Nothing like that.”
He slid somewhat closer. Close enough to pull her in. If, and only if, she wanted.
Soap and water, did she say? Whatever it was, she smelled damn good. Thinking of the way her soft skin had felt against his palms made the blood rush to his hands, as well as to other extremities.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want. But, if you do, I’m obligated to keep your secret. I signed a confidentiality agreement. Nothing leaves this room,” he said.
The disclaimer earned him a direct look. One he couldn’t quite decipher.
Perhaps he couldn’t read her thoughts, but he could definitely read the heartbreak in her eyes.
He swallowed hard and proceeded to bend his personal rule. The one about not making the first move. But hadn’t he already smashed it to pieces?
Again, not my fault...
He urged her gently toward him, and she followed his lead. Her head rested on his shoulder as he caressed her arm, which he knew to be softer than the cashmere sweater that covered it.
Before his thoughts could stray any further, he reminded himself of his role. A shoulder to cry on. Nothing more.
* * *
KIRBY COULDN’T FORCE out the words even though she had rehearsed them to death.
Thankfully, he didn’t push.
Although her true story might eventually encourage him to open up, she couldn’t bring herself to do it, even though part of her needed to tell someone, anyone, so badly.
She totally got the concept behind The Deep now. Understood the service these men provided. Maybe if she’d come to a place like this after her own heartbreak, she’d be healed.
Rather than keep talking, Kirby yearned for this stranger to kiss the back of her neck again. Was it okay to ask for that?
Yet, she didn’t want to ask for any physical affection. She’d been rejected after asking in the past, and she would never make that mistake again.
No, she wanted and needed this man to make the first move. Paid for or otherwise.
As if he sensed her need to be touched, he brushed an errant strand of hair from her face.
Her eyes went directly to his sensual mouth, which promised so much pleasure without uttering a word. She wanted to know how it would feel to kiss him. She needed to kiss this stranger, she decided, seconds before he leaned in and pressed that gorgeous mouth softly against hers.
A sudden wave of self-consciousness prompted Kirby to pull away, even though she would have liked nothing more than for him to nudge her lips apart. Open a simple part of herself she’d effectively sealed off.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have initiated that,” he said.
“Club policy?”
“My policy.”
Obviously, his personal policy wasn’t the least bit compatible with hers. The only option now was to save face.
“It’s okay. Paid-for kisses aren’t exactly what I need.”
He seemed to contemplate her admission.
“Then I’ll stop the clock, kiss you for ten minutes, then we’ll resume with the paid-for session. How does that sound?”
All of a sudden she was hyperaware of their proximity, how utterly strong and protective his arm felt around her, how his sensual mouth would feel while exploring her own, if she wanted it.
And she definitely wanted.
“Why would you do that?” she asked.
“I want to kiss you. Why else?”
Before she could overanalyze it, he pressed his mouth against hers and tenderly nudged her lips apart with his tongue.
She granted him full access, and he explored deeper.
He tasted mostly of mint and slightly of Scotch. She wanted to consume him, as he had begun to consume her.
For the next several minutes, her feelings swung from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other. From being convinced that he enjoyed the deep and intimate kisses as much as she did, to wondering whether this was nothing more than a job duty, then back to being convinced.
As Kirby struggled to stop the pendulum on convinced, someone cleared his throat behind them. It was enough to jolt some sense into apparently both of them, as they broke away from the kiss at the same time and turned to look.
Fabian.
Easy Ride shook his head and flashed the fingers of one hand. Twice. Indicating ten more minutes of privacy, she assumed. He turned back to her.
Once again, she had his baby blues’ full attention. Had she really been making out with this unbelievably sexy man? One who’d made the first move, and was giving his affection at no charge?
Maybe these guys operated like crack dealers. Give the customer a free taste and get ’em hooked. Maybe she definitely needed what he was offering.
“You’re really not charging me for the kissing time? I thought you were joking.”
“I wouldn’t joke about something like that.” He leaned in to kiss her again, resuming the tender urgency they’d generated before the interruption.
As if Kirby was no longer in control of her own body, she leaned back and guided him to more of a full-frontal connection.
He accepted her lead. In fact, they seemed to have the same idea as they repositioned themselves on the sofa. Her underneath. Him on top. By the time he pressed into her, he was rock-hard.
Her private gratefulness momentarily took her breath away.
Pure desire took over from there as he nudged her thighs apart and situated himself between them while continuing to kiss her. The friction against the inseam of her jeans rubbed her in the most delicious way, and with exactly the right amount of tension.
All the while, an instrumental lounge version of George Strait’s “Baby Blue” serenaded the edge of her consciousness.
The slow, confident movement of his hips combined with the softness of his mouth had her mind so twisted and stirred and shaken that she barely noticed his hands reaching underneath and cupping her behind.
He moved her hips for her, pulling her into his deeper thrusts with a slow, smooth, effortless rhythm. The angle and intensity took her all the way.
The pent-up tension and the subsequent release in full were almost more than she could handle, yet she somehow managed to hold in the heaviest groan. It had been so long. So long since she’d wanted a man and felt this wanted in return.
With the final deep thrust against her, he softly moaned, “Oh, baby.”
