Page 6 of Worth Loving You

“Mm hm.”

He held the towel to himself and hopped to the floor. Going to the niche in the corner by the entrance, he tossed the cloth aside and began getting dressed.

I dared another peek, seeing a smooth, round ass that dipped on the outsides of the cheeks near his hips whenever he moved.

Turning back around abruptly, I was fidgeting with things, not really doing anything of importance, other than avoiding him at all costs.

After a few minutes, he was standing beside me, holding a business card out.

My brows furrowed, looking at it.

“Take it,” he said when I hesitated. “I want you to call me and let me know when you have openings next week. You are officially my one and only masseuse. That was fucking amazing. Do you do remote locations?”

I nodded, staring at the white card with the fancy, black writing. “Yes, sir.”

“Great, because I don’t always have time to come to the business.” He readjusted his tie and flashed a smile that had a dimple on the left cheek. “Let me know about next week.”

“Yes, sir.”

He winked and strutted out the room, whistling. The door closing behind him, I stared at the card once more.

Milo Pampinella, CEO of Rawlings Shipping, International.

Tapping the card to my palm, I set it on the cubby next to my iPod. I didn’t have time to think of him right now, I had to clean up and prepare for my next client.

Chapter 3

Chastity Monroe

Strolling down the sidewalk, I rounded the corner of the apartment building where I lived. I paused to peek into the wall of glass to the hair salon next to the entrance, looking for Jennifer. When I spotted her, I knocked on the window and held up the bag of Thai I’d brought home for dinner.

She smiled and waved, then went back to finishing the customer she was working on.

Just past the salon’s entrance, was the first door to the apartments. I unlocked it with the main key and stepped into the tiny foyer. Switching keys to check the mail, someone else entered, so I had to lean against the wall to make room for them to open the glass door to the stairs.

I grabbed the envelopes, tossed them into the bag with the food, and went through the second door. Hiking the stairs to the third level, I was winded by the time I reached my apartment. Bypassing the first entrance that opened to the living room, I went to the second, unlocked it, and stepped into the small kitchen.

Hastily tossing the food on the counter, I shrugged my backpack off and dropped it next to the stove. I rummaged through the containers to find my cashew chicken and vegetables, got a fork from the drawer, and retrieved my bag, slinking it on my shoulder once again. Pausing at the half wall at the opening of the kitchen to open the glass door of the built in cabinet, I grabbed the almost empty bottle of red wine. Carefully bumping the door with my hip, I strolled down the hallway to the living room.

With an exhausted groan, I plopped on the long sofa under the three windows that overlooked the street. Setting the container of food on the coffee table, I put the fork in my mouth and dug around my backpack for my date book. I tossed it next to the food, opened the container, and started eating while flipping through the pages.

My day hadn’t been grueling, by any means. It had been quite monotonous, in fact. One customer came into my room, I massaged them, they left, I cleaned and sanitized, and a new customer showed up. It was just like every other day.

Today was not like any other day, however, for my thoughts had been consumed with Milo Pampinella. Twice, he “accidentally” touched me, but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it had been intentional, after all.

I could still hear his moaning, his breathy words. I’d never had someone react to one of my massages so…amorously. Even I had been turned on by the time it was over.

Chewing the piece of chicken, I gazed at the bookshelf on the wall, covered in junk, my mind not seeing clutter, but that cloth covered erection. What did it look like beneath that terrycloth? What would have happened had I “accidentally” knocked that small towel off? Would he have objected had I touched him?

Clearing my throat, I batted my lashes and took another bite, checking my dates. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I worked in house, at the Sunkissed Spa. Tuesdays and Thursdays I worked at private locations. Saturdays, I was freelanced, so those were also wherever the client wanted me to set up.

A grating key sound echoed through my thoughts on the door to the living room. Glancing at it, I smiled at Jennifer when she stepped inside. “Kitchen,” I muttered around my food when she looked.

She jogged down the hallway and returned with her own food, kneeling on the floor to eat across from me.

“How was your day?”

“Um. Ahem. Fine. Yours?”