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“I'm not sure I like the deal we made last night.”
His green eyes flicker over mine, then return to the eggs. I can see his shoulders tense.
“I'm glad you mentioned that,” he says, sliding a glance at me as he stirs the eggs. "I've thought about it more, and I'm thinking it might be best if you head home a little earlier.”
He pauses, giving me a pensive look, and I cross my hand over my stomach. I'm not sure what to say. I just don't understand.
“You can go whenever you want," he says, meeting my eyes. "You'll still get your money."
His words hit me like a drop-kick to the chest, and I can't control what comes out of my mouth. "You don't want me?"
"I didn't say that." His words are hot—and so sincere that it's impossible not to believe him. "If you really want to do this, I do too. But it needs to happen today."
"Why?"
His jaw tightens, and again, he won't look at me as he stirs. "I've got some business that just came up. You'd be more comfortable back at your own place."
Oh, so that's how it's going to be. My temper flares. "You're bullshitting me. Not that it matters. You did pay for this, so you can do whatever you want."
"It's not Priscilla," he says, pressing his lips together. "It's not like that."
He moves the eggs off the stove and checks the oven before walking around the bar to stand right in front of me.
His hands tunnel under my hair. “I want you,” he says in a husky voice, and then I can feel how much he wants me bump against my hip. “I'm disappointed about the change of plans. Believe me. But it's what's got to be."
"Why did you do it? Why did you say...to stay the week? Why did you even bid on me?"
"I want this to be yours. On your terms. That's how it should be, Libby. You should be comfortable. I thought you'd like a few days here to get your footing." His fingers, in my hair, trail up my face; his thumb strokes my brow, and I shiver. "I didn't buy you for sex, although I'd love to take you to my bed. I bought you because I can't stand the thought of some other bastard pawing at you. Not you."
"But it's okay for other girls?"
He strokes my hair off my forehead. "I've only ever been with ones who choose, Libby. At Marchant's, all the girls choose their clients. It's invitation only out there, I'm sure you know. They set their own prices. Get paid well. And most of them aren't doing it for altruistic reasons."
He strokes his calloused thumb over my lower lip, and I'm shaking. My insides have gone liquid. "You used to go out there," I whisper.
"I did."
"How come?" He cups my cheek, still gentle, but I can sense him closing off.
"I've got my reasons."
"But you could sleep with any girl."
Loosening his grip on me, he laughs, and I look up at him. "I'm glad you find me so appealing, Miss DeVille."
I blush. "Almost any girl."
His jaw drops open in a funny way, and I grin so hard I can feel the dimples in my cheeks.
"Is it because you like to keep your distance?" I ask.
“Wow.” He sort of chuckles a little bit. “Sneak attack.”
I shrug, because I didn’t really mean to sneak attack. I just felt like I had an opportunity. Pretense has never been stripped away like it is now between the two of us, so I figure I should take advantage of it.
Hunter seems to feel the same way. "Keep my distance?" He strokes up and down my cheek bone, and I feel hypnotized as I reach out and put my palm on his thigh. "What do you mean, keep my distance?"
My knees part a little as he steps closer, coming in between them.
