I step out into the living room. He’s sitting on the couch, legs spread, looking at his phone screen, his brow furrowed as if he's working on something.
I clear my throat.
He looks up. His face lights from within, making a warmth creep through my chest. He likes it. A lot.
He pats his thigh. “Come here.”
I walk over to him, the heels of my new boots sinking into the carpet. I perch myself on his thigh, careful not to wrinkle my dress. I wrap my arms around his neck.
He gazes up at me. “You look stunning. Give me a kiss.”
I lean down, kissing his lips softly. His hands stroke my hair, caressing my back.
And my stomach lets out a loud growl, ruining the moment.
I pull back, laughing, holding my hand over my empty belly. “I think I forgot to eat dinner.”
He gives my thigh a pat. “Let’s eat.”
We walk through the hotel, hand in hand, and I have to admit—I feel like a fucking queen. Heads turn to watch as we walk by. When we step out of the hotel onto the street, a driver in a sleek, black Mercedes awaits us, the same one that picked me up from my apartment the night before.
My heels click on the pavement, the wind rustles my hair, and I feel like I’m walking in a fantasy world.
That’s all this is, though. A fantasy. I’ll enjoy every damn minute.
“After you.” Rawley opens the door, sweeping his hand through the air like he did last night when he first invited me into the penthouse.
The memory seems like a lifetime ago.
But it wasn’t…it was only about fifteen hours ago that I stepped over that threshold and into his life. I crawl across the backseat, making room for him to get in after me. He slides in next to me, right next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I snuggle down beside him, enjoying his scent, his warmth.
“Are you comfortable?”
“Extremely.”
He gives me a smile, and one of those sweet kisses on my forehead, like he did last night, making me remember his words.
I have to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this way.
Neither was I.
Making me wonder, just how hard will it be on me when this ends?
And how much of my heart am I going to leave behind?
Chapter 6
Rawley
So she’s not an escort. This wasn’t a show she was putting on. She wasn’t acting.
She’s not a professional. And she wasn’t whispering daddy because she was trained to. She just fucking likes it.
And the knowledge sends me into a tailspin.
First, I’m kinda pissed, but I don’t want to admit it. I mean I paid for a professional because I need to be able to walk away, goddamn it. I need to be able to not get attached, to get my needs met, and move on with my life. And the daddy thing? Oh my God, that was supposed to be a one-time thing, just for fun.
We were just playing… just a little role play. But now… now she wants more.
And Jesus… do I?
I wasn’t here for a lifestyle that was going to crawl under my skin, making me want to hear her call me daddy, every day.
Holy shit. My dream girl, my perfect match…is real, available, and we seem to have a connection.
Slow your roll, Rawley. Pump the brakes, man. Just because you two had mind blowing sex does not mean she’s into you.
I have a history of jumping two feet in without taking the time to really think things through. Darius has lectured the fuck out of me time and time again. I can almost hear him now. “You paid fifteen thousand dollars for a woman for the night, and you don’t think she can put on a show for you? She’s suddenly perfection on a plate?”
Shut up, Darius.
But damn…she looks just as good in that dress as I thought she would when I ordered it. And she’s slipping her hand in mine as we make our way across the sidewalk to my favorite café, Hardware Diner. I sneak a glance at her from the corner of my eye only to find her looking up at me, a glimmer of awe shining in her gaze.
She likes me.
Pride wells in my chest, just having her on my arm. We reach the hostess stand, and Stella, who works every Saturday, gives me a nod. “Right this way, Mr. Morrow.”
“They know you here?” she whispers up to me, her wide eyes taking in the eclectic place, old tools hanging from the walls of what was once a hardware store. “I heard it’s a six-month wait to get a reservation for brunch.”
“They keep a table open for me. I come just about every week.” And up till now, it was with a different girl every time. As I hold her chair out for her, a hollow feeling brims in my chest.