I slide from Christian’s car, and he opens his door and circles the front to meet me. I lift my head and glare at him. “I can get into my house just fine,” I tell him, but there is this totally weird part of me that likes his attention. Ridiculous, I know, considering I can’t stand him. But I also can’t stop thinking about what he said to me, about being cared for. For as long as I can remember Mom and I have been taking care of ourselves. I wouldn’t know the first thing about handing myself over to someone.
But you want to, don’t you, Maize?
“Yes, you can, but I can help you get to the door, too,” he responds.
I just shake my head. Kaitlyn had said she heard Christian never participated in the auctions. A stupid thrill goes through me and I quickly shut it down. He feels guilty. He’s only my ‘benefactor’ because he’s responsible for my fall. He does not want to sleep with me, a point he has made a few times, and I’m perfectly fine with that. Perfectly!
I try to slip away when he puts his hand on the small of my back, partly because I can walk without his help and partly because it’s arousing things inside me, things that are foreign—things that are settling deep between my legs. Gawd… What the hell is wrong with me?
Oh, just that you would like to have some good sex, just once in your life, and God’s gift to women here has a reputation a mile long.
“Are you going to be this annoying all semester?” I ask.
“Probably.”
“Lucky me.”
“That is entirely up to you,” he says and when I hear what almost sounds like want in his voice, my gaze flies to his. The corners of his mouth twitch. What exactly is he saying to me? That getting lucky—with him—is up to me. Yeah, okay, I’m clearly still concussed. Or not.
We climb my front steps and he when opens the door, I turn to him. “So are you going to tell me what I need to do?”
“I’m thinking on it.”
“I am not taking money that isn’t earned.”
He steps closer, crowding me, and my pulse jumps in my neck. His gaze drops like he can see the steady throb in my neck and he wets his mouth. Does he want to kiss me or something? God, there I go with the ‘something’ again.
“How about I text you later, with a list.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll be waiting for that.” He holds his hand out, and I stare at it. “Phone.”
“What for?”
“Do you always have to question everything?”
“Yes.”
“Good to know. I want your phone so I can put my contact information in.”
I nod and fish it from my pocket. His hand touches mine, his skin warm and rough against my wrist, and once again my mind wanders. What would his hand feel like on my naked body? I clear my throat, and his lids lift, those mesmerizing blue eyes full of curiosity.
“Something the matter?” he asks.
“No.”
I stare at his big hands as he puts information into my phone. A second later, his pings. We stand there staring at each other for an awkward moment. For some unknown reason, I can’t seem to step away. He’s like a big magnet, and I’m a scrap of metal drawn by his force.
He breaks the quiet. “See you later, Maize.”
The slow sexy way he says my name sends tingles down my spine and I resist the urge to say, not if I see you first, because I will be seeing him. “Bye, Christian.”
I step into the house and shut the door. I press my forehead against it, and put my hand on the wood, sensing he’s still standing there. Pull yourself together, girl. I shake my head, push off the door, and hobble up the stairs. I head down the hall, and there’s no tiptoeing and trying not to wake Kaitlyn when my boot makes more noise than a pirate with a peg leg. I have no idea why that makes me chuckle, madly, like a woman who escaped an asylum. Maybe it’s my way of letting the stress of the night go.
Did I really go to an auction and sell myself to Christian Moore?
Yeah, I sure did, and I wish to hell I regretted it more than I actually do. Ugh.
Kaitlyn’s door opens and she looks at me like I might have grown a second head as I try to stifle my laughter. “I guess tonight went well, then?”
I sober quickly. “It was horrible.”
Her gaze goes up and down the length of me and she grins. “Maybe I should have stayed and watched.”
She walked me to the frat house, but left after I entered. “It went fast, and so much for Christian not bidding.”
Her mouth falls open, and she grabs me by the shoulders. “You’re Christian’s?”
“I’m not his,” I snap, but yeah, I kind of am. Bought and paid for. “He’s my benefactor, and I will do things for him to earn the money.”
“Oh, what kind of things?” she asks with a wag of her eyebrow.
“Sex isn’t on the table, if that’s what you’re getting at.” Her head angles, her gaze moving over my face. “What?”
“You sound disappointed about that.”
“I’m not a prostitute, and I do not sound disappointed. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day and going up on that stage was beyond stressful.”
Maybe I should have stayed, let Christian massage my tight muscles.
“Well now you’re a sugar baby, a kept woman.” She frowns. “I wish I’d gotten a card. It’s kind of a sweet deal.”
My jaw drops open. “You can’t be serious.”
“As serious as a damn ankle injury, Maize.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and get a football to the head.”
She laughs, and covers her mouth, not wanting to wake our roommates. “Get some sleep,” I tell her.
I hobble to the bathroom, get ready for bed, and then walk to my room. I tug on a night shirt, crawl into bed, and pull the covers up. Even though I’m exhausted, I’m too keyed up to fall asleep. I grab my cell, and a wave of disappointment curls through me when I don’t find a message from Christian. I toss it aside, but as soon as I do, it pings. I snatch it up far too quickly, and try to calm my racing heart as I read the text from Christian.
How are your culinary skills?
I run my fingers over the words as a goofy smile crosses my lips as I text back. “I’m a pretty good cook.”
Breakfast tomorrow?
I guess I can make you breakfast. My place or yours?
Mine.
Would this be breakfast in bed?
Dammit, why oh, why did I have to bring up his bed?
Yes.
I drop my phone like it’s on fire, and peek at it over the covers.
Nine okay?
I snatch my phone and text back. That’s not much of a list.
Still working on it. I’ll have it ready in the morning.
I let him know nine is fine and I wait to see if he’s going to respond and when no message comes through, a ridiculous sound catches in my throat. I close my eyes, and toss restlessly. I’m sure my body has never been so alive. God, when I walked onto that stage tonight, and heard Christian bid on me, although at the time, I had no idea it was him, I was both nervous and shocked. I couldn’t understand why any guy would bid so high. Of course, I quickly learned why. Christian feels responsible for my ankle. But I can’t deny there was something in his eyes when he removed the hood of his robe, something that looked like desire. He assured me he wasn’t looking to finish what he started in that closet and I’m happy about that.
If I’m so happy about that, why are my fingers inching downward, sliding between my widening legs? Normally when I fall into bed, I crash hard. Training will do that to you, but I suspect I’m not going to get any sleep tonight until I take the edge off, and not even sure if I can with my fingers, but dammit, I’m sure going to try.
I let my knees fall open, and slide my finger over my clit. I imagine it’s Christian’s hand between my legs, his mouth working the nub that’s swelling beneath the pad of my finger. I groan and envision him in his bed right now, his cock in his hand as he strokes himself while he pictures me on my knees, his cock in my mouth. I rub myself harder, my mind on an erotic journey like never before. I’ve fantasized a time or two, but tonight the vision behind my eyes is vivid, real. Maybe it had something to do with the way he held me down the other day, or the way he looked at me tonight. I swear to God there was something that resembled hunger in his eyes. I slide a finger into my body and crush my clit beneath the heel of my hand, and just like that, a powerful orgasm grips me hard, and I try to stifle a moan as I grow slicker between my legs.
I stay like that until the spasms stop. I go quiet as wind picks up outside, beating against the old house and rattling the windows. I try to breathe, to refill my collapsed lungs as I revel in the post-orgasm bliss. My God, I have never, in my entire life, climaxed so fast or so hard. What is going on with my body?
Maybe it just really wants to be touched by Christian.
No, no, no. I hate him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t admire a work of art when I see it, right? Still, I’m not going to sleep with him. This exchange is me helping him, and him paying for it. It can’t be about anything else. When I can finally move again, I grab a few tissues, clean myself up, and fall into a restless sleep filled with dreams of Christian.
My alarm goes off, and I peel one eye open, and when thoughts of seeing Christian this morning race through my sleep-deprived brain, I sit up, wishing I wasn’t quite so excited. I push to my feet, the stupid boot heavy and awkward as I grab my robe and throw it over my shoulders. I can’t wait until I no longer have to wear the boot while sleeping.
My roommates are still asleep, although I don’t know how with the rain pelting against the window. I glance at the rotten wood around my window, wet from the downpour. I can’t even imagine the mold we’re all breathing in on a daily basis, living in this run-down place, but it’s all we can afford and our landlord is a deadbeat. My gaze lifts to the gray and dreary sky and the need to go for a long run physically pulls at me. I can feel it deep in my gut. But I can’t run, and the only way I can pay my bills is to get my ass over to Christian’s and cook breakfast for him, which is ridiculous. But far better than sleeping with him. Right?
My thoughts go to my mother and my stomach tightens. What would she think if she knew I was basically a sugar baby, minus the sex? I don’t know and I can’t think about that. All I know is I have to do what I have to do to get to where I want in this world. It’s a means to an end that will help me become a lawyer, so I can use my knowledge to help others.
Just focus on that, girl, and you’ll be just fine.
I tug off my robe and nighty and remove my boot. I shower quickly and once done, I pull on my underthings, my favorite yoga pants, T-shirt and a light raincoat, then put my boot back on and cover it with a plastic bag. I snatch up my purse, but the second I open the door and step out onto the stoop, and find Christian walking toward me with that sexy swagger that squeezes my damn ovaries, I know in an instant, I’m not going to be just fine.
Not going to be just fine at all.