“Where was this taken? You look like you won a prize.”
Will laughs, the sound soft. “In front of the Met.”
My brother is a fairly famous art collector.“Oh, that makes total sense. Did you go with your brother to visit?”
“Yes. We walked there.”
He says it like it was an accomplishment. I glance at Will to see if he’s teasing. He’s not. “From really far away?”
“From fifteen blocks away.” Will plucks the frame out of my hands and puts it back on the shelf. The next moment, he’s covering my mouth with his hand. “No more questions, Ms. Anderson.”
“Bristol,” I say into his palm as he steers me toward the bed.
“No more questions, Bristol.”
He pulls my shirt over my head. My bra. I’m naked in a matter of seconds. Will flips back the covers and I scramble into the bed, my nerves on fire. It reminds me of turning out the light and leaping for the mattress as a kid, only I don’t catch my breath once I’m away from the edge. I can’t. Will’s stripping his own clothes off, and it’s impossible to breathe. He has muscles for days.
I wanted to see him without clothes. Wished for it. And now it’s happening.
Will climbs into the bed, crawls over me, and reaches. His phone hits the bedside table while I look up at the most perfect chest I’ve ever seen. It’s the ideal torso.
Then the lights go out.
His eyes come back into view, pale in the city light leaking through the window.
I have no idea what’s going to happen right now.
Sex in his office? That’s one thing.
In hisbed?
A shiver runs through me. Maybe now is when he’ll show me the Will Leblanc that doesn’t come into the office.To be clear, I’d like to make you cry.
He notices my shiver, the corner of his mouth turning up. I’ve never been so aware of a man’s body, and he’s barely touching me. His taut weight is balanced on his forearms so he can study my face.
“What are you afraid of?” he murmurs.
Myself.That’s the real answer. Part of me wants to know what he’s like in the dark, in his own home. Part of me wants to see his face at the sight of my tears.
“That I won’t be able to pay you back. For this, on top of everything else.”
“I told you not to worry about the laptops.”
“For… letting me sleep in your bed.”
Will purses his lips. I wouldn’t mind making out with him forever. It’s a thought I’m not supposed to have. This is about debt. This is about a two-week contract. There’s no such thing as forever.
“A thousand dollars.”
My heart misses a beat. “What?”
“You’re paying me back whether you call me Willand sleep in my bed or not. Be good for me and spread your legs. That’s good for a thousand off what you owe.”
The words fill me with shame and heat. This is sex for money. A transaction. I’m a prostitute.
Will laughs, low and dark. “I felt your hips move, sweetheart. You like being a corporate whore.”
What he’s saying makes perfect sense. It’s what I agreed to. But I feel a faint disappointment, like the first raindrops leaking through our smashed ceiling.