Victoria paced the room of the Desert Oasis Hotel & Spa, a luxurious hotel well off the Strip, until she could see the imprint of her sensible heels in the pattern of the carpet. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She nibbled on her thumbnail. “I can’t believe I’m doing this!”
Her stomach flipped as she paced, but she wasn’t sure if it was from nerves or anticipation. In just a few minutes, she could finally be having sex again.
“Okay, I’m definitely doing this.” The guy—whoever it was Cassidy had hired yesterday—was on his way over here this second. It was too late to back out now, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted to.
Don’t lie to yourself. You definitely don’t want to.
She’d taken extra care with her grooming today, shaving places she hadn’t shaved since Jeremy had been alive. As she walked, her bare lips rubbed together, creating a silky slide so pleasurable that this guy Cassidy had hired was not going to have to touch her at all to get her ready.
She was already good to go and chomping at the bit.
At least, she thought she was. But when there was a soft but firm knock at the door, Victoria jumped.
She placed a shaky hand over her stomach. What am I doing?
This was crazy. She’d been so adamant a couple of nights before with her I don’t have to pay for it. Here she was, paying for it.
It’s never too late to back out. With a breath for courage, she walked toward the door. She’d simply tell him this had been a mistake and then head back home, stopping by the gas station on her route for more batteries.
She had dignity. She had—
She opened the door, and her lips parted. “You!”
Maybe-Dream Man stood outside the open door, his hand still raised for a knock, and those gorgeous blue eyes of his widened for a moment before he grinned lopsidedly and leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “Hello, Victoria.”
He remembered my name.
Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, but nothing came out. Her mind, however, worked at a million words a minute. Her body, already primed, surged white hot, and she had to fist her hands at her side to keep from reaching for him and hauling him into the room.
He laughed softly. “Are you going to invite me inside?
Automatically, she moved aside and gestured for him to enter before she could think twice about the action. She inwardly cursed as he walked by her. What happened to calling everything off?
But then she caught sight of his broad shoulders from the back, and her gaze traveled downward across that broad expanse until it narrowed to the tightest ass she’d ever seen or imagined.
She closed the door.
At the quiet snick, Definitely-Dream Man turned. His hot gaze gobbled her up, and in response, her nipples tightened. “I confess,” he said in a low rumble, “I was more than glad to see you on the other side of that door.”
Victoria narrowed her eyes. The truth or an act? This man’s profession was making women believe what they wanted to believe. In fact, he probably remembered her name because he’d trained himself to always remember a woman’s name.
As though he’d heard her thoughts, he said, “I’m being honest with you. I promise.”
She straightened her shoulders, lest she appear vulnerable. She’d have to do better guarding her thoughts. This wasn’t a relationship. Would never be one. Emotion had no place here.
He stepped toward her and didn’t stop coming until they were so close she could see the fine shadow of a beard on his clean-shaven jaw.
He must have to shave constantly. He’d probably shaved right before he came to the hotel, but his jaw would still leave a burn all over her.
“I’m Kip, by the way.”
She jolted. He hadn’t told her his name that night at The Bar. Was his name something he only gave away to paying customers?
Stop it. Stop thinking that way right now!
“Kip,” she mumbled. She frowned. “Is that short for something?”
He shrugged. “Just Kip.”
My ass. But his hedging answer reassured her more than anything else could have. They were both on the same page. No strings. No emotions.
Just pleasure.
She hoped.
She nibbled her bottom lip again, and his gaze narrowed. “Nervous?” he asked.
“You have no idea.” Her words were quiet in the room, but she felt so much better once she’d said them.
“Don’t be.” He raised a hand, but paused with it several inches away from her cheek. He raised a brow in obvious question, and she found herself nodding. His brow relaxed, and he brushed the tips of his fingers across her cheek until he cradled it in his palm. “I will take very good care of you, Victoria.”
Oh, God.
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud until Kip smiled. He lowered his head, and just as she thought he was going to kiss her—panicking that he was moving so quickly—instead, he asked, “What made you change your mind?”
Her befuddled mind scrambled to keep up. “Change my mind?”
“About paying for it.”
She couldn’t prevent a wince.
“Victoria, there’s nothing wrong with this.”
“I know that.”
He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Do you?”
No. She nodded.
With his other hand, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pressing his thumb into her pulse point before stroking there in a circle. “Tell me what you want. What you like.”
She swayed toward him. “Everything.”
The thumb stroking the inside of her wrist paused. “Everything, huh?”
His lips were quirked at the corners, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat. She stepped backward before she could stop herself.
Why did you say that? Shame she hadn’t felt in years flooded her chest. Shame she hated and knew was ill placed, but shame she couldn’t keep at bay nonetheless.
“Hey, now,” Kip said, placing a hand on the curve of her waist. “Victoria—” He tightened his fingers in her soft side and pulled her back to him. “Honey, you’re thinking too hard.”
The endearment shocked her, but, even more shocking, after he uttered it, she immediately calmed. Damned if she knew why.
“That’s better,” he murmured. “So—” He moved his hand to the small of her back and now his arm was around her. She could feel the heat of his broad chest hovering a breath away from her breasts, and her nipples strained toward that warmth with all their might. “Victoria likes everything. What a pleasant surprise.”
Her breathing quickened.
“Before we get to everything,” he said, wrapping his other arm around her back. “How about we start with a kiss?”
A kiss. While moments ago, she’d been panicking at the thought of one, now, with his arms around her, she was trembling for his lips against hers.
She’d gone without a kiss even longer than the years she’d gone without sex.
The sudden thought clogged in Victoria’s throat, and unwelcome memories forced their way through the haze of her lust.
No. Anything but that.
She reached up with the hands that had still been at her side and grabbed hold of Kip’s shirt right over the shockingly firm planes of his chest. She didn’t allow the feel of his body to shock her for long though—couldn’t afford to—and she jerked him toward her, stood on her tiptoes, and crushed her mouth to his.
Her eyes were still open, so she was able to see how his widened, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline.
But he didn’t release her. And after a moment, the muscles that had stiffened against her fists relaxed, and he wrapped his arms more securely about her.
Yes. This is what she’d set out to do. And she’d been successful.
She was already breathing hard—much harder than the mere two seconds of kissing merited—and she waited for the pressure of Kip’s lips against hers to drive away the onslaught of the unforgiving past.
His eyes closed; his brow relaxed. One of his hands smoothed up between her shoulder blades until his fingers wound into her hair. He skated the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips.
He was doing everything right, and she could recognize that he was good at it.
It’s not working!
She moaned, a sound he echoed, but she was already pushing her fists against his chest, barely keeping herself from beating against it as she wished to beat against the tide of the memories.
As soon as he felt the pressure of her hands, he stopped, an immediate halt to all activity as he lowered his arms and stepped back. As her chest billowed, she noticed his cheeks had a slight red tinge to them, and his lips were shiny from her mouth.
“Victoria?”
Victoria, I’m so sorry. Victoria, please stop. Victoria, I just . . . can’t.
The distance that cropped up in their marriage, no matter how hard she’d tried to keep it at bay. The resentment that, as his caretaker, she’d felt toward his illness, and even him when, instead of getting better, things just got worse and worse. And then, the immediate guilt that would overrun her, because no matter how hard things got for her, they were infinitely harder for Jeremy. And she should know that! Should shove everything she was feeling aside before it made him do something stupid, like . . .
She shoved her hand over her lips, spun, and sprinted to the bathroom.
• • •
Okay.
Kip blinked at the closed bathroom door several times, hoping either the view would change or he would reach some level of clarity as to why his arms were suddenly and achingly empty of woman.
Of Victoria, whose body had felt unexpectedly good against his. Whose kiss had tasted of the orange juice he’d spied on the table when he’d come in. Whose fists in his shirt had driven him slightly wild, as though he’d never had a woman fist his shirt before instead of it being a regular occurrence.
The erection that had sprung to existence as soon as he’d placed his hand in the lush curve of her waist several minutes ago jerked within his pants, and he hissed in a breath, taken aback by how much it ached.
Nothing here made any damn sense!
He shoved some fingers through his hair as he drew in a deep breath and blew it out harshly.
He’d never had a woman run away from him before. He wasn’t sure he was a fan.
With a grimace, he rearranged his cock in his pants so that he could move without pinching the thing to death. Then, he strode across the room and knocked on the closed bathroom door.
“Victoria?”
Silence.
“Are you—are you sick?” She’d had her hand over her mouth as she ran. He eyed the orange juice again, looking for any sign of a mini liquor bottle nearby. Nothing.
There was still no response from the other side of the door, and he felt a flare of uncharacteristic impatience. Then he jolted. Was he truly impatient to get back to the kissing—a part of his job he did solely to arouse his clients and not for any sort of self-gratification?
“The hell’s wrong with me?” he muttered. He rapped the door with his knuckles once more. “Victoria!” he said more sharply than he’d intended.
There was finally a noise from the other side, but it was so faint that he barely heard it except for making out the wounded quality of it.
A chill slid up his neck. “Honey?” He reached down and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob, giving it a twist.
Locked.
“Victoria, open the door, please.”
Another one of those noises dripping with hurt filtered through the door.
Fuck this.
He rammed his shoulder into the door, and it gave way with a surprising lack of resistance. Kip stumbled into the dark interior of the bathroom, and his eyes scanned frantically as he groped for the light switch.
The light was shards in his eyes, and he held a hand up against the glare, squinting into the sudden glut of illumination.
He caught sight of her immediately, and his hand dropped. She was huddled between the toilet and the tub, her knees tucked into her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins.
She was rocking back and forth, and that same, horrifying sound that had scared him so badly kept traveling his way at regular intervals.
One thing was very clear: she was hurt.
“Honey!” He rushed over, sliding on his knees as he hit the tile. He brushed a hand over the back of her head. “Look at me.”
His heart seemed to be trying to climb up his throat.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
The words were garbled, but he heard them nonetheless. His hand stilled on her hair. “Sorry?”
“I just wanted a kiss. I’m sorry.”
Kip attempted to swallow past the throbbing that seemed lodged at the base of his throat, but it didn’t quite work. “I’m going to lift you. Okay?”
She didn’t respond in any way other than a string of unintelligible words and more rocking.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Shit.”
Something was very wrong with her. He slid one arm beneath her bent knees and pulled her far enough from between the toilet and tub by sliding her on her bottom to be able to wrap his other arm around her shoulders and stagger to his feet with her cradled against his chest.
She tucked her face into the crook of his neck, and her frantic breaths raised gooseflesh along his chest. “I’m so sorry, Jeremy.” She hiccupped.
The muscles along Kip’s shoulders stiffened. He squeezed her close. “Shh, honey.” He carried her through the doorway, turning sideways to keep from bashing her into the doorframe, and walked to the bed.
He kneeled on the mattress and crawled to the center on his knees before settling against the headboard and arranging her in his lap. She curled into him, wrapping an arm around his neck, and when she pressed her face against his throat, he could feel wetness.
Tears.
He tightened his arms and started rocking her back and forth.
Why are you doing this? Even as he snuggled her hair with his cheek, he recognized that this was crazy. He should have called hotel management when he couldn’t open the door. Hell, at the very least, he should have called the odd woman who’d hired him and told her to come get Victoria.
He absolutely should not be here in the middle of the bed rocking her and trying to calm her tears. This was not what he did. Was outside of his job description.
And a mob of shoulds would not be able to pull him away from Victoria at this point.
Honey, he’d called her at several opportunities. Another oddity. He often used a pet name with his clients, but it was always baby. He never once had called someone honey, because it wasn’t a pet name, it was an endearment and therefore had no place in his vocabulary.
He tucked her head more securely into the notch between his neck and shoulder. “Why are you sorry, honey?”
“He died. It’s all my fault he died.”
Kip frowned, but he didn’t pause as he rocked her and stroked her hair. He had incredible people instincts. Whereas a confession like this would have sent him running with any other client, it seemed unlikely Victoria would try to choke him to death or, one of his least favorite client memories, whip out a pointy nail file and jab it his direction. “Why do you think that?”
“I . . . needed sex.” She sobbed. “His medication . . . he didn’t want me anymore, no matter what I did.”
His heart grew sick. He pressed a kiss into her hair.
“He loved me so much,” she murmured. “He took himself off it, and—”
Oh, shit.
“It was our anniversary. I f-found him. His gun in his hand.” She sobbed again. “There was so much blood. Why couldn’t I just control myself? The meds were finally working. If he hadn’t felt pressure from me, he would have been fine!”
A sudden rush of tears slid down his neck, pooling in the dip of his collarbone. “Oh, honey.”
What a thing for someone to have to live with. What a thing for a woman to have to live with when women’s sexuality carried such a stigma as it was.
To feel as though your need for sex killed the man you loved . . .
“Was Jeremy your husband?”
At the word husband, she stiffened. “Yes—” She straightened in his arms and blinked up at his face, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes widened. “Kip?”
He felt his eyebrows rise. She’d obviously forgotten where she was and whom she was with. That was some serious trauma. He cautiously raised his hand and brushed his fingertips across her cheek. “Yes.”
Her cheeks paled. “Oh, God. What did I say?”
Probably your deepest secret and fear. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”
She gasped and pushed at him a bit, but, unlike what he would do in a similar situation with someone else, Kip didn’t release her. “Hey, now,” he said.
“I told you about Jeremy!” She struggled against him.
He attempted to exude extreme calm—hopefully, some of it would be catching. “You did.”
Her expression grew stricken, as though her every nightmare had been realized. “Oh, God.”
Her tone was far different from the one he was used to hearing those words spoken in.
“Let’s just take a breath, hmm?” He stroked her hair again. “You’ve told people before. It’s no big deal. Just pretend I’m one of them.”
“I’ve told nobody before!”
He drew his head back. “Seriously?”
“Yes!” She pulled her knees up again and buried her face in her hands. “Not any of my friends. Not my sister-in-law. Nobody! All they know is that Jeremy killed himself.” She shook her head. “Ugh, I just wanted to fuck! And now the one guy who will fuck me is looking at me like that.” She waved a hand his general direction, keeping her forehead pressed to her knees.
Properly chastened, Kip cleared his expression, but his mind was rioting. “The one guy.” He laughed without humor. “Victoria, be realistic.”
Men were lined up for this woman. He knew it.
She raised her head, and her eyes were sharp. “Yeah, that’s why I’m paying for it. I have so many people wanting to screw me.”
He frowned. She wasn’t serious. Was she? This woman was a catch with a capital C. He fucked for a living, and he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since running into her at The Bar. “Is everyone in this world idiots?”
She looked down at her knees and wiped the tears from her left cheek, which was now stained with one of her blushes.
“Victoria, I’m confident that if you really looked around you at the men who are drooling all over themselves, you’d find that isn’t true.”
She laughed humorlessly and still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “My own husband wouldn’t sleep with me.”
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You know that’s a different situation. I know that’s a different situation, and I don’t even have particulars. He—”
She waved a hand at him and squeezed her eyes shut. “We are not talking about this. I don’t even want to remember that I told you.”
Kip shut his mouth. “Okay.”
She flopped back on the bed and threw her forearm over her eyes. “I can’t believe I managed to screw up a screw with a hooker.”
His lips twitched. “Technically, we prefer the term—”
“Gigolo. I know.” She sighed. “I’ll pay you for your time.”
“Victoria”—he shifted so he faced her fully—“if you’re under the impression I’m not going to fuck your brains out still, you’re gravely mistaken.”
He saw the rapid rise and fall of her ribcage halt abruptly. She slowly removed her arm from her eyes, and her gaze connected with his. “Fuck my brains out?”
He winced. Really? “Okay, I recognize in hindsight that wasn’t romantic.” What was it about this woman that made him completely inept? “I’ll make lo—”
“Nope, stop right there.” She sat up, and a glint of something he hadn’t seen yet in her fired through her eyes. “Fucking my brains out sounds . . . perfect.”
Kip pressed his lips together to keep his jaw from dropping. He tried to manage a nonchalant shrug, but it felt like a spasm more than anything. “Okay.”
She smiled softly. Shyly. “Okay.”
For the first time in his profession, he was unsure how to proceed. Normally, he’d take charge at this moment—lean over and kiss her until she was breathless and achy. But, he knew things about this woman. Deeply personal things. It was preventing him from viewing her as a client, and that was throwing him off his game. What was he supposed to do no—
Victoria launched herself at him.
With an oof, he landed on his back with her sprawled on top of him.
She immediately pushed up, her hands planted in the mattress on either side of his shoulders, and he could see her brightest blush yet stealing across her cheeks. “I’m sor—”
He placed his fingertips over her moving lips, and her words petered out. Then, the tip of her tongue met the tip of his middle finger.
He shuddered, and every drop of blood in his body surged to his cock. “What were you planning to do with me”—he tried to collect his cool and failed—“when you got me in this position?”
She still wasn’t meeting his eyes, and her arms were still taut. She shrugged with one shoulder.
He shook his head. “This from the girl who likes everything.” He brushed his fingers along her bottom lip, hoping against hope she’d lick him again.
She wiggled on top of him, probably in an attempt to slide off his body, but then she halted. The blush deepened and swept down her chest and as far as Kip could see down her shirt—and he was definitely looking, staring at the valley between her breasts with utmost concentration.
She moved against him again—she’d found his erection. It was sandwiched, not unpleasantly, between their bodies and pressing into her stomach. When she moved a third time, a noise he never made in bed slipped from somewhere deep in his chest.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered.
An insistent ache panged in his gut. This was going to fly out of control in 0.0 seconds if he didn’t do something. Didn’t take control. She was merely lying on top of him, and it was driving him crazy in a way he never thought a woman could. In a way a woman never had.
He gripped her arms. “Victoria—”
Her gaze suddenly met his, and her eyes were already hazy. Her gaze dipped to his lips, and her own parted. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Yes.
No! Control!
Roll her over. Get her beneath you—
Her arms suddenly gave way, and she collapsed to his chest, her breasts two firebrands scorching through his shirt. Her lips found his, and she immediately wound her arms around his neck, playing with the hair that tumbled over his collar. Her tongue dove into his mouth without preamble, and sensations lit inside him like a fireworks display.
The fingers in his hair tightened and gave a little tug, and suddenly, his hands were groping her ass without his permission.
She moaned, then lifted her lips long enough to say, “Harder,” before diving back into the kiss.
He obeyed, palming her ass with so much strength, it would have been a slap if he hadn’t held himself back at the last second.
A slap? What the hell are you thinking?
But then, as she sucked his tongue into her mouth, she jerked at his hair. “Yes. Harder, Kip.”
This time, he did slap her.
He’d had clients in the past who’d wanted it a little rough. Those he could convince to direct the attention to his own body, he’d stayed with for the hour or two they’d hired him to fill. But the ones who’d insisted he do anything that could end up on a police report if his client had a change of heart? He’d walked out without a backward glance, more than willing to forfeit a few hundred dollars. Police reports stuck around forever, showing up at the worst times, such as when one tried to go legit in a judgmental world.
So when Victoria moaned so loudly it vibrated against his teeth, and when she bucked against him, thrusting against his hard cock crammed into his jeans, he still couldn’t believe it when he smacked her ass a third time, this time on the other cheek.
She bit into his bottom lip and muttered unintelligible words at him.
Even through the haze of his lust, he needed to know what she was saying. Needed to make sure he still had her consent.
He pulled back from the kiss, but he squeezed her ass, unable to make himself take his hands from her yet. “What was that, honey?” His voice was nearly unrecognizable, hoarse and throaty.
“Naked.” She pressed frantic kisses along the line of his jaw as she reached for the buttons of his shirt. “Please.”
His own body flushed so hot, his skin had to be getting just as red as hers was. “Yes.” He kept one hand on her bottom, and with the other, he helped her with the buttons of his shirt. As soon as the breeze from the room’s air conditioner wafted against his skin, however, he badly needed her skin against his. In a moment, he switched his fingertips from his own buttons to hers.
The satin of her blouse slid against his fingers and against her breasts, quickly warming against his touch, and the swells of her breasts were so distracting that he abandoned her buttons to curve his palm around one firm, voluptuous curve.
Victoria immediately bowed her back, thrusting her breast into his palm, and, in the same movement, thrusting her stomach against his dick. He hissed in a breath, and she was kissing him again, mewling into his mouth with every stroke of her tongue.
His groin tightened, and he groaned, arching into her before the dimmest recesses of his mind screamed loudly enough to get his attention.
Orgasm inevitable!
His gigolo side was strong enough to get him to halt thrusting against her stomach as what he now realized was a powerful orgasm began sweeping up his spine in exquisite pleasure.
He broke from the kiss, gulping in great lungfuls of air. “Fuck.”
“Yes!” She suddenly straightened, now straddling his hips. She swept the sides of his shirt away and pressed her palms over his pectorals, groaning and tossing her head back as she shifted over the throbbing dick she now captured between her thighs. “Fuck me.”
Not helping. This situation was about to detonate, in more ways than one. Kip closed his eyes, blocking out the view of Victoria with her gorgeous flushed skin and blond hair tumbling from her careful bun. Blocking the view of her kiss-bruised lips and the way her nipples thrust against the fine fabric of her blouse.
He drew in a slow, aching breath, and with it, gained a slight bit of control back so that when she next slid over his lap, thrusting the head of his erection against what had to be her clit, he was able to keep from spewing inside his pants.
But only just.
She was writhing atop him now, the crescents of her blunt nails digging into his chest. Her breathing was frantic and catching on every exhalation. She sounded as wild as he felt.
“Kip,” she gasped. “I’m going to—” She bore down on him, her thighs squeezing his hips, and her head tipped back, revealing the long length of her neck.
His eyes widened. She was as wild as he was feeling. She jerked along his length. Her breath hitched, and then she cried out.
He tightened his fingers on her hips as he helped her keep her rhythm, her hands slipping over his nipples in the sheen of sweat that had broken out over his chest.
“Shit,” she cried. “Shit!”
Her body stiffened visibly, and then, just as suddenly, she collapsed, falling to his chest once again. Her frantic breaths cascaded over his exposed skin, tightening his nipples and causing him to shiver, though the possibility that the reaction was from the sight of Victoria at the height of her pleasure was highly likely.
A fine tremor racked her slight frame, and Kip smoothed a hand up her back. The other hand cradled the back of her head.
He was so damn horny he was going to explode. Needed to explode. And yet, he found himself wanting to simply hold her as she came down from what had been a nearly violent release.
As her breathing calmed, she pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “God, I’ve been needing that for three years.”
Kip jerked. “Three—”
She looked up at him, alarmed, and placed her fingers over his lips. “Forget I said that.”
Like hell. This woman had gone without a man for three years?
“I can’t believe I didn’t even get my clothes off.”
He flipped them suddenly, pressing his hips between her thighs and forcing them wider to accommodate him. “Your clothes will be off for the next one, honey. I promise.”
She blinked up at him. “I get more?”
He smiled down at her, and, with fingers that trembled only slightly less than they had minutes ago, set about undoing her buttons at last. “You get everything.”
She breathed a laugh and arched her back. She reached up with both hands and undid the rest of her bun.
Like a dream, all of this rich, blond silk tumbled down around her shoulders and chest, thoroughly distracting him once again from his goal of unbuttoning her blouse. As the waves slipped over her breasts, the scent of her shampoo wafted up, and Kip found himself bending down and stroking the tip of his nose along her throat so he could get a better whiff.
He found her pulse point and indulged in an open-mouth kiss, just like he’d fantasized about the first time he met her. The flutter of her heartbeat strummed against his lips, and he touched the tip of his tongue to her skin.
She moaned and wove her fingers into his hair, pulling him up until she could kiss him once again.
This kiss was a little different. With one orgasm out of the way—one she’d desperately needed, apparently—she wasn’t as frantic for him.
Instead, she was wicked.
Slow, languorous sweeps of her tongue against his. Her nails scraping against his scalp. The way she raised her knees on each side of his hips, cradling him between her legs and bringing his body flush to hers.
He had to be crushing her; he had no desire to lift himself from her.
No finesse with this woman. None.
She was dangerous. Made him forget his purpose here. He should distance himself, both physically and emotionally.
Instead, he deepened the kiss. Bringing both hands up, he cradled her face, his thumbs stroking across her cheeks, where he knew without looking that a delectable blush spread.
He would get control of himself but not to gain distance. He’d get control so he could make this as good as possible for a woman who deserved it more than anyone he’d ever met.
He poured himself into the kiss, showing her with every weapon in his arsenal how badly he wanted it. Wanted her.
She pulled from the kiss, gasping, and stared up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Her gaze scanned his features, and he kept stroking her face as she did so, letting her look her fill. “God, you’re fine,” she breathed.
“And you’re fucking gorgeous.”
As she breathed a disbelieving laugh, Kip mentally kicked his own ass. He had not said anything right since carrying her out of the bathroom. He was supposed to be a gentleman—women paid him to be one—and he couldn’t keep from swearing around her, forgetting what he should be doing.
By some miracle, it was working for her. Half of his previous clients would have already walked out in a huff, pissed that he wasn’t delivering on the fantasy they’d purchased.
But he didn’t like that her small laugh had been disbelieving. Self-deprecating. So he let all the please let me fuck you he was feeling rise to the surface. He tenderly brushed a tendril of that beautiful blond hair from her brow, and then he pushed himself up until he was kneeling between her spread thighs.
She’d lain content before him, all her limbs relaxed, but his sudden shift made her slightly nervous if the new glint to her eyes was any indication.
Maintaining eye contact, he shrugged his shirt from his shoulders, knowing as he did so that every muscle in his torso would flicker for her.
He loved it when her gaze heated, and her lips parted around suddenly shallow breaths.
Smoothing his palm down his stomach, he then worked at his belt, and her gaze narrowed, rapt on his groin. The clack of his belt buckle was stark in the quiet room amid their increasingly ragged breathing.
He pulled the belt through the loops, his biceps flexing, and then dropped it off the side of the bed before next undoing the button of his pants and lowering the zipper.
She licked her lips, and he felt it like a lick to his skin. His fumbled as he pushed his pants past his hips. He always wore black briefs when he was seeing a client, but he’d never been as thankful for their particular cut as he was when Victoria made a desperate, short sound in the back of her throat when she saw them.
In a practiced move, he stretched out over her on straightened arms, grinding the erection that was barely contained in his underwear between her legs as he kicked his pants the rest of the way off.
And, just like that, Victoria was done observing. He could see in the flicker of her gaze that she was going to touch.
Yes.
She reached up and placed both palms over his chest, and then she leaned up and opened her lips over his collarbone, sucking hard before giving him a sharp nip.
He grunted, his hips jerking forward without his permission.
“Liked that?” she murmured right before she did it again.
Oh, God. What he liked had no place in his work, but damned if he didn’t like that so hard. “Yes,” he groaned.
As she nipped and sucked her way up his neck, her hands traveled down. Her delicate fingers trailed along his abs, and then, with a boldness that was at odds with the vulnerability she’d displayed earlier, she cupped his erection and aching balls with both hands.
She squeezed.
“Fuck!” He thrust into her hand with all his strength, driving the sensitive head of his cock against her hold.
Just as quickly, he bit his lip and locked down every muscle in his body, keeping himself from thrusting again.
This is about her!
The fingers of one hand stroked up his length while the others cupped his sack. “You feel so good.”
He breathed a laugh. “This is not going like it’s supposed to.” His words were clipped and strained as he tried to hold himself still.
She nibbled the underside of his chin. “How is it supposed to go?”
“You’re supposed to be losing your cool.”
“Trust me.” She kissed the corner of his mouth. “I am.”
Her hands moved to the band of his briefs, and he knew he was seconds away from feeling her skin against his, at which point, he would be less than useless.
Shaking his head to clear it, he grabbed her wrists with one hand and pulled her arms over her head.
“Hey.” She frowned up at him. “I was playing with that.”
Another short, breathless laugh. “I know.” He leaned back and kneeled between her legs again. “But now, I’m going to play with you.”
Her eyes flashed.
He resumed the task he’d set out to do several times already, dismayed to find that he’d only managed to undo one of her buttons—the one right beneath her throat—in all the times he’d tried to get her out of her clothes.
The fabric of her shirt was slick and soft, and with it clinging to her sweat-damp skin, he could see the lacy outline of her bra through it. His erection jerked as he slipped the second and then third buttons free. They were tiny, delicate pearls, and his large fingers had trouble with them when he’d never had trouble with buttons before in his life.
He blamed the shaking that racked his entire body.
On the fourth button, her blouse began to part, revealing the lingerie beneath. And it was definitely lingerie.
Victoria had dressed for him.
Something odd thumped in his chest, exhilarating and paining him at the same time. Now he was desperate to see her, and he moved quickly as he unbuttoned the rest of her blouse, shoving it aside with uncouth vigor.
“God in heaven,” he breathed.
He stared so hard, she squirmed beneath his gaze, but even then, he couldn’t pull his focus from her body long enough to ensure her she was rocking him down to his core.
She wore a cream-colored lace bustier that pushed her breasts up and wrapped around her svelte curves until Kip thought his brain was going to explode. Delectable patches of pale skin peeked through the lace’s pattern.
Propping himself up on one arm, he traced with his fingers one of the corset-like ribs of the bustier from the base right above her belly button up to the curve of her breast. “This is incredible,” he murmured.
She squirmed again, and he struggled to get his gaze up from the flesh he was making love to with his eyes. At last, his gaze met hers. “Incredible,” he repeated.
As expected, she blushed. But the way she bit her bottom lip and traced her own fingertips along the strap of the bustier let him know she was pleased by his compliment and attention.
Good. Finally doing something right.
And then he realized that if she’d taken such care with what was beneath her top, what awaited him beneath her pants was going to be just as life changing.
He grabbed her free hand and pressed a quick kiss into her palm before directing it to her parted blouse. “Take it off, honey.”
She obeyed him without question, and he stowed that knowledge—that she was agreeable to being directed—away for future use. While she was occupied with removing her shirt, his fingers stroked down her stomach to the button and fly of her slacks.
Her breathing hitched as the sound of her zipper filled the room, but as she dropped her shirt over the side of the bed, she lifted her hips, giving him wordless permission to take her pants off.
He controlled himself enough to keep from ripping them off in his bid to see all of her, but he was less than suave. He also had no concept of where her pants went once they were off, because his entire world narrowed down to the tiny slip of a G-string that encircled Victoria’s hips.
His hands were suddenly fisting in that delicate lace as though he were going to tear it from her body.
His gaze hungrily poured over her exquisite body. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She stiffened. “What?”
“Women don’t look this good.” His gaze shot to her face. His brows drew together. “You can’t be real.”
She seemed stunned for a second, and then a soft smile spread her lips. “God, you’re good for my ego.”
“Give me some time. I’ll be good for a lot of other things, too.” He stared at her bustier once again. “I want to keep that”—he nodded at the lace molded around her breasts—“on for a bit longer, but I want this off.” He tugged at her G-string. “Okay?”
She nibbled her bottom lip and nodded, once again lifting her hips. This time, it afforded him the most fortuitous glance he’d had of a woman’s body in memory. The lacy underwear was a vee that dipped down below her navel, and with her legs and ass taut from her current position, he could stare his fill at the way the G-string disappeared between her ass cheeks, making him want to slap them all over again now that he knew how firm they were.
The shake alone would give him a heart attack.
He swore beneath his breath as he tugged the lace over her hips. As he pulled it down her thighs, he learned something else new about Victoria.
She was a groomer. Everything—from her mound to her slick lips—was bare.
His hips jerked, his cock longing to thrust along that sweet, wet flesh in a smooth glide. He gritted his teeth and pulled the G-string off entirely, tossing it over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to touch you.” He hadn’t meant to say the words, but they were so true, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret them.
“Then touch me,” she whispered, planting her heels on either side of him and spreading her knees wide.
She was going to kill him. All her constant contradictions were driving him wild. This woman, with her legs spread so wide he could see the shadow of her opening, was the same woman who had apologized for kissing him minutes ago.
He wouldn’t leave her boldness unrewarded. He could feel his cheeks straining to contain a smile as he wrapped a hand around each of her ankles. Her body beneath his fingers was delicate, and he stroked a circle on the inside of her ankles with both thumbs.
A simple touch, but her lips parted, and her eyelids fluttered as though she were fighting to keep them from closing.
Which meant she had started thinking again in the wake of her first orgasm. If she was fighting natural responses, he still had some work to do to make her completely let go. He wanted her to revel in those natural responses. It would only be fair, because he couldn’t wait to find out what she did, what noises she made, when she was lost to pleasure.
“Your skin is so soft,” he murmured.
He stroked her again, but this time, his thumbs traveled higher, over the curve of her calf muscle. Gooseflesh suddenly leapt from his touch to race over her entire body.
He stopped holding back his smile—just the slightest bit—as he smoothed his palms over her knees and down the slope of her spread thighs. As he did so, he stretched forward, spreading out on his belly between her legs.
He traipsed his fingertips over her hipbones, and a shuddering sigh sounded from her.
Kip glanced up to find her eyes closed. He indulged in a moment of self-congratulations, and he felt his grin broaden.
But then he looked down at her spread sex, and his smile fell away. A sudden, intense yearning to lean down and place his open mouth over the clit that visibly throbbed before his eyes nearly overtook him.
But he couldn’t do that. He didn’t have her medical records. She didn’t have his.
Fuck. He frowned. He’d never wanted to go down on a woman so badly in his life—professionally or privately.
He felt cheated.
He . . . felt.
That got his attention. He licked his dry lips and forced himself to focus once more. Curving one arm around her thigh, he rested an open palm over her belly. The gentle thud of her heartbeat flicked against his palm as, with his other hand, he trailed the curve of her inner thigh to her sweet, tantalizing, bare lips.
“Gorgeous,” he whispered, knowing his breath would waft against her aroused sex.
Like he expected, she squirmed.
He pressed down with the hand over her belly, keeping her in place. Staring up at her expectant face, he stroked down her center, from clit to opening, with his thumb.
“Oh, God.”
She bucked against the hand holding her down, but he showed no mercy, this time tightening his arm around her thigh to help keep her still.
She was more responsive than he could have dreamed. The way she was breathing right now, the fine tremor that racked her body—Kip had no doubt that he could stroke her less than five times and make her come again.
Victoria had been without a man for far too long. And that lack ended tonight.
His pinky brushed against the edge of her bustier. He needed, for both their sakes, to get her out of the last of her clothes and his dick inside her body in the shortest amount of time possible. Neither of them were going to last much longer.
“Okay, honey.” He stroked her one last time, and she moaned. “Sit up for me.” Before I lose all my control.
She blinked down at him. “W-what?”
Her eyes were glazed. Beneath the cups of her bustier, her nipples were so taut they looked painful.
“Sit up. Let me get this off you.”
She nodded, but he wasn’t sure she’d understood his directions until the muscles beneath the palm over her stomach bunched. She sat up.
Kip pressed a kiss to her stomach just beneath her belly button, opening his lips and giving her warm skin a slow lick.
Her belly dipped, and she sucked in a breath. He rasped his chin against her soft skin before looking up at her.
Her breasts rose and fell in quick succession over the top of her lingerie. With what he hoped was a wicked smile—God knew if he had any game left—Kip reached around her and began unhooking her bustier one tiny hook and eyelet at a time.
Her breaths increased in frequency, and the color along her cheeks heightened. By the time he finished and gently pressed her back to draw the bustier down her arms, his breaths were just as frantic as hers.
As he caught sight of her nipples for the first time, though, breathing at all became a challenge.
Perfection. Her breasts were high but generous—the unicorn among all breasts. Her tight nipples were the color of a delicate pink rose.
He was afraid he would fall on her and devour her.
With measured slowness, he knelt over her and lowered himself until his stomach stretched over her bare pubic bone. She was so aroused that, when she wiggled, she slicked across his stomach. By that time, Kip was already closing his lips over her left nipple, so his harsh groan was muffled by her taste.
She arched her back and threaded her fingers through his hair. “Kip.” She squirmed beneath him, and he had to bite back the desire to tell her to hold still or she wouldn’t get her money’s worth. “No more seduction. Please.”
Like words from a dream. He should protest. Victoria deserved seduction. Needed seduction.
But he was just desperate enough that her lust-filled order sounded brilliant to him. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then leaned over the end of the bed, groping for his jeans. Yet another sign that he was out of it. He was always sure to slip a condom under the pillow when he undressed so he could protect his partner and himself smoothly and imperceptibly when the time came.
And here he was fishing through his discarded pants. After an embarrassingly long amount of time, his fingertips finally encountered one of the several foil packets he’d stuffed in his back pocket before heading over here.
Before he could turn back, there was a tugging at his briefs.
His gaze snapped back to Victoria and then down at where both of her hands were fisted in the waistband of his briefs.
She tugged again. “Off now.”
God, he hadn’t even remembered that he still wore them. “Certainly.”
Her brow furrowed, and she bit into her bottom lip. She gently pulled his briefs’ waistband out before pulling down, and his cock leapt to be free.
“Oh, God,” she whispered.
Kip bit back a harsh moan as her fingertips moved toward the crown of his erection. But when her touch breezed over his sensitive skin, that moan escaped with a vengeance. He fisted the sheets on either side of her hips and gritted his teeth.
God help him if she wanted to explore for long, because he had about five seconds left before something embarrassing happened. He wasn’t sure exactly what it would be, but he knew for sure that it would call his professionalism into question. “Victoria,” he begged as she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked him down to the root.
Her name on his lips seemed to break her from a trance. She jolted—he felt it all the way down to his aching balls—and then she looked back up into his eyes. “I can’t wait for this.”
Like a lay with him was freaking Disneyland. “I can’t either.” He gently nudged her hand aside and breathed a sigh of relief when she obediently relinquished her hold on his cock, as it bought him precious seconds to get himself together.
He shucked his briefs as though they were on fire, and then he was tearing into the foil packet, not at all unlike a starving man digging into his first meal in days.
“Let me.”
Kip glanced up. Victoria was staring at the condom in his fingers with her hand held out.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Her brow quirked at that, but she bit back a smile as she plucked the condom from his fingers and placed it against the crown of his dick.
Which immediately jerked upon contact, displacing her efforts.
Get a hold of yourself!
Smiling grimly, Kip thought about animal shows where something cute got eaten. Nope, not strong enough. A trip to the mall during Christmas time. It was hopeless. Nothing was stronger than the sweet torture of her fingers against him as she repositioned the condom and began rolling it down his length. When they were fully protected, she wrapped her hand around him and squeezed.
The most mortifying sound imaginable rumbled deep in his chest—something between a whimper and a plea. She grinned up at him, a surge of confidence in her eyes, and he nearly groaned again.
This confidence was going to kill him. It promised adventure. Innovation. Memorability. He was doomed.
She tugged him forward by his erection, and with very little finesse, he obeyed in the form of flopping down on top of her.
Just as he was getting ready to scramble up on extended arms and apologize, she moaned and wrapped her arm and—holy shit—legs around him, and he slid all the way to the hilt inside her luscious body.
“Fuck.” He pressed his forehead against her shoulder. “Oh, fuck.”
She canted her hips, and he sank even farther into her tight heat. He wanted to beg her to stay still. Give him a moment.
He could never be that weak.
And, so, since the chance that this was going to be appallingly short was a very real possibility, he vowed to make it the best short encounter she would ever have.
They could do longer later.
He propped himself up on one elbow and gave her his best smoldering look. He was semi-successful if the small hitch in her breathing was any indication. Before he could mess up this tiny victory, he leaned down and covered her mouth with his, licking inside with infinite tenderness.
With his other arm, he wrapped up her thigh and pinned it against his side, sliding his hand down her exposed underside until he could clutch her bottom. With sprawled fingers, he squeezed her beautiful ass and then began to move with slow, measured thrusts.
She whimpered into the kiss, and her tongue dueled with his.
His fingers squeezed again, and the pressure of her tight sex around his went straight to his gut, where the dull ache there became an insistent throb.
Holy fuck, this is good.
Like, top-ten good. Hell, maybe even top five.
He was being paid for his services, and this was the best experience he could remember having in recent memory.
That sobered him quickly.
His eyes popped open as he kissed her. Luckily, hers remained closed, so she couldn’t witness him freaking out as his body tingled all over, all the way down to his usually dormant heart, which was now beating like a freight train against hers.
He forced his muscles to stay relaxed. Forced himself to keep pleasuring her. And all the while, he shoved every errant, warm sentiment toward this paying client into a giant, figurative box in his mind, kicking it into a corner.
Give her what she’s paying for. Nothing more.
Just as his panic was ebbing, her eyes popped open, and her gaze clashed with his. He put his game face on and turned the passion of the kiss up a notch while grinding his pelvis against her swollen clit as he thrust into her once more.
She pulled from the kiss slowly but decisively. “Kip?” Her brows drew together. “Everything okay?”
Fuck. She’d felt him change.
He ducked his head and kissed and then licked her neck. “Oh, yeah,” he muttered against her skin, deepening the angle of his next thrust.
She sucked in a breath, then moaned, melting into the bed and grinding right back against him as he circled his hips, pressing into the spot he knew would send her into climax.
Distraction achieved.
Now he needed to finish this. Before his control slipped. “So gorgeous.” He nipped her shoulder and thrust again, this time harder, and the breathy moan of a few seconds ago now turned into an earthy groan. “So perfect.”
“Shit.” She lifted her hips, thrusting with him now. They were moving together in beautiful synchronicity, their bodies conversing as naturally as if they’d been doing this together for years. “It’s so good, Kip.”
He screwed his lips together tightly around words he shouldn’t—he couldn’t—say. It is so good. It’s not usually like this. I could get addicted to this. I don’t want you to be a paying customer. I want to do this all night.
Tomorrow night, too.
Desperate, he palmed her breast with his left hand, tweaking her nipple with a soft pinch that made her arch her back and call his name to the ceiling.
Slipping more. “Shit.” He was panting. Filling his hand with her breast again, he cupped it to his mouth and sucked her nipple between his teeth.
She was writhing beneath him now. They were no longer moving together in perfect motion, but it was even more earthshattering than before.
With a sudden surge, Kip sprang right to the edge of orgasm. You can’t do this! Stop this right now! He was going to come before a client. For the first time in his life.
Her sex clamped down on his dick so hard, he couldn’t thrust anymore. She arched, threw her head back, and keened.
“Victoria.” Her name tripped over his lips in an adrenaline-inducing rush of relief. “God, yes.” He shoved into the tight hold she had on him and circled his hips against her clit as stars lit behind his eyes.
He shut them tightly and buried his face in her breasts as his orgasm overtook him. He bit her—much too hard—but it kept his mouth occupied with something other than all the sentiments that wanted to burst out of him as he filled the condom to capacity.
Her thighs trembled against his hips as she squeezed him there and with her arms, hugging him with her entire body.
Both of them relaxed in unison, their orgasms ebbing at the exact same time.
Kip opened his eyes and stared at the perfect nipple in his vision. His breathing was still far too erratic. His heart thundered.
And then he did something incredibly stupid.
He wrapped his arms around her, nestled his cheek against her chest, and closed his eyes again.
As though, for all intents and purposes, he intended to cuddle this woman and bask in an after-sex glow.
Her thighs released their death grip on his hips and ass, and as she lowered her legs, she brushed her foot down the length of his calf in what could only be construed as a tender caress. She next wove her fingers into his hair and hugged him against her.
And, forget top ten or top five—it was the best thing he’d ever felt.
As she began massaging his scalp with her fingertips, Kip forced himself to withdraw. But it took two tries for his body to listen. With a groan that sounded like he was in pain, he clutched the condom and pulled out of her.
Her hands fell to her sides, and something hollow resounded in Kip’s gut. “I’ll be right back, honey,” he murmured, not quite able to meet her eyes.
She mumbled something sleepily and rolled to her side.
Kip padded into the bathroom and tore the condom off, the little corresponding snap a much-needed wake-up call. After tossing it in the trash, he looked at himself in the mirror.
His eyes were haunted.
He scrubbed a hand down his face and swore under his breath. Forget a shower; he needed to get out of here and now. Before he turned right back around, pulled out another condom and fucked her again—slowly this time.
He snatched a washcloth from the rack over the toilet and turned the water to scalding in the sink. Wetting the cloth, he gave himself a quick whore’s bath and then stalked from the bathroom, his mood descending with every step.
He stopped abruptly, however, when he entered the main room once more.
Victoria was asleep, which was not an unusual way to find his clients. But in the short time he’d been in the bathroom, she’d put a stack of cash on the bedside table, which was also not unusual.
Because he was a gigolo.
The money was highlighted in the bright yellow glow of the lamp as though standing on stage beneath a spotlight.
His clothes were folded neatly at the end of the bed.
His feet heavy, he walked as silently as he could so he wouldn’t wake her, because God knew what he would say to her if she did wake.
Something unacceptable, surely, given his current mindfuckery.
He pulled his clothes on as quickly as possible, then walked over to the table.
Holding his breath, he fanned out the bills with the tips of his fingers.
His breath rushed out of him. His glance jetted over to the clock.
Two hours and fifteen minutes since I arrived.
She’d paid him much, much more than his hourly rate, which he had told to the woman who’d arranged this appointment. In fact, she’d paid him more than his nightly rate, which—he grimaced now—he himself had told her at The Bar.
Kip pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed silently. Then he rearranged the bills into a nice, neat stack.
He straightened his belt as he turned to look at her one more time before he left.
Her lips, swollen from his kisses, were parted. Her lush lashes curved against her cheeks. Her neck was red from whisker burn.
Of its own volition, his hand moved. Stroked her cheek. Tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Pulled the comforter up and over her shoulder. “Good night, honey,” he whispered so softly she wouldn’t be able to hear him.
Then he turned and walked to the door.
When he clicked the light switch off, the halo of light surrounding the stack of bills on the table disappeared.
But the bills remained.