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“Yes, I did. Thank you.” As awkward as this all feels for me, I know I also need to thank him for other things. “And thank you for the extra money. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I did. Did it help?” His stare turns sharper, s if he’s probing into my mind.
“Yes, it did.”
“I hope that means there won’t be any more auctions.”
I shake my head. “There won’t be.” I preempted this discussion and came up with the perfect thing to tell him. Something to assure him I’d be okay going forward and restore a little of my tattered pride. “I plan to leave the club in three months. Everything will be okay by then.”
“What about in the meantime? As in your job at the club. Will you just be on the aerial hoop, or will you have to doother things?”
Other thingsaka stripping or giving lap dances or prostituting myself for the right price. God, this is so embarrassing. The fact that he knows what happens at that club makes me feel more exposed.
“I’ll only be working on the aerial hoop. The auction is the most outlandish thing I’ve done at the club. Even when I’m booked for a party, it’s just to serve drinks.”
He considers my answer as if trying to establish if I’m telling the truth. That makes me feel worse, but there’s nothing I can do about that. I practically work in a glorified brothel where he bought me in an auction. How can I expect him to believe I haven’t done more than what I said?
“I suppose that sounds okay.” He gives me a clipped nod, and a sense of unexpected relieve loosens the tension coiling around my lungs. “Are you sure you don’t need any more help?”
That sounds like a trick question because God knows I want to say yes. People say pride goes before a fall. They’re right. I’m hanging on to what’s left of my pride by the threads because I don’t want to need anyone in such a way ever again.
That’s nothing to do with Jericho. It’s more a Sasha thing. Being with him taught me life lessons I don’t want to rehash with anyone ever again. It taught me that no matter how great things appear to be, I need toalwaysbe able to take care of myself.
“I’m okay now.” I nod.
Jericho straightens, and I’m grateful when he seems satisfied with my answers.
“Alright, sounds like you have a handle on things.”
“Yes. I do. Thanks again for your help. Although I wish the circumstances were different.”
“Me, too.”
It’s on the tip off my tongue to ask him why he kissed me, but I hold back. As much as I would love an answer, I can’t ask him that question.
“So… um, we’re here.” Nervously, I flick my hand, motioning around us, then bring my hands together. “I’ve heard good things about this show.”
“You’ll love it.” The curiosity recedes from his expression, lightening the tension between us. “We’re having dinner first, then we’ll see the show and have a chance to look at the artwork after.”
“That sounds good.”
“Perfect. Are you ready?”
No, I’m not ready for anything with you, Jericho Grayson. You mystify me in ways I can’t describe.
He’s not good for my present state of mind, but what choice do I have?
“Yes,” I lie and shove my worries out of my mind.
“Let’s go.” His voice dips, along with his eyes to scan over my dress, then he stretches out his hand to me.
I step closer, and he places his hand at the small of my back. His fingers flutter over the bare skin there, radiating heat through my body and something else—desire.
Desire stirs in my core like steam and pulses down to my groin, igniting something I haven’t felt in years.
I glance up at Jericho to find he’s already looking at me the same way he did last night. The look makes me nervous.Hemakes me nervous. Nervous of the feelings he’s stirring inside me that have been dormant for the last eight years.
Focus and concentrate, River. Focus and concentrate.
