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“We meet three times a week.” His gaze held mine. “My room, my way. We work out the schedule together. I pay you two hundred dollars the first time, like I showed you. After that, a hundred each time. We don’t see other people. We continue the arrangement until the end of spring semester when I graduate.”
“And…what’s it like? Doing it your way.”
A light finger stroked up my arm.
“Rough, sometimes. Messy. I’ll find your buttons and push them. Don’t worry, you’ll like it too. I promise you’ll come when we’re together.”
I stared up at him, speechless.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I said when I found my voice.
He was close again, looming over me, his lips almost near enough to kiss.
“I never make promises I can’t keep.”
“I can’t breathe,” I whispered.
“Seems like a good sign, doesn’t it?” He rubbed my leg higher.
I shuddered under his touch, realizing that I was petting his shoulder like I was trying to calm myself.
“How long is each…” I searched for a word. “Session? Visit? Fuckfest? Are we talking twenty minutes or three hours?”
“As long as we need, to do things my way.” He leaned back. I couldn’t look away from those pale eyes.
“You can only come so many times before you run out of juice.” Shit, that was beer number two talking.
“But you can come all night long.” His voice peeled off my V-neck and leggings.
My empty cup crumpled in my hand. “No, I can’t.” My breath was coming in bursts, and I couldn’t believe I was having this intimate discussion with a stranger. “Sometimes, I can’t come at all.”
“Sure you can,” he said, as matter-of-fact as if he were talking about hitting the gym. He toyed with my waist, brushing the bare skin below my shirt. “You just haven’t tried. Or you haven’t found a guy who can take you there.”
“Don’t talk to me about not trying,” I snapped, off-kilter and rattled. “You have no idea how damn hard I try.”
A little smile played over Patrick’s lips. His blue eyes half-closed, and he said nothing. Those lazy eyelids didn’t fool me: he was on the hunt, and my anger was spilled blood.
“You want a girl to commit to a whole semester, right off the bat? That’s crazy talk. Take my advice, make the first time a trial.” I was chattering. His flat gaze didn’t waver. “Not that I’m interested.” A lie. “I don’t like you.” True. “You freak me out.” True.
He raised his eyebrows. “Hot.”
“Seriously?”
“Wait and see.”
“Would you be mean to me in bed?” I barely recognized the little voice coming out of me.
His eyes flamed, twin bursts of heat piercing blue ice, and his nostrils flared. No question about it — that huge body caged a wild animal, aroused and waiting to burst out.
“Yes.” He squeezed my leg. “I would.”
I shuddered at the dark promise in his words. “I don’t want to have sex for money,” I whispered.
A light touch on the back of my neck raised goosebumps over every inch of my skin.
“But you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” he whispered back.
Jesus, my panties were soaked, my pussy was gushing, and I was fucking terrified. I’d never wanted a guy so badly.Walk away, walk away, walk away,my mind chanted.
