle. One by one.” Her mouth opened in a silent wail. “And he kept making these moaning sounds while he was slurping the spaghetti,” she closed her eyes and mimicked a very obnoxious moan noise, “and what made it all the worse was that he sounded like a teenage boy beating himself off for the first time while simultaneously going through puberty.” She mimicked a boy’s voice cracking from high to low pitched. “He sounded like a dolphin trying to bark like a dog. Jesus.” She gagged as she continued, “And he kept getting flecks of sauce all over me and him, and he would not fucking stop poking me with his dick. After he was done eating spaghetti off of me, he poked my tit with his dick three times before he came all over the goddamn place. Then he said, with a smug, satisfied look, ‘Are you close?’ Like, was he fucking kidding? I had just spent twenty minutes with some balding, middle-aged asshole eating baked beans and noodles off of my body. I had zero penetration!” She threw up her hand, illustrating the tragedy she had been dealt. It sounded awful. I didn’t blame Stella for being disgusted. “That’s pretty awful,” I said. “But I know Lenore has assigned some of the weird fetish guys to you before.” “It’s like she thinks I have a fetish for weird fetish dudes or something. But then he insisted on washing me in the shower, and again, I had a flash where I wondered if he was a virgin. Like, did he think this was how sex went? Spend several hundred bucks to eat your dinner off your date? He did some kind of weird shimmy in the shower, dancing around me instead of helping me wash off the remains of his meal.” She pounded the rest of her drink. “It was almost as bad as the guy who made me fake breastfeed him, Rubes. Almost that bad.” I winced in sympathy for her, remembering the guy who had been obsessed with being a baby in her arms. “I don’t even know what to say,” I told her honestly. “Yeah, because you’re getting regular giant penis penetration. Us peasants have to make do with our baby-dicked baked beans fetishists.” She groaned. “Enjoy that while you got it. Get that peen as much as possible, because once your thirty days are up, Lenore might hand off the perverts to you.” I shuddered at the thought and reminded myself that Elias was just a thirty-day commitment. Just thirty days of him was all I would get, and after? I watched Stella go to the kitchen to pour herself some more of her drink and hoped to god that I’d never have to do the things she did. I was lucky to have a man like Elias as enamored as he was with me, but it was just a temporary arrangement. As long as I kept reminding myself of that, I should be fine. I hoped.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“I think he’s dead, Daddy,” a tiny voice whispered somewhere by my head. I groaned, turning into my pillow. The voice giggled and I couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Not dead, sugar plum,” Jack said from somewhere further away. “Hungover, probably. But not dead.” “I’m not hungover,” I mumbled into my pillow, but I was sure they couldn’t understand me. The night before, I’ll admit that I stared at the bottle of bourbon for a solid hour before slamming it back into the cupboard. Over-sexed was a likely diagnosis, as was emotional instability due to one Grade-A escort who already had me tied in knots. I lifted my head, pinning Jack with a glare. “How did you get in here?” “You gave me a key, dipshit.” “Don’t swear, Daddy,” Grace said. “Yeah. Don’t swear, Jack.” I grinned up at him, and I could tell he wanted to flip me off if not for the little angel next to me. “The building. How’d you get into the building?” “The cute old lady who lives on the floor above you let us in.” He winked at his daughter, Grace, who was perched on the edge of my mattress. “She can’t resist me.” “She’s eighty-two. That’s hardly a compliment,” I said dryly, tweaking the edge of Grace’s long dark hair when I sat up. She giggled, and the innocent sound instantly made me feel better. I didn’t see her all that often, maybe a few times a year when I was in town, but she was easily one of my favorite people in the world. That was probably a sad commentary for me, that a six-year-old topped the list of people who always made me happy. And she was probably the real reason I’d never actually get rid of Jack. “How’s school going, Princess?” She giggled, and my heart wanted to fucking explode. “It’s summer.” “Shit. Yeah, I guess it is.” “Don’t swear, Uncle Elias,” Jack and Grace said at the exact same time. She didn’t look much like her father, since Grace favored Jack’s late wife, Natasha. I’d never met Natasha; she passed away from a brain aneurysm when Grace was only a

baby, and I didn’t meet Jack until about a year after that. But if Natasha had half the sweetness and compassion that her daughter did, she must have been one hell of a woman. “Do you want to come to the farmer’s market with us?” Grace asked, giving me the big puppy dog eyes that she knew worked on me every single fucking time. “You paying, Princess?” I tickled her until she was gasping for breath. When she yanked on my beard to get me to stop, I glared at Jack. Only one person would have taught her that. “Daddy is.” “Sold. Okay, you two go wait in the other room and let me get dressed, I’ll be out in a minute.” Jack hustled Grace out of the room and I took a minute to flop back onto my pillow. The way I’d left the hotel the day before, with a curt nod to Ruby, stuck in my gut like a block of cement. I’d acted like a pussy, and it was my own fault. Before giving it too much thought, I reached over to grab my cell phone where it was plugged in on the nightstand and tapped out a quick text to her. I’ve got a thing at a bookstore tomorrow late afternoon. It’s casual, no pressure if you can’t make it. Sorry I was a dick when I left the hotel, I added as an afterthought. She might not have even noticed that I’d pulled back a little, but in case she did, I didn’t want her feeling like I was mad at her. I rolled my eyes. It sounded like I was asking her on a date. It felt like I was asking her on a date. And the truth was, if I’d met Ruby at a bar or on the subway, I’d have noticed her. But even if we’d managed the same type of stimulating conversations that I already knew we were capable of, I doubt I’d have asked her out. That’s how far down the path I was of refusing to see women as the potential partners they were. Even with her stunning looks, her quick brain and dry sense of humor, I really didn’t think she would have registered. Because I would have worried that if we went on a date or two, spent some time in bed together, that she’d start nagging. She’d complain about my travel and strange hours, the occasional inconsistency in jobs. She’d hate when I traveled with a female photographer. I shook my head and rolled out of bed, pulling on the first jeans and t-shirt that I laid hands on. I’d never dissected a relationship with any of the woman I’d paid before. There were a handful of girls in Vegas, way back at the beginning of when I thought of escorts or high-class prostitutes as a viable option for my pent-up sexual proclivities. The very first girl that I’d paid had natural red hair, a crooked smile, and breasts so fake that I was afraid that I’d pop them if I squeezed too hard. But she’d ridden me like a fucking rodeo queen and came four times in the hour we spent together. Then she kissed me on the cheek and made me promise to visit her again the next time I was in town. And boom, just like that, a lifestyle change had been born. Even through all of those women, though, I’d never met one like Ruby. And it

pissed me off that I seemed incapable of keeping my thoughts about her compartmentalized. Normally I wouldn’t think about the girl until it was time to meet up with her, when I needed the outlet, needed a warm body to sink into. Grace knocked on my bedroom door. “Daddy says to hurry the hell up.” I chuckled, opening the door and scooping her up in my arms. “Don’t swear, Princess.” “It doesn’t count if you’re repeating what someone else said first,” Grace said, giving me a solemn expression that made my heart squeeze. She wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a hug. I patted her back, accepting the fact that a hug from her still gave me a thick ball of emotion somewhere in the base of my throat. “Aww, sugar plum, you made him smile,” Jack said when we walked into the living room. “For that, you get an extra donut from the market.” Since it was a beautiful day, with flawless blue skies and enough breeze that it cut through the heat, we walked to the market with Grace chattering away in front of us. A blonde woman passed by, smiling at the three of us. Jack turned his head to watch her and then swore under his breath. “Do you think she thought we were gay? Because that was like a, oh how sweet are they with their daughter smile, not I need to bed him now kind of smile.” I gave him only a cursory glance, keeping my eyes on Grace skipping on the sidewalk. There was always a slight murderous feeling humming under my skin when someone bumped into her or didn’t move to the side to let her pass. It was probably best that I never planned to have kids, because I’d probably commit homicide before the hypothetical kid’s second birthday. We wandered through the packed farmer’s market on 79th, Jack’s arms getting progressively weighed down with each item that lit up Grace’s face. “You know,” I told him when he bought another loaf of cinnamon bread that she pointed to, “you don’t actually have to buy everything she wants.” “I know,” he sighed, shifting the bags. “It’s how I assuage my guilt at working so damn much. I’m mom and dad and still have to work sixty hours a week around both of those roles. Fucking sucks, man.” I clapped him on the shoulder. “You’re doing good, Jack. She’s happy, and she’s the sweetest fucking kid I’ve ever met in my life. That means you’re doing something right.” Jack stared at me. “I think all this sex is doing strange things to your brain. That was so … nice. And supportive. What’s wrong with you?” I opened my mouth to tell him to piss off when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Instead of being Ruby like I’d hoped, it was the editor of one of the bigger travel magazines that I’d done some freelance work for in the past. “I gotta grab this,” I told Jack, and put the phone to my ear. “Hey, Donovan, how’s it going?” “Depends on whether you say yes to me right now. If you say no, I’m fucked for this piece.” I laughed, scooting around a stall selling fresh fish. “What’s the job?”

“I need someone in Amsterdam next week to cover the Kwaku Summer Festival. The other photog I had booked fucking broke his leg yesterday and my other freelancer is on maternity leave. Can you go?” Blowing out a slow breath, I thought through what events for the book I’d miss, and knew there was nothing vital. “How long?” “Eight days. Enough to catch events on the first two weekends.” My mind raced at the job, it was something lighter than I’d been doing lately. And I hadn’t been to Amsterdam in years. “Can I bring someone with me?” He snorted. “If you’re paying, sure. I only have approval for your expenses, and you damn well know it.” “I’m doing you a massive favor, Donovan. I’m missing events for the book, which is a big fucking deal. You can at least spring for a higher daily stipend.” “You’re such a dick.” He hummed and I heard him clicking some keys on his computer. “Fine. I can double the daily stipend but airfare is on you.” I grinned, imagining Ruby’s response to jetting off to Amsterdam. Hopefully her form of gratitude involved nudity and more blowjobs. Before my thirty days were up, no way was I not finishing in her mouth at least once. And now I’d have eight solid days of access to her body. “You got yourself a deal.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The day after my girls’ night with Stella, Elias asked me to come along to a signing he had in lower Manhattan, at a specialty bookstore. He’d told me to dress down for this one, as it was more of a meet and greet, so I wore my black pencil jeans and a white silk, sleeveless tank that had four buttons beginning from the v-neck to my waist. It was more casual chic, but I had enough décolletage to still garner an appreciative smile from Elias when he saw me outside the bookstore. “Hello,” he said, taking my hand and leaning in to kiss my cheek. He smelled amazing, some kind of woodsy fir scent, something reminiscent of dark nights under a cloud of stars. I pressed my lips to his cheek before pulling back. “Glad you could make it,” he said, holding my hand warmly. Behind him, a line of people had gathered behind a black ribbon, and they watched us carefully. I wondered how we looked to them, this tall, dark hunk of muscle beside me—an escort trying to look more like a girlfriend. “Thanks for inviting me,” I told him beneath my lashes. He looked down at me like he had a hundred things to ask, but had tucked them away for the moment. “What do you want me to do while you meet with people?” “Well.” He looked up at the building. “Explore? See if there’s anything on the shelves that interests you. I can’t imagine you often get an opportunity to indulge in some pleasure reading.” The way “pleasure” rolled off his tongue made me momentarily tighten my grip on his hand. “I don’t, you’re right.” I gave him a sincere smile. “I’m good at exploring.” “Ah,” he said with a laugh. “I’m positive you are.” I followed him into the building and he was pulled away to speak with someone wearing a headset and someone else holding a stack of papers. So I did as he’d invited me, I perused the shelves. It was my first time in a bookstore like this, one that catered more to travel nonfiction, and it made me yearn a little for the chance to escape from the confines of my studio apartment, to hop on a jet and fly to the places books were written about. I pulled a book about Italy from the shelf, a book detailing the churches of Rome.

The photos were abundant, and showed the ornate artwork painted on ceilings. Altarpieces that depicted the Madonna and Child. My fingers traced the lines in the ceiling fresco of the Triumph of the Name of Jesus and I felt that ache deep in my bones. The ache to travel and see these with my eyes before me, instead of the pages of a book. I had very few regrets in my life, because I believed that each choice I’d made had brought me to the point where I stood, living and breathing and healthy. That was more than a lot of people could wish for, so I harbored my blessings despite my climbing student loan debt. But, I did regret not traveling back when I’d purchased my passport. I’d done it on a whim, a few months before spring break. A bunch of students in my Christianity and Art class had planned to take a week in Rome, and I’d very nearly boarded the plane along with them. But I was plagued by anxiety. What if it hadn’t lived up to my expectations? What if on the journey over the Atlantic, the plane plunged into the ocean? I wasn’t someone who fed on irrational fears, but because I’d grown up flitting from home to home, I’d never had the opportunity to enjoy a vacation with a family. And I worried that going to Rome would cause me to question my pursuit of study. I closed the book and set it on the shelf with a wistful sigh. There was no opportunity for me now, not with my debt as high as it was. I may have had a relatively healthy paycheck, but I was practical—any extra cash was tucked away, not spent purchasing airfare that would likely cost a month’s rent. I wandered down another aisle, picking up a book on a student’s journey into the heart of Africa, and his experiences connecting with the Pygmies of Central Africa. A hunter-gatherer society, they form intimate connections to the forests. I knew from my recent sociology studies that many forest peoples had begun to be evicted from their lands, which had devastating consequences. I looked at the photos of people who held their sticks for photos, looking directly at the camera with just a hint of a smile. They’d likely lose everything that had formed their entire identity and forced them to the bottom of mainstream society. It struck a chord with me. Not because I’d ever suffered such a profound loss of self. But because I wanted to feel like my studies could help me somehow. That the piece of paper granted to me by my university wasn’t just something in a gold gilded frame to hang on a wall. Something I’d need to remember to dust. I wanted to leverage my studies into something productive, something meaningful and impactful. Once again, I sighed as I replaced the book, feeling like a fish floundering on the shore, aching for its own environment. I studied sociology partly to become more sympathetic to the people who needed it the most. But I didn’t know yet how to accomplish that goal. As I stepped out of the aisle, my gaze fell upon Elias, who was standing beside a desk covered in the books he’d helped work on. He was talking with someone a head shorter than him, but he had the ability to not look like he was talking down

to them at all. He maintained eye contact, nodded, smiled, and did everything to make the person welcome. Perhaps I was projecting, but I felt he was making this person feel like he cared what they had to say. Such a simple thing, really, but something undervalued and rare, too. “Hot photographer, huh?” a woman asked beside me. I glanced at her, but she was looking at Elias with a dreamy kind of look in her eyes. In her arms she held three of his books. “He is,” I agreed quietly, turning my eyes back to Elias as he greeted the next person and wrapped an arm around them for a photo. He looked completely at ease, and in his dark jeans and charcoal t-shirt, I found myself warming just looking at him. He certainly was attractive—and not just from far away, like some men were. He’d treated me kindly in public and he’d been attentive to my needs in the bedroom. It was so unlike most of the clients I met with, that it was easy for me to forget he wasn’t mine. Maybe for the thirty days our agreement would last, but not longer. “He smells incredible,” the lady said, and reminded me of a fawning woman from some Disney movie. And in comparing her to that, I felt a small trill of annoyance filter through my head. “He does,” I told her, not letting that annoyance color my voice at all. “Are you waiting to meet him?” she asked, but didn’t look at me for my answer. “I’m tempted to jump back in his line, just to have another minute of his time.” “I’m not,” I told her, “but why don’t you go for it?” And then I walked away, my back a little stiffer than it had been before speaking with her. Why did the lady bother me? She wasn’t much older than I was, and perhaps a little dowdy in her oversized shirt and baggy jeans. Elias was not mine. As long as I reminded myself of that, I would be fine. Two hours later, the last straggler was being all but pushed out the front door and the woman with the headset was speaking with Elias when I slid into a seat a few feet from him. Elias met my gaze before turning back to the woman and saying something that had her smiling and nodding. Elias stepped around her and came to me. “So,” he said, tucking his hands into his jeans. “Thanks for hanging out.” I stood and gave him an easy smile. “It was nice. Seeing you, interacting with the people who came to meet you.” “Well,” he said and looked around the room, “all that talking has worked up an appetite.” He raised one dark brow and I felt myself titter a little on my heels. “Want to get out of here?” Did I ever. “What’d you have in mind?” “We could go back to my place. I can order some takeout?” “No,” came from my lips before I could stop it. I never ever entertained clients at my own home, for obvious reasons, but I definitely never went to a client’s house. Partly because it was safer to be in a hotel, where Taylor and Dave could assist if needed and partly because—as vile as it may sound—many clients were

often married or at least living with their partners. “Elias?” the headset woman asked and Elias turned away from me for a moment with an apologetic smile. I pulled out my phone and shot a quick text to Lenore, asking if it was against the rules to go to Elias’ house. The situation was different, considering that I had thirty days with him instead of the one night. I certainly didn’t expect him to drop hefty cash for a hotel every time we were together, but going to a client’s house was so foreign that I didn’t know if it was even allowed. Lenore: What a silly question. We have all of his information, so you could go to Antarctica with him if you want. Of course it’s all right. It was amazing how three simple sentences could make me feel so stupid. It was Lenore’s gift, perhaps. So when Elias joined me again, I turned to him with a smile. “Actually, that sounds great,” I told him, not wanting to elaborate on why I’d said no with the several employees still milling around. “Good. Let’s go.” He said it in one breath, like he couldn’t wait to get me alone. And as my eyes tracked over the muscles bulging against his sleeve, I felt just as impatient.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Ruby wandered around my apartment, eyeing the framed photos on the wall behind the couch with a tiny smile on her face. It felt pretty fucking foreign to have her in my space, to have any woman in my space, I guess. “Did you take all of these?” she asked over her shoulder while I poured some wine for us in the kitchen. “Most. The one you’re looking at isn’t mine. New Zealand is actually one place I’ve never been, and that’s in Christchurch. Hamner Springs.” She hummed and gave me a small smile when I handed her the glass of cabernet. “Pictures are all I have of all these incredible places. I guess I should be thankful for people like you who take them for me.” The simple way she said it, with no trace of bitterness, said a lot about her to me. It wasn’t an invitation for pity either, because I knew that the path I’d taken in seeing the world wasn’t typical. Most people hadn’t seen all the places that I had during my career. Diana’s death was definitely the impetus, lighting a flare in me so bright that I had no choice but to avoid the places that she’d been. Ruby’s deep-seeded desire to explore other cultures was why I knew she’d say yes to joining me in Amsterdam, but I still wanted to tread carefully. I’d asked her about the passport as a formality, not really expecting that we’d do any international travel during our time. When she turned her attention from the photo to me, I could see the spark of desire in her dark, bottomless eyes. It had been simmering in me since I saw her outside of the bookstore looking more casual than I’d ever seen her. It suited her. All the facets of Ruby that I’d witnessed suited her. The calm professional. The voracious student. The uninhibited vixen. It almost felt like I was fucking three different people sometimes, seeing glimpses of all the parts of her personality. Not like she was crazy, but it felt like there was so much untapped depth to her, and I wanted nothing more than to dig as far as she’d let me. “Food will be here in about twenty,” I told her, setting my wine glass down so I

could touch the ends of her hair where she’d pulled it back into a simple ponytail. “I hope it’s okay that I took the liberty of ordering for us.” Her mouth slid up into a smile. “What if I had deadly food allergies?” “You don’t.” My eyes dropped to her hips, which were encased in tight denim that did fucking phenomenal things to her impossibly long legs and perfect ass. “Who’s the little girl?” Ruby asked, looking over my shoulder at the small framed photo of Grace. She’d decorated the black frame with pink and purple foam stickers in shapes of crowns and hearts. “What if I said she was mine?” I watched her face carefully while she thought about that. Grace could have easily passed for my child, with her long dark hair and brown eyes. Ruby didn’t miss a beat. “I’d say she’s beautiful, and has great taste in stickers.” With a laugh, I turned to look at the picture. “That she does. Grace is the daughter of my friend, Jack. She wants to be a princess when she grows up.” “At least she knows. I can’t imagine what that must feel like,” Ruby said ruefully. Moments like that, when Ruby lowered the veil and gave me a massive chunk of honesty, I knew well enough not to waste them. “Oh come on,” I said, using a finger to trace the edge of her lower lip, gratified to see her take in a shaky breath. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.” “Of course I’ve thought about it,” she answered, staring at my mouth. My finger never left her skin, following along the line of her jaw and the graceful column of her throat. “I know someone that could help you.” That snapped some of the thick haze of desire from her eyes. “What?” “A professor that was part of a piece that I shot a few years back. She was a pretty fucking cool chick, and I know she’d be happy to sit down with you if you wanted to talk to her about some of the options you might have. Her education background is similar to yours.” Ruby stared up at me, and even though the lust had cleared slightly between us, I felt a tidal wave of satisfaction at the fact that she was so obviously blindsided by my offer. “You’d do that?” I furrowed my brow, cupping the side of her throat. “Of course.” In the next breath, her hands were in my hair and her mouth was over mine. She moaned into my mouth when I gripped her ass in both hands and clutched her to me. Her fingernails pierced into the skin of my scalp, and I sucked her tongue into my mouth, driven half-crazy by the taste of wine mixed with the taste of Ruby. “Not that I’m complaining,” I said between kisses, half-carrying her, halfguiding her until her back hit the wall. “But is this always how you’ll show your appreciation?” “God, yes,” she breathed, palming my aching erection with a firm grasp. “I can’t wait to hear you say that in my bed later.” I punctuated the statement by palming one breast, plucking at the nipple that I could feel through her thin bra.

“All fucking night, you’ll be saying that.” Ruby thumped her head against the wall, exposing her neck for me. I placed my mouth right over the skin that showed the rapid beat of her pulse. Knowing that her blood raced like that for me, because of me, because of us, made me feel savage. Pressing my hips against her to find some sort of relief for my unfettered lust, I shoved a hand up her shirt so I could feel the weight of her tit in my hand, against my skin. “Oh fuck, yes, Elias.” “You need my hands on you, don’t you, baby?” “I need more than that,” she hissed, trying to rip at my zipper when the buzzer on the wall went off. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I sank my forehead into the curve of her neck, chuckling at the awful luck that we seemed to have when it came to interruptions. “I swear, every time that happens, I feel like I’m experiencing some sort of karmic punishment.” Ruby laughed, cupping my face and dropping a sweet, short kiss on my lips. “Maybe you are.” While I buzzed in the delivery guy, I gave her a dry look, but the teasing from her didn’t feel dry in the slightest. It felt so strangely natural, like we’d been born to do this. Maybe that bordered on thoughts of destiny and fate, which I didn’t believe in for a fucking second, but they tumbled through my head regardless. They didn’t stop while I unloaded the Italian food, opting to keep everything in its containers rather than dirty plates. Had I been directed by some unseen force to Ruby’s pictures on the website? It felt laughable. Except it wasn’t. A woman who soaked up knowledge like a fucking sponge, who studied cultures and religions but had never been able to experience them firsthand, was now sitting in my living room so I could ask if she wanted to join me across the world. How could that be anything but fate? I joined her, keeping my thoughts to myself, and we ate baked ziti and a penne vodka over wine and small talk. She laughed when I told her how Grace and Jack had woken me up the day before, and she told me about drinking with her friend. When there was a lull in the conversation, I took a sip of my wine and watched her. “I got a call yesterday from an editor that I’ve freelanced for in the past.” “Yeah? Did you like working with him?” I lifted my eyebrows. “Yeah, Donovan is a good guy. Works too much, but I can’t exactly judge him for that.” “Me neither.” We both smiled when she said that. “He needs a photographer to be in Amsterdam next week to cover a festival.” Ruby blinked, taking a slow bite of her pasta before speaking again. “What kind?” “Kwaku Summer Festival.” I smiled at her blank look. “At its core, it’s a celebration of multiculturalism. Food, music, everything you could want. They started it to celebrate the abolition of slavery, and it’s a massive draw in the

summers.” Her eyes lit up while I spoke, the sociology degree probably screaming in her head how fascinating it would be to witness. “It sounds wonderful.” “Should be.” “So you’re going?” I nodded slowly and I could visibly see her process. “You’ll be so lonely while you’re there,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “You better not visit the red light district during your visit.” Bingo. When I laughed, she narrowed her eyes. “No worry about that happening.” “Why not?” I leaned forward over the coffee table, gripping her chin in my hand. “Because you’re coming with me.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I am?” Thrill sped through my body. Thrill and anxiety. I’d never flown, never traveled somewhere as incredible sounding as Amsterdam. “Of course. Remember I asked you about having a passport?” “Right.” He let go of my chin and I thought for a moment. “I’m going with you?” “As I said.” He drained his glass of wine. “I’m going to be gone eight days. That’s eight out of thirty days of our agreement. You’d be crazy to think I’m not bringing you with me.” He set his glass down on the table and leveled me with his gaze. “So. Want to go to Amsterdam?” A smile tickled the corner of my lips and I drained my own glass of wine before answering. “I certainly won’t object. I’d love to.” I leaned over to press my lips to his mouth, a reaction that took me aback the moment our lips met. Was it too much? Kissing him in gratitude, in a way that wasn’t directly sexual, or a lead-in to sex? Elias held my face in his hands, returning the kiss with all of himself, so I took that opportunity to hook my fingers in the front of his jeans, rubbing my nails gently against the skin behind his zipper. “Let me show you how much I appreciate this,” I said after pulling my lips from his, wanting to translate that kiss directly into sex, so that I didn’t have to think about the fact that I hadn’t kissed him with sex in mind. “I won’t object,” he said, echoing the words I’d said to him as I tugged him down the hall to the bathroom he’d shown me on the tour. It was all black marble, from the vanity to the shelves above the toilet. But my eyes were on the generously sized shower, with three different shower heads. I spun around and grabbed a fistful of the front of his shirt, pulling him down so that he bent to kiss me again, his hands tangling in my hair. “Want to clean off?” he asked against my lips. His large hands slid out of my hair and down to cup my ass, squeezing and bringing my face to his ear. “Something like that,” I said, “Start the shower.” Elias opened the glass door and leaned in as I kicked off my heels and peeled the jeans off of my body. But before I could take off my shirt, Elias bent over in front of

me and threw me over his shoulder, kicking off his own jeans as he carried me, both of us still wearing our shirts and underwear, into the shower. I laughed as he brought me down so my bare feet were on the cool tile, both of us soaking through our clothes under the spray. Elias pulled my silk shirt from my body and gave me a sheepish look. “I didn’t ask if this was expensive.” “It’ll be fine,” I told him as the water poured off his head and splashed onto me. “As long as you take it off right away.” “I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” he told me, his fingers already slipping the buttons free of their holes one by one, before he peeled it off my shoulders and tossed it over the top of the shower on the other side. “Ah,” he breathed, running his finger over the curves of my breasts in the simple demi bra I wore. “This is nice.” “It’s also expensive,” I said throatily. “I better remove it, quickly,” he said with a raise of his eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want this to be ruined.” “Definitely not,” I agreed, turning around so that his fingers could more easily find the clasp in the back. The shower was dark because of all the black marble, but the light over the bathroom sinks provided enough light so that I could look over my shoulder and see Elias. Gently, he pushed my hair over my shoulder and dragged the flat of his palm down my spine before he stopped at my bra strap. It took very little effort for him to unsnap the bra, which I then let slide down my arms before I tossed it out of the shower too. His lips came to my shoulder and he said against my skin, “I’d say it’s a shame that I don’t get more time to appreciate these.” He ran his hand over my front, pressing against the soaked fabric of my panties before he slipped beneath the fabric and caressed my opening. “But I much prefer no limitations when it comes to this.” As one finger slid inside of me, his other hand came up and pinched my nipple. The sensation of both at once was enough to cause me to jolt back against him. He chuckled softly against my skin before pulling out and then moved me so that the primary showerhead was sending water down my back. My hands were on the tile, like how I’d been in the hotel the last time we’d had sex. But the sensations were different this time, especially when he pulled the back of my thong from my crack and ran a finger down the skin between my cheeks. I’d engaged in back door action before, but I’d never preferred it over vaginal penetration. But Elias just explored the skin there, up and down, before the pad of his finger lightly pressed against the hole. A shiver went up my spine and I tightened up completely, but not in repulsion. “Yes,” he hissed against my skin, his warm breath prolonging the shiver down my spine, before moving his hand away. I had a feeling that he wanted to be in control this time, and as he tore my panties off of my body, I didn’t have it in me to object—even if I’d wanted to. Turning around, I saw he was still wearing his t-shirt and boxer briefs. “Are

these expensive?” I asked with a quirk of my mouth as my fingers slid under the soaked tee and pulled up. “Extremely.” A smile curved into his cheeks as he looked down at me. “They come in a pack of six.” I laughed as I tugged the shirt up and Elias helped me tear it off his head since he was so much taller. I dragged my nails down his chest, scraping against his nipple and dipping into the line that separated his abdominal muscles from one side to the other. When I ended at his underwear, I dipped my hands under the elastic waistband and pulled down, freeing his exceptional dick in the process. “Condom?” I asked him as he kicked his briefs to the other corner of the shower. Elias tapped the shower inset, where his shampoo and body wash were, and true enough, a foil-wrapped condom rested. I was more than willing to let Elias take the lead this time, but I didn’t want to lose myself so much that I forgot how important protection was. Wrapping one arm around my waist, Elias pulled me toward the center of the shower so we stood together under the middle spray. With his mouth back on mine, his hands slid down my ass, cupping it in his hands and lifting me so that I had to wrap my legs around his waist. I trusted him completely, I realized, not worrying that he’d drop me at all as he backed us to the other side of the shower. When my bare back met the cold tile, I gasped in his mouth and he pulled away, just slightly. “Let me warm you up,” he said huskily. With my legs still wrapped around his waist, he anchored me against the wall with the angle of his hips as his fingers slipped between us. He held my eyes when his fingers found my pussy, and watched the way each place he touched me changed the expression on my face. I felt languid in his arms as his fingers dipped in and out of me, and played with my lips. Pinching and pulling, and gliding along them in an erotic exploration. When he hooked his thumb inside me, I felt his fingers reach behind and dip into my other hole. Instantly, I clenched down in reaction and a triumphant grin spread Elias’ cheeks. “I like that,” he said, his voice low and echoing off the marble around us. It felt forbidden with Elias, as he gently pulled out before dipping in again. “You like that too, don’t you?” he asked, and I felt myself shudder from the feeling of having him in both holes at once. I could do nothing but nod and bite on my lip when he did it a third time. It was like my body seized up, and I felt both surprised and eager for more. Suddenly, he pulled out of both and lifted me higher on the tile so that he could capture my breast in his mouth. As I watched his cheeks hollow as he sucked on me, I felt a thousand sensations of sheer pleasure illuminating me from the inside out. Slowly, his mouth loosened its grip on my breast, letting it pop out of his mouth before he moved to the next one, sucking hard enough to send a sharp spurt of pleasure through me. My eyes closed and I savored the feeling just when I felt a spray of water under my ass.

I popped my eyes open and watched as Elias displayed the handheld shower head in his hand. He brought it over my front, replacing his mouth with the warm spray of shower. The shower had fogged up considerably, so he was all I could see. He let me back down on my feet but tapped on my inner thigh, so that I spread my legs for him again. The handheld shower head disappeared as he brought it between my legs, spraying warmth all over my tingling parts. It wasn’t enough; I wanted more. I wanted Elias to bend me over and take me roughly. To use me so that I could use him. “Please,” I begged breathlessly. The sensations were too much to have just a taste of, over and over—I needed all of it, all of him. “God, Elias.” “Turn around,” he ordered, his voice firm. I turned immediately, pressing my hands against the tile as Elias adjusted the other showerheads so they poured over my body. Still, I shivered in anticipation. “Just take me,” I said against the cool tile wall, in a voice that didn’t sound like mine. “I’m going to,” he said roughly. I was barely aware of the empty foil packet that fell beside my feet in the shower before I felt the full force of his dick slamming into me from behind. I screamed, something unintelligible as he slammed into me again. He moved punishingly fast, so fast that I felt the quake surge up within me. I was seconds away from collapsing, I knew, when Elias barked, “Touch yourself, Ruby.” I reached a hand down between my legs as Elias repeatedly slammed into me, and found my clit with my thumb. My fingers reached further back, brushing against his dick as it slammed into me. I heard a grunt from him before he said, “Brace yourself on the wall, but don’t stop touching yourself.” My arms felt weightless, completely free of muscle. But I willed my hand to hold firm to the tile when I felt his fingers at my ass, spreading my cheeks. He never stopped his rhythm, even my legs trembled beneath the two of us. I was so close, so close. He must have known, because he pressed a finger into my other hole which, once again, caused me to clench down hard. My mouth opened but no sound came out. The distinct and sharp pleasure of feeling so full made me want to cry out, but my voice box seemed broken. He pulled his finger in and out in time with his dick in my cunt and finally, it was all so much that my voice returned and I screamed loud enough to feel it vibrate through the shower as heat flooded through me and spots dotted my vision. Elias’ pumps moved faster right at the top of my orgasm and then he grunted, long and low, muttering “Fuck” over and over as we came together. Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings. My knees, which were locked, were the only things keeping me from collapse. As if he sensed it, Elias wrapped an arm around my waist and picked me up, carrying me out of the shower. A fog poured out of the shower as he carried me to his sink. I felt completely empty, in the very best

possible way. Wordlessly, he wrapped me in a towel and then pushed my hair from my face, gently tucking it behind my ears before he disposed of the condom. Then his arms came around me, and I felt myself lean into him. Time was inconsequential as he held me in the bathroom, but he held me long enough that I started feeling my brain working again. In that moment, as Elias just held me in the silence of his bathroom, I realized he wasn’t just a regular client. It wasn’t just the exceptional sex, it was a combination of that and the fact that he’d actually cared enough about me to try to help me with an introduction to someone who might give me direction in my career path. So when Elias pulled back and looked at me, I gave him a kiss on the lips that I knew, in a place I didn’t want to acknowledge, wasn’t at all about sex … but was about something else. Something I wasn’t ready to examine too much.

CHAPTER TWENTY

My cell phone vibrated on my nightstand while I rolled the last pair of socks into my basic black suitcase. When I saw my parents’ home number come up, I groaned a little, but still hit the screen to answer. “Hey, Mom.” “Sweetie,” she chirped happily and I cringed at the name. “Dad just told me about your trip to Amsterdam tomorrow. That’s so exciting.” I smiled, thinking she didn’t know the fucking half of it. “Should be. What’s up?” “I was thinking you could come out tonight to see us before you leave.” In the background, I could hear the sound of cupboard doors closing. Even though I didn’t have plans with Ruby before meeting her at the airport at the ass-crack of dawn, I grimaced down at my bed when I thought about the fourhour drive to my parents’. The fact that I owned a car and lived in New York made me a fucking unicorn to most people, but public transit wasn’t my thing. I did enough of it overseas that when I was back home, I wanted to be able to drive wherever the fuck I wanted without having to pay someone or wait for someone else’s schedule. “Sorry, I need to get to bed early. My flight is at six, so I can’t really afford to be driving back too late.” “Oh,” she said after a loaded beat of silence. It didn’t take much for me to be able to envision the disappointed pinch of her mouth. I’d seen it enough in the years since Diana died. They were left with me, the gruff one who got annoyed when she used a nickname and made it seemingly impossible to imagine they’d ever become grandparents. I pinched the bridge of my nose while a wave of guilt swamped me. “I’ll come and see you as soon as I’m back.” “Okay, sweetie.” She cleared her throat in the awkward silence that followed. “Have a safe trip. We love you.” “Love you too,” I said gruffly before disconnecting the call. It felt out of the realm of possibility that I’d ever not feel guilty that I was the only one they had left, the only person they could pin their hopes on. It might explain why I went the

opposite route in my relationships, actively seeking women who I knew would never want more. It was their job to be able to let me walk away. That had always been the appeal of escorts. Until Ruby. The rest of our time together felt like a noose around my neck, and every day that passed tightened it further and further. The idea that it was there, coarse and thick around my skin made me rub at my throat when I laid down in bed later that night just to be sure that I was imagining things. When I drifted off to sleep, I dreamt that I was swinging beneath a platform, clawing at a thick, impenetrable rope that Ruby held clasped in her hand. “And you’re sure you’re not nervous?” I asked her for the third time while we waited at the gate to board our plane. Someone had replaced my calm, collected Ruby with one so jittery that she hadn’t stopped moving since the moment we met outside of LaGuardia. “Just excited,” she assured me, fidgeting with the purse in her hands. “Did you know that there are more canals in Amsterdam than there are in Venice?” “I did know that,” I told her with an amused smile. Her eyes were bright in her face, like she’d mainlined coffee into her veins before arriving. “They’re beautiful.” “And that the Red Light District is actually one of the safest areas in Amsterdam? That surprised me, I don’t know why. Have you ever been there?” Then she shook her head. “Never mind. That’s none of my business.” While her eyes flitted around the cramped gate, I pulled out my camera and snapped a few pictures of Ruby when she smiled at a young couple sitting across from us. “I walked through it once the last time I was there,” I said, with the viewfinder still up to my eye, waiting for her to turn back to me. “To look, not to sample. But I can’t lie and say I wasn’t tempted by a few of the windows.” Her eyes were fierce when they landed on me. I pressed the shutter with an audible click. I’d title that one Jealousy if it turned out half as amazing as I thought it would. “Why’d you take a picture?” Her hands fluttered to her hair, tucking a dark, silky chunk behind her ear. “Because you’re beautiful. When you’re nervous. When you’re jealous.” “I’m not jealous,” she said, her eyes darting around again, never landing on me for more than a second. “It’s okay if you are.” I took one of her hands and sandwiched it in between my own, hoping that I could help steady her before we boarded the plane for a long ten hours. “Would it help if I told you that the thought of you with other men makes me want to break things?” She laughed softly before pulling in a huge breath and turning in her chair to face me. “A little. And yes, I’m nervous.”

“I know.” I let go of her hand, feeling a strange sense of disappointment when she brought it quickly back to her lap. “Were you able to sleep last night?” “Some. I kept rolling over to check the time. And then I’d think, if I go to sleep right now I can get six hours of sleep,” she babbled, which made me smile again. Nervous Ruby was fucking adorable. Adorable in the way that made me want to kiss her, feel her, touch her to try and soothe those nerves. “Did you?” I nodded. “I always get to bed early before a morning flight like this, especially when it’s this long. Jet lag is a bitch, so it’s important to get good sleep.” Talking about sleep made me think about my mom again, which caused a twinge of guilt. “What’s that face for?” Ruby asked quietly. Surprised at her ability to read my face so easily, I rubbed my hands along the top of my jeans. “Thinking about my mom, actually.” I winked at her. “Sorry if that kills my uncontainable sex appeal.” Ruby smiled. “Not at all. What were you thinking about?” “She called me yesterday, wanted me to come for dinner.” I shrugged. “But I needed sleep, and they’re up in Boston, so I’d have spent like eight hours in the car.” When Ruby didn’t answer right away, I looked over at her, and sat up straighter when I realized how serious she looked. She licked her lips, clearly struggling with what to say. “What is it?” I asked. “I don’t want to overstep, and obviously I don’t know anything about your relationship with your parents.” She swallowed, holding my gaze. “Don’t take for granted that you have parents who want to see you. Some people don’t have the option to feel inconvenienced by something so simple as a car ride.” “Ruby,” I said and then paused. What the fuck? She looked and sounded so sad, so serious when she said it. There was a story —probably a heavy one— behind her carefully worded answer. Seeing these different sides to her felt an awful lot like sensory overload. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that as badly as it sounded.” Lame. Fucking lame. Every word sounded ineffectual and trite. “The next time she asks,” Ruby said, still keeping her eyes trained on mine, “promise you’ll go.” “What happened to you?” I asked before I could stop myself. The iron wall that she usually kept lodged around any personal information was briefly lifted, I could tell. The brief opening made me want to do nothing more than dig my hands in and pry it back further. She took a small inhale through her nose before she spoke. “Just take a piece of advice from someone who’d kill to have their parents only four hours away. Okay?” It wasn’t much, but it was something. Something that she’d volunteered, that I hadn’t had to go searching for. So I took a deep breath and vowed to be patient. I had eight days of uninterrupted time with her. I could wait her out. “Okay.” When I didn’t press her, she risked giving me a relieved smile. I cleared my throat when the moment snapped. “So what are you most nervous

about? Is it the flight? Or what comes after?” “All of the above?” “And you’ve never flown before?” I asked, smiling at the way she answered with a question, like she didn’t exactly know. “No.” She groaned, slapping a hand over her eyes. “I probably sound so provincial to you.” “Not at all,” I told her honestly. “I’ve seen a lot of the world, and most people haven’t. You’re more normal than I am when it comes to that.” “I don’t know about that. My life isn’t precisely normal either.” Ruby lifted her eyebrows, like she was surprised at the turn in our conversation. But I watched her blink out of it, looking at me again with interest bright in her eyes. “What’s your favorite place that you’ve ever visited?” I stretched my arm across the back of her chair while I thought about that. “Nobody has ever asked me that before.” “Really?” “Really. I guess I’d have to say either Greece or Austria.” “Why?” She leaned forward, the frank curiosity in her beautiful face making me itch to take another picture of her. By the time our eight days was up in Amsterdam, I wanted an entire memory card filled with pictures of Ruby. “Greece is stunning, especially along the coast. The bright colors and the buildings on the cliffs make it a photographer’s wet dream. They have a very strong sense of family, so the people are warm and friendly, at least in my experience. And Austria is just,” I blew out a breath, “fucking beautiful. There’s so much history from World War II that it never ceases to fascinate me when I’m there.” Ruby settled into her seat, which made her back press against my arm. My instinct was to curve my hand around her shoulder and bring her closer into me, but I didn’t. I don’t know why, but while we were still in New York, still on solid ground, it felt like I needed to keep the boundaries in place that we normally stuck to. We weren’t on display right now, pandering to a crowd of people who thought Ruby was a girlfriend or a lover. It was just us. And anything that happened outside the walls of a hotel room would happen because we wanted it to. I’d have to believe that she’d want it to happen too, or I’d go fucking crazy. “I hope I can see them someday. I just want to go … everywhere.” “You still can.” Ruby waited to answer until after the dry, disembodied voice of the speaker system made an announcement. “I guess.” “Come on.” I nudged her shoulder with my hand, but returned it to the seat instead of leaving it on her. “You’re young, plenty of life left to live. And you’re about to see your first new country. Nothing to be sad about right now.” She smiled at me, searching my eyes so intently that I wanted someone to be able to snap a picture of the two of us. What would we look like to a complete stranger? Would it even remotely mirror what I pictured in my head? “Careful, you sound awfully optimistic right now.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” I muttered, letting the sweetness of her smile and the quiet intimacy of the moment soothe some of the dark edges inside of me. The flight attendant at the podium for our gate called for first class to board, and when we stood up, Ruby leaned up to kiss me on the cheek. “Thank you for letting me come with you, Elias,” she said with so much sincerity that I wanted to clutch her against me, let her wrap her arms so tightly around me that I’d struggle to breathe. Sacrificing oxygen seemed like a small sacrifice to make for her, when it was becoming so glaringly obvious that I was in deep fucking trouble with this woman.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

I wasn’t sure what flying coach was like, which sounded like an absurdly pompous thing to say, but the fact of the matter was that my very first flight was a transcontinental flight, with me seated in first class. The seat was roomier than what I’d expected, from my vast experience of flights gleaned from watching many movies growing up. My ass sank right into the cushion while Elias stowed our carry-on bags in the overhead bins. A flight attendant stepped beside me. “Coffee?” I didn’t think I could do coffee, not with how jittery I already was. “Vodka and tonic,” Elias said easily, handing her our jackets when she gestured her arms out to him. “And two bottles of scotch.” The attendant’s eyes widened as Elias straightened, and I recognized her attraction to him immediately. “My pleasure,” she said before turning away and scuttling up the aisle like it was a race to get his requests. “I don’t need vodka.” “Well,” he began, folding himself into the seat beside me, the window seat, “you may not need it, but you’ll want it.” He tapped on the plastic covering the window. “Once we’re thirty-five thousand feet over the Atlantic, you will want to drink.” He gave the stewardess a grateful smile as she returned, handing him two cups with ice and the bottles of liquor. “I do, and I’ve flown hundreds of times.” I took his proffered bottle of vodka and tonic water as he set a cup with ice on my tray. “I’m not sure how much you’ll want of both,” he said, eyeing the bottles in my hands. I poured all of the vodka in, the words thirty-five thousand feet echoing in my head, and topped the glass with tonic before sipping it as delicately as possible. People brushed past us as they spoke with a flight attendant or placed their things in the overhead bins. The plane had boarded with first class on the left and coach on the right, so it was surprisingly quiet for the number of people who had been waiting to board. “Are you all right?” Elias asked, leaning in and placing a hand on my back from where I kept myself sitting straight up, inches from the backrest.

Nodding, I gave him a smile that was a sum of all the courage I could muster. I took a bigger sip this time, the warmth of the alcohol burning a path down my esophagus. “I’d distract you the normal way, if I could, but I’m afraid the first class cabin would frown upon that.” “Distract me how?” He rubbed a hand over his chin, thinking. “I could shove us into the bathroom, do inappropriate things to you. But you’re a loud one.” He gave me a devilish grin, one that lifted one side of his mouth. If it wasn’t illegal, I probably would’ve taken him up on the offer. Such were my nerves at the moment. “So sex is off the table.” “No mile-high club for us,” he said. He made an exaggerated pouty face at me which earned him a smile. “I guess we’ll have to make up for it then,” I said. “Absolutely.” His hand on my back rubbed gently. “I’ll have the stewardess get you a blanket, and maybe you can sleep the rest of the flight. We have a layover in Warsaw, but then we’ll be on our way to arrive in Amsterdam tomorrow around noon.” It sounded so far, nearly twenty-four hours from now. I knew most of that was thanks to the time change as we crossed over the ocean, but I decided to take Elias’ suggestion and finished my vodka tonic before settling into my seat, with Elias showing me how it could recline. Before I knew it, I was asleep. The first thing I noticed after being tucked into a cab outside of the Amsterdam airport was how clean everything smelled. Living in New York City, with exhaust and the smells of a condensed city, you forgot what clean, fresh air smelled like. And that’s exactly what Amsterdam smelled like, to me. The cab driver spoke very good English as Elias checked through the itinerary and asked him some questions. I looked out the window, taking in the different architecture. As we came closer to the heart of Amsterdam, I saw more and more graffiti art. In my ear, Elias said, “Amsterdam, in an effort to decriminalize graffiti, has legal places for artists to paint.” We drove by a garage door with a scene from The Little Mermaid brilliantly colored. But the thing that stuck out the most amongst the architecture was the sheer number of bicyclists. Down several streets I saw more bicycles than cars. The cab pulled up in front of a tall building and Elias handed him some local bills he’d picked up after we’d gotten through customs. I stepped out onto the sidewalk as Elias grabbed our luggage from the boot of the car and set it on the sidewalk. Our hotel was an old-looking brick building, with large, arched glass windows decorated with window boxes that spilled over with red flowers. On the road level was an

attached restaurant, beautifully appointed with bright red awnings. People brushed past me on the sidewalk and I clutched my purse a little tighter. It was the one thing Elias had told me as we left the airport, that though Amsterdam was, contrary to popular belief, one of the safer big cities in Europe, pick pockets were still all over. A bright red double decker bus passed us on the road, right before a white tram buzzed down the center of the road. It was so different from New York City that I stopped and stared, taking it all in for a moment. “Ready?” Elias asked as he set our suitcases on the sidewalk in front of me. After checking in, Elias led me to the elevator to go up to our room on the fifth floor. Tulips were just about everywhere in the hotel, and the staff seemed very friendly as they smiled from ear to ear at us at the check-in. It was just after one in the afternoon, and though I’d slept on the plane, the moment I saw the white fluffy bed, my first inclination was to lie on it. “Tired?” Elias asked as he unzipped one of his hardback camera gear cases. I yawned and shook my head across the white comforter. “I didn’t think I was, but here I am.” I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, enjoying being completely horizontal for the first time since I’d woken up the morning before. I felt Elias’ hands on my feet a second before I felt the sheer relief of my shoe being popped off and air hitting my insole. He did the same to my other foot and I flexed my toes, sighing. I opened my eyes, seeing him load a soft-sided black bag with camera gear. “I have to run over to the festival,” he said when I looked over the stuff with surprise. I sat up in the bed and ran my fingers over my hair. “Oh, okay. I can be ready in a few.” “No,” he said, stepping to the foot of the bed and running a hand over the back of my head. The gesture felt … romantic. And with how comforting it was, I wanted to sink a little bit deeper into his touch. “Why don’t you take a nap?” Looking up at him, I furrowed my brow. “But I can come with you. Really.” “It’s actually just behind-the-scenes stuff today,” he explained, moving his hand down to my shoulder and rubbing his thumb into the muscle between my spine and shoulder blade. “I have to meet with a few people. The next few days will be busier, so why don’t you catch up on your rest so you’re not exhausted going into tomorrow?” I still felt a little bit bad for being so tired after the flight, especially because Elias should be just as—if not more—tired as I was, but there he was getting ready to work. But when he leaned down and pressed his mouth to mine, I didn’t argue further. “Okay,” I said, flopping back into the blankets when he let me go. “I’ll be back before dinner, and we can decide what to eat then.” Nodding, I crawled back onto the bed, so my head lay on the pillow. “See you in a bit,” I told him, giving him a grateful, sleepy smile. But twenty minutes after he left, I was still awake. In fact, I was wider awake

than I’d been when I first laid down. I paced the room for a minute, after giving up on the television. Our room faced the street, which moved in a kind of organized chaos outside the building. Bicyclists, tour buses, cars and the tram all moved down the road perfectly synchronized. Restless, I grabbed one of the magazines on the desk and flipped through it, taking in the different things to do in the area. I knew Elias wanted to do a few things he had in mind to do with me while we were here, but I figured because this wasn’t his first trip to Amsterdam that he didn’t want to do any of the traditional tourist stuff. I made my way downstairs to reception and caught the attention of a pert, blonde attendant. Elias had told me that Americans were often perceived to be, to put it in his words, “giant assholes” as tourists, so he’d called everyone by their name so far on our journey. “It makes them people and not just someone helping you,” he explained to me, so I took a page out of his book and glanced down at the attendant’s name tag. “Heleen, can you tell me what kind of tourist stops there are within walking distance?” Heleen smiled, showing off a full set of bright white, straight teeth. She was pretty, probably not older than twenty-five, with blonde hair cut to her shoulders. “Ah, yes. There are many places near here. And the bus can take you places.” I didn’t want to take a bus or a cab to visit anywhere by myself. Not having an international phone number, I would have had no way to contact Elias if I got stuck on the other side of the city. “I’m thinking something within five minutes’ walk?” “Of course.” She smiled again and stepped around the desk, pointing down the sidewalk opposite the direction we’d arrived. “If you walk that way one block, you’ll encounter the National Monument. Very popular spot.” Her accent caused me to smile with her. She handed me a pamphlet beside the entrance, and pointed at the photo. “Thank you, Heleen. I’ll do that.” I didn’t know what the National Monument was, but I figured it couldn’t be hard to find the white statue that was photographed on the outside of the pamphlet. After making sure I had cash, just in case, I made my way to the National Monument, which, as I’d suspected, was easy to find. It stood in the middle of a square, a white travertine pillar that tapered at the top. In the front of the pillar at the base were four chained men, and above them was a woman holding a child, with doves flying around her. From the base of the pillar to the ground were dozens of people, sitting on the concentric rings that surrounded the monument and formed a sort of stair case to the monument. After staring up at the statue for a minute, I found a space to sit on the steps and opened my pamphlet. I was sitting in Dam Square, which was indeed a square surrounded by a road and then buildings. All the architecture reminded me of

something from Pinocchio, or some other movie with European history. The pamphlet explained that the statue was a World War II monument, and the urns that were contained within the wall behind the pillar contained soil from World War II execution grounds and war ceremonies in the Dutch provinces. Near the front two corners of the square were lion statues, where people had wrapped their bicycles to rest. There was so much activity across the square, which surprised me for a monument dedicated to the lives lost in a devastating war. But as I sat there, and saw all the life that moved around the square, I thought it a fitting contrast to the sadness of loss. It seemed less lonely somehow, that this stark white cone sitting on a corner wasn’t behind rope or barriers. That people walked by it every day, ate their lunches here and took their children to play on the steps. After I’d sat there for an hour, people-watching, I made my way back to the hotel with a stomach growling for food and hands itching to touch Elias.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

A couple hours after I’d left Ruby, wishing fucking desperately that I didn’t have to, I let myself back into the hotel room as quietly as I could. If she’d managed to fall asleep, I didn’t want to be the one to wake her. Except when I shut the door with soft snick and turned, she was sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard. “Did you get a good nap?” She shook her head, but was smiling at me. “I couldn’t sleep. Knowing that there were all these amazing things outside was keeping me awake. I decided to do the tourist thing instead of lay here pretending to sleep.” The disappointment that I felt was so swift and so acute that I walked into the bathroom so she wouldn’t see it on my face. The entire time I’d been shooting and getting to know some of the event organizers and documenting the setup for one of the headliners, I was making a mental list of the places I wanted to bring Ruby. Witnessing her experience Amsterdam, witnessing a different country for the first time, made me excited in a way that I wasn’t really prepared for. I wanted to be able to see her face the first time she tried bitterballen, which was one of my favorite things to eat when I was here. What a fucking pussy I was, staring at myself in the mirror and trying to be okay with the fact that she was okay with the fact that I hadn’t been with her the first time she ventured out. “What did you see?” I asked, still bracing my hands on the bathroom sink. “I walked to the National Monument and did some people watching.” “What’d you think?” I walked out of the bathroom and pulled my camera bag off my shoulder, setting it down on the floor of the small closet. Her eyes were bright, but she looked tired. Join the club, I thought. Nothing sounded better than falling into the bed and not moving for about thirteen hours. Maybe another blowjob, but it was a toss-up of what I’d take first. “Busier than I thought. But beautiful. I could’ve sat there all day and watched people.” I tapped her hip, motioning for her to move over, and she did. With a groan, I stretched out beside her and buried my face into one of the starkly white pillows. It smelled clean, but sterile, and immediately, I wanted to bury my face into Ruby

instead; mask the antiseptic scent with her spicy, warm one. She was smiling down at me when I turned to my side and looked up at her. “Did you see anything else?” “No. I wanted to be back here when you were done.” Too fucking right. My eyes swept down her body, taking stock of her wicked curves underneath the simple clothes that she’d traveled in. The black leggings were soft against my hand when I felt a path from her knee to her thigh. When the tips of my fingers hit the hem of her grey t-shirt, I didn’t stop, pushing up underneath the cotton so I could feel the smooth skin of her stomach. “You know what’s a good way to make yourself fall asleep on time the first night in a foreign country?” My voice was dark and rumbling, and her eyes looked heavy when I spoke. “What?” “Orgasms. Lots and lots of orgasms.” Ruby smiled, a full one that showed all of her straight, white teeth. She was stingy with those kinds of smiles, normally giving me close-lipped ones that were full of teasing and mystery. But she was happy. Here with me, she was happy. Giving the slope of her belly button one more touch with my fingertip, I rolled off the bed until I was standing and pulled at my belt while I toed off my shoes. Ruby sat forward and in one lithe movement, slid the shirt from her body. The simple nude bra that she wore underneath did things to her tits that almost made me fall to my knees prostrate before her. I may not believe in a higher power directing the universe, but the sight of Ruby’s curves made me feel fucking worshipful. Her dark hair spilled around the flawless, olive-toned skin of her slim shoulders. With only silence stretching between us, we undressed, letting each piece of clothing fall to the floor without a single word. For the first time since I walked into the room, I noticed the handful of condoms on the nightstand. I smirked, handing her one. “Put it on.” Before she did, Ruby held her hair with one hand and kneeled over so she could place a slick, open mouthed kiss on the tip of my cock. Then she pinched the tip of the condom and rolled it down my length. When it was on, she skated her hands over my abs, tracing the underside of my pecs, taking extra time to follow the line of my tattoos over my shoulders and down my biceps. “You’re a work of art,” she told me in a husky voice. Through clenched teeth, I said, “Lay down on your side, angle your legs toward the window.” “Bossy.” “Horny,” I corrected. Before she complied, Ruby placed a sharp bite on the meat of my shoulder. When she was laid out, her toned back and ass on display for me, I kneeled on the bed and gently pulled the arm that she was laying on and stretched it up toward the

headboard. With reverent hands, I swept my palms over the gentle slope of her waist, the plump lines of her tits. Her head was arched to the side so she could watch me and I wanted to fall into her sinfully dark eyes. Without another word between us, I slid a knee in between her legs so I was straddling the bottom one. The leg that was on top was draped across my thigh. When I fisted my cock and braced my free hand on her lower leg, we both took a deep breath. Without testing her wetness first, I slid into her in one long, smooth thrust, only stopping when I bottomed out. Her back arched at the deep angle, and I breathed heavily from the way she gripped me. I pulled out and slammed back in. “Oh my god,” she said on an exhale. “You’re so deep.” “And you’re so fucking tight. So wet, baby.” Her chin tilted up when I thrust again, but the way we were positioned, she couldn’t really move. She could only lay there, let me feel her, let me fuck her, let me do whatever the hell I wanted to her. I pulled back until only the tip of my dick was still in her scalding heat. “Please,” she whispered. I braced my hands on the bed on either side of her. “When you beg like that, it makes me goddamn insane.” I hooked my hips, bottoming out so sharply that my balls slapped against her. My pace stayed smooth after that, and from the way I was over her, I could pinch her nipples, press my thumb against the tight pucker of muscle of her ass. Ruby groaned and turned her face into the bed when I did that. Pushing off the bed, I straightened again, gripping her tits so roughly that she’d probably see marks in the morning. “What do you need, baby?” “Harder, Elias, oh god, harder.” Quite fucking happily, I complied, ramming into her with such force that she cried out. With my thumb, I pressed tight circles against the hard nub of her clit and her chest heaved with sobbing breaths. “Hard enough?” I punctuated it with a punching thrust, our skin slapping together so loudly that there was no way the people next to us wouldn’t be able to hear. Her eyes snapped open and trained onto me. “Harder.” “Fucking hell, Ruby,” I rasped out and fucking went at her. My chest was coated with sweat, and I swear to God, I saw tears in her eyes when I lifted her top leg and hit a spot so deep inside of her that she screamed. “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes.” And she exploded around me, almost causing me to black the fuck out. I roared, the pleasure was so bright and intense, so sharp that it probably tested the limits of how much the condom could hold. I was so fucking spent that I couldn’t even milk the remnants of our simultaneous orgasms. With one arm around her waist, I fell onto the bed next to her, only barely remembering to pull out of her. There was a dark part of me that

flared with pride at the wet gush between her legs when I did. I’d made Ruby come so hard that she’d made a mess herself. She laughed under her breath and laid her hand on my arm. “Wow.” “Yeah.” I buried my nose in her hair and sucked in a lungful of her scent. “God, woman, you are fucking potent.” Staying underneath the weight of my arm, Ruby turned until she was facing me. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glowing. “Me? Elias, I’m pretty sure you just hit a spot that made me see another planet.” “That so?” I growled, dropping my mouth for a sucking kiss against her pornstar lips. “I can try to hit again if you give me like ten minutes.” Ruby laughed, dropping her forehead onto my chest. “Maybe tomorrow. I think you’ve put my pussy into a pleasure-coma.” “Well that’s a new one,” I said dryly. “Want me to order some room service before we try to sleep?” When I asked, her eyes were already half-closed. “I’m okay. I think I’ll just sleep right here.” I smoothed an arm up her back and she hummed. “We should talk about what we want to do the rest of the week.” “I don’t care,” she said sleepily. “I’ll go wherever you want to take me.” With that, she was out. For a long time, I didn’t move, just laid with my arm around her and our legs intertwined on top of the comforter. After I pulled carefully from her embrace, I lifted her enough to tuck her under the blanket. She sighed, tucking her arms under a pillow. I didn’t join her right away once I’d cleaned up, just sat in the chair next to the bed and watched her sleep, feeling like something in my chest had just been ripped completely open.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Our second full day in Amsterdam, Elias decided to make it more low-key. After spending our first full day in Geithoorn, a tiny village that was a three hour train ride from Amsterdam, we were both so travel-weary that low-key was just what we needed. After inhaling espresso in the restaurant attached to the hotel, Elias had the reception desk hail a taxi for us. “Where are we going?” I asked him as we waited on the brick-paved sidewalk. Elias gave me a small smile, but turned to the driver. “Oude Kerk, please.” I looked at him curiously, but he just smiled, patting my knee. The driver pulled a block away from what looked to be a very large, old stone church set near the edge of a canal. It had many gables, with large arched windows reaching near to the top. “Oude Kerk,” the driver said and Elias paid him before ushering me out of the car. As I stood on the sidewalk and looked up at it, I tried to imagine just how old it was. The large windows had intricate leading in the tops of the arches, making it look positively medieval. “Old Church.” I turned to Elias who stood beside me. “Oude Kerk means Old Church?” “Exactly.” There had to have been hundreds of windows covering the massive structure, but my eyes went immediately to the bright white steeple. The look of the church said gothic, and the juxtaposition of this dark, old church against the bright light of the day was almost eerie. “Ready for the tour?” Elias asked. Nodding, I took his offered hand and followed him in to the visitor center, where he paid for our entrance fee with cash. I was surprised by how barren it seemed in the church, and commented on it to Elias. “Originally,” he said, looking through the brochure in his hands, “it was a Catholic church, but after the religious wars, the Protestants began removing the more showy Catholic sculptures.” He pointed to the floor, where names and dates were etched into stone. “The floor consists entirely of twenty-five hundred

gravestones. See?” The idea was incredible to me, and only heightened the eerie feeling I had before I had even stepped into the church. “We’re walking across the graves of twentyfive hundred people,” I said, feeling the need to keep my voice hushed. “Actually, there are ten-thousand Amsterdam citizens buried under this church. Even Rembrandt’s wife is buried here.” “Rembrandt’s wife?” I asked. “How old is this church?” “Eight-hundred years.” I pressed a hand to my stomach as I absorbed that. “Eight-hundred,” I said in an awed whisper. “That’s…” I shook my head. I was at a loss for words as I tried to take it all in. “And look up,” Elias said, pointing to the ceiling, which was covered in wooden planks. “This roof is the largest medieval wooden vault in Europe. The planks are Estonian and date back to the thirteen-hundreds.” I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what it must have been like to attend services here. The wooden ceilings would have provided incredible acoustics. “Have you heard of the Miracle of Amsterdam?” The name rang a bell from one of my classes as an undergraduate. “It’s familiar, but I don’t recall the exact story.” “In the year 1345, a dying man vomited the Host after taking communion.” “Yes,” I said, as it began coming back to me. “They threw his vomit into a fire, but the Host remained intact and the event was proclaimed a miracle.” Elias nodded, “After, they put the Host in a chest and tucked it away, but it disappeared during the Protestant Reformation.” “That would make sense, since the Protestants typically enclose very few artifacts within a church.” “That’s right.” “But the Catholics certainly like their religious paraphernalia.” He laughed and said, “That we do.” Elias led me over to where the stained glass windows were, their reds and blues so bright with the incoming sun. “It’s so beautiful,” I said, my voice low as people stepped around us. “It is.” He seemed to be in deep thought as we stared at the stained glass, and I wondered at what was going through his head. “You know what I think about when I’m in places like this?” I asked him. “What’s that?” I slid my arm into his and leaned in, my head on his shoulder. “About the people who were so deeply inspired by their beliefs to help construct a place for them to worship. I mean, this is eight-hundred years old. They didn’t have forklifts or nail guns or anything a modern contractor would use to build something this size.” My hand slid down his sleeve to clasp his hand. “But back then, it was literal backbreaking labor. Just imagine the number of generations of people who have worked to keep this building from crumbling.” Elias ran his fingers over mine as I spoke,

and it felt so soothing that I kept talking. “And we’re standing here, where probably thousands of people have stood at some point in their lives. On the bricks laid by people who have been dead for hundreds of years. Isn’t that incredible?” Elias cleared his throat. “It is.” “And when you think, that this building has been standing longer than some of the most historic crises of Europe, it’s even more thought-provoking.” “Tell me,” he said. Warmed by his interest, I thought of my many studies. “Well, take the Black Death, for example, in the mid-1300s. Right around the time of the Miracle of Amsterdam, in fact. This church was built before then, and as the pandemic spread up from the Mediterranean, it wiped out entire families. Children were orphaned.” That gave me pause, but I continued. “The effects created a series of social and religious upheavals, which ultimately affected European history in a significant way. You’re talking thirty-to-sixty percent of Europe’s total population, gone. Can you imagine?” “I can’t,” he said honestly. He waited a beat before looking at me. “I’ve experienced loss.” I immediately thought of his sister, and what he’d told me when we’d met. “I don’t think you can make it through life without suffering at least one tremendous loss,” I told him, though I didn’t think it sounded particularly comforting. “I agree with that,” he said, and didn’t seem offended by how unaffected I had sounded. As an orphan, I was no stranger to losing myself. But that wasn’t what defined my religious beliefs. “I feel the empty space that my sister once filled every Goddamn day. But,” he paused and nodded gently, “death is inevitable. I haven’t experienced it on the scale of thirty-to-sixty percent of the people I know, being wiped out.” “I don’t think most people have.” “Very few, I hope.” He let out a breath, like he was putting aside the heaviness of the moment. “Tell me, what happened to Europe after?” “Well,” I began, as Elias led me from the stained glass to the other gravestones marked on the floors. “The healers of that era couldn’t explain the cause, so people lost their minds—and attacked everyone they could think of. In many parts of Europe, Jews, the homeless, lepers—anyone that looked like a vagrant—were executed. Even people with acne were singled out. Some citizens in a town in Germany murdered some two-thousand Jews.” “Makes you think about how bad the Jews have had it, in many eras of European history.” “It does,” I agreed. “But it makes me think about how you and I—if you’re of European descent—are descendants of people who survived things like the Black Plague. How distressing is it that we stand here, hundreds of years later, walking across the gravestones of people who lived during that time? Many people had to die in order for us to be here now.” Elias was quiet for a long moment as we stared down at one stone in particular. I

didn’t think the name on the stone itself was what caused his silence, but he was quiet nonetheless. He turned to me and squeezed my hand. “How lucky are we, then,” he said with a soft smile. I returned his smile, thinking about how this conversation with Elias was one of the deepest conversations I’d had with anyone outside of my classes, about the things I was most passionate about. And Elias had been the one to initiate it, to press me for more information. It gave me a little thrill, to be able to talk about this with someone who wasn’t in class with me. “So, are you glad we came here?” I smiled softly at Elias. “Part of my fascination with religion is its history, so yes. I’m thrilled you brought me.” “Are there other churches you’d like to visit?” “In Amsterdam?” He shook his head and tucked his hands in his jeans. “Anywhere.” “Well,” I began, thinking. “There's this chapel in France … the Chapel of St. Michael d’Aiguilhe.” “Ah, that sounds sexy coming from your mouth.” I blushed, and I was almost embarrassed for even mentioning it and gave him a funny smile. “What’s special about it?” he asked. I blinked, surprised he was asking me. Of all my boyfriends, though there had been few, never had one taken an interest in this sort of thing. Never asked me about my future, the things I wanted to see, the places I wanted to travel. In fact, Nicholas had brushed me off one night when he’d talked of his years traveling through Europe, brushing me off by saying that the places I wanted to see were insignificant in comparison to the places he’d seen. It’d been easy to keep it to myself ever since then. Discussing it with Elias felt weird. But I let out a sigh and said, “It’s this little chapel, perched at the top of a tiny mountain. From the photos I’ve seen, it looks rather dramatic; this lonely, needle-like mountain jutting up toward the sky.” I shrugged, my embarrassment coloring my cheeks. But he looked at me expectantly, so I continued. “It was built in the tenth century, so it’s even older than Oude Kerk. It’s had a number of renovations since then, of course, expanding and updating it, but the original sanctuary still survives, a thousand years later.” “How do you get to the top?” “There are steps that wind up the side of the rock. The mountain is a puy,” I explained, but Elias looked at me with a question in his eyes. “A puy is a volcanic hill.” “It sounds worth a trip.” “I mean,” I shrugged, trying to brush it off, “the chapel itself is supposed to be beautiful inside. It’s even said that the mother of Joan of Arc went to it, to pray.” But I gave him a smile, feeling foolish for bringing it up. “Not that I’ve been, of course.”

“What’s stopping you from going?” I sighed. “My studies. My lack of free time. My fear of flying.” I paused a beat, ashamed to admit the last one, the most significant one, “Money.” “The good news is, you’ve conquered your fear of flying.” I laughed with him. “You’re right, I have.” “So you just have to work on the others.” He reached forward and tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m well-traveled, Ruby, but I wouldn’t trade my experiences for anything. You should make time to see the world.” I could only nod at that, gladly accepting his hand when he reached out toward me. After looking over the gravestones of a few of the more famous Amsterdam citizens, Elias and I left the church. It was strange, trying to describe how I felt after being in a structure as old and historically significant as Oude Kerk. It had felt like walking through a graveyard in some parts, and other parts like I was witnessing a place left, mostly, untouched by time. As we stood outside, Elias said, “You know, this is the last building in its original state in Amsterdam that Rembrandt walked through.” “Really?” “Yes. He visited it often, and had all of his children christened here.” As we stepped away from the building, I encountered a bronze statue I must have noticed on the way in, considering its placement in front of the building, but hadn’t paid attention to until now. It was a full-breasted woman, standing in a doorway. The way her hands were placed on her hips and how her chin was held high told me she was confident, maybe even proud. Below her, the inscription read, “Belle.” “Respect sex workers all over the world,” Elias read off the plaque from beside me. His arm came around my waist as I let that settle in. Escorts weren’t necessarily sex workers, but that’s certainly what I boiled down to. Looking up at Elias, I tried to guess what he was thinking. “Are we in the Red Light District?” I asked him. Nodding, he smiled down at me. “We are. This statue is honoring the prostitutes of the world.” He squeezed his hand on my waist and led me from the church. Surprisingly, I wasn’t tired. I thought being in a church that was home to thousands of bodies would have drained me, but after stepping back outside, I felt different. Like I was finally getting a glimpse of what I’d studied for so many years, able to touch the buildings that had only existed in my textbooks. And Elias had seemed interested in my knowledge. It made me smile to myself, that he’d wanted me to share my thoughts even when the subject matter wasn’t something heartwarming. “Come on, let’s go to a coffee shop,” he said, interrupting me from my thoughts. “I don’t think I need any more caffeine,” I told him as he steered me into a shop with blue umbrellas outside.

“It’s not a café,” Elias said on a laugh as he pulled me into the shop. The walls were a deep, midnight blue, and along the right was a bar top and several stools with patchwork-covered seats. Twinkling lights covered the ceiling, giving it a cave-like feeling. “Do you just buy coffee beans here then? It looks like a bar,” I asked. I looked around the room, taking in the different seating areas. And then the smell hit me. “Ohh,” I whispered as several patrons turned to look at us. “This is where you buy pot, isn’t it?” “Yes.” He laughed again and wrapped an arm around my waist as we walked around the place. It had a distinct Asian theme, with the Thai Buddha heads that decorated a few of the low tables and the large stone Chinese guardian lions that were placed on either side of the wood door we’d walked through. On one of the tables was a beautiful blue glass bong, surrounded by people on their phones and tablets. It struck me how different marijuana culture in Europe was when compared to the culture in the states. Inspired, I turned to Elias. “Let’s get high before we leave Amsterdam,” I said in an excited whisper. He looked at me with eyebrows raised. “You, high?” Shrugging, I grinned. “Why not? Just one little joint.” “I don’t think they specifically make little joints,” he replied dryly. “But all right.” There was glint in his eyes when he smiled down at me and I felt my legs go a little gooey from the look he gave me. “Let’s do it.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“You sure you’re ready for this?” I asked Ruby, who was all but pressed against the train window as the Dutch countryside bled green beyond the glass. “For the cheese city?” She grinned at me. “I’m ready.” “Of course you are. You get to see another church.” She practically vibrated in her seat. “I can’t wait. The stained glass windows at Saint Janskerk have been preserved through two military invasions. In World War II, they actually pulled them out and buried them in sand dunes to protect the glass from when the Germans inevitably bombed the city. People go to incredible lengths to preserve the symbols of their faith.” Ruby shook her head. “I mean, think about it. You’re worried that you’ll be killed, your entire village leveled, and they risked it all to protect the windows of their church. It amazes me.” You amaze me, I wanted to say. But I didn’t. I settled into the high-back red seat opposite of her. My legs stretched across to the empty seat next to her for the almost two-hour train ride south to Gouda. “I wish we had longer. We’d be able to see more of Europe while you’re here.” “You won’t see me complain about a single part of this trip.” She sank into the seat with a happy smile. It was one she was wearing more and more frequently as our days blurred together. Sitting like we were, in the half empty train, it was becoming more and more difficult for me to remember the Ruby from the first night. So cool and distant. Even the memory of the sex was going fuzzy in my mind. It had been hot. We’d both come. But it couldn’t touch the way things were between us now. Everything felt heightened between us. Her hands were greedier, more possessive when they were on my skin, her kisses were deeper, her moans louder, her orgasms more explosive. When she came, she clamped around my dick so fucking hard that it sucked the breath from my lungs. Every time. And now, I couldn’t remember if it had felt like that the first night, or if the fact that we were complete strangers then had lent a sterile aspect to the sex. Knowing her now, even though the full picture wasn’t completely clear, there wasn’t one thing about our relationship that could be considered sterile. “I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of seeing windmills,” Ruby said, breaking into my thoughts while she stared out the window.

“It’s beautiful here,” I agreed. She hummed. “Can I ask you a question?” Ruby nodded, taking a sip of water from the bottle out of her large, leather purse. “Sure.” I took a beat to think about how I wanted to word it, since she had no fucking clue what was tumbling around my head. “You said something to me at the airport in New York. About how you’d kill to have your family four hours away.” Her eyes lost a bit of a happy glow they’d had, but she didn’t shut me down. You know what that means? Mother fucking progress. “That’s not a question,” she said quietly, even though no one was close enough to hear what we were talking about. I gave her a quick grin. “Such a smart ass.” She nudged my feet with her elbow. “And you like it.” “Even talk of your world-class ass won’t distract me.” “Fine,” she sighed. “Ask away.” “Where does your family live?” Ruby gave me a level look. “Couldn’t you have started somewhere easier? Like, how did you become an escort?” I tipped my head back and barked out a laugh. “Fine. How did you become an escort?” “You don’t really want to know this, do you?” “I do,” I said simply. Because I did. I wanted to know how someone so beautiful, so smart, and so accomplished ended up selling her body to strangers. And I wanted to know what happened to her that she made men promise to go visit their mothers like it held such deep personal value. “My friend Stella got me into it. She knew I’d just gotten out of a bad relationship and had student loans that were about to cripple my entire life.” She shrugged, and I kept a tight lid on my tongue when I wanted to ask her about the bad relationship. “Lenore met with me, wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into, and then set me up with my first john.” “How long ago was that?” “Almost two years.” “So you … you like it?” My heart tanked into my stomach while I waited for her to answer. I wanted her, desperately, to say no. Or to say something that made me feel like what was between us was different. I’d have been lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge the sense of ownership that I felt over Ruby. The thought of another man’s hand on her perfect body made me want to break someone’s fucking neck. “Sometimes I do. Other times, I don’t.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I’m sure that sounds awfully ambivalent for someone in my line of work.” “A little.” Her eyes were trained on the seat over my shoulder when she spoke again. “Occasionally, I think about what my life would be like right now if I’d hated it that first night. If I’d had a horrible experience. Where I’d be living, how … how fucking

poor I’d be.” There was a sick, masochistic side of me roaring to know what her first night was like. What if it had been me? What if I had been the guy to hand her the cash, ram my dick into her inexperienced cunt? Maybe I would have ruined her for every man that came next. Maybe if she’d been my first escort, she would have ruined me for all the other sterile transactions that would’ve followed. They didn’t feel cold before. But now, they did. Faceless, nameless, empty transactions that didn’t make me want to fucking explode from the pleasure. What if I had been there on her first night? Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask, a voice screamed in my head. “What was your first night like?” “You really want to know?” Her dark eyes were trained in on mine, like she knew that there was a violent struggle going on in my head. That the dominant side of me, the possessive side of me was warring with the sick desire to know more about her. My feet dropped off of the seat so I could sit up straighter. “Yes.” Ruby waited to answer. Outside the windows of the train there was lush green and bright swaths of color from flowers. If I hadn’t been looking at her, I would have been snapping my camera the entire train ride. But she was all I saw, the only thing I wanted to see. She opened her mouth and I clamped down on my teeth. “He was nice. Older. Probably in his fifties. Married to someone that bored the hell out of him. But he treated me with respect, asked questions about me,” she trailed off and her face got sad. “God, that sounds pathetic. Because he cared enough to try to make me come and asked trite questions, I kept going back.” Mother fucking hell, my blood was roaring, picturing some sick old fuck’s hands on her. “It’s not pathetic,” I said softly. Softly, because if I let the leash off of my temper, I’d throw her over my shoulder and fuck her against the back wall of the train. “You look mad,” she said in the exact same measured tone. “I’m fucking furious, Ruby.” I fisted my hands on my thighs to keep from reaching for her. I’d shred her shirt open, tear the bra from her body, shove my fingers into the front of her leggings and pull all the wetness from inside her so I could smear it over my face like fucking war paint. “Because right now, having you here with me, makes it fucking impossible to think about you with someone else.” “Then don’t,” she answered quickly, soothingly. Her eyes were like black coal, but they were so hot, so intense. “Don’t think about me with anyone else. Just think about me with you. That’s all that matters.” Her soft, cultured voice was meant to tame, meant to smooth the hackles that were raised on my back. My chest heaved with deep breaths when I couldn’t blink the visions away in my head. “Where does your family live?” Ruby’s eyes widened at my abrupt change in topic, but she answered. She actually fucking answered. “They’re dead.”

I wish she hadn’t. “What?” “My mom died of breast cancer when I was little. Not even four.” “Fuck, Ruby,” I whispered, leaning forward, hating that I was far enough away from her that I couldn’t easily touch her. Hold her. Anything. “I’m so sorry. What about your dad?” She pulled in a ragged breath. “I usually say that he died of a broken heart. But,” she swallowed, “the official cause of death was an accidental overdose. Drank too much one night about a year after she died, took a few too many pain pills that had been left in the medicine cabinet from my mom’s treatment. After that, it was foster homes for me until eighteen.” Unable to sit, I shifted across the space so I could sit next to her. We angled toward each other, and I marveled at how she tilted her chin up and met my gaze in a way that practically dared me to pity her. I didn’t pity her. I was in fucking awe of her. “You’re amazing,” I told her. She averted her eyes, but I reached out to grip her chin so I could force her face back to me. “No, I’m not.” “The fuck you aren’t,” I said fiercely. “Do you know how many people would have curled up and let life keep screwing them over after that? Accepted that life was some fucking cruel joke and not even tried to better themselves? You’re amazing.” Her eyes sharpened with the sheen of tears and I cupped the side of her face, used my thumb to swipe the impossibly soft skin over her cheekbone. It struck me that I hadn’t been half as strong as Ruby since Diana died. I’d accepted that life was a cruel joke. I’d actively avoided any relationship of significance because I refused to put myself in the position that my parents or, fuck, even Nathan had been in. “Elias— “ “Unless you’re about to say thank you, I don’t want to hear it,” I interrupted. She breathed out a laugh. “I’m serious. Losing my sister was hard. So fucking hard because she was my best friend. If I’d been able to show even one percent of the grace and … god, the faith that you have, I’d probably have been a lot happier the last six years.” A light bulb went off in my head. A really fucking big one. “That’s why you study what you do, isn’t it? To try to answer the questions you’ve probably had? About a higher power and why people believe what they do.” Since I still had her face in my hand, she couldn’t look away. She only nodded. “I never knew what my parents believed. But I had to know that there was something beyond this life. Beyond this place that people live and die in every single day. Every culture, every group of people has a common thread. For the most part, people want to know that the life we live has a purpose, has a meaning outside of this world. No matter what divine being they believe in.” It was so easy, so simple, to slip my arms around her back and pull her into my chest. She came without resistance, angling her legs so that she could press herself into my embrace, tuck her forehead against my neck. After I let out a huge breath, I

kissed the top of her head, drinking in the feel of her cool, silky hair against my lips. Even now, Ruby smelled dark and sinful, like I could douse myself in her and feel the indulgence of her down to my bones. “I’m sorry about your parents, baby.” The endearment slipped out and I stilled, wondering if she’d correct me. But she merely tightened her arms around my waist. “Thank you.” We rode the rest of the train ride like that, her wrapped tight around me with my chin resting on her head. I took her hand when we stepped out of the train station onto the brick paved roads of Gouda. She marveled at the tiny row houses and curving roads, the entire village looking like it was propped up out of a fairy tale. She laughed when I made her try to pick up a massive round of cheese in the middle of the town square in the cheese market, and I snapped her picture when she only managed to lift it up a couple inches. In the dark, quiet sanctuary of Saint Janskerk, Ruby took my hand and threaded our fingers together while we looked at the stained glass windows. Somehow, I managed to keep myself at a low simmer all day while we wandered the streets together, never touching on any subjects besides the things we could smell and taste, see and feel. I made it until after we ate a late lunch in a quiet café that we only shared with a few other people. The yellow tables and white chairs, the kind smiles on the faces of the waitress felt light and airy, but inside of me, there was a violent storm brewing. Ruby took a delicate bite of a stroopwaffle and laughed when a string of syrup stayed connected to the cookie. When she swiped her tongue against the side of her mouth, I snapped. I pushed my chair back from the table and leaned over behind her. “Meet me in the bathroom in one minute or I will come back here and drag you behind me.” She didn’t make me wait. I’d only been in the men’s restroom for about thirty seconds when she walked in behind me. “Lock the door.” With movements so slow, they could only be purposeful, she did, holding my gaze the entire time. “Do the Dutch generally approve of sex in a public place?” she asked, staring at the obvious bulge of my erection. “I guess we’ll find out.” I walked up to her and pressed her back against the door, leaning down to suck on the side of her neck. “You’ve been driving me crazy all day. Little touches and little smiles. Did you think I’d let you get away with that?” She gasped when I bit down. “I hoped you wouldn’t.” “Pull my dick out, Ruby.” I lifted my head up and locked eyes with her. “Now.” With nimble fingers, she unhooked my belt and pulled my zipper down. When she wrapped her cool fingers around my hot flesh, I fucking attacked her mouth. I sucked her lower lip into my mouth and palmed one of her tits through her cotton

shirt. Our tongues tangled, harder and wetter until we were writhing against each other. I ripped her leggings down her legs and when she was free of them, shoved aside her underwear and used the tips of my fingers to smear her wetness around her clit. “Fuck, baby, you’re ready for me.” “I’m always like this around you,” she breathed, rolling her palm over the head of my cock and pulling a hiss through my clenched teeth. “Condom?” “Back pocket. Hurry. Fuck. I need in you.” I groaned, thrusting my cock against her stomach to seek some relief while she fished for protection. “I need to feel that wet pussy all over me, baby.” She rolled the condom down and hiked her legs up around my waist when I braced my hands under her ass. “Hurry, Elias, hurry.” Holding her with one arm, I used my free hand to line my dick up, the tip easily getting sucked into her heat. Then I made one, long, hard thrust, and we both groaned. “Yes, oh yes.” I took her mouth in another kiss, a sloppy, wet kiss that matched my short, hard thrusts. Her back hit against the door and my balls slapped against her ass. I could feel my orgasm looming, circling like a fucking atom bomb. We breathed into each other’s mouths, her sighs getting higher and shorter with each vicious pump. “Get there, baby. Get there.” I boosted her up another inch, and it changed the angle of where my pelvis rubbed against her and she dropped her head back on a moan. When I didn’t think I could hold out any longer, she clamped around me, her hands digging into the back of my neck so fucking hard that I’d probably be counting nail marks for a week. I let go after her, chasing the white-hot ball of pleasure with a few lazy thrusts. I sagged against her when I carefully let her legs down to the ground and she laughed huskily into my ear. “This just became my favorite bathroom in the entire world,” she said, kissing my cheek and hugging my neck. “Me too, baby. Me too.” We cleaned up, smirking at each other in the mirror, and walked out of the bathroom hand in hand, receiving two winks, one embarrassed cough, and a whistle from the old lady sitting in the back by herself. While we walked back to the train, knowing that we only had two days left, I wondered how I’d ever be able to let her go.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The festival was slammed—bodies gyrating and bumping, bass loud enough to send a beat into the very ground we walked on. Before leaving the hotel, Elias had encouraged me to dress casual, since it was an outside event. The way he’d said casual, with a skeptical look, had told me he didn’t think I could dress casual. But as I waited for him, I thought I looked like I fit right in with the mid-twenties crowd the festival attracted. My shorts were shorter than I typically wore, with visible wear and a few rips in the front, and the flowy white tank had beading along the spaghetti straps holding it up. I had chucks on my feet and my hair was contained in two braids, one over each shoulder, secured by beaded elastic bands. I wore large hoops and a braided yellow bandana over my hair. Elias had called it “hippie chic” when he’d given me a once-over before we’d left the hotel. But he’d tugged on my braids, the ones I’d done just for him. Once we’d arrived at the festival, he’d told me he had to meet with an organizer to go over the different musical acts that would be coming up but then he’d meet me at the beer tent I was currently standing in front of. I lifted my wrist to check the time, feeling bereft without my phone. But then I remembered that I’d removed my watch, in favor of a half-dozen beaded bracelets. As I looked over the intricately carved beads, I thought of what Elias had told me, back when we’d looked at his photographs. I’d purchased the bracelets over a year earlier, when one of my classmates had gone on a service trip to East Africa. She’d helped a small village, where women made money by braiding and beading bracelets. Their supplies were donated to them by a non-profit organization, so all the proceeds from sales of the bracelets went right into the women’s pockets. I’d never had an opportunity to wear them, mostly because I didn’t like wearing bracelets when I was doing school work and I didn’t wear such casual jewelry when I was meeting with clients. I could almost trick myself into believing that that wasn’t what I was doing, because spending time with Elias certainly felt different. I no longer assumed he seemed interested in the things I had to say, because he just was that interested. He didn’t ask me questions to pass the time, he asked because he genuinely wanted to know more about me.

It was easy to shrug off the pretense that we wore in New York when we were together—here, in a country another continent away, everything felt, somehow, more real. I never had to remind myself to keep his attention, or to make him happy, as I often did with other clients. With Elias, I was just Ruby. Not the escort, paid to spread her legs. When I spied him making his way through the crowd, his head bent as he looked at the viewfinder on the back of his massive camera, it was easy to smile. He wasn’t looking at me, so the smile was honest, a reflection of my happiness to see him. But I knew if I focused on that thought for too long, I’d start pulling back. Pulling back would’ve been safer, but in that moment I was having too much fun to put distance between us. “Hey,” he said with a quick grin when he lifted his head and saw me. “Hey yourself,” I said and handed him the beer I’d purchased while he’d been away. “Can you drink on the job?” Laughing, he took the cup and wrapped his other arm around my shoulders as he led me away. “I’m going to say yes. Though I normally wouldn’t.” It felt right, walking with his arm over my shoulder, around the many people gathered, speaking excitedly about things I couldn’t translate. I didn’t feel like I was pretending with Elias, which was not just a breath of fresh air but also incredibly enlivening for my soul. “Are you a good boy?” I asked, giving him a wink and curling my arm around his waist. He wore a fitted black tee, with black cargo shorts. He wore what looked like a heavy pack on his back and his camera hung from his neck. Despite the fact that his clothing was severe in its hue, he seemed completely relaxed. We stopped near a picnic area and he let go of me to cradle his camera in his hands, staying completely still as he captured three quick snaps. It was my first chance to really see him work, and I found it immensely interesting. “Sorry,” he said, looking at his camera. “I’ll have to do that a lot.” “No, I understand. This is your work, after all.” Which was the reason I’d tagged along. “It’s easy to forget you’re a photojournalist, since I haven’t seen you actually at work until now.” He propped his arm back around my shoulders and ran his fingers over the curve of my neck. It always amazed me how he could do that, touch me so gently, but in a way that made me want to curl even closer to him. “I know. I hope you won’t be too bored.” “Bored?” I said with a laugh and gestured around. “This is … exhilarating. Being around so many people, seeing how they interact with one another—how energized they become just by watching a performance. It’s, well, arousing. Not sexually,” I said when Elias raised an eyebrow. “But, intellectually? It’s very stimulating.” One corner of his mouth lifted up as he took in what I was seeing. “Thousands of people would be very stimulating,” he joked. I gently jabbed my elbow into his side. “You know what I mean. It’s just

energizing. The music, the laughter, the heat.” I sipped my beer and watched as he lifted the camera again, curving his hand around the lens as he rotated it just slightly. “How’d you get into photojournalism, by the way?” I asked when he broke his attention from the shot. “After high school, I decided to stop being a total fuck up and enlisted in the Army.” The idea of Elias, all burly and muscular, wrapped in fatigues, was like a punch to my pleasure center. “Ooh,” I said, turning to face him as my hand wrapped around his bicep. “Okay, that visual is pretty hot.” I closed my eyes and hummed. “Yep. Hot.” When I opened my eyes, Elias was laughing. He leaned down and pressed his lips to my hair. “I was just a kid when I joined. No beard.” I reached up and ran my nails through his trimmed beard. “What a shame.” “Half the reason I even have a beard is because of the Army.” “How so?” “Well,” he said, leading me further into the crowd toward a stage where a band was playing, “I nicked myself so many times shaving over the twelve years I was in that when I was discharged, I threw my razors away.” He rubbed at his beard and then over his hair. “I also had a buzzed head. It wasn’t a great look.” The beard was so Elias, I couldn’t imagine him without it and without a full head of hair. “What about these?” I asked, running my hands over the bulge of his biceps and over his forearms. “Nope. I was a scrawny little shit. Which was probably why they threw a camera in my hands. Maybe they thought I’d do better with it than the gun.” “And were you better?” “I still carried a rifle, all three times I was deployed. But the majority of my shots were taken with one of these,” he held up his camera, “than an actual firearm.” But when he said it like that, he lost a little bit of his smile. “Was that your job in the Army? Photojournalism?” He shook his head and tipped his beer back. “No,” he said after swallowing. “I didn’t do much of the journalism side. My job mostly consisted of filming combat and noncombat operations.” I tried to imagine what it must have been like to film combat, in action. In comparison, I’d lived a very sheltered life, buried in between the pages of textbooks. He offered me a smile. “But I learned a lot doing it. A photo, or a video, should tell a story. And that’s what I’ve always believed. My photograph should tell the viewer everything. The things I write are only secondary.” “I never thought of it that way,” I admitted softly. Elias paused the conversation to lift the camera and took a few more snaps. “You’ve made me want to look at photographs in a different way. I can’t help but feel a little ashamed that I always took them at face value, not really looking too deeply at them.” “Don’t be ashamed, Ruby. Think of it like this—I work in a creative field. You’ve

studied religion and sociology extensively. You utilize the hell out of the left side of your brain, the analytical side, and I favor the right side, the creative side.” He tugged on one of my braids. “I think that’s sexy.” He tugged a little harder, and I stepped right up against him. He lowered his voice when he said, “It’s not just that ass that I like, you know.” His fingers lightly traced over my hairline. “It’s what’s in here, what powers your thoughts, that poked at me, telling me to get in touch with you again.” The way his eyes searched my face made me suddenly feel vulnerable. Very rarely did I feel at a loss for words, but when Elias looked at me like that, like I was something else to him, I couldn’t find the words to pretend anymore. Gently, very gently, he pressed his lips to mine, almost like if he kissed me too hard, I’d shatter into a hundred pieces in his hands. The funny thing was, that’s exactly how I felt in that moment, in that brief bit of tenderness between us. The scent of pot wafted around me as we kissed and I pulled back, trying to compartmentalize all my emotions in that same second. “Hey, remember that pot we bought?” Elias nodded, but kept looking at me like he was waiting for me to say something about what he’d said to me. “When you’re done, do you want to get high?” His mouth tipped up in a smile, washing away his seriousness for a moment. “I’m just about done.” He looked around for a second and then leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Let’s do it.” “Is that against the rules? Am I being a bad influence?” He laughed and capped the front of his lens. “It might be, but I’m not too worried about it. And you’re the best kind of bad influence.” His eyes were heated, and the tension between us dissipated. “I’m guessing you brought them?” I nodded eagerly as I pulled the joints out of my purse. “Elias the bad boy.” I narrowed my eyes as I looked him up and down. “I like it.” “You don’t even know how bad I can be,” he said, plucking the joints from me. “Is that a promise for later?” I asked, trying not to sound too desperate. But I was. Having this conversation with him was like a different kind of foreplay, only satisfying my touch and sight senses. I wanted all of my senses to be obliterated by Elias. “It can be, depending.” He pulled out a lighter and placed one joint in his mouth. I waited for him to bring the lighter to it, but he brought it to the one he held in his hand instead. I watched, fascinated, as he spun the joint in his hands, applying the flame to just the tip. As the tip smoldered, he pulled it from the flame and brought the other end to his lips, swapping it out with the joint in his mouth. I watched as he inhaled and then pulled out, applying the flame again. He did this a couple times until he said, “Ahh,” in a satisfied-sounding tone. He held it up for inspection before handing it to me and then repeated the process with the unlit one in his hand. “You don’t light it while it’s in your mouth?”

He shook his head, and inhaled deeply. Opening his lips, he closed his eyes as the smoke flowed out from between his lips. The visual was incredibly erotic, and I found myself forgetting about my own joint as I watched him smoke his. “You have to create a cherry at the tip,” he said when he’d exhaled. He held the joint between his first and middle finger, turning his hand so I could see what he was talking about. “You want it to burn evenly, and if you inhale while you light it, you’ll get an uneven cherry.” I brought mine to my lips and sucked on it softly, not wanting to go hard right away. The taste was different, but not entirely unpleasant. I rubbed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, to see if I could get a better grasp on how it tasted. “Cherry, huh?” I asked as I exhaled. Elias’ eyes glittered in the sun and his smile looked wider as he took the next inhale. As I watched him exhale again, I felt even more desperate to get the hell out of this festival, so I could get high with Elias alone, with preferably fewer articles of clothing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Down the hallway of the hotel, Ruby kept the same beat that she’d maintained through the end of the festival and through the streets of Amsterdam. Her hips swayed with each step, a potent indication of what she was capable of doing with them in bed. “Where do you think you’re hurrying off to?” I called down to her. “I have the key.” She lifted her arms up and let them sway to a rhythm that I couldn’t hear. Weed, apparently, made Ruby really fucking happy. For two solid hours, she’d been dancing and smiling, a far cry from the woman who’d met me in the bar wearing a skin-tight black dress and a reserved smile. This Ruby was wild and free, uninhibited and happy. The walls were down around every part of her. Her hands touched me freely, her lips found mine countless times throughout the last two bands and we’d swayed together to the undeniably sexy beats of the final show. When she reached the door of our room, she turned to me, twisting her body into the kind of fluid movements that strippers dreamed of. Suddenly, a vision of Ruby on the pole, rolling her body around the stage stymied me. I wanted to see her dance for me. Just once. When I reached her, I pulled the key from my wallet and handed it to her, lifting my chin in expectation. Weed didn’t have a huge effect on me, only loosening the tight grips of my politeness. Sounded fucking ridiculous, I know. But the part of me that thought about how I spoke in public, how I introduced myself to people, the way I thought about how they might perceive me, that was not very present when I was under the influence. Basically, I was stripped down to the bare bones of what I wanted. I wanted to know Ruby. Wanted to see the sides of her that she kept hidden. And by god, I’d get to them tonight, since tomorrow we’d be boarding a plane. So instead of pushing her into the room, I gripped Ruby’s hips and tasted her top and bottom lip before sucking her tongue into my mouth. My hands were down into the back of her pants, gripping the taut flesh of her ass with my fingers. She broke her mouth away, sliding her hands underneath my shirt to finger the grooves of my abs.

“You’ve got the key, sweetheart,” I whispered into her ear. “But if you keep feeling me up like that, I’ll fuck you right here.” Ruby laughed, pulling her hands away and turning to face the door. Perfect, I could press myself against her back and tuck my hands down into the front of her shorts. Those fucking short shorts. All day, I’d had trouble keeping my eyes off the impossible length of her legs. “You wouldn’t do that,” she said while she fumbled with the key in the heavy wooden door. “I wouldn’t?” I licked up the side of her neck when she finally clicked the key into place, and we fell into the room. Ruby walked backward, pulling the yellow bandana out of her hair and using her fingers to pull apart the braids. “No. You wouldn’t take advantage of me in this state.” That stopped me short. Like someone had dropped a forty-foot brick wall right in front of me. “Of course I wouldn’t. Have I made you think that I would?” “No.” She shook her head, even though she already answered, which made the dark kinks of hair settle around her shoulders. Then she cocked her face to the side and gave me a considering look while she leaned back onto the bed. “But if you did, what you would you do?” “If I what?” My brain didn’t work when she looked at me like that, casual and sweet and curious. “If you wanted to take advantage of me, what would you do?” Dick? Hard. Heart? Pounding. I didn’t have the resolve for this kind of test. If Ruby pushed me, I’d fucking fall. But the thing she might not have realized is that I’d pull her down with me if I did. “I’d ask you questions,” I answered easily. It didn’t even register that she might find that funny until she laughed. “Really?” When I nodded in answer, she slumped back, her shoulders losing their frame. Her eyes were open and curious. “What would you ask? Hypothetically, I mean. If I were to tell you what you wanted to know.” I took a deep breath, sifting my thoughts like someone had just dumped out a box of puzzle pieces. “I don’t want to go down this path unless you actually mean to give me a truthful answer.” She smiled. “No games then?” “No games.” “Okay.” “Really?” I clarified. “You’ll answer me?” Her eyes were direct when she nodded, trained on me with so much candor that I forgot we had both taken a foreign substance. Nothing about this felt tainted or forced. It was me and her, an us that we’d never been before. “Okay then,” I said on an exhale. “I want to know about Nicholas.” I had enough presence of mind not to keep going. I wanted to say, I know he’s not a former client. I know you lied to me. I know you couldn’t trust me with the

truth. But I didn’t say those things, I just waited for her to confide in me. There was enough of a pause that I knew it would be the truth. When Ruby answered quickly, I trusted it less. Then it was practiced, a line off a script that I didn’t know we were reading. We both had cues, sending us offstage at different times, changing the lighting and the mood without the other’s knowledge. Me the client. Her the escort. Roles, characters, masks. But for once, it seemed, we were on the same page. Ruby and Elias. Student and photographer. Woman and man. No falsities, no pretense, no disguises. When she opened her mouth, it was truth that came out. I could tell before she said a word, just by seeing the look in her eye. “He … he wasn’t a client, like I said before.” She tucked a crimped piece of hair behind her ear. “We met in class, during undergrad. He was smart. Wittier than anyone else in that room, by a long shot.” I hated him. Just like that, more than the fucking psycho feeling he gave me at the hotel bar so many days ago, I hated him because I heard from her lips that he was smart. That he was witty. “How long were you together?” Her eyes were steady on me, despite the bouncing Ruby that I’d seen on our walk back. She was transparent now, willing to let me question her to satisfy the ridiculous alpha urges that were coursing through my veins. “Eighteen months.” I hissed in a breath, undoing my belt without even realizing that I was doing it. Her eyes tracked the motion, and in answer, she pulled the tank over her head, revealing her bare, full breasts underneath. Thousands of people had milled around us, and underneath the scant layer of white cotton, Ruby had been braless. It was enough to drive me fucking insane. And as much as I wanted to blame the weed, that wasn’t it. It was her. It was me. The combination of Ruby and me was enough to change my very DNA. Something welled up inside of me, possessive and greedy. Eighteen months was a long time, which is probably why his beady little eyes had looked at her like he owned her. I’d rip them out if I ever saw him again. “What happened?” Her fingers floated over my shoulders and her eyes followed them. “He got strange. Manipulative. Demanding. Didn’t like when I went out. Didn’t like when I dressed up. Always thought I was cheating on him. Finally got to the point where he was keeping me from class, because if I looked too nice before walking out the door, he’d threatened to kill himself if he found out I was cheating on him.” “What the fuck?” I said under my breath, unable to believe she was actually giving me all of this and didn’t expect me to fucking murder this guy once we were back in the States. “How long ago were you with him?” “Two years.” I pulled back and her hands fell away. “Right before you started this.”

She nodded and stood up. Her hands touched my waist and I could feel my skin tighten underneath her fingers. Could feel my dick stir right along with the visceral protective feelings that I was having. That guy made her feel out of control. Setting the parameters with her johns gave her that control back. “Did he hurt you?” I asked, trying to keep my thoughts centered, but her hands were moving over me, steady and sure. “He never hit me.” “That’s not a fucking answer.” Her eyes hit mine, like a fucking bullet. “Yes, it is.” “So what did he do to you?” “I don’t want to answer this,” she said immediately, harshly. But her breath was still mingling with mine, she was standing so close to me. “So tell me why I want to tell you.” “I don’t know,” I breathed, taking her mouth in a long, soft kiss. But I knew. I fucking knew. And I refused to believe that she didn’t know too. This was different, it was just for the two of us. And the idea that some numb-nut got into her head, into the brain of someone like her, oh, it fucking burned. “He … he just made me less. He made me feel small. Made me feel insignificant.” “Fucking hell, Ruby,” I growled, rolling my forehead against hers, like the touch of her skin could calm me, could soothe me. Then I pulled back. “When we ran into him at the bar, was that the first you’d seen him since you broke up?” She nodded, smoothing her hands over my skin. “He’s texted a few times over the years, but I usually just switch my number. I’ve never figured out how he keeps getting my new ones.” “Do you know what that does to me? To hear that?” Mother fucking Nicholas. I’d rip his balls out through his skin with my bare hands, shove them down his throat and let him choke on them for taking the beautiful, smart woman that Ruby was and making her feel so wildly out of control that charging strangers for sex felt like a good alternative. But without him, I’d never have met her. It stopped me short, right as I stepped up to her, ready to take her mouth with my own. “Don’t let him in here,” she begged me, lips a hair away from my own. “He has nothing to do with us.” I groaned, sliding my tongue in between her lips and splaying my hands on her naked back. Our mouths met over and over, her tits pressed tight against my chest. “Elias, please,” she said, when I ripped at the button of her miniscule shorts. “Tell me, Ruby. Fucking tell me what you want.” She braced both hands on my chest and shoved me back onto the bed. With sure hands, she pulled at my shorts, taking my boxers with when she pulled them off. Completely ready, my dick bobbed up and I gripped it with one hand. “That,” she whispered, looking at my cock. “I want that. It feels so fucking perfect inside of me.”

My fist worked up to the tip and unbidden, my hips lifted with the action. She bit her lip, crawling over me and licking up the base before kissing over my abs. The valley between her tits brushed over my dick and I bit out a curse. Ruby paused, looking at me with glowing eyes. “This?” she asked, pressing her breasts together over the head of my cock and working it in between the firm globes of flesh. “God, Ruby,” I groaned, tilting my chin up so I could see my dick sandwiched in between her tits. “If you don’t stop, I’ll come all over that pretty neck of yours.” She moved away, and I hated myself. Hated myself for breaking the moment, for correcting whatever the hell she was doing. Until her mouth was on mine, her tongue swirling in my mouth. Then there was no hate, no self-pity. It was all perfect. Her kisses were artless and a little clumsy. She grabbed at me with ferocious hands that held on too hard and cut too deep. I fucking loved it. Because it allowed me to do the same. I pinched at her nipples with fingers that had no finesse, and she gasped into my mouth. When I slicked the pads of my fingers over her hard clit, she swore, tilting her head back like she was a wanton sacrifice. And maybe she was. Maybe Ruby was sent to me as a sacrifice to a god of sex, of pleasure, of avarice. She couldn’t possibly last, because no one could feel this good, look this good, and fit this perfectly with me without there being some catch. Ruby held herself over me, her knees balanced outside of my legs. All of her curves were on display, and I wanted to be able to touch all of her at the same time. With one hand, I wanted to be able to cover her entire body. But I couldn’t. So when she rolled her hips, slicking the wet part of her pussy against the hardest part of me, I didn’t stop her. And when she gasped, using the head of my dick against her clit, I didn’t stop her. Stupid, yeah, it might have been. But when I felt the pure, unaltered, unfiltered heat of her against me, I wanted to push and thrust and conquer. It’s just the tip, I thought. Just the tip could go in and it wouldn’t hurt anybody. “Oh my fucking god, you feel so good,” she moaned, working herself over me in a cruel display of her body, one long undulating roll. It was cruel, because we shouldn’t have felt each other that way. Another inch into her scalding heat, and sweat beaded on my forehead. One more and I damn near sobbed. Then Ruby froze, her wide eyes meeting mine. “Holy shit, the condom.” Yeah. That. I held one hand on her hip, not allowing her to move. With the other, I grabbed a foil packet and ripped it open with my teeth, only slipping my dick out of her to roll it on with a quickness that I had no fucking clue I possessed. Once it was on, I used the hand on the sharp edge of her hipbone to guide her down again, until I was fully seated inside of her. Fucking heaven. “Yes, baby. That’s it.” She worked me, raising herself up and down, back and forth, in such slow,

tortuous movements that I almost cried. “Like that?” “Faster, baby. Show me how you fuck me.” Her eyes flared and her back arched so that she took me so deeply, so completely that my eyes rolled back in my head. Ruby moved her hips in a slow figure-eight movement and I gripped her with both hands. I wanted to see my fingerprints on her skin the next day. Wanted to know she’d see me for days after being away from me. The thought she might not made something snap, and I lifted one hand, only to slap her ass on her down thrust. She gasped, moving faster. I spanked her again, harder, so that my palm stung from the contact. “Harder,” she moaned. Down thrust, spank, pull of her hips up, hammer of my hips along with her, down thrust, spank, over and over until I knew she’d bruise. On her last down thrust, I hit her so hard that she cried out, and I let my fingers curve into her firm flesh while I filled the condom with a roar. We were leaving tomorrow, but no part of me wanted to separate from Ruby. After we cleaned up, she curled into my side, her forehead pressed into the most vulnerable spot on my neck. The same place that if she pushed hard enough, if she opened the skin there, she’d let all the blood spill out of my body. And while we fell asleep, wrapped around each other, I whispered to her, “I don’t want you to be anyone else’s but mine.” And I knew she’d done about the second most damaging thing she could have possibly done to me. Ruby implanted herself in my heart, next to my pulse, into my veins, and I’d never be rid of her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Even though we’d only spent a week in Amsterdam, something had changed between us before we’d landed back on U.S. soil. I’m not sure when the change had been initiated, because everything we did had seemed natural. But when Elias had said goodbye to me at the airport, he’d held me a little tighter than he’d ever held me. And when he had let go, I’d nearly called him back to me. Instead, I stood on the pavement by the open door to my cab, watching him walk away from me with a mix of anxiety. The thin pump of my heel had quivered as I’d slid into my cab, and I stared at my phone the entire ride to my apartment, waiting for Elias to text me again. Which he had, that night. Elias: Does it make me less of a man to admit that I want to see you again already? That was one of the things I appreciated about him the most—his gutless honesty. And his ability to say exactly what I was thinking, but what I didn’t feel— as his paid company—appropriate to say. I’d typed up my reply, It makes you more of a man, to tell me how you feel. It made me a little breathless, to know that his interest in me wasn’t just thanks to our paid arrangement. So when his reply came through, I felt my entire chest constrict. Elias: I haven’t even touched the surface, Ruby. After that, we’d made plans to meet at one of the hotels on the upper east side, away from the areas we’d frequented. In a way, it felt like we were capturing a small moment of the privacy we’d had in Amsterdam. The thought of alone time with Elias had made me positively giddy, and had warmed a part of me that hadn’t been warmed in so long I’d forgotten it had existed altogether. It was crazy—mind-bogglingly crazy. I couldn’t be falling for my client. No way. I’d kept myself always at a distance, at least emotionally. Right? That’s what I’d convinced myself of at least, as I stood in the hotel room I’d

gotten for the night. It’d been two days since I had said goodbye to him, and to say I was looking forward to being spread out underneath him was a major understatement. I’d just felt … happy. The word itself seemed inadequate for the way I felt after returning home from Amsterdam. Something had clicked between me and Elias, something I couldn’t articulate. As I applied another coat of mascara, my phone chimed from the inside of my clutch. Stella: Drinks tomorrow? Lenore hooked me up with a foot fanatic and he chewed off most of my pedicure. She’d included an emoji that looked like it was visibly ill. Laughing, I tapped out my reply, Should I break out the nail polish so you’re ready for your next date with him? Stella’s reply was a meme of someone vomiting in the street. I laughed again and checked the time. I had just about fifteen minutes before I was supposed to meet Elias in the bar, so I checked my appearance again in the mirror just as a knock sounded at the door. Elias. The thought made a smile form easily across my red-slicked lips. An effortless smile, I acknowledged, as I strode to the door and checked my reflection one last time. Excitement bubbled up inside of me as I closed my fingers on the door handle and just as I was about to turn the handle, my phone rang. I knew because of the customized ring tone that it was Lenore calling me, but knowing Elias was on the other side of the door caused me to ignore the phone completely as I turned the handle. The smile fell just as fast as my stomach when I saw who was on the other side of the door. In fact, I was in such tremendous shock from it that I couldn’t form a single word. “Ruby,” Nicholas said, stepping into the room uninvited. I had already been stepping aside, automatically, when I’d thought it was Elias on the other side of the door. But seeing Nicholas instead made my heels feel like I was walking on toothpicks, and I nearly stumbled as he brushed right on past me. My blood ran cold at seeing him step into the hotel room and crane his neck around the space. He was taller than me, that much I’d remembered after so long away from him. He still looked the same, with his blonde hair slicked back and eyes piercing as he looked into the bathroom. Finally, I found my voice. “What are you doing here? How did you know I was here?” “I’m resourceful.” He gave me a once-over before stepping fully into the bathroom. With legs that felt like they were made of cement, I stepped around the corner and watched him go through the items on the sink before he picked up a bag I’d packed especially for that night. I’d rarely brought it around, but tonight had

felt special. I’d packed some of my favorite toys, oils, and lubes, with every intention of catering to Elias. It was as if I was having an out-of-body experience, watching him as I stood frozen, unable to stop him from tearing apart my life all over again. It was the thought of Elias that made me speak. “No,” I said, firmly, my backbone shoring up for a confrontation. “Get out, don’t touch my stuff.” I was so shell shocked by his presence that I knew my voice sounded weak. “I’m serious, Nicholas.” He ignored me, unzipping the bag and up-ending it onto the counter. Glass bottles of lube clattered across the marble countertop and a feather boa fell to the floor. “What the fuck is this, Ruby?” I realized in that moment just how crippling running into him was. Because I found myself formulating excuses, instantly, as if I’d become conditioned to his presence again, and his unwavering requirement for me to explain myself. “I…” I started, but didn’t continue. He made me powerless, a feeling I had abhorred so tremendously that I’d sought out the job I was in—something that gave me control. And I just stood there, while he ripped through my things like he had every right. He plucked the bullet I’d kept in my bag of sex toys and held it up, pinched between two fingers. When he looked at me, his mouth was curved down and his eyes were full of disgust. “And this?” I pressed my palm to the wall to steady myself. Already, I felt myself crumbling before him. He’d never hit me, but his words had still had an effect, reducing me to a pile of woman who was ashamed for being exactly who she was. “Get out, Nicholas,” I said, forcing steel into my gaze. “I don’t want you here.” “Oh yeah?” he asked, swiping my sexual paraphernalia off of the counter so that it clattered to the floor. I shook from the sound of everything crashing onto tile and backed up from the door as he strode toward me. “Get out,” I said, not actually afraid he’d hurt me. But the effect of his presence was doing a number on my resolve. I had never felt weaker than when I was facing off against Nicholas. Just then, my phone rang and I knew, because of the ringtone, that Elias was calling me. Nicholas glanced at the table where my cell phone was, and picked up my phone. “Who’s Elias?” I kept my mouth shut, because no matter how I tried to reason with him, nothing would help him. When I stood there, doing nothing, Nicholas spun around. “Who are you waiting for?” he asked, and for the first time, his voice sounded almost shrill. The phone stopped ringing and I watched him, helpless, as he tapped my code to unlock the phone—my birthday—and then reached for it when he opened up my text messages. “Give me my phone and get out of here. I don’t want to say it again.” I tried to take the phone from him, but he held his arms up and gave me a look, all wild-eyed

and crazed that I pulled my hand back in fear. “Look at you,” he spat, lifting his head at me. “Dressed like a slut. Who are you spreading your legs for, Ruby?” His words can’t touch me, I chanted. “What do you want? We’ve been over for two years.” “Oh, so you can answer—” he paused and squinted “—Elias’ texts, but you can’t reply to mine.” His anger was palpable, a presence itself in the room. I knew I needed to keep my voice calm and even, so that I didn’t incite more rage. “Honestly, I thought you’d see my lack of response and drop it.” I should’ve known better, I told myself. Nicholas was like a dog with a bone. He’d never have let up. It was inevitable that he’d turn up. “What the fuck?” he asked, holding the phone for me to see. “Who is he, Ruby? Who? He must be someone important, for you to dress like a five-dollar whore.” He flung a hand toward the bathroom. “For you to bring all that garbage with you. What? He’s not good enough that you need toys to get you off?” I wouldn’t entertain his diatribe. I reached for my phone again but he stepped toward me with eyes so cold, I stepped back until I was up against the bed. For the first time, I felt true fear. I’d seen Nicholas controlling, I’d experienced his manipulation. But I’d never seen him out of control—not like this. “You know,” he said, waving my phone in the air, “I heard a rumor about you. Through the grapevine. Is it true? Are you a prostitute?” I wouldn’t dignify his assumptions, either. It didn’t matter if I told him I was an escort. If nothing else, it would only be gasoline to the fire already burning within him. “You are, aren’t you?” He laughed, but he didn’t sound like he was enjoying himself. “You’re paid to fuck dirty old men in rooms like this.” He looked around the room, his hair coming undone from the slicked back look he’d sported when he’d walked into the room. “Because that’s really all you’re good for, isn’t it?” He stepped toward me and I backed up so far that the back of my knees hit the bed and, ungracefully, I sat on the edge. “I remember. You used to blow me really good.” As if he was lost in that memory, he brushed a hand down the front of his pants. “Do you remember?” I didn’t want to. “Get out, Nicholas.” Oh, how I wanted to sound strong. Powerful. But I was reduced to who he’d sculpted me into when we’d dated. My phone rang again in his hand and he stared at it. I wished I could will him to answer it, somehow. Elias would know something was wrong right away. “You were really great at giving head,” he said again, and stopped his advance toward me to tap on his chin. “Where could you have learned that?” It was one of the arguments we had often, and the first time I’d given him a blowjob, he’d accused me of cheating before I’d been able to even clean myself up afterwards. “You used to cheat on me all the time, that’s how you learned how to be like a

fucking gymnast when we had sex, right?” He was reducing me, smaller and smaller, as he tore at me. I’d never cheated on him. But I’d endured a year and a half of questioning before I’d finally had the courage to walk away. I needed to find the courage again. Nicholas picked up my clutch and dumped it, picking through its contents. I felt trapped, unable to walk away without him coming after me. And because I was on the fourteenth floor, I knew I was a long, long way from help. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the hotel room phone. If I could get to it, I could call down to reception. I waited until Nicholas was distracted by my cell phone ringing again when I dove for the hotel room phone. His hand closed on my ankle just as my fingers closed on the receiver. And when he yanked, the phone ripped off the nightstand and clattered to the floor. My fear amplified when he stepped around the bed to rip the phone completely away from the wall. I was afraid to look at Nicholas’ face, because I knew I’d see someone who terrified me to my bones. Elias, I thought. He was the only thing I wanted in that moment.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Another drink, sir?” The bartender asked me in an obviously flirty tone, leaning her elbows on the slick black bar top so that her cleavage was obvious in the tasteful uniform she was wearing. “No, thank you.” My polite tone and apologetic smile was the best I could do, instead of saying, fuck no, you’re not brunette enough, with dark enough eyes, or with the right kind of smile to interest me. “I’m waiting for someone.” “I’ll check back when they get here.” I rolled the glass around, listening to the sharp clink of the ice cubes against the glass before taking another look at my watch. Ruby was late, which was unlike her. Over my shoulder, I looked around the hotel bar again, just in case she was sitting somewhere with her back toward me. Sad how I now viewed women under a different light, a different framework, comparing them all to Ruby. It wasn’t just her looks, her stunning body, or the raw sex appeal that she exuded just by walking into a room. There was a spark in her brain, so bright and quick, and it called to me in the same way that her body did. Her lips and legs and breasts held the same demand that her wit and her humor, her voracious need for knowledge did. How the fuck did that happen? Thirty-four years old, and I was feeling fucking butterflies for an escort. Someone I’d hired to screw me senseless. I snorted. I was senseless, all right. Completely without my faculties for feeling nervous about seeing her again. For wondering if she was planning something special for us, with the hotel and the meet-up in the bar, like our first night. The ticking hands on my watch were mocking me with each slight movement. Slight, they may have been, but by the time the ice had melted in my glass, I was really starting to get worried. Ruby would never keep me waiting for twenty minutes without responding to my call. I tried again, holding the phone up to my ear and frowning when it went right to her voicemail. Instead of leaving a message, I pulled up my text screen to Ruby. You standing me up, beautiful? Even though I was smiling when I sent it, I wasn’t feeling all that amused. The

text didn’t show that it was delivered, like it always did. Ruby told me once that she always kept that phone on. Always. That Lenore didn’t like it when she couldn’t get in touch with the girls. I drummed my hands on the bar and felt the pit in my stomach grow. She’d never been late, not by a minute. And she never turned off the phone. Without thinking too much about it, I pulled up the number that I had for Lenore. She answered smoothly, and I barely let a single word get out. “Lenore, it’s Elias, and I’m worried about Ruby.” “What’s wrong?” she snapped, her tone shifting from polite to fucking army general in an instant. “She’s twenty minutes late for meeting me, and her phone is off.” “Fucking hell,” she whispered, and the sound of clicking computer keys filled the background. “Dave and Taylor are about ten minutes out. Another girl just checked in safe, so they can head to you.” “I don’t want to wait that long.” I tapped my fist on the bar top. “Come on, what name would she keep the reservation under? I can’t get a key unless I know the name, and she didn’t tell me the room number because we were supposed to meet in the bar.” “I never give out that information to clients.” “Cut the shit, Lenore,” I barked at her, and drew a surprised look from the bartender. I stood and fished a twenty out of my wallet before tossing it onto the bar for my drink. “I’m worried, and you know she’d want you to give me the information.” “No need to get testy,” she said in a cool voice, still typing away. “Fine. It’s under the name Stevenson, in room Fourteen-Twenty.” “Thank you,” I told her meaningfully, and hung up so I could head to the front desk. A young woman in a sleek black jacket stood behind the perfectly appointed granite. I gave her the most charming smile I could manage. “Hi, I lost my key. Last name is Stevenson. I’m in room Fourteen-Twenty.” “Of course, sir,” she said with a small smile, flicking her eyes over my face before pulling up the reservation. “Here it is.” I winked, even though my body was vibrating with the need to go check on Ruby. “Much appreciated.” When she slid me the key, I tapped the counter in thanks and tried my best not to sprint to the elevator. It was empty when the shining doors slid open and I jabbed at the button for the fourteenth floor. “Come on, come on, come on,” I whispered at the painfully slow ascent of the sleek elevator. You’d think if a hotel would spring for modern décor, they could have put one in that moved at more than two miles per fucking hour. At this rate, I could’ve rappelled up the elevator shaft faster. With a pleasant ding, the doors opened on the fourteenth floor and I jogged down the hall in the direction of the room. When I reached it, I took a second to pull in a deep breath, so I could calmly

listen at the door. There was a crash and a curse. A male voice. Calm got thrown right out the fucking window. As quietly as I could, I slipped the key into the slot on the door and waited for the light to turn green. The voice got louder, and I heard a few words that made a murderous red haze cover my eyes. Whore. Bitch. Slut. Quiet got thrown right out the fucking window. I was in the room, door slamming up against the wall in my next breath. Ruby was huddled on the floor up against the bed, her face white and her eyes terrified. The hotel phone was ripped off the nightstand. That fucking psycho—Ruby’s ex—turned with wide eyes when I charged at him. I grabbed him by the shirt with both hands, shoving him against the wall with a roar. “I will fucking end you, asshole,” I ground out, using all my strength to hold him up so that his feet couldn’t touch the floor. His arms swung ineffectually at me, glancing hits that didn’t even register. I pulled one arm back and rammed it into his stomach. Again, but harder, and I felt something break under my hands. “Stop! I didn’t touch her!” I slammed him against the wall again, then pressed my forearm against his throat. When he squirmed, I pressed harder. My face turned briefly to Ruby, who had unfolded herself and was staring at me with an expression that was half misery and half awe. “Did he?” I asked her. “Did he fucking touch you?” “Ruby, tell him,” Psycho wheezed. “Tell him I didn’t touch you.” “Shut up,” I roared at him. When I narrowed my eyes and leaned in so close that our noses almost touched, the whites of his eyes doubled in size. “If you can still manage to talk, then I’m not going my job.” “My ankle,” she whispered and I snapped my head to her. “What?” Ruby lifted her chin and leveled a glare at Nicholas. “He grabbed my ankle and yanked me down when I tried to run for the phone.” Nicholas flipped out when I turned my eyes back to him. Maybe he saw the switch, maybe he saw that I was imagining all the ways I could make his body disappear. There were so many demons that I battled on a regular basis. And the things that I knew I was capable of, but hadn’t done in so many years, resurfaced in a rush. I grabbed his throat with both hands and squeezed, relishing the way his eyes popped and he clawed at my hands while I towered over him. “You fucking touched her? Huh? God, you don’t even know what I could do to you, do you, fucker?” “Elias,” Ruby said, standing up and touching my shoulder. One touch and something settled inside of me. Something quieted, something steadied. “Don’t kill him.” “Why the hell not?” “Because I’d rather not have to visit you in jail.” Her voice was shaking, and I

pinched my eyes shut, because that slight tremor was enough to make me want to rip his head off with my bare hands. Mine, mine, mine, I wanted to say to him when I did it. He touched what was mine. Hurt her. Scared her. Made her fold herself up to be smaller, to be less of a target. Made her want to be less than what she is. My fingers tightened and he wheezed. Then I let go, and he slumped onto the floor, rubbing at his neck and struggling for breath. I turned and folded Ruby in my arms, and she let out a few shaky exhales. “Asshole,” Nicholas rasped out. I pulled my head back and looked at Ruby briefly, then turned so I could pull my leg back and kick him in the ribs. He groaned and rolled into a ball on the floor, when there was a knock on the door. Ruby’s eyes widened in fear until someone spoke. “Ruby? It’s Dave and Taylor.” Her shoulders slumped in relief and she hurried to open the door. Two massive guys in suits walked in. No necks, wide shoulders, and no hair. Nondescript faces. Cold eyes. They were the perfect goons. The one on the right gave Nicholas a chilling look before turning to me. “You do that?” “Yes, sir.” “Thank you,” he said, and lifted his chin at the other one, who nodded and walked over to Nicholas. “You okay, Ruby?” She smiled, but it was shaky. “Yeah. Thanks for getting here so fast, Dave. Who called you?” “He called Lenore,” he said, pointing at me. “Said she’d chop our dicks off if we weren’t here within five minutes.” Ruby looked at me with gratefulness in her eyes and reached for my hand, weaved her fingers in between mine. They were ice cold. Dave noticed her gesture, but didn’t say anything. Taylor hefted Nicholas up, who groaned, clutching at his ribs. “What are you going to do with him?” I asked. Both men looked at me, but didn’t say anything. “Got it. I’d rather not know anyway.” “How are you going to get him out of here without anybody noticing?” Ruby asked from beside me, looking at Nicholas without a single ounce of compassion. Actually, she looked just about as bloodthirsty as I felt. “You let us worry about that, sweetheart,” Taylor said with a heavy Jersey accent. Nicholas whimpered in between them, and my fists curled with the raging desire to break his nose. Maybe he’d choke on his blood if I snapped the cartilage badly enough. Dave and Taylor traded hushed words and then Dave tapped out a text with meaty fingers. He pinned Ruby with a serious look, but there was affection underneath it.

“You don’t need to worry about this prick anymore. You got me?” “Yeah. Thank you.” And then they were gone, practically dragging Nicholas between them. If I thought too hard about what they were about to do, I might have felt bad. But when I looked over at Ruby, who was staring at the closed door like it held some sort of dark curse, that feeling went away. I’d have helped, if they’d asked me to. “Hey,” I said softly, squeezing my fingers around hers, trying to imbue her with some strength. “Are you okay?” Her breathing picked up and her hand shook in mine. “Oh my god, Elias.” I shook my head and faced her, sliding my free hand up her arm so I could cup the side of her neck. When I pressed my thumb underneath her jaw, she was forced to look at me. Her lips trembled, and my fucking heart broke. If something had happened to her today, I’d have never gotten over it. Never. I wrapped her in my arms and shut my eyes against the knowledge that I was fucking falling in love with her. And it changed everything.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

He’d saved me. Elias had saved me. He was holding me tight enough to make me believe that nothing bad could happen to me, ever again. The harrowing ordeal of the last however long slowly slipped from my shoulders as Elias held onto me. I pressed my nose against his shirt, breathing in his calming scent. His heart was pounding beneath my ear, and I found myself counting the beats, one by one, to keep myself focused. “Thank you,” I whispered. His arms around me shuddered for a moment and then he said, “Fuck, Ruby.” The raw emotion in his voice made me squeeze my eyes closed tightly. I thought of the state Nicholas had been in when Taylor and Dave had practically dragged him out. Part of me almost felt bad for the state he was in, like I was thinking about it in an abstract way. That part was eclipsed by the fact that Nicholas had ignored every request for him to leave, and that—unforgivably—he’d put his hands on me. Seeing Elias pummel him had washed me with satisfaction. And now that the room was calmer, and I was wrapped in the same arms that had fueled those punches, I felt myself sinking into Elias’ touch. Pulling back, I leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw. His pulse there leapt against my lips and his hands ran up my back, soothingly. He made a little noise in the back of his throat when my fingers climbed up his chest, to hook my arms around his neck as my kisses moved the length of his jaw. Heat was spreading through me as my kisses turned urgent, spreading across his neck and down to his chest as I undid the buttons of his shirt. “Ruby,” he said, but didn’t make a move to stop me. His hands found my hair and dipped behind, gently massaging the base of my scalp as I freed the last button of his shirt and ripped it open. He was so beautiful, all that ink over his pecs and down his arms. You wouldn’t know just by looking at him, that he was covered in this much ink. I pressed my lips to the sharp lines of a geometric feather, and then glided my tongue along the line of the quill. His heartbeat was slowing under my hands, so I slipped my hands underneath

his shirt to climb up his spine. He was so warm, so muscular; I didn’t think I could ever not feel safe when I was with him. A mix of gratitude and sudden arousal was spreading through me, and I desperately wanted to show him my appreciation, right there and then, in the chaos of the room. Gently, I backed him up so he hit the bed and sat on the end. Just like I’d done, when Nicholas had advanced toward me. The thought slipped past my defenses and I pressed on, willing it to be erased with Elias’ touch. I tore the shirt off his arms and flew it across the room before I stepped back and pulled the side zipper down on my dress. It fell in a soft swoosh, and the only sounds in the room were our breathing. His chest was heaving as he looked at me, and I could tell he wanted to say something. But I didn’t want words, I just wanted him to distract me from the shambles of the room. I stepped toward him, and my feet brushed up against the phone on the floor. I again thought of Nicholas and I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to forget what I’d just gone through. “Ruby,” Elias said, and diverted my attention enough so that I remembered what I was doing. Quickly, I crawled up onto the bed and straddled his lap, wrapping my arms around him. I wanted the feel of him around me to make me forget. I wanted to lose this memory in Elias’ arms. I planted my mouth on his and kissed him hard enough to bruise us both when his hands came to my waist. I could feel his erection pressing against my ass so I ground myself against it roughly. I wanted Elias to be rough with me, for his touch to erase Nicholas’ touch. Elias rolled, flipping me to my back on the bed. For a second, I lost my breath, remembering when Nicholas had grabbed my ankle and pulled me down. The thought must have registered on my face, because Elias leaned up and looked at me. “What are you doing?” he asked me softly, pushing strands of hair away from my cheek. If I talked about it right then, I’d go back to feeling weak, powerless, defeated. I didn’t want to talk to Elias about what had happened. I just wanted to forget. So I lifted my arms to encircle his neck and pulled him down so he was kissing me. His touch was gentle—too gentle. “Kiss me,” I said against his mouth. I nipped at his bottom lip with my teeth, hoping my rough touch would inspire him to be rougher with me too. “You don’t want to do this right now,” he said, but I could tell his body was at war with his mind as his hand slid down my chest, over my bra’s front hooks that held my cups in place. “I do,” I said, hooking my hand in the front of his pants and yanking him closer when he tried to move away. “Come on.” My voice was a little pleading, but my

hands were hungry. “Ruby,” he said on a sigh and tried to move off of me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled so that I was lifted off the bed, sucking at his lips hungrily, my nails biting into his back. All the things I knew he liked. “Stop,” he said softly, but I kept kissing him, pressing my palms against his erection over his pants. “Please,” I said and this time I lost the finesse I’d forced into my voice. “Please, help me forget.” At that, he pulled away completely, but reached down to pull me up so he still held me, as he had before, with nothing sexual about his touch. “I don’t want to have sex with you as a means for you to forget what just happened in this room.” He pulled back and pressed two fingers to my chin, bringing my face up so that he looked into my eyes. “Then don’t think of it like that,” I pleaded. “Just kiss me. Let’s get lost in each other.” His fingers glided back from my chin to brush along my cheekbone. “Ruby, I’m already lost in you. But I don’t want our first time—our real first time—to be like this. In this room. I don’t want it to be a distraction, I want it to mean something on its own.” The blood drained from my face, very slowly, as I absorbed that. Our first time. What did that mean? Did I even want to know what that meant? “Hold on,” I said, prying myself from his arms and tucking into the bathroom. Once the door was closed between us, I slid down the cool wood until my ass was on the cold tile. Our first time. It kept repeating itself, an endless loop in my head. It wasn’t our first time having sex—a fact that was incredibly obvious. But then what? Our first time as … what? Slowly, I stood back up and looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess of tangles and curls, my red lipstick was smeared over my lips. I looked like a woman completely lost. I’m already lost in you, he’d said. Was I lost in him, too? “Fuck,” I said in a horrified whisper. I hadn’t clung to him like an escort seducing her client. I’d clung to him seeking refuge from the nightmare that had just occurred, but I hadn’t once thought about the fact that he was my client. He’d just been Elias, the man I’d wished for when I’d been scared. I knew, right then, as I stood barefoot among the items splayed across the floor, that I was falling for Elias. I might have already fallen. He wasn’t just a client to me, and if I was brave enough to admit it to myself, he hadn’t been just a client for a while. Maybe it had happened in Amsterdam, when things between us hadn’t been built on pretense. Everything had felt so natural, so … real. “Fuck,” I said again. I could not be in love with my client. Rule number one as an escort: don’t let it get messy. That four-letter word? Was messy—in capital letters.

I had to get away from Elias. I was a little embarrassed, sure, that I’d tried to seduce him as a way to forget what had happened with Nicholas. But I was deeply, profoundly, horrified that I’d fallen for him. I quickly pulled my hair into a ponytail and rubbed a wet washcloth around my mouth until the skin was raw. Reaching into the closet, I grabbed the outfit I’d packed, intending to wear it home the day after Elias and I had had sexual acrobatics all over the room. I couldn’t put myself back in the dress I’d been wearing when Nicholas had touched me. No fucking way. A knock on the door was quickly followed by Elias saying, “Are you okay? Come out, so we can talk.” There was no fucking way I could talk with Elias about this. If he had even a tiny bit of the same feelings I had for him, we were in deep shit. If he didn’t have any feelings for me, I was in deep shit, all by myself. I slipped on the flip flops I’d packed and opened the door, my bag in hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, and dragged a hand through his hair. He looked tense, but eager to hash everything out. “Talk to me.” Spying my phone on the floor, I scooped it up. I put on my most professional face and said, “Actually, I’m just going to leave.” He looked at me, stunned, and tried to follow me to the door. “You’re leaving right now?” I nodded, not wanting to say a single word as I kept my back to him. “Don’t leave. I’m sorry for pushing you away. It’s not that I didn’t want you, Ruby,” he began. “I understand,” I told him. “But it’s best if I leave this room.” My voice was calm, cool, a complete contradiction to how I felt inside. “Want to go to my place?” he asked. “No,” I said as I opened the door. “I need to be alone.” I wouldn’t meet his eyes. “What’s going on, Ruby? Come back, we should talk.” “No,” I told him again, still not meeting his eyes as I walked stiffly to the elevator. I punched the down arrow and prayed it would hurry. Elias stood in the doorway of the hotel; I could see him in my periphery. And as the elevator doors slid open with a ding, I kept my face forward so he couldn’t see the hurt I wore plainly on my face. Back at my apartment, Fletcher meowed for attention from me the second I opened the door. The whole cab ride to my home, I’d thought about how Elias had looked at me as I’d left—confused and desperate. It had hurt me, walking away as coldly as I had. But I couldn’t verbally process my feelings, not with Elias and not in that moment. Fletcher nuzzled against my neck and purred happily as I scratched behind his ears. I was so thankful to have that white fur ball, the one thing who expected so little from me.

That’s how it should have been with Elias. Our arrangement had been for my services as an escort. Feelings had been completely off the table, because they were never a worry or expectation in this line of work. And yet, there I was, curling up on my couch in the dark with Fletcher on my lap and a heart that was positively aching. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d thought I only needed reprieve from Nicholas, and how he’d affected me. But more paramount was the fact that I’d fallen in love with a man who had, essentially, paid me for sex. “Shit,” I murmured and rubbed a hand over the sore spot in my chest. Fletcher pushed his face against my hand, needy for affection, and I rubbed over his soft coat absently as I looked out the window of my apartment, into the dark evening skyline of New York City. Saying goodbye to Elias had momentarily distracted me from what had happened with Nicholas, but now that I was alone, it all crept back in. Wrapping the throw blanket from the back of the couch around my shoulders, I remembered the fear I’d felt, the way I’d shrunken down to almost nothing. I turned on the television for a much-needed distraction, flipping through all the channels until I settled on a romantic comedy, something to brighten the dark night. One movie bled into another, and by the time I told myself to go to bed, I was bone-deep tired. The emotional upheaval was setting in, and I climbed in between my flannel sheets with a heavier heart than I’d had when I’d last been in this bed. Right before my eyes slid closed, I wondered what Elias was thinking, feeling, doing. I shook my head. I couldn’t think about him like that. I couldn’t worry about Elias. I needed to end our business relationship so that we could both move on from this … mistake.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Where to, man?” The taxi driver asked me, giving a mildly annoyed look when he smelled the alcohol on my breath. “Millennium Tower on W 30th,” I said, settling into the seat and closing my eyes. After a few blocks of fitful starts and stops, I opened my eyes and watched the city sweep past in a colorful blur. It was still barely light out and the streets were packed, like they always were when the weather was nice in New York. Happy people, living their lives, not being in love with an escort. Those fuckers. I must have made a disgruntled noise, because the driver looked over at me. “You okay?” “No. I fell in love.” “Ahh.” He scratched the side of his face with blunt fingers, lifting his eyebrows. “That’s the pits, man. I take it she don’t love you back?” I glared at him and he wisely shut up for the rest of the drive to Jack’s apartment. I gave my driver a good tip for keeping his mouth zipped and got a disapproving look from the doorman when I had a hard time walking a straight line through the massive lobby. “Jack Waterman. Tell him it’s Elias,” I told him and tried to stay in one spot in front of his imposing desk. How my friend was so fucking rich, I didn’t quite know. I asked once if he had gold bricks stashed somewhere once and he only flipped me off. On the other end of the receiver, I could hear Jack’s voice. The doorman smiled. “Yes, sir. I’ll let him up.” I rolled my eyes and got another stern look. The elevator opened and I hit the button for the twentieth floor. Jack was waiting for me outside of his door, with an amused expression on his face. “Well, well, look what the pussy dragged in.” Then he tilted his head. “Or kicked out by the look of you.” “Can I come in or not?” He pointed a finger at me. “If your drunk ass wakes up Grace, I’ll string you up.” “Deal.”

I walked in behind him, making sure the door didn’t slam shut. Jack’s apartment was probably twice the size of mine, with a clear view of the Hudson and sparkling city lights from the long line of windows framing his apartment. It would have been a killer bachelor pad, if not for the princess castle in one corner, crayon art all over the fridge and Barbies littering the couch at random intervals. “Water?” He asked, tossing me a bottle without waiting for an answer. “How about some bourbon instead?” “Nuh-uh, no way. I actually do care about the wellbeing of your liver, and would prefer not to contribute to any alcohol poisoning we’ve got going on here.” Jack sat on the couch and pinned me with a look. I gave him one right back. He bent his brows when I didn’t say anything. “Listen, you’re the one showing up drunk at ten on a Saturday night. That’s only allowed if you actually talk to me.” “You’re gonna judge me.” “I’ll do no such thing.” His arms spread open like, hit me with it. So I did. “I fell in love with Ruby.” “You fucking idiot,” he groaned. “You don’t fall in love with a hooker.” “Hey,” I barked. “She’s not a hooker.” His jaw dropped open. “Dear God, you’ve lost your mind. Does she have a magic pussy or something? Drenched in gold? Does it do your taxes for you? Because that’s the only reason I can see this happening.” I gripped the sides of my head when I sat opposite from him on the couch. “If I had any other person I could confide in right now, believe me, I’d be with them. You fucking suck at this.” “Dude, this is why you meet women the old-fashioned way. Buy them a drink, hold the door for them and tell them they have a beautiful smile before you go out with them. You don’t slip them an envelope of cash first and expect things to play out in a normal, healthy way.” My knee bounced while I stared at him. Why the fuck was I friends with Jack anyway? “She doesn’t want to do this forever. She’s so damn smart, Jack.” “So you asked her? You asked her to quit her job selling her body to be with you?” My teeth clenched together so hard that black spots danced on the outer edges of my vision. “No.” “How do you see this playing out, Elias? Honest question. No bullshit.” I dropped my head back onto the couch and stared at his ceiling until my eyes dried out and I was forced to blink. Even though the feelings were there, and had been there since before Amsterdam, if I was honest with myself, Jack’s question wasn’t something I’d really thought through. How I saw it playing out was I’d somehow fumble through a profession of how I felt for her, she’d tackle me (preferably naked), say she felt the same way, and we’d screw ourselves into oblivion. Forever and ever, end of story. She’d quit that day, and we’d travel the world together.

In the haze of bourbon in my head, it all made perfect sense. But I knew her well enough now. What happened with Nicholas scared the shit out of her, and I couldn’t blame her for it. Couldn’t blame her for seeking an outlet once we were alone. If I’d felt even half of what I did for her, I wouldn’t have told her no. I would have laid back and let her use me until the darkness had abated. But if Ruby had fucked me to help her clear another man from her head and her body and her heart, I would’ve wanted to rip my skin off and let it burn. Fuck, she made me think violent things. “I don’t know how I see it playing out, Jack,” I lied. “But I can’t know until I talk to her.” “You tried earlier?” I nodded. “She had some fucked-up run-in with an ex, and it shook her up. She totally shut down on me.” He sighed. “Look, man, that was her real life, right? You’re in her business life. Mixing the two together has got to be weird for her. Just give her some time to figure her shit out.” Immediately, I could feel my defenses rise. I wasn’t business for Ruby. There was no fucking way that she was like that with all of her clients. Even a single other client besides me. And it wasn’t because I took her on a trip. That was the vehicle, sure. We were able to spend all that time together, completely isolated from this situation, but there wasn’t one fucking part of me that doubted that we would have gotten that close anyway. It may have taken every single day of the thirty we had, but we would have ended up right fucking here. But I didn’t argue with him, because no matter what he said, Jack did judge women like Ruby. It wouldn’t do me any good right now to try and convince him that I wasn’t crazy. My feelings were real, and that was all he needed to know. If Ruby gave me a chance, God, he’d see it. He’d see exactly why I was whining on his couch because I couldn’t stand being alone at my place. I could do it. I could talk to Ruby and let her see how well it would work. There was no fucking way she didn’t see how we fit together. “I just want to be with her,” I said quietly, staring at the windows of Jack’s apartment. “Like, long haul, future shit?” When I looked over at Jack, there was no laughter in his expression. He knew what a big deal it was for me to even contemplate going down that road. “Yeah. All of it.” He lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Well. That’s something I’ve never heard from you before.” “I know.” “I’ll say this. If she’s everything you say she is, and if she’s been able to actually make you hope for the kind of future that you usually avoid like the fucking Plague, then I hope it works out for you. I really do.” I rubbed at the back of my neck, a little uncomfortable about how weighty he

made her influence sound. Not because it wasn’t true, I knew that it was. It was uncomfortable because I knew how much power she had to fucking crush me if she didn’t want the same thing. “Daddy?” A little voice said from the hallway. Grace yawned, rubbing at her eyes while she walked toward us in a light purple nightgown that dragged on the floor. “Uncle Elias?” “Hey, princess,” I said, holding my arms out for her. She crawled into my lap and tucked her face into my chest. “Did we wake you up?” She shook her head, eyes already closed. “I had a dream about Mommy.” Jack gave me a sad smile. “Want to tell us about it?” Grace yawned again. “No. I just wanted a hug.” My heart cracked a little, picturing Ruby at Grace’s age, without a dad to hug her in the middle of the night if she had a dream about her mom. I kissed the top of her head and blinked away the burning sensation in my eyes. Great, now I was fucking leaking. “Why don’t you go hug your daddy, princess?” I whispered to her. She smiled sleepily at me and slid off my lap to go do as I asked. Jack picked her up and carried her down the hall, talking softly to her. Imagining kids was a stretch, but the fact that it didn’t terrify me anymore is how I knew this was so fucking real. I just had to be able to sit down and talk to Ruby before I lost my damn mind. But considering where I was at, in my head and in my heart, I was already halfway there. If she turned me down, or walked away, I didn’t want to think about how I’d feel then. Probably like somebody ripped my heart out and expected me to keep living. I took a deep breath and pulled my phone out so I could look at the pictures of her I had on my phone from Amsterdam. Living without my heart? Yeah, that sounded like a fucking appropriate description.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The lunch with Lenore that week had ended early, with Lenore dismissing all the girls except for me. I knew she probably had had at least one conversation with Elias, because I’d been ignoring all of his messages that week. I cringed, thinking about that. Because no matter what had happened between us, he’d still been a client that I’d had an agreement with. And I was definitely reneging on that agreement, based on the fact that I had ignored his requests to see me, repeatedly. Stella gave me a look, one that asked if I wanted her to stick around—a fuck Lenore look—but I shook my head and gave her the smallest smile I could muster. “So,” Lenore began, signing the check with a flourish and setting her pen down quietly. “Let’s discuss your arrangement with Mr. Sutton.” Today, she wore glasses. Narrow rectangular glass specs that kept slipping down her nose. I stared far too long at them as they slipped over one freckle to the next one. “Ruby.” The sharpness of her voice was more effective than a snap of her fingers in calling my attention back to her. “Oh,” I said. I ran my fingers over the fabric napkin in my hand as I contemplated what to say. “I know it’s probably unorthodox, but I’d like to be let out of my arrangement with him.” Lenore pushed her glasses back up to her eyes as she peered at me. “Early, you mean?” I nodded and sipped my ice water. “Yes.” “Well, what am I to do with that?” she asked plainly. Very, very rarely did Lenore look at me so sharply. I wasn’t the girl who needed to be reminded to groom her eyebrows, or visit a dentist, or cut back on the carbs. Rarely had Lenore given me more than a glance when she looked over us all for our lunch meetings. But now, I was her sole focus. I missed the safety of having the other girls around us to distract her attention. I shrugged. “I don’t know how it works,” I said, feeling myself shrinking under her scrutiny. “That’s because this situation isn’t ‘unorthodox,’ Ruby. It’s unprecedented.” “I can’t be the first girl to have a long term arrangement with a client,” I

protested. “Oh, trust me darling, you’re not. But you’re the first one to attempt to back out of one, unless there are extenuating circumstances you’d like to enlighten me to.” Shaking my head, I told her, “No. I just think it would be for the best.” “Ah, well.” She made a little noise in the back of her throat and sipped her water before speaking again. “That is precisely why I am your manager. Because I know what’s for the best, and I don’t book you with clients unless I think you can see your obligation through.” Lenore sure had a talent for making me feel small. “I don’t want to see him again,” I said, firmer. “What kind of business do you think this is? I feel like you’ve been made aware of how we operate.” When I was silent, she sighed and slid off her glasses. “Do you think Ana wants to let Mr. Peters grope her with his ‘fish hands?’ Do you think Stella wants the clients with … unusual sexual proclivities? The answer—in case you’re not sure—is no.” Her gaze was still on me, and I knew she was analyzing me for the smallest fleck, to betray the reason I didn’t want to go back to Elias. “We’re not in the business of catering to our individual desires, Ruby darling. We’re in the business of fantasy, and that’s what we sell. We’re selling their fantasies, not our own. If you’re ending an agreement out of your own selfish desires, then you’re wrong. Bottom line. Ending a business agreement is never simple. What you’re asking of me is more than I should reasonably have to deal with.” She picked up her purse and carefully tucked her pen inside of it. “So, I implore you, to meet with Mr. Sutton at least one more time before you ask me to terminate your agreement.” And then she left, leaving me feeling sufficiently chastised. I sent Elias a date, time and location after Stella had encouraged me to follow Lenore’s request. Not that you could really call it a request—because she was my employer, essentially telling me to do my job. Elias had replied immediately, confirming that he’d meet me at the hotel. It was a new venue, something that wasn’t tied to our past, and I hoped it would help me not to fall back to the feelings I’d stupidly developed. But all it took was one look from him at the bar for me to realize my feelings weren’t associated with a place, but with a person. With Elias. He was waiting when I arrived, his drink already gone and I wondered if he had been waiting long enough to nurse the whiskey or if he’d recently arrived and had slammed it. He stood as I made my way to the bar, and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. His scent wrapped me up and made me feel more imbalanced than I’d been on the walk to the seat beside him. He pulled out my chair and I slid in as gracefully as possibly, trying not to betray an ounce of feeling in my movements. “How have you been?” he asked, signaling the bartender with a flick of his hand.

“I’ve been very well,” I said placidly. “And you?” “I’ve been the opposite. Would you like a drink?” I smiled softly. “I don’t think I need one, actually.” Elias slid his credit card across the bar top, not taking his eyes off me all the while. “I booked a room. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I thought it best. Just in case.” “That sounds lovely,” I said in a way that was warm but still detached. I wasn’t sure if I could pull off detached with Elias, not with the way he looked at me; like he hadn’t slept in weeks and I was a warm bed, beckoning him to fall into me. But I had to try to see if I could keep everything professional between us. I didn’t want alcohol to loosen me up when I was struggling to hold onto control. After Elias signed the check, he stood and took my hand, leading me away from the bar to the elevator. I tried to clasp his loosely, but his hold was much firmer. It was as if he thought I’d slip away from him, but in fact the opposite was true. I wanted to see if it would be easy to kiss him and feel nothing. To lay under him with only a professional kind of interest. This was new territory, having feelings like this for a client, and I wanted to see if I could remember to keep it separate as we rolled over one another on the bed. When Elias opened the door to the room, I turned to him and made the first move. I knew he liked it in the past when I’d been a little more aggressive, so I decided to do everything he liked tonight, anything to get through this in one piece. He practically growled into my mouth as his hands pierced my hair and backed me up into a wall. With his lips firmly on mine, I could feel myself already dropping back to who we’d been just a week earlier. His kiss was too much. Too deep and reaching, too profound. I pulled my mouth away, determined to not let him take me there again. We moved toward the bed, still fully clothed. When we reached the footboard, Elias picked me up and laid me across the bed. He moved to my feet and slipped my heels off, one by one, and then pressed his thumbs into my heel, massaging the spot that ached the most. How could I protect myself with him touching me like that? I felt my own arousal light up just by getting to look at him. Knowing his bedroom skills had made my body betray my head as I felt my pussy practically vibrate. Looking at me the whole time, his hands moved up from my feet to my legs, his large hands massaging the muscles of my quads. He was taking his time with me, making sure I was comfortable, and the idea that he was caring for me so gently made my eyes burn with tears I hadn’t shed yet. When he tapped my inner thigh, my legs spread immediately. As they always did, when he did that. I saw the triumphant satisfaction in his face, the smile that shone brighter than anything else in the room. I couldn’t open my legs wide enough for his liking because of the restrictive material of my skirt. So Elias shoved it up, so it bunched at my waist and tapped again for me to spread my legs.

This time, I had more hesitation in doing so. But still I did and he climbed onto the bed, sitting right between my legs as I laid there, exposed. “Are you wet?” he asked me. I hesitated again, but nodded just as he yanked my panties to the side and placed a finger at my entrance. “You sure are,” he said, slowly pulling in and out, his eyes on mine the whole time. The room was so dark, but I could see everything about him clearly. Which was both a curse and a relief. I heard myself sigh when he hooked a finger and pressed against the walls of my vagina. I didn’t want to be affected, but my body reacted to him like we were chemicals reacting to one another. Closing my eyes, I tried to imagine myself far away from this moment. But then he hooked his finger again and I clenched down on his hand. I bit my lip to keep from shouting and swallowed my scream. “You’re fucking drenched,” Elias said appreciatively. But I didn’t speak, I just laid there, as interactive as a dead fish. “You like this, I know you do.” I felt my pussy stretched as he slid another finger inside of me and continued pumping in and out. Refusing to look at him, I turned and stared at my reflection in the mirror across the room. My body moved back and forth on the bed, but my face remained completely aloof. Until he pressed my clit, and my reflection blurred. I bit down so hard on my lip, I was sure I’d draw blood. “Tell me what you want from me, Ruby.” He added another finger and when he pumped into me, I felt my body tremble. I was close, I could tell. Just from a minute of pumping me with his fingers, I was ready to fall over the edge into orgasm. I stayed silent still, not daring to look at him. I looked everywhere else, trying to keep myself disconnected from what was happening. And in doing so, I was breaking my own damn heart. I didn’t want this, to be cold when Elias touched me. His movements picked up pace and my body reacted against my control, bucking and sliding as he hit every pleasure spot I possibly had. I was seconds from coming, and I knew I’d lose all control of my own aloofness when I orgasmed. But then he drew his hand out of me and, finally, I looked over the bunched up material at my waist to where he sat between my legs. “Do you want to come?” he asked, his voice silky in the dark. That alone made me want to come—the way the words came from his mouth so delectably. I didn’t want to answer, so I forced a cool tone in my voice when I said, “Don’t you?” His brow furrowed, and I could see his frustration in the set of his jaw. “I know you do,” he said, but he didn’t need to convince either of us because he pressed his fingers back inside of me, and my eyes nearly rolled to the back of my head when he continued his gentle, quick thrusts. I was so close, again, and when he pulled his hand away for a second time, it took every ounce of patience in me not to scream at him. This time when I looked at him, he held his hand up.

“Look how wet you are for me.” He turned his hand, and the glint of the moon from the window cast a brief second of light over it. “I’ve wanted a taste of you for so long, Ruby.” And, with his eyes still holding mine, he put his fingers in his mouth and pulled them out after one long suck. The image made my insides quake. But I kept my composure, even though my body was doing everything it possibly could to betray me. I was practically vibrating, I was so ready to come. So ready to give in to Elias. “It’s not enough,” he said, and for the first time I wondered if he was talking about the taste of me he’d had on his fingers or our arrangement not being enough. Both scared me—the first because escorts didn’t receive oral sex, ever. The second because I didn’t think Elias being my client was enough for me either—but I couldn’t give it up. Not right now. I didn’t say anything to that, just held his gaze as he tapped on my thighs and I spread them wider. He braced his hands on my inner thighs and stared down at my cunt before looking up at me. “I want more.” He drew a finger down my pussy, not entering me but just teasing me. “More than just about anything, I want to feel you come on my tongue, Ruby. Right now.” I didn’t have it in me to say no.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

With Ruby laid out before me like an offering— even though the blankness was back in her eyes, in her hands and her body language— there was no way I would ignore the invitation she’d just given me. The second she widened her legs, I dropped to my knees and hooked my hands around the back of her knees to drag her to the end of the bed. With careful hands, I pulled her lace underwear off and tossed it onto the floor. My fingers smoothed up the inside of her thighs, stopping just shy of where I wanted to be more than anywhere else. Actually, that was a lie. There wasn’t a single part of Ruby that took precedence over the others. Her brain, her heart, her skin, I wanted it all. And I wanted to be as deep in her as she was in me. Which is why that past week had been like being doused into hell. I felt out of control, a hair trigger on my emotions and no idea what might send me over the edge. Two days ago, I spotted a woman across 5th Avenue that I thought was Ruby. I sprinted two blocks, only to discover it wasn’t her. So with her here, opening a part of herself to me that I hadn’t been able to indulge in, the weak, selfish side of me refused to say no. With a greedy mouth, I started with a long, slow lick up her wet slit and then stopped to draw a tight circle with the tip of my tongue around her clit. Her breathing increased, but she didn’t make a sound. Anger and frustration welled, fighting for dominance with my raging lust at the taste of her on my tongue. I kissed her lips, slipping my tongue inside of her pussy with lewd motions, and her hips arched up. Determined to see her crack, I wrapped my hands around the tops of her thighs and tightened my fingers into her skin. Ruby rolled her lips in over her teeth and pinched her eyes shut. I ate at her pussy and she whimpered quietly in her throat. When I sucked her clit into my mouth and lightly bit on it, she did it again. The same two fingers that I used before slipped into her while I worked at her clit. In and out, hooking up at the end, hard lick, soft bite, again and again until she started clenching around my fingers. When I bit the last time, I growled and pressed in with fingers at the spot that most men wouldn’t know how to find with a fucking GPS screaming at them. And speaking of screaming, when I pressed on her G-spot, Ruby screamed, one

hand clamped over her mouth to try and muffle it. But she pulsed around my fingers in a long wave, and I prolonged it with another slow lick to her clit. I dropped light kisses to her hip bones, feeling a sharp tug of disappointment that she didn’t grip my hair with her fingers, and ride my face with slow rolls of her hips. I’d gotten a glimpse of the Ruby I wanted, but only a glimpse. This was the Ruby from the first night. Experiencing pleasure, unabashed in the fact that she was really coming, but about as engaged with the fucking bed as she was with me. It made me want to rage, that I’d lost the woman who was mine for all those nights in between that first one and tonight. This was a robotic version of Ruby, and I wanted to rip her open to be able to get the real one back. She sat up with a polite smile on her face. “That felt good.” “Good?” I laughed incredulously. But Ruby only nodded, standing up so that I had no choice but to back up and give her room. Holding my eyes, she shed her dress, leaving her naked. Flawless stretches of olive skin, only broken up by the curves of her bones, the dark pink circles of her nipples and the tiny indent of her belly button. And her eyes … her fucking eyes were blank. “Would you like me on my hands and knees?” she asked, sliding her hands up so that I had no choice but to pull my shirt off. “Your body is so incredible.” “Stop it,” I ground out. “Stop what?” “Quit acting like I’m some stranger.” She tilted her head like I was crazy. Then her hand came up to cup my face, my beard. Her fingers were spread, so she touched my lips and my mouth opened. The edge of her thumb traced the inside line of my lips, and I caught it with my teeth, soothing it with my tongue. “I know you’re not a stranger, Elias.” Her voice was throatier with her thumb trapped in my mouth, so I held her wrist to keep it there. With the back of my fingers, I lightly touched her hardened nipples and watched her chest heave with a deep, even breath. When I pulled her finger from my mouth, but kept a hold of her wrist, she flicked her gaze down to our hands. “I don’t want you on your hands on knees,” I said absently. Keeping a firm hold of her, I laid her hand over my heart, watched helplessly as panic flared in her dark gaze. “I want to see your face when I’m inside of you.” Not when we fuck. But not when we make love either. If I’d said that, I’d lose her forever. As the days went past with no word from her, I knew it was no coincidence that the day I hinted at the depth of my feelings, she shut down on me. So I’d have to show her. I’d love her body, let her love mine, and she’d have no choice but to see how good we were for each other. There was no way, in my mind, that Ruby could put her hands on me, feel how deep I was inside of her, and be able to ignore the inferno that was in between us. I’d felt flickering matches before. Slight pulses of heat that made my skin warm. Being with Ruby was like someone covered me in gasoline and shoved me into an

open flame. For a moment after I spoke, she watched me, and I waited for her eyes to heat, for her smile to grow. But it didn’t. She simply laid back on the bed and opened her legs for me. Even though she raised a hand to beckon me onto her, I had to take a beat and control the crashing waves of righteous pissed-off-ness. It was the only way to describe how she was making me feel. So fucking pissed off. Because this was no passive choice. Ruby had made a decision to act like this. Fine. She wanted to play a role, then so would I. After shucking my pants off and rolling on the condom she’d had laid out on the nightstand, I crawled over her, stopping to cup one tit and suck it into my mouth. Her back arched when I did, but that was it. Her hands laid limply on my back, not stroking, not scratching her nails into my skin. With a growl, I sat up onto my knees and gripped both of her wrists in one hand, pinning them to the bed above our heads. There was a flash of heat in her eyes and I dipped down to catch her mouth. At the last second, she angled her head away so that her neck was my only option. I was breathing heavily into her skin while I reconciled the fact that she’d just fucking avoided kissing me. My hands tightened over her wrists, and for a brief moment, I thought about stopping. Pulling away from her and leaving the room. But I couldn’t. No part of me wanted to admit it, but if this was my last night with Ruby, I’d take it. I’d take the moment she was allowing me. I rolled my hips so that the head of my dick pushed against her clit. Her nostrils flared and her eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t give in. So I teased. With small ins and outs, one inch forward before I’d pull back, I fed my cock to her in torturous increments. Sweat coated my chest by the time I surged forward all the way. Ruby bit down on her lip when I did. I pulled back, leaving only the tip inside of her and then snapped my hips forward so that our skin slapped against each other. Suddenly, playing wasn’t fun for me. I covered her fully with my body, so that every inch of her was plastered against every inch of me. She pulled her knees up so that she was hugging my waist with her legs, and it changed the angle. We both sucked in a breath when I thrust in again. Unable to keep my hands off of her, I released her wrists and wrapped my arms around her while I pushed and pulled, came in and out of her, the low slow drag out raising every hair on the back of my neck. The sharp push in making my heart thunder in my chest. I tried to kiss her again and she turned her chin in the other direction. “Fucking hell, Ruby. Kiss me.” I dropped my forehead into her neck when I pushed inside of her again. One hand cupped the back of my neck, playing with the hair on the back of my head and I picked up the pace, even though there was barely enough room for me to move with how close we were. My sweat slicked with hers, and her tits slippery against the skin of my chest. But she didn’t kiss me. She arched her chin up, turned to the other side when I hammered into her. And in the end, I didn’t even have to touch her clit for her to come. I bit down on her shoulder on a particularly vicious thrust and she fisted

around me. No dirty words in between us. No whispered pleas for more. Silently, I came, with my arms still tight around her back. We lay like that for a few minutes, and more than anything, I wanted to stay there. Because without seeing her face, I knew she’d be empty. And sure enough, when I pulled out and walked to the bathroom to take care of the condom, she’d already started dressing. By the time I flicked off the light, she was pulling her dress up over her shoulders and slipping her shoes on her feet. The black of her dress suddenly felt like an omen I’d missed. But that was because I was so blinded by her. Blinded by what I felt for her, and blinded by the excitement I’d felt at being able to see her again, breathe the same air as her again. No way would I make this easy for her though. I stood, naked as a fucking jay bird and watched her collect herself. When she met my eyes, I could see her search for words. What she said though almost knocked me sideways. “This is our last night together, Elias.” “Excuse me? We have over a week left in our agreement.” “Can you please put some clothes on?” Her eyes were trained on the wall. I narrowed my eyes at her but yanked on my boxers. But that was it. “Explain,” I said tersely, struggling for calm. “Because we had an agreement.” Her chin lifted. “I’ll refund you the appropriate amount of money.” “This isn’t about fucking money, Ruby,” I yelled. “I don’t care about the money; I care about you. You know that.” “Do I?” And then she fucking tilted her head again. I wanted to break something. But there was no way I’d do anything that might remind her of that fucking psycho. “Yes. Yes, you fucking do.” I walked closer, using gentle hands to cup her shoulders. “I don’t want our time to end because of how fucking amazing we are together. You feel it, I know you do.” Her eyes were maddeningly, impossibly blank when she answered. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re my client, and you’ve been a good one, Elias. But that’s all it is.” “Bullshit.” “Excuse me, I’d like to leave,” she said in a steady voice. I didn’t stop her when she brushed past me. But before she opened the door, I said her name. “I’m not him.” She turned slowly. “What?” “I’m not Nicholas.” Ruby blinked rapidly, clearly thrown by my change of topic and quiet approach. Yeah, join the fucking club. Normally, I’d yell and rage, grab her and kiss her, show her how explosive it is between us. But now I knew. I knew what she’d been through and how little trust she had. With good reason too. “I … I don’t know what you mean.” “Yes,” I said slowly, walking up to her with my hands raised. “Yes, you do. I

would never treat you like he did. I’d never manipulate you or make you feel like you weren’t as amazing as you are, because Ruby, you are the most fucking incredible woman I’ve ever met in my life.” Her eyes shone, but she didn’t move. “It doesn’t matter.” “Yes it does. It matters because I’m not stupid, and I know you feel what I feel.” On impulse, I grabbed her hand and pressed it on my heart. “This is fucking beating your name every time I breathe, and I don’t know how it happened, but it did.” “Elias, stop,” she begged quietly. “We can do this. We can be together.” For a brief moment, her fingers curled into my skin, like she was holding me, not pushing me away. Then she tugged her arm back and she lifted her chin. “The fact that you think that just means I did my job.” “Don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I sell a fantasy, Elias. Your fantasy, not mine.” She hitched her bag over her shoulder and gave me such a sad smile that I wanted to tear my eyes out just so that I would never have had to see it. “And apparently I did a good job.” “You’re a fucking liar.” Ruby pressed her lips together and held my eyes. There was a flash, a moment, a second where I thought I saw hurt. Saw pain. But then it was gone. “I know.” Even when the door shut behind her, and she didn’t come back in to throw herself into my arms and tell me she was kidding, I stood there staring at the block of wood that separated me from the rest of the world. Then I sank onto the edge of the bed and hung my head in my hands.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The days since I’d walked out on Elias had dissolved into weeks. Two weeks without him. It felt like forever, but it also felt like no time at all had passed since I’d broken my heart in my own hands. If things were different—if my life were different—I could have run back to Elias. Dropped a grenade on my life and watched it burn while in his arms. But the reality was that there was no way I could be in love, dating someone like Elias, and continue escorting. And escorting was the only thing paying the bills and paying down my massive student loans at the moment. I’d sold my soul to the devil, and my debt was far from being paid off. In my time since walking out on Elias, Lenore had told me to take care of myself. And to her, that didn’t mean fixing my broken heart. To her, taking care of myself meant getting waxed, exfoliated, and having my roots touched up. Maintenance on the product she was selling, so that when I was ready to make some money again, I would be up to her standards. Which was why I spent the first week on the couch, binge-watching every show I could find on Netflix and going through pints of ice cream like they were my only source of nutrition. “Jesus,” Stella said one day when she’d come over and had kicked away an empty container of cookie dough. “Please don’t tell me you’ve spent all week on the couch.” She’d looked me over with clear disgust in her eyes. I knew her disgust wasn’t mean-spirited, but bred from concern for her friend. Either way, I hadn’t cared. “Not all week,” I told her, “I answered the door for the pizza guy yesterday.” “Uh huh, right. And then you plopped your ass back on the couch and watched Sons of Anarchy for the fifth time, didn’t you?” I didn’t have it in me to deny it. So I grunted and turned the volume up on the television. “Fuck that,” Stella said, her heels clacking across the wood floor as she marched up to the TV and ripped the plug from the wall. “You’re smoking crack if you think

I’m going to watch this shit from the sidelines.” “I’ve never smoked crack,” I said absently as I picked up a tortilla chip from the bowl I’d had on my coffee table all week. I stared at its triangular shape for a moment before saying, “But I did smoke some weed in Amsterdam. With Elias.” Just saying his name was like opening the floodgates I’d locked up after leaving him. “So you fell in love with your client. What are you going to do about it?” I looked up at her with tired eyes. “Nothing. I can’t.” “Says who?” She stooped to pick up one of my ice cream cartons and stalked to the trash to throw it away. “Says these,” I said calmly, spreading the stack of bills across the coffee table. “I can’t afford this place and tuition and books on a barista salary.” “Then what choice are you left with?” “Technically,” I said, holding up a finger, “I don’t think it’s a choice if there’s no alternative.” “Don’t go using your philosophy on me, Rubes. If the only thing you can do is buck up and be an escort, then get your ass off the couch before it sucks you in. Brush your teeth and your hair and call up Lenore for another date.” I didn’t want another date. I just wanted to wallow inside my tiny apartment, with the help of every brand of cookie dough ice cream I could find at the corner store in the middle of the night. “Take it from a master like myself,” she said, hooking her thumbs back toward herself. “The best way to get over someone is to get poked by another dick.” “I don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” I told her, unamused. “Sure it is.” She pushed her hair off her shoulders and then lifted them up and down like she was pumping herself up for something. “Let’s get you a date. And maybe a shower.” So I’d done as Ruby had suggested, and met with Lenore requesting that she assign me to another client as soon as possible. What did I have to lose anyway? Lenore had hesitated at first, before telling me to visit a spray tanning salon so that I didn’t look so “sickly.” After I’d agreed, she set me up with Mr. James, a well-known favorite among Lenore’s girls. I’d never had him as a client before, but I knew he was gracious and—judging by the way Stella had thrown the book she was glancing through when I told her—he was a catch. Catches were hard to find as an escort. Most of them toed the line of “normal” or “creep” but every once in a while, we got lucky. Like Elias, I acknowledged, as I waited in my scalloped-edged strapless black dress, at a hotel bar that was new to me. I needed the unfamiliarity, so I wouldn’t see reminders of Elias in something as stupid as an elevator, or a mirrored wall. Nothing in my life felt safe from his influence, a thought that made me sigh as I set my martini onto the shiny bar top.

Mr. James was my first client since I’d laid eyes on Elias, but if Stella was right the whole process should feel like getting back up on the bicycle. When he walked in and scoped his eyes over the crowd, I felt my first tingle of anxiety. His gaze fell upon me and he smiled, the curves dipping into his cheeks as he meandered through the bar to me. I held onto my smile as he stepped to me and placed a hand on my waist, leaning in for a kiss on the cheek. I waited to feel a spark, a trickle of chemistry. He was fucking hot—there was absolutely no doubt about that. From his perfectly sculpted undercut hair style to the very trim facial hair on his face, and the magnetic blue eyes that shined warmly as he sat beside me, I should have been bowled over. But, in fact, I was … underwhelmed. Not that it was through any fault of his own, but because I looked at him and saw through him, imagining what Elias might be doing on a night like tonight. “Mr. James, so nice to meet you,” I said in my smooth, cultured voice. “Thomas, please.” He patted my hand before raising it to signal the bartender. And I didn’t feel a single thing. Not a spark, not even a minor fizzle. I was sitting beside an incredibly attractive man, dressed in a fitted three-piece navy suit, and I felt nothing. “Did you find the place all right?” I asked. “Of course. You gave exceptional directions.” He ordered a beer and then angled himself in his seat so that he faced me. “Have you been waiting long?” I shook my head and gave him a long-practiced smile. And then I fucking blanked. Just … lost all thought. Not a single thing could come to my mind to say. It was as if I’d exhausted all my topics of conversation in just two sentences. “So, tell me about yourself, Ruby,” Thomas said, looking genuinely interested. And all I could think about was Elias. Shit. “I study theology right now,” I told him, to which he gave me a polite smile. “How is that?” This was all wrong. All fucking wrong. I kept waiting for Elias to walk through the door and drag me out of the bar. Briefly, I closed my eyes, willing all thoughts of Elias to get the fuck out of my head so I could give this an honest shot. “It’s exhausting,” I admitted to Thomas. “I probably spend more hours inside of the school library than I do my apartment.” “I understand. I studied industrial and organizational psychology, which was,” he said on a laugh, “intense, to say the least.” I didn’t know a single fucking thing about industrial and organizational psychology. And moreover, I didn’t care. But I nodded like a parrot and said, “Is that what you do?” “Well, no. I actually work for an organization that provides clean, safe drinking water for African communities.” It should have piqued my interest, after all the research I’d done myself regarding African tribes. But I couldn’t focus enough to engage him, because all I could think about was the fact that he was drinking beer and I missed the smell of

bourbon. “That sounds very demanding,” I offered, which felt like a pithy answer. “Well, it is. But it’s ultimately very rewarding.” He took a pull of his beer and then set it down, his long fingers running over the condensation circle his beer bottle had created. “We’re changing the future of entire generations of Africans, by providing them something as simple and essential as water.” It was admirable work. I knew that. But it was as if I’d had a moment of adult ADD, because I couldn’t focus on anything he was saying long enough to ask him more about it. Suddenly, his hand caressed the back of mine and I yanked my hand back as my vision cleared. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You looked a little lost there for a minute.” I must have spaced out, I realized. Under the bar top, I rubbed the top of my hand over the spot where he’d touched me. It had felt like a brand; another man touching my skin simply didn’t feel right. In fact, it’d felt—strangely—like I was cheating on Elias. Elias, my client. I sputtered an apology as I looked at Thomas. I couldn’t stay here. I most definitely couldn’t allow him to join me in a room for the evening. If I couldn’t stand to have him touch my hand, I certainly couldn’t accept him touching me in the places my clothing covered. Abruptly I stood and dug into my clutch for a twenty. “I’m sorry,” I told him, but it felt weak. “I need to go.” Lenore was going to chew my fucking ear off. He sighed, resigned, but didn’t seem the least bit surprised. He opened his own wallet and tossed a bill onto the bar. “It’s fine,” he said after a moment. “Lenore said this would probably happen.” I stared at him blankly. “She did?” He nodded and offered me a sad smile. “She did. So don’t worry or anything.” After an awkward goodbye kiss on the cheek, I bolted the hell out of the bar and hailed a cab. Once I slid in and buckled my seat belt, my biggest regret was actually dressing up for the night in the first place. Lenore had known? That baffled me the most. She’d known that throwing me in the deep end would have left me drowning? I closed my eyes as the lights of the city passed over the cab, and tried to figure out what the hell was next for me. I let myself into my darkened apartment and made a beeline for the bed while Fletcher danced around my feet. After collapsing face-first into the duvet, I pressed my mouth against my pillow and screamed. What the fuck was I going to do? If I couldn’t let someone as handsome and interesting as Thomas touch me, I couldn’t let anyone touch me. I groaned in my pillow, feeling like the entire world was bearing down on me in that moment. I had no one to talk this out with, no one who would understand. Fucking Elias, I thought. He’d ruined me. Which meant he’d ruined my job, because if I couldn’t be an escort without feeling like I was somehow cheating on Elias, I’d never be able to go to that safe place in my head, where I’d stayed

whenever I’d met with a client. That cool, detached place, that allowed no one too close. Except Elias.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice,” I told Lenore from across the table. I didn’t even attempt to hide my open perusal of her. What I expected in a woman who managed a professional escort service, I wasn’t sure. But it wasn’t Lenore. She looked strict and dignified. Nothing flashy or sexy about her. You’d be as likely to find her heading up accounting at a major money firm as coordinating a business where men paid large sums of money to spend time with her girls. “It’s my pleasure,” she said smoothly, taking a long sip of her tea and watching me over the rim. Her black hair was severe and short against her pale skin. She’d photograph beautifully, probably for the rest of her life, but I doubt she’d ever loosen up enough to let someone put her in front of a camera. “What can I help you with?” “You already know. I’d like to know how to get in touch with Ruby.” The restaurant she’d picked to meet me at was quiet, tucked into an alley with small bistro tables and blooming pots of flowers. The wait staff was discreet, never lingering at the tables for too long. It made me wonder how often she met … clients here. The word rankled, it always would to me, especially after Ruby lobbed it at me like a grenade twenty-two days earlier. The longest twenty-two days of my life. She ignored texts, calls and emails. Which probably meant she’d blocked me. And the only reason she would have blocked me was because I’d terrified her in a way that she’d never experienced. Because I was right. Ruby would have been able to face me again if she felt nothing. I was sure it would surprise her that the longer she went ignoring me, the firmer I became in my decision, in my resolve to lay every single fucking card on the table before she decided to walk away from me forever. Lenore set her white tea cup down without making a sound against the table. “Ruby made the decision to terminate your agreement, despite how I felt about it. That tells me she had her reasons. Why would I help you find her if she doesn’t want to be found?” I leaned forward and laid my clasped hands on the table. “Because you know it was more than an arrangement. I’m in love with her.” Her eyes never wavered, but they did narrow. “Many men have fancied

themselves in love with my girls over the years. Then the next pretty face comes along and they forget. Why should I assume you’re any different?” “Because I’ve never experienced anything as terrifying as falling in love with her. I have every reason in the world to move on, to pretend like it didn’t happen, because she has the power to crush me. She does, and I’m handing her that power with my eyes wide open.” I took a deep breath and fought the desire to squirm under the weight of her hard stare. “It’s been three weeks since she told me that the only reason I felt so strongly was because she did her job in selling my fantasy. Why would I ever want to subject myself to that if I wasn’t really in love with her? I’m not a glutton for punishment, Lenore. In fact, I’ve often made cowardly decisions in my life, but this is not one of them.” Lenore broke our stare-down first and glanced over my shoulder at the table behind us. “What do you think?” “Me?” I asked, confused. “She’s talking to me, big spender.” A stunning woman around Ruby’s age with deep reddish brown hair and wide green eyes said as she pulled up a chair in between me and Lenore. Then she held out a hand. “I’m Stella.” Recognition made me nod, and I shook her hand. “Ruby’s friend.” She grinned and propped her elbows on the table. “That’s me. Which is why your fate ultimately rests in my very talented hands.” Then she tilted her head to look at my lap underneath the table. “Sorry. Just checking to see if Rubes was exaggerating.” “For god’s sake, Stella,” Lenore said under her breath. I laughed. “It’s fine. And no, she wasn’t.” “Lucky bitch,” Stella said and fell back in her chair. “If I didn’t love her so much, I’d fucking hate her right now.” “Please watch your language while we’re in public,” Lenore admonished. Stella continued as if Lenore hadn’t said a word. “Because she’s getting the dream right here. Even though we all have our different reasons for doing this, we’d retire our vaginas in a fucking heartbeat if someone like you said the right words. And from where I’m sitting, they’re right. More than that, I think you actually mean them.” Hope exploded in my chest like a bomb and I fought the urge to shake Stella until she gave me Ruby’s address. “I do mean them. All I want is a chance to speak to her. I didn’t tell her everything I should have the last time I saw her, and even if she chooses to never speak to me again, I’d be doing both of us a disservice if I didn’t have the chance to be honest.” Stella laid a hand on her chest and shook her head. “Goddamn, I’m having a Sex and the City moment right now. You’re Big, and Ruby’s Carrie. But she’s not in Paris. Thank god.” “I don’t know what that means,” I told Lenore. Lenore was giving Stella a look that should have turned her into stone, it was so cold. “Get to the point, Stella.”

With a Cheshire cat grin, Stella leaned toward me. “Tell her she owes me when you talk to her.” I expelled a heavy breath. “You’ll give me her address?” “Yeah,” Stella said slowly. “What the hell did you think I meant?” In one movement, I stood and swept Stella up in a bear hug. She laughed, patting me on the back. Even Lenore had a small smile on her face. But as soon as Stella stepped back from me, it was gone. “Thank you,” I said to both of them while Stella scrawled the address on a napkin. Lenore nodded and opened up her laptop, effectively dismissing me. I winked at Stella and walked out of the restaurant. I’d barely made it ten feet when she called my name. “Hey, I wasn’t sure I should tell you, but Ruby quit a couple days ago.” “What?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you keep asking me questions when my meaning is pretty fucking crystal clear? She quit. Came in and told Lenore that her pussy was officially off the market.” My heart raced and all the blood rushed down to my feet. I didn’t know what it meant other than that I fucking knew it. When Ruby had said I know after I called her a liar, it didn’t immediately click. But with every unanswered call, every text that got ignored, I knew exactly what she had meant. That whole exchange in the hotel room during our last night, she was lying to me. The blank, empty look in her eyes was one giant lie. And this was the proof. I tipped my head back and started laughing. The fact that she quit, didn’t tell me, and was still being so stubbornly quiet only made me fall even further. “Thank you,” I told Stella again. “I’m glad I know.” “But you would have gone to her even if she hadn’t, right?” “Yeah.” I shook my head. “Maybe that makes me crazy, but yeah, I would’ve.” Surprisingly, Stella’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away before speaking. “You are worthy of her, Elias. And that makes me happy.” “Yeah,” I said with a smile. “Me too.” Four hours later, I stood in front of a humble walk-up on a quiet street. Stella promised she’d send Ruby a text saying she would stop over, so that my chances of getting buzzed in were better than a zero. Because if she knew it was me, there was still a chance she’d freeze me out. The nerves swarming inside of me were completely foreign, but I’d also never had the stakes be this high. I smoothed my hair back and ran a hand down my newly trimmed beard. Then for the fortieth time since I left my apartment, I patted the front pocket of my white button down shirt to make sure the folded up piece of paper was still there. When it was, I shook my head for stupidity and hit the small white button. “Come on up,” Ruby’s voice crackled through the speaker and just the sound of

it almost brought me to my fucking knees after three weeks without it. I pulled open the security door and walked up the flight of stairs to the third floor. Her door cracked open and she had a smile on her face. Until she saw me. “Elias,” she breathed, with a hand to her chest. There was no fear in her eyes, thank god, but there was a fuck-ton of surprise. “How … how did you get my address?” I tucked my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, so I didn’t grab her and clutch her to me. “Stella.” Her eyes shut and she let out a heavy breath. “Of course.” While she wasn’t looking at me, I drank her in. She was casually dressed, in a simple white T-shirt and light grey linen pants that hung off her hips and showed a small sliver of flat stomach. “Wait,” she said and gave me a suspicious look. “How did you get in touch with Stella?” “I met with Lenore. I didn’t know Stella was going to be there.” I smiled at her. “She took her job as your gatekeeper very seriously.” Ruby laughed. “Yeah, I bet.” “Can I come in?” Her eyes were unguarded and clear, but she still paused before nodding and opening the door. A fluffy white cat wrapped around her legs when she stepped back to let me in and she picked it up with an indulgent smile on her face. “This is my guard cat, Fletcher.” With a grin, I reach out and scratched underneath his jaw. When he purred and pressed into my hand, I lifted an eyebrow at Ruby. “Seems vicious.” Standing in front of me, cuddling with her cat that I didn’t know about, in her simple, clean apartment, I was seeing a different Ruby. And I liked it. A fucking lot. Her home was organized, full of books and bright splashes of color. It was small, but not cramped. I could tell she cooked by the items I could see on the open shelves in her tiny kitchen area, and suddenly, the thought of sitting on her couch and watching her prepare a meal sounded like the most appealing vision I could conjure. “What are you doing here?” she asked, drawing my attention back to her perfect face. “Can we sit?” My obvious deflection didn’t go unnoticed, but she nodded and sat on the far edge of her couch. I took the other end, and then stared at the open newspaper on her coffee table. The classifieds. I swallowed against the rush of emotion and met her eyes. “I’ve had a lot of time to think the last few weeks. About you and me, and us. Mostly about you though. About how much you fascinated me, from the very first night.” Ruby looked down at her lap, at her folded hands and kept listening. The shiny strands of dark hair fell over her shoulders and curtained her face from me. But she was listening. It was all that mattered. “I won’t lie and say that your looks, the way we fit so well together wasn’t part

of it at first. It was. But that’s only a fraction of it, Ruby.” I took a deep breath and pulled the paper from my shirt pocket and handed it to her. She looked up in surprise and took it. “What’s this?” she asked quietly, staring at the folded paper. “Open it.” The muscle on her jaw popped when she clenched her teeth together, but she did. Her eyebrows creased as she read, then she covered her mouth with one hand. “Elias,” she whispered. “I can’t accept this.” “Yes, you can.” The ticket voucher was for a round trip flight to Lyon, France so she could see the chapel on top of the volcano. If I hadn’t needed to go home to purchase it for her, I would’ve come straight to her apartment after meeting with Lenore. “I want you to go see it.” “Why?” Her voice was thick with tears. When she lifted her eyes, they shone, and it made my heart crack around the edges. I shifted closer and laid a hand over one of hers. She let me keep it there. “You talked before about how powerful it was, seeing these places that people risked their lives to build. To bring each brick and stone up in order to have a place to worship.” I smiled at her. “It’s selfish, actually. Why I want you to go.” She shook her head, clearly confused. One tear spilled down her cheek, and as gently as I could, I reached out to wipe it away with my thumb. “I want you to see this testament to unwavering faith. Because that’s what I have in you. Have in us. And when you come back, I hope it’s because you know, without one single doubt, that you can believe in me. Believe in us. Can you do that for me?”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“Jesus,” I said, pressing a hand to my stomach to quiet the butterflies that tickled my belly. “Actually, you can call me Elias.” I was so overcome with emotion that I laughed, and pressed the back of my hand to my forehead. It was easily the most romantic moment of my life, and all I could do was laugh. “I’ll be honest here, Ruby. I’m not sure how to take your laughing.” I went from confusion to understanding to humor and to the deepest form of love I’d ever felt in my entire life, before oscillating back around. I couldn’t not touch him, so I cupped my hand over his, as he cupped my face. “I’m sorry,” I told him earnestly. “But you’re making me laugh, when I’m already experiencing such a serious synthesis of emotion.” He shook his head and his fingers cupping my face tightened imperceptibly. “And that’s one of the many things I love about you—that giant head of yours and how you speak in tongue twisters.” Love. Elias loved me. The awe of knowing—of hearing—that he loved me made my eyes fill again. At my look, Elias continued. “Yeah, that’s right. I love you.” He cupped the other side of my face with his hand. “I fucking love you, Ruby. And I’m willing to do anything for you right now, including buying you a plane ticket so you can visit one of the places I know you’re desperate to visit. Even though that means sending you thousands of miles away from me.” I glanced at the folded paper in my hands and saw that it said just one passenger. “You bought me my own ticket?” “I didn’t want to buy one for myself, just in case you wanted to go alone. This trip isn’t about me, it’s about you.” Nodding, my hand slid from his and I stood to look at the paper, turning my body at an angle away from him as I stared at it. I wasn’t reading as much as gathering my thoughts, and I didn’t think I could do that with him touching me. I was hopelessly, desperately, in love with Elias. I wasn’t an escort anymore, merely a professional student with a mountain of student debt to my name.

And he loved me. Without turning to him, I said, “I’m not an escort anymore.” “I know.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “How do you know?” “Stella told me.” “When did she tell you?” For some reason, the answer was incredibly important to me. “Right after she’d given me your address.” I didn’t realize until that moment that I’d had a noose around my heart. Hearing him say that had caused it to loosen considerably. “So you were going to come to me anyway?” “Of course I was.” He ran a hand over his hair, leaving it a mess. “Do you think I give a fuck that you were an escort?” “It would bother some men.” “It would be pretty callous of me to limit my feelings for you simply because you’re an escort—especially because that’s the only way I had the fortune of meeting you.” He seemed helpless as he stood and tucked his hands into his pockets again, like he was restless with me on the other side of the room. “I would have tried to get you to leave, of course, because there’s no fucking way I’d be cool with any other man touching you if you were mine.” “I had a date, a week ago.” I watched a vein in his neck jump. “Oh yeah?” Nodding, I walked past him and placed the paper on my bar top, smoothed it flat. “He was very handsome, well-traveled, educated.” The burn of Elias’ gaze was like a brand upon my skin, an insignia that told the world in bold, capital letters, that I was his. “And?” he asked, impatiently. A small smile curved my mouth as I turned to face him fully. “And I realized in less than five minutes that I couldn’t let another man near me without feeling like I was betraying you. Which is why I quit.” We were three steps away from one another, a distance that felt like it was shrinking by the second. So I had to get everything off my chest, before either of us closed the gap and made any type of commitment to one another. “Look,” I began, swallowing. “At the moment I’m, by New York standards, poor. I’m a career student, with a mountain of student loans that won’t be getting a substantial monthly payment towards the principal now that I’m unemployed.” I waved a hand at the classifieds I’d been studying when he showed up. “I’m grossly under qualified for any type of career at the moment, and though I’m not too good to sling burgers, it won’t do a thing to help support my living expenses and also pay toward my student loans.” I folded my hands together in front of myself. “Being an escort was the only reason I could afford to live alone.” “Why are you telling me this?” “Because you have your shit together. You have a career, your own place. And no

matter how I feel about you, the fact remains that I come with baggage and complications. It’s not fair of me to saddle you with those.” “Before we get into that, how about you tell me just how you feel about me?” I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with all the courage I could muster. “I’m in love with you, Elias.” He closed the gap in two steps and hauled me into his arms before I could take my next breath. “Then the rest doesn’t matter.” He pulled back and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me hard enough to rob me of any objections to what he’d said. He pulled away and pushed the hair from my face as he stared into my eyes. “I don’t fucking care, Ruby. I don’t care if you’re poor in money, because you’re rich in everything that matters to me.” “My lease is up in two months, and I won’t be able to renew it,” I told him, holding onto him to give me strength. “I’ll have to find a roommate wherever that’s convenient, which will make things inconvenient for us.” “Then you’ll move in with me.” I shook my head in protest. “I can’t move in with you.” “Technically, you can. But you don’t have to move in with me right away. We can wait until your lease is up, and then, if you’re ready, we can resume our arrangement from before.” I furrowed my brow in question. “Our arrangement?” “Right. You’ll be at my beck and call, only this time we won’t call ourselves ‘escort’ or ‘client’ unless you feel like role-playing. I’m not opposed to roleplaying.” He waggled an eyebrow at me and I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know, Elias. It’s too soon.” “It won’t be in two months. Besides, who says it’s too soon? Let’s be real clear here—we began our relationship in a very untraditional way. So, fuck the rules. Let’s just do what feels right.” I nibbled on my lip as I thought, until his thumb pressed down on the skin under my bottom lip, loosening it from my teeth. “Hear me out. You can live with me and finish your master’s. I’ll get you in touch with my professor—the one I told you could help you plan what to do when you finish. And we’ll go from there.” “You’ll hate having me around all the time,” I said, trying to come up with any excuse not to move in with him. If I were being honest with myself, all of my excuses sounded pathetic even to me. “The fuck I will,” he barked, and slid his hands down to cup my ass and lifted me onto the counter. “Besides, I’ll be traveling a lot this fall—so I won’t be around to distract you as much from your studies. It’ll be like you’re on your own a lot of the time, with the added benefit of reunion sex every time I come home.” He stepped right between my legs, pressing his erection against me. “I meant what I said, Ruby. I don’t give a fuck about anything as long as it means you’re mine.” He pressed his forehead against mine and squeezed my waist with his hands. “You’ve made me a different man, Ruby. A man less angry. I still haven’t fully

accepted my sister’s death, but you’ve given me so much to think about. Perspective.” He kissed my forehead and let out a sigh. “You’ve given me tremendous perspective. You’re one hell of a package.” I speared my hands through his hair, curling my fingers so that my nails bit gently into his skull. “Then there’s only one thing left to discuss.” “What’s that?” I let go of him to grab the folded paper and opened it up again. “This says one passenger. But I don’t want to go without you.” “I’ll book my ticket right now,” he said, but then paused and narrowed his dark eyes on me. The look was so intense, I nearly shivered. “Fuck it, I’ll book it as soon as I’ve worn you out. The last three weeks have been fucking brutal and all I want is to be inside of you right now.” I squirmed at that and pressed an enthusiastic kiss against his lips. “Lay back, Ruby.” I did as he asked, and twitched a little when my skin met the cool counter. His hands came to my waist and a second later, my pants and panties were in a pile on the floor beside me. The cool air caressed my pussy right before Elias pressed his large, warm palm to it and put pressure on me. I arched from the contact and my body responded immediately to his touch. He wrapped his hands under my thighs and yanked me down the counter toward him before he shoved my shirt up over my breasts and yanked down the cup of my bra. His hand covered my breast and squeezed and I closed my eyes. Impatience surged through me and I gripped his arm before opening my eyes. “I don’t want to go slow,” I told him, desperate to feel him inside of me again, desperate for my first release in weeks. Weeks sounded like an eternity since I’d first found myself under Elias. “We can go slow later,” he agreed, and I heard the satisfying sound of his zipper yanking down. When I saw the glint of his foil packet, I shook my head. “I don’t want a condom this time. I’m on birth control, and I know you’re clean.” The heat in his eyes was as seductive as a touch. I watched as he flicked the condom over his shoulder, where it plopped on the floor with hardly a noise. He put two fingers in his mouth and sucked on them. I watched him curiously as he pulled them from his mouth and pressed them just at the tight circle of my cunt, just circling. He dipped them just inside and spread them apart before sliding them all the way in. The deep stretching was hot, and started the build of an orgasm already. When he curled his fingers and pressed against the front wall of my pussy, I let out a moan. “Keep that up and I’ll be done quickly,” I said when I could breathe again. “You’re not even close to done,” he promised as he pressed the head of his cock at my entrance. Knowing I was seconds away from having him inside me caused my hold on his shoulders to soften. But he didn’t move for a long moment, waiting until I was looking him in the eyes. “After this, I’m taking you to my place,” he

pressed himself an inch inside of me, causing me to wiggle to get him deeper, “because when you move in with me, you’ll be at my beck and call, permanently. And we might as well practice now.” “I’m game to practice.” He slid an inch deeper and I groaned, trying to slide further down the counter. “Fuck me, Elias, please,” I begged, lifting my hips to encourage him to slide all the way in. “I’m going to,” he assured me, right before he thrusted all the way and spots dotted my vision. Over and over, he pounded into me, and I met him thrust for thrust until my orgasm blindsided me, sending me careening over the edge. He followed me, letting out a low moan as he bit down on my shoulder. My hands rubbed soothingly down his spine as he breathed against my neck. “I missed this,” I told him while he was still inside of me. He turned his head and kissed my neck. “I missed it too. And as soon as I can feel my legs, I’m going to bring you to my home to do it all over again.” “And then buy your ticket to join me in France.” “Yes.” He lifted his head and dropped his chin to my chest, looking up at me through weary, but sated eyes. “And whatever comes after, we’ll figure it out together.” I smiled, and brushed my hand over his hair. “Because I’ll be at your beck and call?” “Exactly.” He kissed my chest, and sighed along my skin. For the first time in a long time, I saw a future outlined for me—a future that wasn’t abstract. I didn’t know what I’d be doing five years from now; whether or not I’d have a career. I might still be a student, still ticking away at my student loans. I didn’t know if I’d find and subscribe to any one faith; if my studies would lead me to any God in particular. Those things were still unknown, but the one thing I was absolutely sure of was that somehow, someway, I’d have Elias by my side through it all.

EPILOGUE

Two years later “You ready yet? Plane won’t wait for us,” I called down the hallway to our bedroom, but settled onto the couch because I damn well knew she wasn’t ready yet. “Almost! I can’t find my passport.” I smiled, looking over at the coffee table, where it had been sitting for the last three days. Ruby and I had been to fourteen countries in the last year. Half for my job, and half for hers. When it came time to work on her thesis, Ruby (with the help of her advisor) decided on Religion and Sex: A Study on Sexual Frequency, Religious Affiliation and Moral Relativism. It was a hit with the panel. So much so that one of them suggested she write a book on it. Which she did. With the help of the professor that I’d suggested Ruby talk with so long ago, she now did guest teaching at universities all over the world. Last month we’d been in Ireland, so she could do a class at Trinity College Dublin. So far, it had been one of her favorite places to visit. Of course, she said that with every new country we went to. And every time we came back home, to the apartment that she’d moved into with me not long after our trip to the south of France, she said that home was her favorite place. I tended to agree. We’d probably always want to travel. It wasn’t in my nature to stay sedentary, and Ruby had officially been bitten by the travel bug, so we’d committed to at least two trips a year that weren’t work related. She didn’t know it yet, but I’d booked our tickets to go to New Zealand a month after we returned from Hong Kong, which was where we were headed now for one of my assignments. My parents thought we were insane for how much we were overseas, but they said it with smiles on their faces, since bringing Ruby home with me three weeks after we officially became a couple seemed to rank as one of the best days of their lives. “Marry that girl before she comes to her senses,” my mom whispered to me the last time we were there for dinner, which was now a biweekly thing, thanks to Ruby. “She’s too good for you, sweetheart.” “Gee, thanks,” I’d said back. But I couldn’t disagree.

Ruby’s heeled boots clicked down the wooden floor and I grinned when she came around the corner, fidgeting with one of her big hoop earrings. Definitely too good for me. These were the days where it was almost impossible for us to leave the house, because I still had a hard time keeping my hands off of her. The black boots came up over her knees, and she had light colored jeans plastered over her slim, long legs. Her black sweater wrapped tightly over her luscious tits, showing off enough of the curves that my mouth watered. “Come here,” I said quietly, spreading my arms over the back of the couch. She did, taking slow, measured steps that made her hips sway. When she was standing in between my open legs, she smiled down at me. “Don’t we have to leave?” I shook my head. “Flight doesn’t leave for another three hours.” Ruby scoffed, but her eyes were bright. “You lied to me?” “Not lied,” I said, sitting up to slide my hands around her ass. “Made a strategic decision. Because I knew you’d lose your passport and I knew I’d want to put my hands on you.” She hummed and straddled my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck and smiled into my kiss. My hands slid through the slippery strands of her hair and I gripped it so I could angle her head to the side. While I kissed down her neck and leaned to bite the swells of her breasts, Ruby gasped out my name. “Do you think this will ever fade for us?” I lifted my head. “Will what fade?” “This.” She traced the edge of my nose, followed the line of my lips. “How much we want each other.” I smiled at her, and she smiled back. “Baby, the only thing that will change for us is that someday, you’ll have my last name.” “Oh yeah?” She lifted an eyebrow and rocked herself over my erection. “You going to make that happen any time soon?” “Patience,” I whispered and brought her mouth back to mine so I could sip at her lips. “Fuck patience,” she whispered back. I laughed into her mouth, still hardly recognizing the lightness that she’d brought into my soul. Diana would have loved her. We talked about that every once in a while, and that was the other thing Ruby had brought me, the belief that everything happened for a reason. “I love you.” She pulled her face back and smiled at my softly spoken words. I said it to her all the time, as if the more times I said it, the more power the words held. “I love you, too.” When I wrapped her in my arms and I felt her sigh contentedly in my ear, I couldn’t help but marvel at the last thing she’d given me. The biggest thing, besides her love.

She’d given me peace. And a hope for the future. “The other thing that will change,” I said, leaning back so I could spread my hand over her flat belly, “is that someday, I’m gonna knock you the fuck up. Watch you get big with my baby.” She laughed and cupped the side of my face. “Such a man thing to say,” she teased. “Your man.” Ruby nodded and kissed me again. “My man,” she whispered against my lips.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To my parents, may you continue to believe that I’m paying off my student loans the old-fashioned way. Thank you to my beta readers: Christina, for your honesty and enthusiasm; Leigh, for your attention to detail; Anna, for reading even when you didn’t have the time. To Najla, for having an eye for design and color, and knowing how font, color, tone, and texture all work together in a way so brilliant, it shines. To Jade, with The Write Assistants. I couldn’t do this without your assistance. This book would look like a kindergartener stapled some pages together without your exceptional talent. Thank you for your patience. To Jena, with Indie Girl Promotions. You are thorough and competent and professional. You put Tempting on the map. You’re phenomenal. Thank you. To the number of bloggers who have gone above and beyond: Paula, Candi, and Ang of The Dirty Laundry Review. For having me takeover and for supporting every book. Thank you. Angie with Angie and Jessica’s Dreamy Reads. Your enthusiasm for my books is unbelievable. May you never lose your gift for evoking emotion with your words. I appreciate every second of time you spend on my books, and I hope you know how valued you are. The many bloggers who message me, who host reviews – I am so grateful for the time you take away from your life in order to give to others, like myself. To Lex Martin, an author I’m indebted to, thank you for following my work and supporting it so passionately. You’re warm and genuine, in an industry where it actually means something. To Kate. Because you’re luminous. Through and through. And finally, to the reader. Thank you for purchasing this novel, for the support you give all my novels. I know I wouldn’t continue to do this were it not for you.

BOOKS BY ALEX LUCIAN Book One: Tempting A romance between a college student named Adele and her hot professor, Nathan, that is much deeper than just the forbidden aspect of their relationship. Buy it here Book Two: Beguiling A romance about Leo, the all-star quarterback, and his pain-in-the-ass, preacher’s daughter neighbor, Scarlet whose bucket list will make their summer fly by a little bit faster. Buy it here Book Three: Provocative The continuation and conclusion to Adele and Nathan’s tumultuous romance. Buy it here Book Four: Addicted Featuring a character from Tempting and Provocative. Blurb to come. Releasing in October 2016.

Find Alex at these places: www.facebook.com/alexlucianauthor www.twitter.com/AuthorALucian Subscribe to Alex’s newsletter to get information on upcoming releases here: https://alexlucianauthor.wordpress.com/subscribe/